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I barreled into the curving corridor, the pale sunfire sconces providing just enough of a glow so I didn’t stumble. A lithe silhouette lingered beneath an empty sconce, Jude’s black clothes and hair doing well to camouflage him.
“Ju— Commander,” I corrected, closing the gap between us.
His eyes used to flicker in amusement when he spoke with me, but this time, they were as dull as unpolished silver. “Yes, recruit? How can I help you?”
Gods, his tone could cut through stone.
“I-I was wondering,” I began, off to a stuttering start, “where you’ve been all this time? I didn’t see you once shadowing Harlow, or at dinner—”
“Where I go is none of your concern, recruit.” His jaw ticked, but I noted how his brown eye flared, amber flooding his iris. He crossed his arms against his chest, his breaths uneven and strained.
“I’m sorry, I was just…worried?” I said it like a question, and maybe it was one. I hadn’t been entirely truthful as to why I’d sought him out over the last few days. Obviously, something horrific had taken place, or his face wouldn’t be painted with bruises and cuts.
My fists clenched, and ice pooled in my belly. I wanted to lash out, wanted to strike something,anything. The overwhelming surge of rage should have startled me, but I simply drank it in, swallowing it down like sweet wine.
Jude took a step closer, the torchlight casting macabre shadows beneath his already dark eyes. “Why on earth would you be worried?” he taunted with an acidic bite, his full lips stretched thin. “I am your commander. Not your friend.”
The words stung more than I would have liked. Sure, I didn’t think we would exchange chocolates and braid one another’s hair, but still, I thought we had an understanding. Auniquerelationship. One he didn’t share with the others.
Had I been so foolishly wrong?
“My apologies, commander,” I ground out, venom wrapped around every syllable. “I will leave you to your duties, then.”
Gods, why did I even care? Why had I spent my nights thinking about the well-being of a boy who clearly didn’t deserve it? My nostrils flared, and with a look that would have had any man cowering, I turned on my heel, setting off for my friends.
I wasn’t prepared for the hand that encircled my wrist, for the shock of those warm fingers wrapping around me, holding me back.
“Kiara.”
I turned, my name as coarse as sandpaper coming from his lips.
The hand that secured me pulled, and I allowed it, permitting him to guide me farther into the gloom, farther from prying eyes.
In a whirl of temper, I turned, that familiar rush of icy heat racing down my arms and prickling the tips of my fingers. This man brought out the fire I often failed to smother, stoking the flames until the chaos within could not be contained.
“What do you want, commander?” I asked derisively. “I thought I was dismissed?”
Jude’s stare flickered to where his hand grasped mine, a peculiar expression replacing his earlier apathy. I almost relented, nearly softened, but I held firm, meeting him head-on.
When he finally spoke, his voice was lined with gravel, with glass, and with a tinge of what I believed to be bitterness. “That group I told you about?” The one he’d been entrusted to take into the Mist. “We’re to set out tomorrow.”
“I thought we were departing last week, and then you just disappeared.”
“Well.” He snaked a hand through his tangled hair, the color taking on a bluish-yellow tint in the light. “I wasn’t fond of the idea of sending untrained men into battle. Especially as I know firsthand what lies beyond. But it seems as if I don’t have a choice in the matter. Not that I ever did.”
The bitterness swelled, stinging my ears. “I relayed my thoughts to my superiors, but they are determined to explore every possible route. For a reason beyond my understanding, it has been decided that three groups of recruits will be led into the cursed lands to seek a cure, without proper training, without time to prepare. Without a damned hope of survival.”
It was the starkness of a cutting pain that replaced the burning resentment in his eyes.
“Is that why they…why your face…” I couldn’t finish the thought, was unable to form coherent words. But Jude, understanding what I meant, nodded.
My jaw clenched. I wanted to kill the men who’d harmed Jude, who’d made him bleed.
Is this how he’d felt when I’d nearly died in the tunnels? This annoying sense of protectiveness? It made me feel sick in a way I hadn’t experienced before.
Black shadows prickled the edges of my vision as my hand rose of its own accord. When my leather-clad fingers made contact with the gruesome gash marring his cheekbone, he flinched. But I didn’t pull away.
I expected Jude to shove my hand down and retreat, to put the proper distance befitting those in our positions. But when his unusually scruffy cheek pressed into my hand, both eyes momentarily shutting as he loosed an exhale, my traitorous heart fluttered.
