A Cruel Kindness

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.

It was always one of two reactions from people. Pity or scorn.

I was tired of people pitying me. It was misplaced and misguided. Though his scorn wasn’t great either, it was less stifling.

Through the small window, I caught a glimpse of the driver handing a gate officer papers. I watched as he took them out of the driver’s hand and peeled through a few sheets.

I knew the moment he read my name on that paper.

All the blood drained from his face and his eyes shot up, mouth open and gaping. He looked at the driver, then through the window. When he saw me looking, he took a stumbling step back.

I simply waved at him, nothing more than a small waggle of my fingers.

Someone scoffed, and I would bet half the gold in the Empire's treasury that it was General Iroko. From the moment he showed up with an entire caravan of the Guard in Cor, our capital city and the place I’d grown up, I could tell he thought I was nothing more than a prissy princess he would have to treat like a waddling toddler for the day-long trip through the Sicco Desert to get to the Bridge.

He could think what he wanted. I wasn’t responsible for explaining how nuance worked to him.

“We’re late,” he barked to the driver, which made him slam on the gas and the entire car lurch forward. I didn’t let my smile drop for one second, even when Adam knocked into me again.

The sun was too bright to get a good view of my surroundings through the small window, but soon enough we were stopping. Finally arriving after over seven hours crammed in this tight car, with nothing but minimal air flow and thick silence to bask in.

I breathed through the knot of fear in my stomach, trying to push it down and regain some control. It was important I maintained some sort of decorum around these people, and I had the distinct feeling that would be impossible when confronted with my paranima .

The bulletproof metal doors at the back of the car cracked open a second later, flooding the dark car with unobstructed desert light, hot and oppressive. My clothes, still the delicate, refined fabrics fit for the Emperor’s court, now seemed ridiculous.

I might as well enjoy them while I could, because they would be thrown away and swapped with tactical gear soon enough.

The soldiers filed out first, and I pretended not to see the hand extended in my direction, offering to help me down. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to accept the help.

Ever since my Mark had appeared a week ago, it felt … odd for people to touch me. Especially on my hands. Even the slightest touch felt like someone was squeezing my hand so hard the bones bent.

Once I stepped down onto the sandy, arid floor, I heard several gasps erupt around me. After a moment to blink and adjust my eyes to the light, I realized a crowd had formed, filled with equal parts soldiers and staff.

The Bridge was our last outpost on Vir, the closest point of connection from our world to Muliterra , the planet we were currently ten years into war with. Though Vir had been the one to find it, it was Muli who had taken advantage. It had been made clear that if we didn’t defend the Bridge, Muli would use it to take over our world.

Their attitude may have changed as of late, but I wasn’t supposed to know that.

Virterra and Muliterra were linked in every aspect, twins to one another in so many respects—save for the fact that Muliterra was closer to the sun, giving them an edge up in size and resources. Until the war, they were a distant star in the sky, nothing more than a mystical place that eclipsed our sun every so often. We shared the same religion, governed by two married deities, with God ruling Vir and the Goddess ruling Muli.

It didn’t mean the Goddess wasn’t present on our planet. The priestesses, the very ones that had pulled the Mark out of my soul, were her representatives here, tasked with protecting her interests where the Goddess couldn’t. Muli had priests to do the same for our God, but if they were anything like the priestesses, they were riddled with corruption and plagued by an insatiable desire to manipulate.

The Bridge was thought to be nothing more than a hopeful piece of lore, a mythical idea that our planets were linked by a path that cut through space and stars, letting a select few travel between the planets in seconds, instead of relying on technology. Technology that we had yet to master.

Turns out, it was quite real. When the Bridge was discovered, it was purely by chance, a cave in the middle of the desert hidden by a mound of sand. We’d sent a brave few volunteers through it, only for them to return to us riddled with sickness and dying within the month.

Apparently, in order to survive the effects of the magic that connected our worlds, you needed a partner to anchor you, drawing on each other’s strength.

Your Marks, in all their swirling, artful glory, were how you found your partner. The more similar your Marks, the stronger your connection and the less side-effects you suffered.

We’d outlawed Matches under sixty-percent compatibility years ago, when we realized that they weren’t immune to the effects, but it simply crept up on them later. I wasn’t convinced the same thing wouldn’t happen to those in the seventies—aptly called parasepts in the old language—in a few years.

The only safe bet was the paranima s. The Soul Mates. The select few who received the blessing of both deities and able to travel freely between worlds. They—though I guessed I should start including myself in that group—were a coveted, cherished group that were bathed in riches and fame to honor their sacrifice.

