A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 5

Bellamy

Turns out, Soren and I’s room was just down the hall.

I guess that was how he’d changed so quickly. A soldier pointed to the right when I’d left Peter’s office, and after a handful of doors, a corner, and three different people shuffling past me on quick feet and with lowered gazes, I noticed an open door.

As I approached, someone scurried out without a word. Well, I guess they had my bag.

Soren’s last name—Rystrom—was on a metal placard embedded in the door, leaving an open space below it. I was sure my last name would join his shortly, but the empty space only made me think of his last Match. Carson, if I remembered correctly.

From the report my father had been sent, he’d snuck into the Bridge late at night and Crossed to Muli without Soren, then disappeared into the forest on the other side.

I had my hunches about where he’d gone, but that was second to my own priorities.

Speaking of, I shut the door quickly behind me and headed straight for the small pack I’d been allowed to bring with me. I checked the hidden pocket on the interior, finding the letters I’d brought with me still there.

I breathed a sigh of relief, which gave me the clarity to look around the room.

My eyes landed on a bed. A bed. One bed.

Not that I would judge him for it, but I doubted Carson and Soren shared one. Maybe Soren had been taking advantage of the extra space and asked them to put them together.

Maybe that was another rule for paranimas Peter neglected to inform me of.

You are sharing a bed. I won’t sleep if you don’t. There it was again, that voice in my head. It was the Bond, or so Soren said. And boy, was it opinionated.

Fine , I conceded, unable to find a solid reason for denying it what it wanted. Sure, I’d never actually slept in the same bed with a man, but if the Bond was going to throw a fit all night and make me tired and lethargic on my first full day here, where I was supposed to be showing people that I wasn’t incompetent, I guess I’d have to listen.

I forced my attention to the pile of clothing stacked on the bed for me. Two pairs of tactical pants, one pair of tight leggings. One long and one short sleeved shirt and one sleeveless, all made of the same, quick-drying material. Two pairs of boots rested against the bed, one clearly meant for hiking and the other for riding. They also threw in two jackets for good measure, one for rain, one for snow.

I’d been graciously allowed to bring my own clothing for the spare moments we got off, and I’d kept it simple. That was how my personal styled leaned anyway. I would miss my jewelry, but I’d opted not to bring most of it in case it brought on comments about my Royal blood.

As I changed into the clothes given to me and tucked the rest away in my bag, I noticed one shirt I hadn’t before. When I lifted it, I realized that there was only one panel of fabric on the front, whereas the back was entirely sheer. I knew what it was immediately.

It was custom on Muli for Marks to be shown off, making people aware that you were Matched. This shirt was meant to do just that, completely expose my Mark.

This was fine, I liked backless clothes anyway.

The Bond made a quite loud sound of agreement in my head.

With one last look at the bed I was meant to be sharing with Soren, I made my way out to the main hall and tried to ignore how many people were staring at me.

It normally went one of two ways—either people stopped me every inch I moved, begging for a photo or a word, or they gave me a wide berth, plastering themselves up against the wall to get away.

I ignored it. There were more important things to focus on right now.

Especially when I’d never come across anyone who understood what that felt like to be the prized daughter of an Emperor. I was more of a doll used to hold up appearances than a person.

When I walked out and saw a massive crowd of people gathering in the main hall, somehow more imposing than the group that had gawked at me upon my arrival, my chest constricted with a momentary pang of panic.

I wavered for a second, hoping that the confident set of my shoulders made it seem like a pause to scan the room.

I had trained my entire life to make sure my confident mask stayed firmly in place, but I felt it slip when Soren barked, “Didn’t your parents teach you it was rude to stare?” from across the space.

The room erupted like ants scurrying out of the ground, shuffling around and resetting, but most of all, making sure their gazes were planted firmly on the ground instead of on me.

I swallowed thickly, having to fight hard against the heat building in my stomach. It felt like the energy a spool gave off as the strands unraveled in a flurry.

Soren seemed to mistake my momentary lapse in sanity as nerves, because he barked “Bellamy,” at me from across the room. Even though I was sure I was smiling as calmly as possible, I had the distinct fear that I hadn’t done a good job at hiding my wavering nerves at all.

That was silly, though, to imagine that he was stepping in to save me from that jolt of panic. To think that he’d even noticed it in the first place.

Regardless, I walked towards where he was, leaning against the back wall lazily. Everyone parted as I walked through, like water making way for a ship. I really hoped that people stopped treating me like something fragile eventually.

