JOIN THE CLUB =3
A/N: Name changed from "The Deserter".
I shake out and close my umbrella at the doorway, almost dropping my packages in the process. Rebalancing them in my arm, I enter the back of the cafeteria building of Kilnstone Academy For Girls.
The rows of tables are nearly empty, most of the students in their afternoon classes, but those that remain are, like all the girls here, anywhere from two to nine years younger than me. When I first started working as the Headmistress’s assistant, I would get glares and scowls, because how else would young ladies of favorable lineage treat a girl they assumed was an Adair? But now that I’ve been here two years, they for the most part ignore me as I hurry through to the adjacent main office.
I greet an unmoving Saisha, the secretary, as I cut through her office and tap on the large wooden door to Headmistress Whitley’s office. After a curt “Come in” I push the door open and am about to lay the packages on the desk, but I stop. As does my heart.
I meet his chilling eyes; recognition is painted on his face. Obviously I’m the reason he’s here.
He clears his throat. “Headmistress, I need some privacy with… Miss Ceil.” It isn’t a request, but a command. Just like everything that’s ever come from his mouth.
I can feel Whitley looking towards me, perhaps looking for some sort of assent, but my eyes don’t leave him, and I make no movement. Finally, she just leaves on her own. Because she has to, even in her own school. Even in other countries, he has to be obeyed.
He gestures to a chair in front of the desk. “Sit.” Another command.
I stand.
Shaking his head, he reclines into the Headmistress’ seat, parading his obvious power. “You always were stubborn, weren’t you, Lilly?” He doesn’t look angry or confused by the fake name. More amused than anything. Amused at what I’ve had to do to survive on my own.
In response, I sit on the large windowsill. The shades are drawn and outside the stifling island rain continues, so no natural light brightens the dreary office.
“I’m assuming you’ve hear about Father’s passing.” That’s a nice way of putting it - Father’s passing - no remorse in his tone. Like he didn’t die. He wasn’t killed. He just… left.
“Yes,” I say. Same as him - no emotion. Because that’s what he wants, to soften me. Feed on my compassion. But I won’t let him. Not anymore.
“No one knows who did it yet,” he says, not hurt, not angry, not vengeful. Only making conversation. “He was too young. And now I’ve inherited the country…” He trails off.
“Get to the point.”
He sits up. “The point, Adah, is that I don’t want to do this alone.” I cringe when he says my real name - the name I haven’t heard in two years. “I want you to come home.”
No, you don’t. That’s my first thought when he says that. Because it’s true. He never wanted me home before - was all too happy when my parents banished me, back before Mother had a heart attack and Father was killed - and now that he’s the king there’s even less reason to have me home. If he accepted me back, I’d have claim in the kingdom if ever he was unable to run it. If he became sick or injured, or if someone killed him. If I remained banished, I’d get nothing.
“Why?”
He looks hurt I’d question his motives. As if he doesn’t already have this all planned out.
“You’re my sister, Adah. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Not the last time I checked.”
Taking a deep breath, he says, “Can I say I’m sorry?” You never have before. “I should have supported you. I should have stood up for you. But you know as well as I that if I had, I would have been banished too. Then we wouldn’t be here.”
Yes, we would. My parents loved him, adored him. He could do no wrong. And they needed an heir. Needed someone to take control after they died, someone they trusted, someone they knew would carry out their preformed plans. The plans which I so much opposed.
“Unfortunately,” I say, “you didn’t. It’s a little late now.”
“Ada-”
I cut him off. “I’m not coming h-” I catch myself. That place isn’t my home, not anymore. It never will be again. “Back there,” I finish my sentence. I refuse to meet his eyes. Mostly because mine are tearing up. “No matter what you say.”
“I‘m sorry you feel that way.” He rises and circles the desk to where I sit; I turn my head to face the window. “But before you make up your mind completely, there are some things you should know. If you came back, things would be different.”
Something angry stirs inside me.
“Different how?”
I jerk my head around and find it a mere foot from his, tears slipping out, like they always do when I’m angry.
A shiver runs through my spine as I realize, despite our age difference, just how far our resemblance carries. His hair’s thicker than my golden-orange waves, with a twinge of brown in it, and his eyes are darker than my hazel ones - but we both have unrealistically light skin, large eyes, and slight features. Neither of us is large, but not quite petite. A safe middle. Only on him, this all adds to the affect of compressed power, a fatal trait. Something we don’t share.
He doesn‘t react to my anger. “You wouldn’t resume your lessons. Instead, I want you to become my military adviser.” I raise my eyebrows. “Not right away of course,” he hastens to say. “You’d have to train to be a soldier first, and go through several camps before it’d be taken into serious consideration. But if you complete those, I can think of no one more fitting for the job.”
I have to check to see if he’s lying. But I can’t tell - it’s a skill he’s too well mastered. Still, why bring it up if he wasn’t sincere?
He notices my quizzical expression and, reminding me to keep my face unreadable, says, “I understand that you’re skeptical. But believe me, with Father gone, there have been considerable changes. Things will be better for you.”
I want to believe him, I really do, but I know he’s lying - either that, or there’s a catch. He’s never strictly honest.
“Well maybe I don’t care,” I say. “I’m not leaving.”
His face softens, turns rueful. Looks sorry. That’s how I know it’s an act. “And there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”
“No.” I’m adamant.
“Adds,” he says, using his pet name that’s too familiar for comfort, “I know I was horrible before. But I’m trying to make up for it now. I miss you. Everyone at the palace misses you. Even that boy still comes around asking about you - what was his name? Gavin?”
My chest tightens. Gavin was my best friend, the person I could tell anything to. The one person who actually liked me, and not because I was a princess. Right before I left, a small romance even sparked between us, something we’d never admitted was possible, and for a few short weeks my life was perfect.
Until, of course, I was banished. That completely ruined it. I haven’t had contact with him since.
“I’ve already arranged for you two to commence training together, as partners.”
All our childhood we dreamed together of the intense training, the heroic battles; a life in the military. And entering the Combat Zone. We never could wrap our minds around that, even though for me it was never really a possibility.
“But if you don’t show up, I guess he won’t be able to train. All the other recruits have already been paired.”
I narrow my eyes, and even he must find it hard to side-step my contempt. Gavin is the general’s son - to not join the military now…
“Adds.” He can‘t help looking triumphant. “I only have so long. My ship leaves tomorrow. I need an answer.” He says this because he knows he’s won. He wouldn’t force me into a decision unless he was sure I’d choose what he wanted.
Resisting the urge to slap him, I curtly say, “I’ll be in the main hall at seven.” I exit and don’t look back.
So, is this version better? Do you follow things better/are more things explained, and what do you still have questions about? Does her giving in and leaving make more sense? And I guess, all the other things I've wanted in the past, like pacing and descriptions, etc. Thanks in advanced, all you lovelies. =)
Also, since it's second person, directed at him, I think it should be either italicized or the 'You' should be changed to 'He'.
Good job.
Gender:
Points: 1193
Reviews: 262