It was a shock Vir was evening paying them that much. We’d been notoriously stingy in doling out resources for this war. You’d think Muliterra’s insistence on conquering us for the fun of it, regardless of their wealth of resources, would warrant a higher investment on our part.

Of course, the fact that we didn’t throw everything we had at this war had absolutely nothing to do with keeping wealth for the Royals and everything to do with the fact that clearly God was a horrible Father who had forsaken us and the Goddess liked her planet better, happy to let us die out so she could focus her efforts on her favored child.

And now I would be going to that planet, to see how much better our mother treated her. To see if the story that had been spun on our planet was true.

I just had to get through meeting my Soul Mate first.

“Bellamy,” General Iroko said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have one minute to greet your fans, then we are going inside.”

“I understand the urgency of this matter.” My smile was as stiff as iron now. I really wanted to tell him to fuck off, but that would be unbecoming. Especially in public. “Lead the way,” I said, with a subtle jerk of my chin towards the towering steel doors. They’d replaced the solid gold, artfully designed doors that had once protected this temple.

When it was stripped for parts and turned into the gateway to Muliterra , they’d conveniently chosen the most beautiful parts to melt away. Now it was all ugly gray functionality.

General Iroko turned with a scoff and headed towards the doors, barking an order for someone to open them.

With his back turned, I snuck quickly off to the side, where there was a little girl waiting with tears building in her wide blue eyes, and grabbed her outstretched hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

Her mother, clearly either staff or drafted herself, was also tearing up. They all knew what this was, how likely it was that I’d die out here.

Having to ignore her reaction beyond a kind smile, lest it open the floodgates to my own feelings about the matter, I straightened and followed the soldiers through the doors, finally facing my fate.

My eyes rose up to the vaulted ceilings as we walked through, following the carved panels as they curved up to the point of the dome. Among the wires and lights cemented into the plaster, you could see the remnants of the paintings that once decorated the dome, fading and graying.

If this was how the smaller dome, reserved just for the entrance looked, I didn’t want to know what the main one looked like.

We still had plenty of temples that were cared for, protected and cherished. But those were in the cities. In countrysides that provided no strategic advantages.

A collective gasp stole my attention, forcing my eyes back down in front of me. The soldiers guarding the door had all sucked in a breath at my arrival, though I was sure they’d been warned.

“Dear God,” I heard General Iroko mutter under his breath. He really didn’t care for subtlety.

“Yes?” I said, tilting my head in feigned ignorance.

The general’s frown deepened, and he snapped at everyone to keep following him. I could see a massive, white light at the end of the corridor, and despite its brilliance, I knew it only would invite pain.

Solemn and stiff, the group walked through the dark hallway towards that white light, General Iroko at the front, and the rest of the group flanking me on all sides. It was sweet that they stayed so protective while they could. Soon enough, it would be me at the helm.

As we walked, we passed a few people inching down the hallway, most of which plastered themselves to the wall like little bugs to get out of our way. Only one woman, who looked about my age, just gracefully stepped out of the way, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Before I could give any thought to the careful, sly way she’d moved, light blasted me in the face.

And the room erupted.

I could barely blink fast enough to adjust my eyes to the light, to see that the main hall, once reserved for worship, had been converted into a great hall of sorts, flanked with televisions and other technology with long tables in the center, before the voices in the room threatened to steal all my attention.

Threatened because there was something else that commanded it more.

As General Iroko stepped to the side, I came face to face with my Mark, plastered on the very muscled, very bare back of my Soul Mate. It looked different on him, the strong branches of the tree more prominent, whereas the leaves and whispy, thin vines stood out on mine.

I watched those branches tense as he seemed to realize my presence. The entire room went still as a taller, stern man with a strong brow that covered warm brown eyes, placed a hand on his shoulder, beckoning him to turn around.

As he did, my breath seized in my throat, fear pulsing heavy through my limbs. No amount of forethought could have prepared me for this moment.

He turned and our eyes slammed together like magnets.

Oh God, help me. He looked much different than the twenty-year-old I’d last been confronted with. Six years later, and too much had changed. His once floppy hair was shaved into a clean buzz, making the already unnaturally light blonde stand out more prominently.

His eyes were an ice blue so stark it sent a chill down my spine, as cold as the sharp planes of his features. A cutting jaw. A strong, straight nose. A nose I now realized was home to a thin, silver ring.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he seemed to have doubled in size. He was already a full head taller than me, but now the thick muscle coursing over his limbs made him so imposingthe sight made my stomach flip.

