Academy 7 (17 page)

“And that,” the general said, winding up his story, “was the last time an older student bragged about having the best aim on campus.”

“First-years aren’t allowed to shoot anymore,” Aerin said.

“Hmph,” the older man replied. “That’s Jane for you, making rulings that undermine the integrity of the Alliance.”

Dane answered Aerin’s unspoken question. “I believe Dr. Livinski feels students should first have a firm foundation in the more traditional forms of combat.”

The general scoffed. “And what have you wasted your time on this year?”

“He earned the second highest mark in physical combat,” said Aerin, jumping at the chance to improve her friend’s status in his father’s eyes.

“Second?” The general arched an eyebrow.

“You’d be surprised at the competition.” Dane met Aerin’s gaze, threatening to bring the conversation back to her.

Quickly she withdrew from speaking, letting herself enjoy the silent role of observer. The glasses clinked and drained and filled again. The desserts came forward, chocolate cubes in pools of cream. And Dane and his father talked. Perhaps now the tension between them would ease. Surely, whatever had strained their relationship would not last in such a magical place.

 

She could not sleep that evening, not even under the golden coverlet and ruffled canopy. The memory of the special day had wrapped its way around her mind and proceeded to run in smooth clockwork circles. As it wound through a third revolution, she finally gave up, flung back her covers, and retrieved her empty water glass from the bedside table. Time for a mission.

The sound of voices coming from downstairs distracted her. She must not, then, be the only one having a hard time letting this day slip into the past. Careful not to trip in the dark, she crept downward. A dim light came from the patio, and she could make out two shadows on the other side of the tinted glass, but as she reached the lower floor, her steps slowed. The tone of the voices was far from pleasant.

“What did you think you were going to achieve, bringing her here?” the general demanded.

Aerin froze, realizing he was talking about her.

“I thought I might enjoy the vacation,” answered Dane.

“Don’t sidestep me.” The general’s voice rose as the larger shadow neared the smaller one. Standing close to his son like that, General Madousin’s massive height and extra bulk were apparent. “You and I both know that isn’t why she’s here.”

“Do we?”

“Until this evening,” said the general, “I assumed bringing her here was your idea alone.”

“It
was
my idea. I invited—”

“Stop!” The shout cut through the glass. “Just stop pretending. I knew you were baiting me with that dress.”

“The . . . the dress?” Dane stuttered.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know where it came from. You must have broken into your mother’s room.” The accusation pierced Aerin’s mind.

“I had never seen that dress until today,” said Dane.

Somehow Aerin knew he spoke the truth. The young man who had flown her past those waterfalls would never betray his mother’s memory, not for something as crude as spite, no matter what his father believed. Had the red velvet belonged to Emma Madousin? Aerin eased toward the open gap in the patio’s sliding-glass door. Perhaps she should apologize, explain how she had come to wear the dress and how she had never meant any disrespect. But if neither the general nor Dane had left the gown, who had?

The response came from Dane, only a few feet away now but still oblivious to her presence. His back and shoulders were rigid. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you,” he said to his father, “that my brother might have taken the dress.”

“What interest could your brother have in an urchin like that?” The general’s words were like a slap. And suddenly Aerin did not want to be there, did not want to hear where this was leading. But she could not move.

She could see clearly now through the opening. The general was facing her, but at an angle, his attention fully taken up by his son. Anger rimmed his face in rough lines.

“Oh, I’m sure Paul has no interest in Aerin,” said Dane, “but he would like nothing better than to have you accuse me.”

“Don’t blame this on your brother!”

“How could I? Nothing’s ever his fault.”

“This isn’t about him.”

“What is it about?”

“Aerin
Renning
!” The general growled out her last name. “You will remove her from this house by noon tomorrow.”

“What am I supposed to tell her?” Dane’s response shook. “That my father has lost his mind and wants her gone.”

The fury in the general’s voice dropped to a frightening calm. “Tell her the truth. I caught her in that lie tonight at dinner, and you rushed to cover her tracks. You were in on this together, throwing it up in my face.”

The water glass fell from Aerin’s hand.

Dane took a step forward, toward his father. “I . . . do not . . . know what . . . you are talking about.”

And in that instant General Madousin shot out his fist and hammered the side of his son’s face. Aerin jumped in horror.

Dane had doubled over, his hands clutching his cheek.

“Go to hell,” the general said, his voice as low as it had been before the sudden attack.

“I’d be glad to leave you in it,” Dane replied, stumbling to the opening.

And then he was there, staring at Aerin, blocking her from the general’s view. His hands dropped from his face, and she could see the brilliant red mark across the top of his cheekbone. Without a word, he gripped her shoulders, turned her around toward the stairs, and pushed.

She could hear the glass slide shut behind her.

Chapter Fifteen

DANE WOKE UP TO PAIN ON THE COLD PATIO FLOOR. His left side screamed, far worse than the burning cheekbone under his eye. He struggled to lift himself off the obsidian and felt the darkness tilt around him.

Fire scorched through his torso, and something slid.

The jarring memories from the night before slammed into his conscious. He should have known better than to fight back. Two months of Aerin’s unorthodox training could hardly outweigh a lifetime. Dane had known he didn’t stand a chance.

There was no blood. Too sloppy. Not the General’s style.

Somehow Dane picked himself up off the floor. He stumbled through the opening in the glass, then sank against the wall.

He considered not climbing them, turning instead and walking away, never coming back.

But he could not leave Aerin behind. One hideous, bone-jarring step at a time, he made his way up the staircase. After the second step, a foggy gray haze settled over everything, and he stopped thinking about the movement, just kept going. An amazing thing, pain. Like a drug, massacring thought.