I didn’t do well with pity and careful handling. It felt too … kind. The opposite of everything I’d learned to survive.

I stepped up next to Soren, my mouth opening to tell him that he couldn’t order me around like a dog, but the words were stolen right from my throat. The tightness in my chest immediately released when I got within a foot of him, so powerful I had the urge to collapse into him.

He shifted in his stance, straightening further.

“This is going to be a problem,” I muttered, uncaring if he heard. There would be no escaping the side effects of the Bond. There were too many half-truths I had to manage, and lying about this felt wrong.

If I was going to get through this relatively unscathed, I’d have to approach it head on. If he had a problem with it, if it made his opinion of me plummet even further into the fiery pits of hell, that was fine.

It would be no worse than anything I’d—

“Just stay close,” Soren returned, cutting off my thoughts with the rough scrape of his voice. I turned back to face the room, the move placing me even closer to his body.

Not close enough , that pesky little Bond said. I shoved it away, making sure to send it to a mental timeout while I was at it.

Everyone seemed to have their fill of gawking at us like wild animals, returning to their conversations as we waited for the meeting to begin.

I didn’t need anyone to explain to me what this was.

This was a debrief, as clear as day. Shove all your soldiers into one room and inform them of what to expect for their next mission or assignment, being sure to include a grandiose warning about what would happen if they stepped a foot out of line.

As we waited for our orders, surely coming from Peter or some other General, I scanned the room briefly. Most people were in a similar utilitarian outfit as I’d changed in to.

Those black tactical pants with enough pockets to hide the full gambit of useful items—from spare food to knives to fishing line. Useful to catch fish, but also a nifty little way to strangle someone should the occasion call for it.

The fitted black shirt, sleeveless and made of a water resistant material, which I was sure was made with blood in mind, rather than water.

The exposed arms of those shirts also had the effect of exposing a few Marks throughout the crowd. You could tell who was paired together, and even what level of compatibility they were.

The parasepts , those with only seventy-odd percent compatibility, the bare minimum allowed without immediate side effects, stood in the same general vicinity, but clearly were comfortable being separated by a crowd of people in between. I guess you would be, if only isolated parts of your Marks matched.

The paranovs , in the nineties, were standing right next to each other. I spied one pair of women whose Marks covered their arms. I wouldn’t be surprised if their Match was in the high nineties. I couldn’t see any differences in their Marks, but I’d have to get closer to see whatever little part differed and prevented them from a full blown Soul Match.

Some brave members of the crowd didn’t seem to heed Soren’s warning, even though I was shamelessly staring right on back, and made brief eye contact with me. Then it seemed their fear of me kicked in, and they quickly averted their gaze.

Before I could resume my observations, desperately trying to get a leg up on my obvious inexperience, Peter’s sharp voice snapped through the room.

“Okay!” he yelled, and every voice in the room dropped off immediately. “You know the drill. Septs in the back, you lucky bastards. Move up in rank. Paranimas up at the front.”

Soren immediately took off towards the front of the room, though I was quick behind him. If anything, I was just curious to meet the other Soul Match, the ones Peter had described as being … unique.

As Soren and I walked to the front, I noticed another figure moving through the crowd, the top of his head standing above the rest. When the crowd parted and let him join us in the place of honor, I sucked in my breath at what I saw.

Whoever he was, he looked scary as hell. He was unnaturally tall, easily clearing six and a half feet, with hulking shoulders and a dark look on his face that promised pain if you crossed him. Pain was surely a concept he was familiar with, because there was a slashing scar down the right side of his face, cutting through his eye and leaving it a slightly lighter color. His other was a shade of green so brilliant, it shone to an almost neon degree against his skin.

Complete with dark hair, tanned skin, and the dusting of stubble across his cheeks, he looked rather devilish.

If he was walking to the front with us, that meant he had a Soul Mate too.

Before I could stare any further, a low growl flew out of Soren’s throat. I whipped around to face him, only to find him blinking like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

Feeling oddly chastised, I focused my attention on Peter, who Soren seemed to deem safe . Once I was in the clear of an impulsive reaction from Soren for staring at the—admittedly very handsome—stranger, I couldn’t help but tease him a little. “Having trouble getting used to the Bond?”

“Bell,” Soren grumbled in warning.

