“You think so highly of us.” Carver pulled her back into the present.
“I don’t see the point in romanticizing a death wish. No one sane would attempt this. We’re practically asking to die–or worse. Be honest, can you think of anyone older than us still alive in our divisions?” She could think of Spiders, but that was only because their lives weren’t constantly at risk.
“Special Operatives aren’t promised a long life. Anyway,” Clara took a sip of coffee as Carver brought the conversation back to an actual plan. “I know we talked about going in the middle of the festival when there would be the distraction of people, but we might be better off at night. At least then we could approach without being seen. There are at least trees there, so we might be able to get within a few hundred feet of the entrance. Otherwise, I think we’re screwed from the start.”
“Okay. When is our best bet for this?”
“Not tonight. We don’t have enough time to get everything together for that. And the festival only lasts two more days. We’re definitely better off leaving during the raucousness of the festival.”
“So tomorrow night.”
“Ideally.” Carver closed his eyes after muttering the word.
“None of this is ideal.”
“Yes, tomorrow night.”
She leaned back against her chair, taking him in. He hadn’t shaved in days, and had quickly surpassed the 5 o’clock shadow. It was hot. She couldn’t help the second of thinking how it would feel to run her fingers across it. Or kiss him again, and feel the roughness across her own face.
Subconsciously, she brought her hand up to her face. She shouldn’t think about him like this, but dang. He leaned against the table, wearing only a thin linen shirt. She could see every line of his arms tensing beneath the shirt as he tried to figure out what they should do.
She cleared her throat, and he met her gaze. “You haven’t actually told me what your strengths are. We’ve talked about a lot of random things, but we haven’t planned out our individual roles for this assignment.”
“That’s fair.” He relaxed enough to take the chair across from her. “What do you want to know about my skills?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe tell me what you’re capable of within this mission.”
“Picking locks, pretending to be someone else, disabling security, sneaking in, sneaking out. Quite frankly, this assignment is more akin to my strengths than yours. I’m not sure why we were both instructed to come.” For once, his commentary towards her wasn’t demeaning. Just factual. And to a point, he was right. But Command anticipated there would be bloodshed, and he was utterly unprepared for that. Command also wanted the king assassinated. That wasn’t something Carver could handle either.
“You haven’t killed anyone.” The admission hurt her. Another reminder of why he was better than her. And there was nothing she could do about it.
“What does that have to do with anything?” His tone was immediately defensive.
“You think this is gonna be easy? You won’t be able to slip in and out. There will be other guards inside. Scientists manning their posts. Lab assistants keeping everything operational.” She explained calmly, taking another drink of coffee.
“You’re not serious.” Carver scoffed.
She blinked. Her voice was barely audible as she replied, “Carver, why do you think they asked me to come?”
“You can’t take innocent lives like that!” He shouted, standing and pacing away from her. He ran his hand through his hair.
Clara closed her eyes tightly, trying to press back the memories those words withdrew. “They’re not innocent,” she replied with her constant justification.
“So they deserve death?” He paused in front of her, hair sticking up in places, and she longed to smooth it back down.
“I didn’t say they deserved death. But when it comes down to us or them, it will always be us. I will always choose usover them. You have to accept this.” Her voice rang in her own ears. Far too calm. Far too calculated. When had she become so calloused to death? When had she stopped feeling the weight of blood on her hands?
He stared at her in shock. She almost touched her head to see if she had suddenly grown horns. Her appearance must have changed in some way. He was looking at her like he no longer recognized her. “So this is who you’ve become.” His voice was quiet but harsh, and she felt it rip through her.
“I warned you,” she wouldn’t defend herself. She knew she had become a monster. She knew she wasn’t the same person he had once loved.
“Clara, they’re people too. You can’t just murder them.” His voice was pleading now, and he sat back down, staring at her as though that would change anything. She wished she could reassure him. She wished she could tell him it would be okay, that she wouldn’t kill them unless they actually threatened them. But that wasn’t the case. No witnesses meant no witnesses. Command had given specific orders. There was a reason she was the assassin picked for this mission.
“I’m not murdering them. Murder is premeditated with an assigned target. It’s just killing. We’re in a war. Death is part of war. Have you learned nothing the past few years? I will do my job, Carver. Nothing you say will stop me from completing my part of the assignment.”
He thought about it for a moment, and then glared at her with a new ferocity. “Then you won’t go with me.”
“That’s not how this works. You can’t just decide I’m not coming with you. You need me for the assignment.”
