It is the look of a person unafraid to die.
chapter
eight
Haven
Ender returns two weeks later.
He’s wearing a utility jacket that settles over his broad shoulders. A lock of his raven hair falls into his crystal-blue eyes. He has the faintest indent on his left cheek. I reckon he has a dimple there, one that I’d witness if he ever deigned to smile.
Irritation spikes down my chest. It is unfair that he was blessed with such good looks when he is rotten on the inside. I can see the recruit’s eyes widen in fear, and in the case of some girls, desire. Their cheeks turn rosy, and they cup their hands to their mouth, no doubt whispering about his pretty face.
“Oh no,” Sora whispers. “Not again.”
My back stiffens.
He stops before me and stares at Sora until she scurries away.
“Good morning,Mercy.”
There is a sarcastic edge to his words. One that I cannot pinpoint the source of.
“You’re here,” I say bitterly. “There is nothing good about this morning anymore.”
“I agree with the sentiment,” he says.
He looks me up and down, from my head to my toes. His nose wrinkles, as if he is displeased with the sight of me. At least this time, he keeps his comments to himself. I still remember him mentioning that I looked like shit the other day.
He is the worst.
I fold my arms across my chest, ignoring the stab of uncertainty that cuts through my gut. I had to deal with years of not measuring up to my own father. The man who was supposed to love and take care of me. The last thing I need is for Ender Vale’s scrutiny to affect me.
“What do you want, Vale?” I ask warily.
“Respect, Warrick,” Ender says. “You know what that is, right?”
“I don’t respect men who take orders from their father,” I say, raising my chin. “I prefer men who lead.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asks with a cold smile. That dimple I suspected appears on one side of his cheek. And it is just as charming as I feared. “Is that why you got on your knees for me? Usually, I have to take a woman out to dinner for her to drop that quick.”
I give him my fakest smile, resisting the urge to pull out my gun and shoot him.
“Did your father pay for these women like he did my sister?” I ask. “Seems like nobody wants to spend time with you if there is no significant financial gain involved.”
“Are you calling your sister a prostitute?” Ender asks. “That is a rather cruel thing to say, even for you, Warrick.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” I warn. “You know exactly what I mean.”
He is playing dense. Everyone knows that prostitution and sex work are illegal. Everything in this damn continent is illegal.
“No, I don’t,” he says. He folds his arms across his broad chest. “Please clarify your point.”
I know I am supposed to be demure and soft-spoken like my sister, but I reckon he can’t be too surprised that the Forge has changed me after a week and a half, when it is built to carve out one’s softness.
“I mean that you are so mind-numbingly dull and straight-laced that even this.” I wave at his face. “Can’t save you. No person in their right mind wouldeverwillingly choose to be with you.”
“You think my face is pretty?” he says, with a pleased smile. That dimple appears again for a fleeting second before it drops. What an arrogant bastard. It’s like he didn’t hear a single word I said.
