Page 30 of A Cruel Kindness

Bellamy waited until we were seated in the far corner of the room, as much privacy as we could get, to answer. “The draft, for one.”

“Ah.” She really couldn’t given me an easier in. Maybe she even secretly wanted me to ask. “Something you wouldn’t know of, right?”

A blush stole over Bellamy’s cheeks, her gaze drifting briefly to the floor. Or maybe to where my hand was curled around the coffee mug. Both were in her line of sight. “No, I wouldn’t.”

There was a draft every year. Two levels—one for general service, one for special. If you were one of the lucky few selected for special service, you were sent to the priestesses of Muli, serving their Goddess on our planet, to get your Mark extracted.

They told you it was an honor to mask the darker truth, that you never got out once you were Matched. You either died while in service, or you were Matched over and over and over again until they begrudgingly had to discharge you with the wealth they promised. Only few made it far enough to claim that honor.

A lucky handful—a gift only reserved for paranimas—were discharged early, but only to be dragged around as propoganda for the Empire and Vir’s strength, showing off their love as publicly as possible.

Of course, the Royals couldn’t be immune from the draft, lest they further the divide between the public and the powerful. There was one Royal child chosen every two years, in what was officially a completely random draw.

In reality, it was nothing of the sort. It was a way to weed out the drunk and the problematic, shoving them away to fight a war in hopes they’d bite it and save the Royals an unflattering headline in the news.

“You volunteered,” I said. It wasn’t a question. I sure as shit didn’t. I couldn’t even fathom what had made her choose this path when she could have lived a life of comfort.

Bellamy nodded after a moment. “I did.”

And her father let her. “Why?” I had many more burning questions to ask, starting with what she knew about my own enlistment, but I just needed to know about her.

The Bond was a selfish asshole.

Bellamy breathed out, her long lashes fluttering prettily. She was hesitating. “Bell,” I said in warning. “Honesty.”

I was pretty sure I’d be able to tell if she was lying, anyway.

Bellamy blew a breath out through her mouth in one slow stream. She did that quite often. It was a move to steady herself.

More information! Keep going! The Bond shouted into my head. Yeah, we agreed on that one.

“They were going to marry me off,” she finally said, her voice cracking through the silence like a gun shot.

She really should have warned me. Well, the Bond really. Because she’d just told me that there was a solid chance that she would have been married to someone else in a loveless, permanent political arrangement without ever finding out about me.

And the Bond hated that.

It freaked out in my head, thrashing against the confines of my mind, screaming at me to take Bellamy and hide her away so that no one could take her from me.

“Who?” I growled out, my voice not sounding entirely human.

Bellamy blinked in surprise, whether at my tone or the look on my face. “It’s—uh,” she swallowed thickly, then restarted. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I … uh,” Bellamy’s words cut off her in her throat, her eyes blinking in confusion. When she spoke next, her voice was much quieter, more hesitant. “The Bond is making me say that I’m … yours.” Her cheeks flushed, then she said quickly, “That I’m not getting married to anyone, that it would be—I’m not getting married.”

Damn right, the Bond in my head snapped, its anger dropping enough that I felt it slump against the back of my mind in relief.

Bellamy wouldn’t look me in the eye. I wouldn’t be shocked if the Bond had been yelling at her with even more fury than it was at me, scolding her for even entertaining the idea of marrying someone else.

“Thank you,” I said, the words sounding foreign on my tongue. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said that. I forced a grin. “Makes me not want to kill somebody as much.”

There was no use lying about the effects of the Bond. Better to talk about it instead of trying to press it down and end up making us do something stupid.

Bellamy nodded, her eyes drifting up to meet mine under lowered lashes. I stayed silent, waiting for her to speak. We both knew I was waiting for her to elaborate. After a moment, she spoke, “I’d always known that I would be married off. My father was obsessed with staying in power.”

I couldn’t help my snort. That was the exact reason I’d gotten forced into this shit storm. My family was beloved—it was just a fact. I posed a threat to him, the young prince who might just be able to convince people to keep the role of Emperor in one family.

Bellamy smiled despite herself. “I would serve him better marrying into another Royal family. That way he could hold to tradition and pass off his title, but still influence the new Emperor. His son-in-law.”

The passage of power was set in stone. Edelstennes always came after Rystroms. House Greene would be next. The eldest Greene son was my age and about as worthy as a bag of rocks. If Bellamy, in all her bright, warm glory, was forced to marry that asshole, I would probably burn down the Florus Castle.