At the top, he banged on the outside of her door and called, “Aerin, we’re leaving.” He did not bother to return to his room. There was nothing there worth the agony of carrying. “Aerin!”

She appeared in the doorway, her bag in her hands, concern blaring across her face.

He could not talk to her, could not think about what she had seen. Not right now. She was a shadow at the edge of his peripheral vision, a necessary attachment and nothing more.

Boxes were waiting for him on the driveway: ten, maybe fifteen. All labeled with his name on them, the General’s way of kicking him out of the mansion. Dane ignored them. No thought or emotion went into dealing with those boxes. He could only walk around them, cross the barren cement, and head for the airport.

He had to walk. No way would he beg a ride from his father’s chauffeur.

The pain provided his only sustenance. He felt stripped, as though every soul on base were watching him. The only defense he could muster was to keep his head lowered, averting his eyes from stares. He thanked the pain for its welcome haze.

A haze that splintered when he spotted the gray hair, greasy coveralls, and familiar face waiting for him by the tail of the plane.
Pete.
Dane felt everything inside him break, like a million branches cracking under the torrent of a windstorm.

“Been avoiding me?” the mechanic accused.

With a trembling gesture, Dane motioned for Aerin to board the plane.

She frowned, her gaze centering on the older man, but she followed directions, shoving her bag into the storage compartment and climbing into the passenger seat.

Pete watched her shut the door, then turned toward Dane. His head shook with an odd, wobbly rhythm that made him look older than his age. “You knew this would happen,” he said.

Dane did not bother to ask what. Pete just knew, the same way he always knew and was always there to pick up the pieces.

“You can’t afford to keep coming back,” the older man said. “Your father is never going to change. He’ll destroy you.”

Dane blinked. Pete was never this blunt, never came out and actually stated the truth about the General, at least he never had before.

“Or he’ll find an easier target,” the older man added, dipping his head toward the passenger side of the plane.

“He didn’t hurt her,” Dane rushed to say.
He’s never hit anyone but me.

“He might. If he thought it would get to you.”

The words were the same ones that had hammered through Dane’s brain last night when he had heard Aerin drop the glass. And he had experienced real fear, the type he had thought he was oblivious to. Immune. But his immunity had failed.

“He’s never getting another chance, Pete.” Dane choked. “I’m not coming back.”

The older man didn’t protest, just held out a callused palm. This, then, was why he had come to the airport.

And for the first time, Dane knew why he, himself, had returned to Chivalry. And why he’d invited Aerin against his better judgment. Not because she wanted to come. That had been the excuse. The truth was he had needed her, needed someone to validate his own actions, to stand at his shoulder and distract him from the fact that he was never going to see this planet again.

Not the dense, raw beauty of its wilderness or the simulated spectacle of his mother’s legacy. Or the weathered face of the man in front of him. For an endless minute, Dane stared at the tarmac, trying to gather control. Then he forced himself to meet the gaze of his closest friend and slowly took the offered hand in a firm grip, to say good-bye.

Chapter Sixteen

HE SHOULD NOT BE HERE
, AERIN THOUGHT AS SHE stepped onto the academy field and peered at Dane through the deluge of pouring rain. She could not blame him for not speaking to her in the week since their return to the school—that is, she could, but she probably would have done the same thing in his situation. And she could not blame him for keeping to his room and leaving her to fend for herself on the almost deserted campus. Nor did she fault him for attending this morning’s classes on the first official day back. She understood that, too. But this, this was idiocy.

Miss Maya may have given the entire first-year class an hour’s reprieve from the rain with her lecture on second-semester expectations, but she had been very clear that no such respite would be available during combat. “You must learn to fight under any conditions” had been her mantra since the beginning of the damp season. And now with the driving raindrops rebounding off the pavement and slamming into the grass, Aerin knew she was about to face the true meaning of that statement.

She had never fought in the mud before, nor in anything worse than a steady drizzle. There would be problems, pitfalls she should be worried about. Techniques she should be contemplating.

On another day, the prospect of fighting in the downpour might have consumed all her attention. But Dane’s stupidity was making that impossible.

Miss Maya, looking more comfortable in the torrent than she had in the overcrowded classroom, brought her silver whistle to her lips. It gave a shrill shriek as she gestured for the students to team up. “All right, let’s see who wants to stay at this school!” she shouted through the rain.

Aerin glared at Dane as he shuffled in front of her and settled his feet into opening position. What did he think? That she didn’t know he could barely walk. He hadn’t been to a doctor. If he had, Miss Maya would never have let him on the field. It wasn’t fair—his putting Aerin in this position.

Once again the whistle blew.

He didn’t attack.

Not surprising for someone who can’t even carry his own luggage.
She doubted he could block, much less perform an assault. And if he was counting on her to attack first, he could forget it.

She did not move.

He waited, and she could see the comprehension dawning slowly on his face, a shadow replacing delusion. She could hear the other students around them launching into maneuvers, flinging one another upon the sopping ground, prying their bodies out of the mud.

He closed his eyelids and took a stutter step back.

Aerin did not speak. She did not have to.

Because Miss Maya was standing over them now, her keen stare taking in the uneven step and the ugly, mottled bruise on Dane’s cheek. She stepped forward, between him and Aerin, then placed hands on her hips. “Madousin,” the teacher ordered, “take yourself straight to the nurse.”

Still Aerin did not move. She watched him go until there was nothing left to see but the thick curtain of pounding rain. And the fierce reflection of betrayal in his eyes.

 

She managed not to think about him for the rest of the afternoon. Shutting herself down. Focusing on the skills required not to kill herself or her reassigned partner. Afterward, she took a shower, buried herself in her studies, then rushed off to the cafeteria. Alone.