Page 5 of A Cruel Kindness

Complete with angular, honey-brown eyes and a full mouth that could pull into a cunning, heart-shaped smile, it was the face of the most beloved woman in all of Virterra, evidenced by the horrified reaction of the entire room.

Little did they know that woman was also a spoiled brat who was better off lounging in the glittering halls of the Emperor’s palace than marring the squalor of war with her pristine fingers.

After the cries died down, enough for the newscaster’s voice to break through and say, “Our sources tell us she has already departed for the Bridge,” everyone fully digested what that meant, turning slowly towards me like I had any answers.

Everyone needed to avert their fucking eyes before I blinded someone.

My rage was too thick, my disbelief too strong.

Because I’d just found out that Bellamy Edelstenne was my fucking Soul Mate at the same time as the rest of the world.

No warning, no preparation to face the fact that the daughter of the Emperor who forced me into this war was seconds away from storming into my life and I had no way out.

Chapter 3

Bellamy

The car rocked back and forth so violently, every single soldier slammed into each other like the little figurines my brother used to sweep aside when he pretended to be a monster demolishing a city.

Not me, though.

I stayed perfectly still, my back stick straight and my legs crossed, while I simply adjusted my weight into either hip to compensate for the rocking.

I had no intention of relaxing my body, and not just because I’d turn into an ingredient in the sloppy soldier sandwich that was forming around me.

If I relaxed, that meant my back would touch the metal, curved wall of the vehicle and I’d be reminded that I had a Mark there now.

No, thank you. I was happy to live in denial for the next twenty minutes. I’d prepared for every other aspect of this shift in my life, except for the identity of my paranima.

My Soul Mate.

Ridiculous.

Choosing to call it a Soul Mate was a bunch of happy nonsense intended to lure vulnerable young people into this war under the guise of finding the other half of your soul.

My newly uncovered other half could choke on his own spit, and it would be the best present I’d ever received. I wasn’t known for being harsh, but I knew what treatment I’d get from him, and I had things to do that he would surely get in the way of.

“Sorry, miss. I—I mean Your Highness, Princess,” one soldier said to me, after a particularly large bump that shoved his shoulder into mine.

I pulled up my best smile, and watched as it placated him immediately. I didn’t even really need to say something at this stage, but smiling at someone without speaking was weird. “Nothing to worry about…” I trailed off, looking down at the name written across his heart. Funny placement to have an identifier, seeing as about half our soldiers that were killed in action were shot right through the heart. “Johnson.”

“It’s Adam, miss. Adam Johnson.” Oh dear, he was too kind for this. And young, by the looks of it. People tended to set aside their decorum in times of war, letting people as young as sixteen enlist as long as they proved they were mature enough.

That was an entirely subjective determination, and I’d never heard of someone failing that test. If Adam was on my detail, and didn’t look a day over eighteen, it meant he was one of the mature ones.

The dopey, bashful smile he was currently sporting was anything but.

A loud banging slammed through the car, and several of the soldiers flinched. I really hoped they had the safety engaged on their guns if they were going to react like that.

I turned slowly to the divider between the protected, steel-plated back of the car and the small bench for the driver in the front.

The general who was in charge of my escort to the front lines poked his head through the little window. He had a large scar cutting across his forehead, and it looked like there was another just along his hairline. Interesting, especially for a member of the Royal guard who had likely never seen real combat.

“We’re turning in, Princess,” he said, his voice hard and cold like the metal bench underneath me.

I smiled, despite my pang of nerves. “My Royal titles became meaningless upon enlistment, General Iroko. You may call me by my name.” I much preferred my name over the lengthy list of titles bestowed upon me by my father, anyway.

The curve of his mouth faltered slightly. Not him, too.