Anger can overcome rational thought with barely any effort at all, but curiosity can be just as powerful. The second I arrive on campus with my casted foot and crutches people turn to stare. Concern tempered by amazement makes their eyes linger. I hobble across the blacktop under their wondering stares. I hear more than one person whispering their questions about how I could have gotten hurt.
“Isn’t she supposed to be too powerful for that?”
“Who was strong enough to hurt her?”
“Is she right, after all?”
“She can’t be the Destroyer with a broken leg.”
My foot is throbbing, but there is a secret smile hiding behind my grimace. Milo leans down next to my ear as we reach my locker, and says, “Thirteen must be your lucky number.”
“Must be. Nobody ever cared this much about the other dozen times I broke a bone,” I agree.
This whole thing could backfire in an instant if anyone found out I pretty much did this to myself, but of the four of us who know what really happened, the only one who would even think of telling would be my mom. And admitting to the world that she tried to kill her own daughter, and failed, just isn’t something she’s likely to do. Milo kisses me goodbye at the door to my first class and heads off to his. My first three periods are filled with whispers and guarded stares, but fairly uneventful. They’re so quiet I doze off several times during each one.
Guardian training puts an end to my mini-naps. The click-clack of my crutches on the gym floor draws Coach Clement’s attention at once. He speaks to me for the first time in months. “Libby, what on earth happened to you?”
“I, uh, tripped while I was doing sprints up the bleachers over the weekend.” It’s a lame excuse, but the only reason I would be sprinting up bleachers would be to try and improve in his class. A little extra guilt for the compassionate coach isn’t going to hurt him.
He makes the connection and his frown deepens. I hobble over to him and tug a piece of paper out of my back pocket. “Here’s a note from my doctor. It wasn’t a very bad break, so I should be back after Christmas.”
It’s another lie, but I can’t very well tell him I am a freakishly fast healer due to my phenomenal Strength without cancelling out what I’ve accomplished today. Coach Clement buys the lie without blinking.
“Take as much time as you need, Libby. I’ve been pushing you so hard. I don’t want you training again until your doctor says it okay. Just take a seat on the bleachers for now. Watch the drills and pay close attention to the technique. If you need anything just let me know,” he says.
“Uh, thanks,” I say, a little taken aback by his abrupt shift from hating me to wanting to help me. Maybe he isn’t quite as power hungry as most of the other Guardians are. I lost faith that any of them really cared about protecting people a long time ago. Like the third or fourth time they dragged me back to my house kicking and screaming after sneaking out at night. Coach Clement nods and walks back to the center of the court to start class.
I didn’t even notice Lance wasn’t already here until he comes racing through the doors. The moment he sees me, his eyes bug out of his head. He takes a step toward me, but Coach Clement calls him over. His duffle bag drops with a thud. Four long seconds pass where his expression races through a dozen different emotions before he turns and walks over to join the group.
As confused as I’ve been about Lance, I wasn’t sure how he would react, but his eyes keep darting back to me every few seconds. His distraction makes his performance suffer greatly. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as he bumps into his classmates over and over again. The frustration in his eyes is more than amusing. And the alarm on my phone doesn’t improve things for him. Or for anyone, actually. The whole class turns to look at me as I try to get my phone out and reset the alarm.
“Sorry,” I say to Coach Clements as he approaches me. “I need to go take my pain medication. I didn’t mean to disrupt class. I’ll just go out to the water fountain.”
My struggle to stand up has him reaching for my arm to help, but somebody else gets there first. “I’ll help her,” Lance says.
Coach Clement frowns for a moment, and then probably after considering Lance’s inability to focus today, he nods his agreement. That taken care of, he walks back to the floor and picks up where he left off. I’m having a harder time doing the same. Lance’s grip on my upper arm is gentle enough, but his touch seems to leech away all my strength, and my ability to think. I stand there in a stupor for way too long before remembering what I was doing.
“I…I need my pills out of my bag,” I say. His familiarity with my belongings leads him right to the side pocket where I keep all the stuff that usually goes in my purse. He palms the pill bottle and starts leading me to the hallway. Neither of us says another word until we reach the fountain.
