“You should talk to her,” Knox says.
I don’t respond.
“To Haven,” he adds. “She will understand if you apologize.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say between clenched teeth.
She came to the clinic the day before I was discharged. I passed her in the hall, but she didn’t even glance my way. She had a few books with her to read to Spider, who had just woken up. I had followed her to the door and watched as she gave him water and wiped his mouth with her sleeve.
The kindness in her eyes made my chest tighten. I wondered if she would have looked after me like that if I hadn’t pushed her away.
“So, can we grab a drink while?—”
“Don’t even think about it,” I say sharply. “We are not setting a bad example.”
Knox sighs. “I figured.”
We know exactly where the spot is, because it is the same place we would have parties when we were recruits. The roof of the Gifted dormitory. Music bleeds through the exit door before we even reach the top, the sound low and pulsing. I can’t believe these idiots would do this when they know we’re on lockdown. Do they not understand the gravity of the situation?
For the first time in years, the rebels are not hiding like ferrets in the dirt; they are attacking us openly. We have to be on high alert.
Knox opens the door, and that’s when I see her.
She’s wearing her pajamas. It’s supposed to be a sleeping shirt, but she’s rolled the fabric to expose her midriff, and her shorts are riding up her thighs, revealing her golden skin.
She’s standing on a barrel, a gin bottle in hand, laughing as the boys crowd around her like starving animals. I can see Grayson among her avid fans, whistling wildly as she sways her hips.
She tips the bottle to the crowd’s mouths, watching them drink with open amusement.
Something ugly twists in my chest.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Red creeps into my vision as I push forward, shoving bodies out of my way without apology. Someone stumbles, another swears, but I don’t slow down.
Knox is on my heels.
“Ender, calm down,” he whispers.
I refuse to relax. Or acknowledgewhyI am behaving so irrationally.
Her eyes find mine and widen. She loses her footing, and I leap to catch her.
The world tilts as I skid forward on my knees, gravel tearing through my pants. My skin burns as I slam into the barrel. The doctor used her powers to heal the wound on my leg, but the new skin is still tender and itchy.
Haven crashes into my arms, warm and steady. Her fingers sink into my jacket.
“My savior,” she murmurs. “And tormentor.”
My jaw tightens.
“Ve—Mercy,” Grayson says. “Are you okay?”
“Back off,” I snap. “This is your fault. You’re not a recruit; maybe start acting like a soldier for once. I’ll see you in my office tomorrow.”
“I don’t answer to you. You are not my reporting officer,” Grayson says stiffly. “I’ll take her back to her room. She’s drunk, and you’re a stranger.”
“I know her far better than you do,” I say. “And the Forge is my jurisdiction; you will respect my rules.”
If Haven weren’t in my arms, I would throw the first punch to shut him up, and I’d use the second to immobilize him. But as it stands, I hold precious cargo and cannot indulge my whims.