My thoughts were stolen away for a moment when he took a step towards me and my chest felt like it was caving in.

I sucked in a breath, which only made the feeling worse, because what was that smell? It was unlike anything I’d ever smelled before. Deep and rich and warm, closer to home than that of my childhood bedroom. I would bathe in that scent if I could.

My breaths came in faster and faster pants, as if my body was helpless but to soak up as much of that scent as I possibly could, lest it was ripped away from me before I could get my fill.

It got worse with every slow, measured step he took towards me. My brain was so muddled, it took me a second to understand that it was him.

It had to be.

For fuck’s sake, this couldn’t get any worse.

Shoving down the urge to abandon all formalities—oh, and the fact that he’d probably snap my neck if I got anywhere near him—and shove my face in his chest, I straightened my spine and prepared myself to speak the first words to my Soul Mate.

A man I hadn’t seen since I was eighteen and watched him get dragged away, kicking and screaming, towards the front lines of this war.

The entire room seemed to be in as much anticipation as I was, watching in rapt silence as Soren, oldest son of House Rystrom and former heir to the Empire, walked toward me with nothing but a plush white towel wrapped around his waist.

I stayed still, holding my breath, as he approached, shamelessly looking me up and down. It felt like there was a spotlight blasting down on us, with everyone watching from the stands.

“Bell.” His voice hit me straight in the chest, as burning and slicing as a bullet.

The only thing I could think to do was slam up walls around my body before his voice tore them down. The way I’d been trained to do so was with a calm smile and an easy disposition. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a storm brewing beneath the surface, just that I contained it to clouds and a soft rain rather than a hurricane.

“Don’t call me that,” I said calmly, keeping a smile on my face. Though every instinct was screaming at me to abandon manners, I still had appearances to keep up. Save Soren, everyone in this room expected me to be a poised, graceful princess.

Soren’s eyes flashed, the blue in them turning icy. His lips tugged to the side, revealing a pair of long dimples. Fucking hell, those were new too. “And say Bellamy? That has too many fucking syllables.”

“You have a big mouth,” I said, looking down at his lips. Maybe I’d said it to provide an excuse for why I couldn’t really pull my focus away from them. His voice felt like it was lulling me into submission with every word that dripped from his lips. It was only natural to look to the source for explanation. “Put it to good use.”

“You have no idea how useful it can be.” Oh God, why did he have to say that? Why did he have to grow into someone charming? Someone with a quick wit? I really needed to hate him.

“Oh,” I said, smiling through the word. Hopefully that would distract from the fact it was really more of a breathy sound. “I’m sure it would make a great place to practice some needlework.”

Soren’s lips twitched again, threatening to pull into a smile. Despite how steady he stood, impossible not to with such thick muscles, it seemed like he was slightly tense. “Don’t flirt with me.”

I took a step closer to him before I knew what I was doing. “If I was flirting with you, you’d know it.”

Soren scoffed, shamelessly dragging his eyes down my body, covering every spot where my dress stretched over it. “A lot has changed,” he said, right when his gaze connected with my chest.

“Six years,” I replied, instead of doing what I preferred and let my knee connect with his groin.

It seemed to click then, the reminder of who I was to him. His smirk dropped into a hard, unforgiving line as his eyes bore into mine. “Six years too soon. I could have done without ever seeing another member of your family again.”

I pushed my lips into a pout. “Still upset?” I had to feign ignorance. Admitting that I felt guilt every day for what had been done to him wasn’t an option. Especially when I could do nothing about it. Not now.

This time, Soren stepped closer, making me tip my chin up to keep eye contact as forcefully as if he’d placed his hand on my jaw and done it himself. “Wouldn’t you be?” I would . But, again, that wasn’t getting shared.

“No,” I said, clenching my jaw, hard .

Soren grinned again, bending down so that our faces were inches apart. Whatever he was about to say, he was going to place the words so close to me I had no choice but to hear them. “I don’t believe you.” I could feel my eyes widen in indignation, a retort building on my tongue. Unfortunately, my stomach chose that very moment to rumble loudly, angry that I’d neglected to feed myself for so long.

Soren’s nostrils flared as his eyes went wide with … rage? He must have turned into a real piece of work if my stomach interrupting him was so heinous, he considered it a personal slight. “What was that?” he bit out, his jaw barely moving enough to let the words out.

“My stomach,” I snapped back, lifting my chin even further towards his stupid face. “In case you forgot, it takes seven hours to get here from the nearest post. No stops, no food.”

