Page 12 of A Cruel Kindness

Both our heads whipped toward him at the same time. “What?” I would be ignoring that we also happened to speak at the same time, with the same inflection.

The hard set of Peter’s jaw left no room for argument, but he carried on regardless. “ Paranimas share a bunk. Base rules.” There was a silent why hanging in the room. Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Five years ago we had a pair ask for separate rooms. They kept sleepwalking towards each other. One night, one of them ran into a cleaning cart and bruised their hip.”

“And?” I asked. I’d take a bruised hip over being locked in a room with Soren any day. I’d had enough of those from taking a corner too fast to know that while painful, they were certainly less annoying than trying to go to sleep with Soren’s breathing trickling into my ear.

Peter ran his hands down his face, clearly at his wit’s end. “The other spent the next day using every cleaning cart on the base as target practice.” A sound jumped out of Soren, sounding oddly like a smothered laugh. “No risking undue injuries, not while the Bond is still fresh.”

Even while my chest twinged with panic at that statement, it wasn’t enough to completely steal my focus. I could still see how weathered Peter looked.

How tense everyone had been when I walked in.

War was weighing on everyone, and I was sure it didn’t help that a fresh-faced Royal walked in, still dressed in carefully crafted garments that struck a harsh contrast to the simple clothing soldiers were forced to wear.

I stood, folding my hands in front of my body. My posture was stick straight, my chin high. “I’ll go settle in. Thank you, General Bello.”

“Peter is fine,” the general said, looking at me with a small note of sympathy in his eyes. I didn’t imagine that was common for him, so I made sure my smile was warm in response.

I walked out, leaving my Soul Mate behind, and facing my fate.

Chapter 5

Bellamy

Turns out, Soren and I’s room was just down the hall.

I guess that was how he’d changed so quickly. A soldier pointed to the right when I’d left Peter’s office, and after a handful of doors, a corner, and three different people shuffling past me on quick feet and with lowered gazes, I noticed an open door.

As I approached, someone scurried out without a word. Well, I guess they had my bag.

Soren’s last name—Rystrom—was on a metal placard embedded in the door, leaving an open space below it. I was sure my last name would join his shortly, but the empty space only made me think of his last Match. Carson, if I remembered correctly.

From the report my father had been sent, he’d snuck into the Bridge late at night and Crossed to Muli without Soren, then disappeared into the forest on the other side.

I had my hunches about where he’d gone, but that was second to my own priorities.

Speaking of, I shut the door quickly behind me and headed straight for the small pack I’d been allowed to bring with me. I checked the hidden pocket on the interior, finding the letters I’d brought with me still there.

I breathed a sigh of relief, which gave me the clarity to look around the room.

My eyes landed on a bed. A bed. One bed.

Not that I would judge him for it, but I doubted Carson and Soren shared one. Maybe Soren had been taking advantage of the extra space and asked them to put them together.

Maybe that was another rule for paranimas Peter neglected to inform me of.

You are sharing a bed. I won’t sleep if you don’t. There it was again, that voice in my head. It was the Bond, or so Soren said. And boy, was it opinionated.

Fine, I conceded, unable to find a solid reason for denying it what it wanted. Sure, I’d never actually slept in the same bed with a man, but if the Bond was going to throw a fit all night and make me tired and lethargic on my first full day here, where I was supposed to be showing people that I wasn’t incompetent, I guess I’d have to listen.

I forced my attention to the pile of clothing stacked on the bed for me. Two pairs of tactical pants, one pair of tight leggings. One long and one short sleeved shirt and one sleeveless, all made of the same, quick-drying material. Two pairs of boots rested against the bed, one clearly meant for hiking and the other for riding. They also threw in two jackets for good measure, one for rain, one for snow.

I’d been graciously allowed to bring my own clothing for the spare moments we got off, and I’d kept it simple. That was how my personal styled leaned anyway. I would miss my jewelry, but I’d opted not to bring most of it in case it brought on comments about my Royal blood.

As I changed into the clothes given to me and tucked the rest away in my bag, I noticed one shirt I hadn’t before. When I lifted it, I realized that there was only one panel of fabric on the front, whereas the back was entirely sheer. I knew what it was immediately.

It was custom on Muli for Marks to be shown off, making people aware that you were Matched. This shirt was meant to do just that, completely expose my Mark.

This was fine, I liked backless clothes anyway.