“What?” I said, turning my face to look at him and blinking in faux-ignorance. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“Over my dead fucking body.” Another string of words Soren didn’t seem to realize he was saying until the sentence was over.

I rolled my lips together to hide a smile, especially because I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn’t be getting off free of impulsiveness either.

“Ford,” Peter barked, stealing my attention. When my gaze swung back to him, he was staring the newcomer down. That name seemed rather odd for him, slightly too traditional for his rough edges. “Would you care to tell us where Esme is?”

“Right here!” A light, smooth voice called from somewhere in the room.

I followed Ford’s line of sight, assuming he would be the first in the room to find her. At the end of his gaze, I found a lithe, graceful woman walking towards us, twirling the end of her waist-length hair around her finger.

It took me a second, but then it clicked.

I’d seen her before. She was the woman I’d seen when I’d first arrived in the hallway, the one who had simply stepped out of the way when everyone else had slammed themselves into the wall.

She had completely transformed.

In that hallway, she was completely unnoticeable. She’d had her head down, held her shoulders differently, quickened her stride.

Now, she was … commanding.

Not to say she wasn’t beautiful, but her features helped her disappear when she wished. Her hair was a mousier brown, with gentle, deep brown eyes to match. Her beauty was softer, something that took a second to notice if she wished, but she breathed new life into herself when she stood with the confidence and poise she was sporting now.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said to Peter in a calm voice that still held a warmth that made me want to instantly deem her as safe in this room full of vipers.

Peter simply nodded, returning his attention to his clipboard. Ah, so she was his favorite.

“Where were you?” Ford asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t speaking with the sternness I’d expect from someone concerned for his Soul Mate’s safety. His tone was colder, like he was more annoyed that he couldn’t answer Peter’s question rather than anything to do with Esme.

“Why? Miss me?” Esme snapped back, walking toward Ford with an emotionless smile plastered on her face. As she walked, there was a slight jingle trailing in her wake. In the hour since I’d seen her, she’d also added on a considerable amount of jewelry. Another layer, it seemed, to her disappearing act.

She was trained to be invisible when needed, that much was clear. When she wasn’t on duty, she was someone who chose to wear stacks of bracelets, layers of necklaces, and small gold hoops trailing up her ear.

“If you’re late, it reflects poorly on me,” Ford returned, completely breezing past Esme’s question.

“Oh Ford, have you considered that’s exactly the outcome I’m looking for?” Esme asked, placing her hand over her heart. Her rings glittered in the artificial light. That meant they were expensive. Our salaries reflected how important we were to the Empire, at least compared to most military wages.

If that figure was all you had to feed your family, it was a tight squeeze. Esme’s clear love of opulent jewelry made me think she was the only beneficiary of her earnings.

The move also brought attention to her Mark. Or as much of it as I could see. Both Esme and Ford were in black, long-sleeved shirts, both plastered tight to their figures. The only bit of their shared Mark you could see was the head of a snake on the back of their left hand, before the rest of it disappeared under fabric.

I wondered if that was intentional—hiding it.

“ Esme, ” Ford said, his voice tense around the edges. The first hint of any sort of emotion from him. Everything else had been cold indifference.

“Yes?” Esme said, brightening her smile and cocking her head to the side.

“Enough, you two,” Peter said, snapping his fingers at them. His stare landed on Esme for a second too long, like there was another warning she was meant to be heeding from him.

Esme listened, though not without a sly grin, and turned to stand in line next to Ford, though several inches separated them.

That space, especially in light of the fact me and Soren were pressed so close our arms were touching, made me feel weak. I was already surrendering to the Bond and it had been mere hours.

“Sorry,” Esme’s voice cut through the silence once more. Peter’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything. She leaned forward in line, looking past Ford and directly to me. “Welcome to the shit show, Bellamy. I know Soren is particularly happy you’re here.”

I opened my mouth to respond, though I wasn’t sure what to even say. She’d spoken to me so … informally. More than anyone ever had upon first meeting me.

“Esme, enough ,” Ford said, his hand coming up behind her like he was two seconds away from pulling her away by the back of her neck, not unlike a cat to her kittens.

Soren simply bristled beside me, rolling his shoulders back but saying nothing in response. It was almost like he was used to it, the friendly jabs and sly smiles from her.

I didn’t … no, I didn’t like that. The Bond didn’t either, growling like an animal in my head.

