Page 31 of Riftborne
My steps slowed as I neared the entrance. The outside of the building was lined with reflective glass. I’m sure that if he was inside looking out, he could see the reluctance in my approach.
This is for the best.
Tentatively, I pushed my way through the door. The General was, in fact, not actually gawking at me from behind the glass. His back was turned, giving me a view of his broad shoulders and the fiery copper hair he had pulled together with a strap of leather at the nape of his neck.
I cleared my throat.
“A moment,” he said flatly, not even giving me the courtesy of turning around.
Jackass.
My eyes scanned the surroundings. It was a lot of what you’d expect to see in a gym–sparring mats, weights, machines that looked like advanced recreations of torture devices. Silver glass lined a full wall on the left.
Mirrors, perfect.
The citrusy aroma of cleaning products hung in the air, mingling with a touch of metallic sharpness. I paced the length of the room trying to look occupied, avoiding my reflection.
“I’m glad you made it on time, though that’s an interesting outfit choice. Did you think we would be doing hand-to-hand combat?” The General glanced at me briefly, finally deigning to acknowledge my existence. He seemed amused.
A blush of embarrassment heated my face.
“You didn’t exactly give me a dress code. I had absolutely no idea what to expect.” My arms crossed instinctively, a small attempt at hiding my uncertainty.
The General was draped in his basic military uniform: a well-pressed, black, cotton shirt with the special insignia of his faction, trousers, a sturdy, unadorned belt to secure his waist. Black lace-up combat boots completed the ensemble.
“Your eagerness is endearing, truly,” he remarked, brushing past me. “But today we’re starting with the basics.”
My eyebrow peaked. “And we do that, how?”
He pulled two chairs from the wall, bringing them to the centerof the room to face each other, closer than I would have liked. He sat in one, his legs splaying out to either side before gesturing to the other.
“Sit.”
I decided it best not to argue. I followed his demand and slithered past him, sinking into the chair while carefully avoiding physical contact.
Placing my hands onto my lap, I became acutely aware of his eyes on me. His stare was penetrative, bearing down with an annoying intensity. I did my best to keep my composure.
Beyond his glare, his proximity itself was unnerving, stifling out any confidence I had been clinging to since waking.
“Do you always look this exhausted? I figured you would at least do your part and attempt a good night's rest before today,” he asserted before sighing and slumping a bit in his chair.
First my outfit, now this?
“Unfortunately for you, this is my permanent state. Doesn’t matter how much rest I get.” I glowered at him, painfully aware of the impression that my pale skin and dark circles gave off.
“Good to know.” He yawned.
Such a beautiful face wasted on such a rotten personality.
His typical eerie amusement was gone, replaced with a calculating stare that had me shifting in my seat.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, sliding to the edge of the chair. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees.
My eyelids seemed to be frozen. Was it really necessary for him to be this close? He could kill me in a second, with a single movement, and he expected me to trust him enough to close my damn eyes.
“I won’t ask again.” Impatience laced his tone.
There was a darkness in his irises now. I exhaled sharply and finally forced mine closed. But the nerves were still racing along my skin.
