Page 151 of Forcing Fate

His lip twitched in a sneer and he boxed me in with his hands. “Gareth.”

I blinked.

I stared at his mouth, confused by the word that came out. “Gareth?” I breathed. My father?

He nodded and leaned in, lowering his voice. “I served with him. Little did I know I’d serve with his brat girl.”

“I—what,” I stammered. “What was he like?”

I had no clear memories of him. Only vague feelings attached to my childhood. I wanted to know my father. Something hungry unfurled inside me, demanding to know more.

“Stubborn. Foolhardy. Like someone I know.”

“How did he die?” I whispered.

He looked away. I recognized that look in his eye. He was shutting down. He didn’t deem me worthy of this, of the information concerning my father?

I reached up and held his face, pulling it down. We had crossed so many boundaries tonight. What was one more?

“Rafe. How did he die?”

The General stared at me and something I never expected to see welled in his eye. Sorrow. Remorse.

Regret.

“He was killed by the Shadows.”

There was more. It was written all over his face. “How?”

He closed his eye and tore away. I stumbled after him a few steps as if an invisible cord connected us. He cast a cold look over his shoulder.

“Join me and find out.”

The following day, I was in a terrible mood. I had an awful day training, weaker than ever before as I struggled to keep up with the men. Whenever the soldiers looked at me and raised a judgmental brow, I wanted to scream.

I was doing my best. I shook with effort during strength training. Endurance training had me on the edge of passing out. I moved as fast as I could in swordsmanship, but it was never enough. Still, I came short. I simply couldn’t compete.

It wasn’t even that I couldn’t keep up with the other soldiers that bothered me. It was the fact that they treated me as though I was a burden. I was leeching off of their strength and talent, riding on my company’s back. Commander Dewal shouted at me several times, bringing my shame to the forefront. He only raised his voice to refocus me, but it still hurt.

My foul mood didn’t magically disappear when I joined General Rafe for our training session. He was as cocky and cold as ever, and my fiery mood didn’t help matters.

“Temper, temper,” he muttered, slamming me onto the ground.

I shoved against him, struggling to complete a move to get him off. He watched me with his lip curled up in amusement, and I thought about cursing him aloud for the first time.

We were in the training field, tucked away on the far end where few would see us. We stayed formal during our sessions. Well, I stayed formal. He was Rafe, as always. Still, I tried to maintain some mental distance from him.

I pushed at his broad chest, and he let me roll his massive body and shifted into a crouch before he stood. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at me.

“Enough.”

“Again, sir,” I growled, sitting up.

“Enough.” His level tone simply stoked the fire.

I rose, brushing off my trousers. “Again, if you please, sir.”

His hand shot out and clenched the front of my tunic. I thrashed like a mad animal, twisting away from him and freeing myself at the cost of ripping the fabric. I danced around him, ignoring my torn top, and brought my fists to my chin.

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