Haven
Ispend three blissful days at Ender’s home.
I’ve been avoiding him ever since he tried to pin that failed mission on me. It is clear to see that he doesn’t possess a lick of honor.
“I got a call from Warrick,” Mercy says.
We are in her bedroom. It is a large, circular room with ivory sheets and pillows. There’s a bookshelf filled with novels, which no doubt keeps my sister occupied. As pretty as the interior is, it is impossible to forget who this place belongs to; the steel-barred windows and the constant thud of the guard’s boots outside our door cannot be ignored. But it comforts me that my sister is safe here.
“He’s coming next weekend. There’s going to be an engagement party hosted here,” Mercy says. “The Supreme Director, the High-General, and a handful of reporters have all been invited. Ender got me an assistant, who follows me around and overwhelms me with every detail. I’m half-sick of planning this thing.”
“We’ll have to swap again before the party,” I say. “We can’t trick Warrick.”
“I asked Ender if you could get ready here,” she says. “You can wear my dress. You’ll hate it. It looks like a costume, and there’s no thigh slit. I know you love a good thigh slit.”
I mimic throwing up, and she giggles.
A hard knock makes us jolt.
“Let’s go, Warrick,” Ender orders.
“We’re both Warrick,” I say, to be a pest. “Which one do you mean?”
Ender opens the door, glaring at me.
“The one whom I want to strangle every day,” he says.
“You want to strangle us both,” I say.
Mercy is convinced he hates her more. She says he doesn’t even come to the house anymore. And when he does, he avoids her and vanishes again shortly after.
“I saidevery day,” he clarifies. “Your sister, I want to strangle every other week. A slight improvement.”
I chuckle at his ill temper, and his brows furrow, as if he’s surprised that I found his comment amusing. I reckon people don’t tend to laugh when he speaks. I doubt they even smile.
“Come on,” he tilts his chin. “The truck is running.”
I hug Mercy tightly.
“Love you,” I whisper. “Be safe.”
“You too.”
I play with the window, but unlike Knox, Ender locks the controls immediately. The second time I try to draw down the glass, it doesn’t budge.
“Spoilsport,” I mutter.
“Child,” he retorts.
I stare at the silver line on his chin.
“Who gave you that?” I ask, pointing at the scar.
“It’s rude to point,” he says, swatting my finger.
“Says the man who is perpetually rude,” I say. “Stop deflecting, Vale.”
“What’s the deal with you and Grayson?” he asks suddenly.