While I was busy trying to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head from that realization, Peter finally decided he had enough of us. His shoulders snapped back, his stance growing even more imposing.

He slapped his clipboard against his hand, the sound ricocheting throughout the room and promptly shutting any remaining whispers up. “Seeing as we have some new additions with us,” he said, though he didn’t look at me. I guess I hadn’t considered that I wouldn’t be the only newbie.

My cheeks colored with embarrassment that I’d taken up that much attention.

“Any new paranima would have stolen the attention. You’re not special,” Soren said under his breath, almost like he could read my mind. You know what, he probably could. Even though he hadn’t said anything comforting, the tension in my chest eased slightly.

I kept my gaze forward, lest I find him grinning.

Smug asshole.

“Let’s go over some ground rules, okay?” Peter said, nodding at one of his subordinates. She scrambled with a remote, before clicking a few buttons and exploding color across the blank wall behind Peter.

It was an animated image of Virterra and Muliterra in space, hovering in orbit. Vir was a mass of reds and oranges scattered across our oceans and land. Our climate was a little dramatic, forcing us to deal with the whims of its emotions. We had rich, colorful rainforests, but also massive expanses of deserts. Almost each of our seven large islands, which made up the families that were elevated to Emperor when it was their turn, shared the same ecosystems.

Muli was full of vibrant greens and blues. There was only one mass of land on their planet, surrounded by an expansive sea. The ecosystem there was primarily a rich forest, interdispersed with snow-capped mountains and crystal blue lakes.

“As you’ll quickly learn, Muli is a different beast to what you know,” Peter said, drawing a few snorts and murmurs throughout the room. “You have the advantage of being used to harsher climates, having to adapt to hotter summers and colder winters, but that does not mean you are prepared for what Muli brings.”

I swallowed thickly at the warning. I knew I was grossly unprepared, but it was a different matter hearing that all your years of training amount to jack all in the face of Muliterra’s wonders.

“You are about to enter a planet twice the size of ours, with a more dense, wild ecosystem than you know,” Peter continued.

“ Sun-stealers ,” someone in the room said, doing a piss poor job of hiding the insult under their breath. I caught my disbelieving laugh at the last second. As far as anyone knew, Muliterra was a sun-stealer, whose long-standing Royal family had taken their natural position of power and turned it into an insatiable greed that made them invade their own planet, then turn to ours when they’d finished.

“Interrupt me again and you’re cleaning up camp for a month,” Peter snapped. I could practically feel Soren’s smile widen despite the threat. Even though so much about him was the same, this newfound bloodlust, and the obvious joy he found in it, was different. “That ill-advised interruption has some truth. Muliterra is closer to the sun, which has afforded them more resources. None of that concerns you. You are there for one purpose and one purpose only. Defending the Bridge.”

The woman in charge of the remote clicked and the image changed to a hazy, iridescent sphere. As good of a photograph as they could get, I’d assume.

“For those of you who have Crossed before, this isn’t news.” Soren stood up a little straighter at my side, almost like he was proud. “But for those of you who haven’t, no fairytales in the news can prepare you for this. Your body will feel like it just got trampled by a thousand horses, your mind like it was put through a meat grinder.”

I snuck a peek at Soren, the person who was meant to help me deal with those very side effects. If he looked at me, I wouldn’t know. I was distracted by the bob of his strong throat.

“If you feel ill after you Cross, please do all of us a favor and use one of the many bins available for that purpose,” Peter continued, forcing my attention away from Soren. As expected, a pang of nerves shot through my chest, but I made myself breathe through it. You know what you’re doing. You’ve prepared for this. “I’ve had enough vomit on my shoes to last a life time. And I will put you on a not so fun mission if you add to that list.”

Soren laughed under his breath. Oh, I was sure he just strolled right on through the Bridge like it was a walk in the park. I could practically see it now, me having to run after him like my tail was on fire just to keep up.

“Evaluations will take place over the next few days, though if you made it this far, you’ll be fine,” Peter said, the first encouraging words in this entire speech. Soren shuffled next to me, and I had to restrain the urge to stomp on his big foot. I didn’t need to hear a word from him to know that he was doubting how those evaluations would go for me.

The woman in charge of the remote clearly clicked a button, because the eerie, otherwordly view of the Bridge quickly changed into a photo of a menu.

For tonight’s dinner, I’d guess.

“Ooooo lasagna!” someone from the group called.

“Fancy,” someone else chimed in, sending the room erupting in laughter.