Something in my answer seemed to make him even angrier. He breathed out through his nostrils slowly, like a dragon expelling hot air. He looked over my shoulder at someone, which only served to remind me that we weren’t alone. We were in front of half the outpost, and I’d been proceeding like we were in private.

Before my cheeks could color with embarrassment, Soren’s head whipped to the side. My eyes followed his to find a younger man, clearly freshly drafted, walking by several feet away. He was in the process of opening what looked to be a nutrient bar, a recent gift from the Emperor to solve the pesky little problem of losing hours of work when soldiers had to stop and eat three times a day.

“Oi,” Soren barked at the kid, ushering him over. In a clear sign of where Soren stood in the hierarchy of this place, the young soldier immediately walked over to us, pale in the face.

“Give me that,” Soren said, snatching the bar from the kid’s with one hand, then ushering him away with the other.

“That wasn’t nice,” I said as Soren watched the kid walk away.

He completely ignored me, just ripped open the packaging of the nutrient bar ever further and shoved it toward me. “Shut up and eat it, princess.”

When I hesitated, trying to sort through my confusion and the fact that an odd little trickle of contentment was sliding through my chest, completely unprovoked, Soren growled, a low, primal sound in the back of his throat.

As if that was a verbal command, I lifted the bar to my mouth and took a large bite.

“Okay, on that note,” the stern man from earlier said, drawing out his words in an obvious attempt to pull mine and Soren’s attention away from one another. It took me a full three seconds to tear my eyes away from his. I sucked in air when I did, my lungs feeling much tighter than they had mere minutes ago.

“My name is General Bello, but you may call me Peter,” the man said, extending his hand to me. After a moment, he subtly pulled it back. I wanted to frown at the slight, but something was telling me he’d done that to avoid something worse than a missed a social grace. “I think we ought to discuss the ins and outs of your new arrangement, don’t you think?”

He was right, but I wasn’t going to be so quick to agree. My body felt weird, like it wasn’t in control anymore. My mind felt muddled, and not just because I was actively fighting the urge to bury my nose in Soren’s neck and sniff him. His very bare neck, which was connected to his very bare chest. “I’m not going anywhere with him like that.”

It was convenient that Royal protocol tended towards the demure and I could pass it off as avoiding impropriety. God forbid a claim that I’d been in the same room with a shirtless man I wasn’t married to.

Soren laughed under his breath, then leaned close enough that his nose brushed my hair. Yes , my instincts screamed. The voice in my head sounded like a mix of my own and a much more powerful undercurrent.

No, I forcefully reminded whoever was speaking. Good God, what was happening? “I’ll put on clothes,” Soren said, speaking no louder than a grumble right into my ear. “You’ve seen my Mark, now.” I turned toward him, our faces mere inches apart. He smiled when our eyes connected, then he shaved off an inch of space we didn’t have to spare by dipping his chin slightly. “I look forward to the opportunity to see yours up close.”

I sucked in a shocked breath at his forwardness. That was not … well, that was to say we shouldn’t —it was… “Absolutely not,” was the best I could manage. At least until I got my wits about me.

That only made Soren’s smile widen, the twin dimples on his cheek lengthening. “In all likelihood, you will be retracting that statement.”

Indignation burned a fire in my chest, the infamous Edelstenne stubbornness than ran in my family cementing into my bones. “I don’t care about likelihood. Not. Happening.”

“Good.” Wait, what ? Oh my God, he was goading me. I wondered if it would be too upsetting if I strangled him in front of the entire room. “I was hoping we’d be on the same page about this.”

I could feel my own nostrils flare with a heavy breath. “You just said that—”

Before I could even finish my sentence, Soren had turned with a grin and strode off to whatever hole he climbed out of to come and torture me for the last five minutes.

Everyone else followed my gaze to watch him saunter away, his muscled backside pressing into the plush towel covering his waist, with his Mark on full display.

No , my instincts shouted at me, suddenly horrified by the prospect of all of these people staring at our Mark. They didn’t get to look at that. That was mine.

Woah. I physically reared back with the force of those thoughts, jumping into my mind from the Goddess only knew where. I’d never killed someone before, never even gotten close, but that history was nowhere to be found right now. Not when I was seriously contemplating an attempt to blind the entire room for looking at Soren like that.

I turned to find Peter staring at me with a careful eye. He didn’t even have to say anything for me to know he’d clocked exactly what I was thinking.

“This way,” he said, with a cock of his head. I followed silently, obediently, all of the sudden fearing I had severely underestimated how prepared I was to deal with this … Bond inside of me.