Kingmakers, Year One

22. Leo

22

LEO

I ’m worried about Anna.

She’s not looking well. She seems to be folding in on herself, like a star collapsing. Getting even more quiet than usual in class. No hint of a smile on her face.

I think she might have broken up with Dean. I haven’t seen them sitting together at lunch or walking together across the grounds.

Granted, I’ve barely seen Anna, because she seems to fade away the moment class dismisses, and she must be eating at odd hours, because I haven’t seen her at the dining hall.

I’m embarrassed to ask her friends. They might not know what’s going on anyway—Anna has always been reticent about her romantic life.

The main reason I think Anna might have split with Dean is because Dean is in a foul temper. I saw him snarl at Bram over breakfast, to the point where it looked like the two of them were about to come to blows, and then the next day his knuckles were swollen and bruised from hitting the heavy bag.

He’s stomping around campus just hoping that somebody is stupid enough to get in his way.

A few months ago I probably would have taken the opportunity to do exactly that. But I’m not as interested in butting heads with him anymore.

What I want to do is talk to Anna. I want to talk to her the way we used to—when we communicated before we even opened our mouths, and everything in the world seemed like a joke between the two of us, that only we could understand.

It’s hard to find her, because she seems to be avoiding me. Or maybe she’s avoiding everyone.

We don’t have as many classes together this semester. And the course work is getting more and more difficult. I have to spend several hours a night on homework.

We’re in Marksmanship at the same time, though not much chatting can occur while we’re all wearing protective ear- and eyewear, taking aim at targets. Psychological Interrogation has assigned seating, and we’re on opposite sides of the room. So Chemistry is probably my best chance to speak to her.

Our Chemistry class is more like a lab. Last semester we were studying undetectable poisons. This semester we’ve moved on to explosives.

The desks are rectangular tables that fit two people. Anna’s been sitting with Zoe generally, but Zoe has fallen prey to the flu that’s been sweeping through Kingmakers, so I take my opportunity to slip into the seat next to Anna while Professor Lyons is still writing a list of ingredients on the chalkboard.

Anna gives a little jump when I sit down next to her, and I see her hand clench convulsively in her lap.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hello,” she murmurs.

“Zoe still sick?”

It’s a stupid question. I already knew she was before I sat down, having already asked Chay that question over breakfast.

“Yeah. I think I might be getting it too. My head is killing me.”

She presses one slim pale hand against her temple, trying to ease the headache apparently throbbing beneath the skin.

“They probably have aspirin at the infirmary,” is my genius suggestion.

“Probably,” Anna agrees.

I should have offered to get her some. Too late—Professor Lyons is already starting the lecture, and I wasted those precious moments talking about Zoe and fucking aspirin.

Now we just have to sit here listening, while I’m painfully aware of Anna’s slim frame next to me, the strand of her hair tickling my arm, and the soft puff of air that runs across my knuckles when she lets out a silent sigh.

The lecture seems interminable. I want to look at Anna, not at the professor, but I can’t turn my head without her noticing, not when we’re sitting side by side like this.

She’s not taking notes like she usually does. Her notebook sits closed in front of her, her pens lined up next to it untouched.

Her black nail polish is chipped—unusual for Anna, who is careful with her appearance. She really must be sick. Or upset about Dean.

My stomach clenches painfully.

When the class ends at last, I blurt out, “What do you have next?”

Anna says, “Contracts and Negotiations.”

“I’ll walk over with you.”

Her blue eyes flit up to my face, and for a moment I feel a hint of that old spark, that connection between us.

“Alright,” she says.

We descend the long, spiraling staircase on the south end of the Keep, then go out into the February sunshine. It’s still chilly outside, but you can taste the first hint of spring in the air—the fresh grass coming up on the commons, and puffy white clouds in the sky that are friendlier than the thick gray fog we had all through January.

The wind seems to remind Anna of the last time we spoke. She says, “I never returned your sweater.”

“It’s alright. I have three.”

“That was kind of you to lend it to me.” The unspoken part of her sentence is, Considering we’re barely friends anymore.

My chest is aching, and I wonder how I can keep this conversation going without fucking it up somehow. I used to never worry about what I said to Anna. Now all I seem to do is make mistakes.

“It was nothing.”

Wrong. That was wrong. It came out sounding like I didn’t care about giving her the sweater, like I would have done it for anyone. I erased the meaning of the gesture and made it seem like there was no emotion behind it. When the truth is that I was compelled to help her. I can’t bear watching Anna shivering, or cold, or unhappy in any way.

Frowning slightly, she switches the subject. “The next challenge is coming up.”

“Only a week away.”

“Are you excited?” Anna asks.

She’s talking about the old Leo who loved competition more than anything.

I still feel some of that anticipation but I’m not nearly as cocky as I used to be. I’ve been at Kingmakers long enough now to understand how brilliant and ruthless and experienced the older students are, how much they’ve learned in the three years they were here when I was not.

“I wish we knew what the challenges were going to be ahead of time. So I could better prepare.”

Anna says, “You’ve always been good at thinking on your feet.”

I hear a hint of her old confidence in me. It gives me a warm glow, buoying me up better than anything else could do.

Encouraged, I take a deep breath and ask her, “Are you okay, Anna?”

She throws a quick glance at me. “Of course,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought . . . I thought maybe something happened with you and Dean.”

She’s silent, walking beside me. We’ve almost reached the intersection where we’ll part ways for our next class. It’s now or never.

“Are you still dating?”

She turns to face me, her expression impossible to read. “Why do you ask?”

I feel like I’m traversing a thin layer of basalt over molten hot lava. How to navigate this? How to say the right things?

“I . . . I just wanted to apologize. For trying to tell you who to date. It’s your choice, obviously, if you want to date Dean. I had no right to tell you not to.”

Anna looks up at me, blue eyes like winter, cheeks like snow. No color in them at all.

“So you’re happy for me,” she says tonelessly.

No. No, I’m not fucking happy for her. I’ll never be happy as long as Anna is with someone else.

But I don’t own her. I thought I did. I was like a kid with a toy—careless and stupid. Until I lost her.

“Yes,” I lie. “I’m happy for you.”

I don’t know if I’ve ever lied to Anna before. It doesn’t feel good coming out of my mouth. In fact, it feels fucking horrible.

Anna regards me with a look I can’t interpret. Maybe it’s sorrow. Maybe it’s contempt.

Without answering, she turns around and walks away.

I know I’ve fucked up all over again. But I have no idea how to stop.