Peter whipped around to the woman in accusation, who looked like she’d rather crawl into a hole and die than spend one more minute in this room.

Given the world I grew up in, I expected Peter, a man who clearly valued order and obedience, to rip her head off, either physically or through a verbal tirade meant to embarrass her into submission.

“Well, secrets out. Lasagna for dinner,” Peter said instead, his tone neutral even though his mouth was pulled into a thin line. “You’ll be hearing from your unit’s captain tomorrow morning for evaluations and training. Line up for dinner. In order ,” he added, like a mad dash for the kitchen was a common occurrence.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do, still half dazed from the information he threw at us and the unusual reaction from someone so prominent.

“What?” Soren snapped when I didn’t make a move towards the open windows leading to the kitchens like everyone else was. “Nervous about the evaluations? Didn’t Daddy teach you how to fight?”

Calling my father, the Emperor of our planet, Daddy was an intentional slight. I’d never called him anything other than Father a day in my life. “You know as well as I do he didn’t. Neither did your father.” It was willful incompetence at its very finest. Keep Royal children out of the same basic survival training they mandated in schools and the public felt bad about sending one of us into war, like sending a fawn with wobbly knees out in line of a hungry bear.

“I learned enough,” Soren said carefully. I knew that, since the very people who trained me had been the ones to train him, but I didn’t offer up that information. “They felt comfortable sending me here after all.”

“They miss you, you know,” I said without thinking, then wanted to promptly slap my hand over my mouth. Though I had a bit of a temper, one that Soren had managed to kick off better than anyone I knew in a few short hours, I didn’t make it a habit to be cruel. Bringing up his parents and sister was just that.

“Are you trying to provoke me?” Soren sneered, stepping closer to me and staring down at me over the bridge of his strong, straight nose. The thin silver ring piercing his left nostril caught the light.

“Why? Is it working?” For some reason, I wasn’t scared of whatever he did when he was provoked. Trust sank in my stomach like a stone, heavy with realization that I did trust him already, like it was a given. “Of all people, I should be the one privy to all your sore spots.”

Soren’s full lips curved into a grin. Oh no, I could already tell I’d given him the opening he was looking for. “Go ahead. Feel for them. Let me know if you find any.”

And there it was. “I’m not touching you.” It felt imperative to remind us both of that fact.

“You’re the only one allowed to touch me, princess,” Soren said, breathing in deep, reminding me that our chests were all but pressed together. I was pretty sure he’d done that on purpose. “Might as well take advantage.”

At the very last second, I caught a smile. It was like my muscles were working against me, wanting to move in one—happy—direction before I wrangled them in. “You can’t be serious.”

He hated me. My family had done this to him. That betrayal ran deeper than he likely knew.

“Very,” he said, regardless.

“Well,” I said, crossing my arms indignantly over my chest. If he really wanted to stick by that statement, he could be celibate for the rest of his life for all I cared. “The same doesn’t apply for me. Anyone can touch me if I let them.” Even as I said it, the words felt wrong, like bitter, rotten food on my tongue.

Soren’s hand slipped under my hair and around to cup my neck, yanking me towards him so that our noses were touching. “Try it.”

“Hey!” someone yelled at us, making me jerk back. Soren let me go, but not without dragging his hand down my back, right over the trunk of the tree in our Mark. “You’re holding up the line. We’re hungry.”

I realized that everyone seemed to be waiting for something. The only two people who had gotten food were Ford and Esme, who were sitting at a table away from the crowd, up on a small platform on the far end of the room. Neither of them were touching their food, nor were they speaking to one another.

“Please don’t tell me we have to get food by rank,” I gritted out, understanding dawning.

“We do,” Soren answered, making my face contort into a pained expression. Soren smiled while he looped his finger around my face, noting my frown, with his finger. “Oh, that was fun. I enjoyed that.”

My hands were halfway towards his throat, intent on strangling him, before he took off toward the kitchen window. I had to take two running steps to keep up with him. I was tall, used to shortening my strides to accommodate everyone else, but damn Soren’s legs were long. Thick too, full of strong muscle that—

A plate full of lasagna was shoved unceremoniously into my hands, complete with a side salad and a drink meant to replenish electrolytes. Before I could mutter a reluctant thank you to Soren, he was off again, marching toward the raised platform.

“I’m sure you love sitting above everyone else,” I said, helpless against the urge to needle him, as he walked over.

