Page 23 of Power of Draken

My voice dies as Collin scrambles off of the bed, pulling the bedspread around his hips. The combat cadet remaining amidst the sheets relaxes against the backboard, not even trying to hide her nakedness.

Chapter 12

Rowan

Istare at Collin.

Collin stares back at me. Then spins to the girl. "I told you to lock the door.”

The girl shrugs, the golden brown locks of her hair fanning out on the pillow. "She should have knocked."

I step back, the scones dropping from my hand. “That's the first thing that comes to mind to say?” I say to Collin. “That you’d told her to lock the door?”

An absurd voice in the back of mind notes that this is the second time I’ve walked in on fucking cadets in as many hours. Either I’m having the worst luck ever, or there is a great deal more fucking going on around here than I’ve realized.

"Ro." Collin runs his hands through his hair. "What are you even doing here now?"

"Nothing." I shake my head. "I'm not doing anything here. But you are. Clearly."

"It's not what you think."

"I think you are fucking her.” I point to each of them as I say it, my voice strangely calm. “Am I wrong?"

"I'd say you hit that one square in the target." The girl on the bed climbs off and starts pulling on her tunic and pants. She seems the calmest of all of us. "I was unaware you came with strings, Chambers."

"I don't come with strings," Collin snaps. His cheeks are flushed. The tops of his ears too. He looks like a trapped animal, shifting between the girl and me.

"No, you don't," I agree quietly. "You don't come with strings. Any strings. You are a free agent now."

The girl whistles.

Collin shoots her a dirty look before swinging his face back to me. His hair is mussed and a strange part of me almost reaches out to brush it on instinct. "Ro, calm down for a moment. We aren’t breaking our engagement. You're just reacting without thinking. You're better than this. Once you calm down, you'll realize you're blowing things out of proportion.”

“Or maybe not blowing enough?” the girl waggles her brows as she pulls on her pants.

“You and I were never engaged,” I tell Collin.

“As good as.” The flush on his face deepens, his eyes flashing with anger. “Oh for gods’ sake. You, I, and even the commandant of the Spire all know you're marrying me. You've taken two years of my love, so don't act like you're suddenly too good for it."

“I’m done.” I enunciate each word as I back to the door. “We are done. Good luck with everything, Collin.”

I hurry away to my room to change for formation and ride a wave of numbness through the rest of the day. I know the hurt and betrayal and tears are somewhere inside me, laying in wait to spring at the worst possible moment, but for now all I feel is a wall of nothing. As if I'd heard the sound of a slap, but am yet to feel the sting. I’m not eager to feel it anytime soon.

I skip dinner to avoid the stares and Ellie’s inevitable questions. By the time I fall into bed, I’m exhausted from the sheer effort of not thinking. I eagerly reach to grip the oblivion of sleep, but even that’s not safe. In that moment, right before unconsciousness, when the world startsswaying and images enter unbidden into the mind, I know it won’t be a good night. And it isn’t.

My dreams are fitful and haunted, a restless sea of fragmented images and morphed memories. I'm running through a night forest, the trees looming over me like twisted sentinels. The air is thick and heavy, pressing down on my lungs as I gasp for breath. Ahead of me, I catch a glimpse of movement, a flash of gray fur darting between the shadows.

I know how this dream ends now, and I scream at myself to stop. But in my dream, a low pained howl sounds and my dream self can’t help rushing toward it. Because six years ago, I had.

I burst into a small clearing and freeze. There, in the center, lies a wolf, its fur is matted with blood. It needs help and there is healing in my budding magic. Not a lot, but some. And I can offer it.

I take a hesitant step forward, my hand outstretched. The wolf's head snaps up, its eyes locking with mine. They blaze with a feral intensity, a mix of agony and rage. A low growl rumbles in its throat, its lips curling back to reveal gleaming fangs.

Then it lunges at my face.

I jerk awake, my chest heaving in sweat soaked sheets. My breaths come in short gasps, still trying to outrun the claws of the nightmare. I rub my cheek and its ragged scar.

A dream. This was a dream. A bad memory my subconscious has twisted into a recurring theater. But that’s not real now. I’m safe.

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