He hands the bottle over and asks, “Libby, what happened?”
“I fell.” He steps closer and I nearly trip myself trying to move away.
“What really happened?”
Of all the times for him to be in tune with my emotions. “What?” I snap. “You don’t believe me? You’ve seen me in class. You know how many times this has already happened.”
“No, I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?”
He shakes his head and throws his arms up. “I don’t know, Libby, I just don’t, okay? You’re usually pretty ticked off about getting yourself hurt, but you almost seem glad about it this time. You’re lying and I know it.”
The entire time we were dating he never once picked up on the subtle hints I would try to give him about one thing or another. Now he decides to pay attention. “My ankle is killing me. I am not happy about it.”
“You’re happy about something,” he accuses.
“Maybe it’s just nice to have people acknowledging that I exist again!”
“What really happened?”
He’s not going to let this go. Maybe if I tell him the truth he’ll just leave me alone. “My mom. I went to see my mom. It didn’t go very well.”
The intimidating quality of his stance softens. “Your…mom?”
I nod. He knows our history better than Milo ever will. He’s lived it with me. More times than I care to remember, he whisked me away after a fight with her to cry or just escape and blow off my anger. His arms wrap around me in a motion so familiar I can’t seem to resist.
“Libby, I’m so sorry,” he says softly.
For a brief moment I am back in time, back when my life made some kind of sense, back when I knew what my future held, back when I wasn’t an outcast. Back before Milo.
Milo!
I jerk back from him and bump into the water fountain. Lance tries to follow. My hand slaps against his chest. “Lance, what are you doing?”
“Libby, I miss you,” he says. “I miss this.” His fingers reach up and brush against my cheek. My head begins to tilt toward him purely on instinct. I catch myself and snap my head back up.
“You left me, remember? You don’t get to miss me.” He shouldn’t even get to think about me anymore. His presence becomes oppressive instead of inviting. Every hateful glare and snide remark I’ve gotten from him in the past few months crowds to the front of my mind, pushing out the times I thought he was trying to help me. My hands clamp down on my crutches. The rubber grips bulge under the pressure. “Lance, please just leave me alone. I don’t want to do this with you.”
Lance’s hands slip between my crutches and past my waist to plant themselves on the fountain behind me. He’s a safe distance away until his feet move to straddle mine, bringing his chest barely an inch away from me. “Well, I do want to do this with you right now, Libby. I want you to tell me that you don’t miss me too.”
“Lance, I’m with Milo now. Please leave me alone,” I beg.
“I won’t. I want you back. Please, Libby.”
Push him away. Slap him. Bite him. Anything to stop him from speaking.
I don’t want to hear the words I would have given anything for the day after my Inquest. “Lance, you know who I am.”
His head drops down, touching lightly on my shoulder. “I was wrong, Libby. Everything I’ve done to you, I would take it all back if I could. I was scared. That night, I didn’t even think before I jumped up. Guardian Clement has drilled into me a desire to kill you for the past year. Before you joined class we had drills every day to react, to kill, as soon as we heard the name Cassia. I reacted out of habit, brainwashing, whatever! I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Lance looks back up and meets my eyes. “That’s what I wanted to tell you at the dance, that it was all an accident.”
“But you didn’t because Angus and those other idiots would have heard you.”
“You’re right,” he says with shame in every syllable. “I’ve never felt worse than I did that night after seeing the look on your face. I couldn’t stand it. When Angus confronted me about my loyalties to the Guardians, I couldn’t do it anymore. There was no way I could stand there and tell him I believed you were evil. For the first time since your Inquest I made the right choice and stood up for you. It’s what I should have done from the beginning, but I was too big of a coward.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t immediately form any words. The ache I have been carrying around with me for months is threatening to wither. It all makes perfect sense. But does that matter? Can I excuse his actions because he has a good excuse? Indecision poisons me, weakening my resolve to be angry at Lance. One fault in his logic finally brings my voice back.