“Up until today, I was down there with the paranovs, ” Soren said, nodding to the long table closest to us, filled with pairs in the nineties. Even without knowing, I could have guessed. Every pair sat close together, seamlessly swapping parts of their meal or huddled close in conversation or smiling widely at each other.

Fear crawled up my throat at the prospect that blissful happiness was supposed to be my future. I really didn’t want that. I couldn’t have that.

Needing to do away with it, I said to Soren, “Happy to reinstate your proper rank, prince .”

The jab was well-aimed, causing Soren’s grin to slip slightly.

He recovered well, which made me think maybe he hadn’t shown much of a reaction at all. Maybe I was the only one capable of noticing the minute change. “You’ll be changing your mind when you realize who our company is for the meal,” he said, voice dropping in volume.

“Ford and Esme?” I asked, matching his hushed tone. “You and Esme seemed like … friends.” The word tasted bitter in my mouth. He and Ford seemed friendly enough, too, but I was more interested in defining the relationship he had with Esme.

Soren scoffed, the sound incredulous and grating. “Yeah, sure.”

My frown deepened, and I wondered how my plate would look splattered across Soren’s clothes.

Something in my expression sobered Soren momentarily, because his blinks stuttered and he answered, “Yes, we’re friends. Same with Ford. Before…” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “you got here, I was the only ninety-nine. They often grouped us together.”

I wanted to ask about Carson so badly. When the news broke months ago, I remember feeling bad for him, before another, more shameful sensation rolled through my chest. At the time, I hadn’t known what it was.

Well, that wasn’t true.

I knew what I felt, I just didn’t have an explanation for it. Until now.

I’d been relieved. Now, I knew it was that stupid, jealous Bond in my chest relishing at the fact that Soren was all mine. God help me.

“I guess this won’t be so bad,” I said, momentarily meeting Esme’s eyes from across the room. I forced myself to remember my first impression of her, that she seemed warm and kind, pushing aside the irrational half of my reaction.

“Just you wait,” Soren said through a sarcastic laugh. He ripped my tray of food from my hands and nodded in front of him, silently telling me to get a move on it.

I chose to stay silent instead of pointing out that he’d just technically done something nice for me, knowing that would probably result in us getting into a literal food fight before we ever made it to the table.

I headed towards my seat, politely nodding at Ford and Esme with a kind smile as I approached, and sat down. Soren took the seat across from me, sliding my tray in front of me.

Despite the nutrient bar Soren had stolen then shoved at me, my stomach was still empty and cramping. As gracefully as I could manage at this level of hunger, I tucked into my food. As I ate, I noticed that Soren’s Royal-bred manners hadn’t seemed to go anywhere, though he was gripping his knife differently—the way you would hold it as a weapon rather than a utensil.

Soren caught me staring, but stayed silent. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned the knife in my grip so that it mirrored his.

Much better , the Bond said.

It was only after the food created a subtle, warm feeling of fullness in my stomach that I realized that in the last several minutes, no one had said a word.

Somehow, I just knew Soren was actually comfortable in the silence, so I focused my attention on Ford and Esme. Ford’s movements were somewhat jerky, while Esme looked like she wanted to crawl out of her skin and was consciously restraining the urge to do so.

“Is…” I cleared my throat, restarting with the level, calm voice I’d been trained to use in tense situations. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” They didn’t seem like people who would particularly care who I was, but they hadn’t said a word since I’d sat down.

“What?” Esme and Ford said at the same time, whipping their heads towards me. I figured it wouldn’t do me any favors to point out that despite their obvious insistence, they shared quite a few similarities.

“Just treat me as you would Soren,” I said carefully, gesturing at Soren. I was sure he’d gotten his own wave of the careful treatment. He was the heir when he enlisted, same as me.

Ford just blinked at me, his strong brow furrowing, while Esme’s soft brown eyes widened in confusion.

Oh. Okay, so that wasn’t—

“Princess, it’s not you,” Soren cut in. He was obviously covering up a smirk, something I was sure he expected me to thank him for.

Esme scooted a bit closer to me, resting her hand on mine. Her rings were ice cold, burning into my skin. That couldn’t be good for her. “We aren’t speaking because its what we normally do.” It was my turn to blink at her in confusion. I guess her and Ford seemed rather cold with one another but that was—“It gets terribly boring being forced to sit here together every day without any other company.”

