Page 12 of Honorable Convictions
“I know. I’m going to have to study more so I can beat him.”
Trista laughed so hard she laid a hand over her stomach. “Good luck with that.”
Chapter 6
Three weeks into his newly resurrected life, Pierson had split things into two neat columns of pros and cons. Although he might be sitting in a classroom, he listened with only half an ear to what VK Calixtus was teaching. It was rude and he should likely be ashamed of himself, but he’d memorized his textbooks, so it was a review for him. Pierson had exceptional recall and thus far, he was still getting accolades for his perfect scores.
His less than stellar performances in the gymnasium hadn’t improved by much despite the amount of time Pierson dedicated to practicing his coordination and techniques. Unwilling to stop trying to get better altogether, he knew his destiny was to be a Juris Knight. It made him proud to know he’d be part of the exclusive number of fallen knights who’d qualified. There was no other way to become a Juris Knight besides being resurrected with the type of brain that could catalog enormous parts of information and think critically about crime scenes, motivation, character, and a myriad of other factors that went into solving cases and determining sentences.
Someone else might exult in knowing that with continued dedication, they’d find themselves with such a prestigious job, but Pierson had too many other things plaguing him to enjoy it. Thus far, he’d been unable to make any headway in developing interpersonal relationships. The other fallen knights simply went about their day, and it was horribly embarrassing that the instructors encouraged them to work harder on teamwork. Except for Pierson, they understood how to do that—the other five men and women took meals together, joked around, and otherwise cooperated fully.
It was Pierson who stuck out like a slightly broken statue wobbling on a crooked shelf. A misfit, he was left uncomfortable when the VKs or other teachers forced the entire group to do something together. What he wanted to do was tell them to stop, but he lacked the authority. Pierson wished he could say that they simply preferred to be friends with Mitchell, and the animosity between them was visible, but it was a lie and he was ruthlessly honest with himself.
While their matebond was a secret, Pierson didn’t think it mattered much. They were incapable of being in a room without sniping at one another, and the barbs they traded weren’t a daily thing but an hourly occurrence. It was frustrating. Their meeting was upsetting, but that was twenty-two days ago, and he’d made his peace with Mitchell’s decision to engage in any kind of sex with Trista. The images in his head were crisp enough that it could’ve been minutes since he walked through that door, but there was bound to be a downside to having an exceptional memory.
What Pierson didn’t want was for this feud to grow any larger or burden their fledgling relationship any further. VK Calixtus dismissed them for the day, and although Pierson was determined to speak to Mitchell, it’d have to wait until he could get him alone. Not an easy task for the always social Mitchell, but surely, he’d find a way to speak to him calmly and rationally, so they were able to clear the air.
Since it was the last class of the day, Pierson headed straight to the dining hall and grabbed his evening meal. In silence, he consumed it at a table alone while his fellow recruits chatted amicably as they ate their supper. Finished well before them, he went to the gymnasium and spent the next half hour punishing the punching bag in some vain hope that his dexterity and coordination would magically improve.
Energy expended, he was ready to tackle the biggest issue and considered it a good sign that Clayland was in the hall. “Hey, do you know where Brooks is?”
“In our room, but—”
Not in any mood to get into a conversation with anyone but Mitchell, Pierson took off in a jog. “Thanks, I appreciate your help.”
“Murphy, wait—”
“I only need to talk to him for a minute,” Pierson hollered. “I won’t keep him long.”
The other fallen knight let out a curse, but he ignored him and made it to the door Clayland shared with Mitchell. Sucking in a deep breath, Pierson hoped they were finally ready to have a civilized conversation so they could move forward as intended by Fate.
Mitchell was correct when he mentioned that matebonds should center their lives and Pierson wasn’t going to deny that he was interested in getting to know Mitchell better. Handsome, polite to everyone but him, and with his test scores steadily rising, he had plenty to recommend him. If he hung out less with his buddies, he might get two or three promotions to his rank at the end when assignments were handed out.
Lifting his hand, Pierson knocked and waited for Mitchell to let him in. But instead of a beautiful set of aqua eyes that were rarely serious unless he was glaring at Pierson, nothing happened. Wondering if he hadn’t heard it, Pierson rapped harder on the wood.
“Go away,” Mitchell yelled.
With a majestic eye roll, Pierson ignored the bellow and thumped his fist heavily on the panel separating them.
“How many damn times do I need to tell you to fuck off?” Mitchell shouted. “I’m fucking busy—now goaway.”
Since Pierson was the only person Mitchell had ever spoken derisively to, he had no doubt that he knew who was in the hallway. Perhaps he’d assumed it was him because his friends were in Trista’s room, or maybe he’d used his senses to detect Pierson, but he sure as hell didn’t want it to be. With a reddened face, Pierson walked to his own space and shut himself inside.
Thank goodness no one else had been around, he thought. It was horribly embarrassing to be disliked by the approachable fallen knight, and it reinforced that there was something about Pierson that simply repelled people. Yes, they’d had their issues, but how could they fix things if Mitchell refused to allow them to speak about it?
Pierson was willing to shoulder the blame for the way he’d reacted, but no one had forced Mitchell to shout at him with curt remarks. Being so young in experience, despite the hopefully long previous life Pierson would never remember, it was difficult to say if Fate was always correct in her pairings. Could she have erred? If so, what in the world could they ever do about it? Pierson had no clue, but his single remaining option was to focus on graduation. When he was given his assignment, he’d figure out how to start over.
A rich, fulfilling existence with relationships, including the one that was supposed to be the center of his world, was what Pierson desired. Mitchell had hinted that he was interested in the same thing, but perhaps the weeks of icy disdain had changed his mind. Without Mitchell willing to discuss it, Pierson was left with guesswork. Pierson liked to be in control—not providing conjecture while sitting under a bright light, trying to form answers—but he was quickly learning that things weren’t necessarily going to go the way he wanted.
∞∞∞
With twenty-three days left until graduation, Mitchell was strung out in a haze of words. It’d become crystal clear after a week or two that Pierson simply wouldn’t sit and have a conversation about their matebond. At a loss, Mitchell had tried more than once to hold his temper instead of throwing the man to a mat and sitting on his chest until he got out everything he needed to say, but he was smart enough to know it’d be pointless. Pierson was stubborn and refused to listen until he was damn well ready.
There was no way Mitchell could take the chance that after they got their assignments, he’d get a couple of promotions and work his way up the fallen knight chain while his Juris Knight mate rose above it all with his immediate acceptance into his exclusive club. So, he’d done what anyone would and dove into his textbooks like a man possessed. Unlike Pierson, he was incapable of memorizing things after a brief study. If Mitchell hadn’t seen him do it in class, he wouldn’t have believed such a thing was possible.
The other recruits marveled over Pierson’s crafty mind, and it made Mitchell’s chest puff with pride. His goals firmly in sight, meals allowed Mitchell the opportunity to interact freely with his fellow recruits, barring the one who didn’t speak to him. Once their schedules were clear, he kicked Clayland out of their room and spent hours reading. They still routinely pounded on the door to try and drag him out, but Mitchell wasn’t persuaded to join them.
And if he were being completely honest, as much as he’d reveled in the idea of hitting the streets as a fallen knight, he had a healthy competitive side. Pierson was his for eternity, and he wasn’t sure he could handle knowing that only one of them had qualified for Juris Knighthood. The contender inside Mitchell wasn’t capable of such nonchalance, and it kept him going when he didn’t do as well as he’d hoped on yet another test Pierson passed with a perfect score.
