Page 55 of A Cruel Kindness

Yeah, you and me both, I returned silently.

As the newcomer approached, I decided to be the first to speak. Especially when I realized that he didn’t have a Mark of his own to show off. “Who the fuck are you?” I bit out.

The stranger, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch at the fire in my tone. He’d walked through this place like he owned it and was standing by it. It took him a second to drag his eyes away from Bellamy, a second where I heavily considered listening to the Bond and gouging his eyes out.

“Elijah,” he answered slowly, making sure to perfectly enunciate every syllable. His voice carried the same, slightly lyrical accent that everyone on Muli did. It made him sound pretentious.

“No title?” He clearly thought he was worth something if he didn’t bother to hold to formalities.

Elijah’s mouth quirked ever so slightly at the corners, before returning to a hard line. It almost looked like he was annoyed I’d managed to get a reaction from him. Interesting. “I’m a General. Though I’ve never been fond of that designation. I’d prefer if you used my name.”

I scoffed, uncaring if it darkened the already murderous look in his eyes. “What did you do to get stuck on the front lines?” Generals normally basked in their titles and power far away from any action, content to reap the benefits without any of the investment. Let alone the fact that this fucker had to be the youngest General I’d ever seen, in his late twenties at most.

Elijah considered me for a moment, taking his time looking at me, then Bellamy, then back to me. I slid my hand up Bellamy’s spine, from her lower back all the way to the base of her neck to make sure Elijah saw it. He did, eyes tracking the movement, before he finally answered, “I work for the Prince.”

Ford and Esme let out twin laughs under their breaths. Oh, the infamous Prince of Muli. Depending on who you ask, you’d get a wildly different story. The first I’d heard of him, he’d been described as too pretty for his own good, content to roll around in gold and wine for the rest of his life.

The next time, it was that he lived a life of solitude, refusing to attend any formal engagements, even when the Muli Royal family didn’t change like Vir’s did. The future of Muli was dependent on him, and yet stories would claim he didn’t give a damn about court antics, preferring to live his life out in the forest hunting.

I was curious which version Elijah would spin. “He’s comfortable sending one of his men into the fold?” I asked, curious as to what level of involvement the so-called reclusive Prince had in sending this towering soldier into our midst, one who was obviously feared.

Elijah smirked, as if he saw right through the phrasing of my question. The only thing worse than someone as cocky as he clearly was, was someone who thought they were the smartest person in the room. “He’s willing to do what it takes to protect his people from yours.”

“What an interesting way to view the matter,” Ford said, his voice hard. He hated this war with every bone in his body and we’d get nowhere acting like Muli didn’t start it, like that Prince’s family wasn’t the reason we were all here.

Elijah cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly, his mouth widening the same inch. He flicked his tongue over his teeth. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like he’d wanted to snap something back but restrained himself at the last minute. Instead, he said, “I did come for a reason, though.”

“And what would that be?” My question sounded more like the Bond’s than my own, knowing deep down what the answer was. His intentions were clear from the moment he walked in.

Elijah slid his disturbingly dark gaze toward Bellamy and said, “I came for her.”

Bellamy’s hand was on my thigh before I could jump out of my seat to strangle him. If this fucker was so smart, he should know not to say that shit in front of a Match. He may not know that we were paranimas, but the sentiment remained. Even with Matches in the seventies, you didn't say something that could threaten the primal possessiveness that lived inside all of us.

Her hand squeezed, her fingertips pressing into my leg like five hot pokers scorching my skin right off. A silent request to let her handle it. Fine, but I would be keeping my hand right where it was on her neck, no matter how possessive the hold.

“You know who I am,” Bellamy said, her voice contorted into the perfectly presentable princess tone I’d heard her use countless times when some reporter shoved a microphone in her face and she ended up on the news.

“I do,” Elijah said, his mouth widening into a smile so big it made me want to break his teeth in. “Pleasure to meet you, Princess.”

Oh, fuck no. I was the only one allowed to call her that.

“Just Bellamy, if you would,” she said, asserting a boundary she’d never once set with me. Good, that calmed the Bond a little bit, though my skin still felt hot with the urge to draw blood from this asshole.

“Like minds, I see,” Elijah responded, calling back to his own distaste for titles. He pulled a chair out of the way, before leaning over the table and placing his hands flat on the wood. At least he wasn’t completely full of shit. There were callouses and scars on his hands that could only be earned through combat or training. I would respect those battle scars more if they were several hundred feet away from my Soul Mate.

While my jaw hardened to the point of pain, Elijah stared right at Bellamy and asked, “It’s odd that your father sent you over, no?”

My free hand drifted under the table to my gun. Elijah was playing games here, and until I figured out what they were through more subversive methods, my hand was staying firmly on my weapon.

Ford and Esme seemed to be of a similar disposition. Both of Ford’s hands were under the table, whereas Esme was openly analyzing Elijah the way she inspected a diamond on a new piece of jewelry for any impurities.

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed at Elijah, a clear sign that she wouldn’t be giving him an inch more than she was comfortable sharing. “I don’t think it’s odd at all. In fact, I think I’m best suited to be here.”

That answer seemed to be exactly what Elijah was looking for, despite how vague and dismissive it was. He lifted off the table, smug grin plastered firmly on his face. I really didn’t like him.

It was Esme who spoke next. “There’s a table in the back, a bit of dead space right by the band. The music and conversations will cover anything up.”

Ever one to place value in secrecy and sly tactics, Esme clearly found value in removing this conversation from the ears of the crowd. People were still sneaking looks at us, but conversation had picked back up from the shocked silence that descended upon the room when Elijah had walked in.