Ford snorted, and Esme rolled her eyes dismissively.

“Why? You are—”

“Not a fan of each other,” Esme supplied, her face completely void of emotion. Even so, she’d cut me off from saying Soul Mates . My mother used to tell me that I was crazy, seeing things in people’s faces that weren’t really there or reading into the way someone said something by telling me, “Honey, you’re thinking too much.”

I believed her for a long time, until I realized that I had been right, and she just didn’t care to acknowledge that people could be hiding their true intentions.

Like a moth to a flame, I was helpless but to dig a little deeper into that reaction. Especially since Ford was staring at me like he was daring me to keep talking.

“How long have you been Matched?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Eight years.” They answered in unison, both of their voices cutting like freshly sharpened steel.

I opened my mouth to respond and try to ameliorate the tension, but Soren beat me to it. “Please don’t make being a Royal a thing. I would enjoy you all forgetting that little fact about me.”

I blinked at Soren. He’d … saved me. Out of pure curiosity, and yes, a level of impulsivity I had gotten good at controlling but had seemed to swell again in recent weeks, I was going to keep pressing on that sore spot. But he’d just swooped in and changed the subject seamlessly.

“It’s really the worst thing about me,” I added, though I was really just speaking to Soren. “I’m happy if you chose to ignore that trait.”

“I’d expect you to be a fan of your status,” Ford said, his first words the entire dinner. Okay, so he had a thing against Royals. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was part of an involuntary draft. He clearly had a chip on his shoulder about something.

“I won’t deny I’ve reaped the benefits of my privilege,” I answered carefully, my hard-won skills with diplomacy coming out. “But my family and I…” I considered how to say this without risking an allegation of treason. “Well, we differ considerably on almost every opinion in the book.” There we go. That should be vague enough to avoid getting my head cut off.

“The Emperor didn’t stop your enlistment?” Esme asked, cocking her head to the side in curiosity. She had quite a bright personality when she wasn’t speaking to Ford.

“Hard to stop a Soul Match,” I said, lifting my drink in mock cheers. That canned answer was normally enough to cut off that line of questioning. Better than having to lie about the fact that all my father said upon hearing of my new condition was, “Good.”

Later that evening, he’d said a whole lot more, but that was beside the point for now.

I felt something draw my attention, and realized it was Soren staring at me. He had his hands clasped in front of his mouth, elbows resting on the table, while his ice-blue eyes bore into me.

I shook my head slightly, hoping this Bond was strong enough already to convey my meaning. It would come out eventually, but it couldn’t happen now.

Soren’s chin dipped ever so slightly.

Even in that minuscule move, I knew he’d be asking me questions the second we were alone in our room—God save me—but he let it go for now. He knew the truth about enlistments in the Royal families.

I was no exception.

The rest of dinner chugged along with somewhat uncomfortable small talk. Once pressed, Esme opened up and started asking me a million questions about Royal life and Cor and my journey over. Soren was as pleasant as he was capable of being. Ford stayed dead silent, only looking up from his plate to stare at Esme when I made her laugh like the sound personally offended him.

After a while, someone called through the room, “You’re in luck. We have leftovers today.”

A few people shot out of their chairs and hustled toward the kitchen window.

“You get enough food?” Soren asked me from across the table, the words sounding like they’d forcefully pushed their way out of his throat.

I nodded, deciding not to fight any battles with him when it came to the more harmless aspects of the Bond. If he wanted to make sure I was fed, fine. I’d rather focus my energy on resisting the other … effects.

Seemingly satisfied, Soren grabbed both our plates and headed off to the kitchen to dispose of them. I hated to admit it, but when he reached that window—the furthest point away from me—I felt the distance like someone scratching at my skin.

I hadn’t even noticed that Ford left until Esme’s voice made me look back in their direction. “If you need anything, let me know,” she said, her voice soft and kind.

I nodded at her, getting the distinct feeling that she wanted me to reach out for her sake as much as my own. If I spent eight years with a Soul Mate who I wanted nothing to do with, I might feel the same.

She left after that, disappearing into the crowd.

“Bell,” Soren called from down the short flight of stairs.

I was standing next to him seconds later, as if I’d teleported there. I didn’t focus on the walk over, just the fact that I was next to him.

As we walked silently back to our room, I was reminded that not only would we be locked in together for the night, there was only one bed to share.

I restrained a muttered curse as I was forced to confront my fate.