“Then why did you run away after my Inquest if all of this is actually true? Why did you tell everyone what had happened the next day? Why have you terrorized me more than anyone else in this entire school?” I ask. Every reason he just gave seems to crumble in my mind. Tears more exquisite than anything ever induced by my mother careen down my face. “You made everyone hate me, Lance. If you had shut up about it, pretended like nothing had changed everybody would have followed along. But you didn’t. You made my life hell! You! You were supposed to love me, protect me from crap like this, not instigate it! You betrayed me. Am I just supposed to forget that and throw my arms around you now?”
Lance cracks under my barrage. “Libby, I…I know what I did was horrible. I hate myself for hurting you. I just didn’t know what to do!” he says, his deep voice cracking. “I snapped when the Inquisitor named you. I ran because I was afraid I’d do it again. Afterward, when the adrenaline finally wore off, I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I told my dad everything. I asked him what to do. I wanted to call you and apologize right away, but he wouldn’t let me. He said I had to stand up for what I believed in, what I have trained for, no matter what.
“Howe threatened to kill Inquisitor Moore’s daughter if he helped you. You think he didn’t make the same threats to my dad? To me? My dad convinced me I had to be the most outspoken against you or Howe would come after me. He’s still afraid Lazaro will do something just because we were friends. My dad told me I could never have you again, but the biggest reason I turned everyone against you was to protect you. If they were scared of what you might do, they’d be too scared to try and hurt you. It was all I could do.”
The feel of his hands moving around my waist makes my whole body constrict. I don’t want this. I don’t care about his excuses. I don’t believe him. I refuse to believe him. He was too convincing to ever let me believe it was all an act. I won’t let him tell me he was only doing it for me. He would have stayed with me if he wanted to protect me. But as his body leans up against mine I can feel my resolve weakening. Before that night, I never believed he would hurt me. I convinced myself that his watching and interfering with Angus was him still trying to protect me. Could I possibly have been right about all of it?
“I don’t care anymore, Libby. My dad can keep me out of the Guardians all he wants, but I can’t do this to you anymore. I can’t keep pretending to hate you. I abandoned you and you got hurt again. I believe you that there must be some mistake in what happened to you. I was too blind to see it before now. I never want to see you hurt again,” he says. His cheek presses up against mine as his fingers caress my back. My own hands are still clamped down on the crutches, almost to the point of snapping them in half, but they are begging me to run them up and down his back.
“Libby, please give me another chance. I love you. I always have.”
I am too shocked to respond. My lack of immediate rebuff emboldens him. He moves so quickly, drawing his lips up against mine. My heart breaks, shatters. This is what I wanted from him that night. All I wanted in the whole world. But he didn’t give it to me. Instead he attacked me. Can I really ever forgive that? I don’t know, but I can’t decide right now.
“Stop it, Lance,” I mumble under his lips. He doesn’t stop. His kiss becomes more forceful, begging me to melt under his passion like I used to. “Stop it! Stop it, Lance. Please.”
“Please, Libby,” he begs in a rushed breath without stopping.
The crutches clatter to the floor as I run my run hands up his chest. He shivers in delight until I shove him away. “Get away from me, Lance!”
Shock coats his features. Whether it’s from my refusal or the force I used to push him away, I don’t know, but I don’t think he does either. “Libby…” he says. His voice is laced with the pain of rejection. I can see it in his eyes, in his slumped shoulders and rocked stance. “Libby, please don’t do this to me.”
Anger rises like boiling mercury. I have every intention of slapping him as hard as I can, well as hard as I can without killing him, and screaming my hurt in his face until my throat explodes, but I momentarily forget about my leg. My step forward brings a whole different kind of pain. I cry out and slump to the ground, my crutches scattering. Lance has me in his arms a fraction of a second later. Pain tries to override everything else but I refuse to give in to it.
“Put me down,” I growl through gritted teeth.
“No. You’re hurt. I won’t let you get hurt again.”
My hand reaches up to his face. There is no softness in my touch as I grab his chin, pulling so his eyes are scant inches from mine. The hope in his eyes makes me want to crush the strong, square jaw that makes girls drool over him. He actually thinks I’m going to kiss him. My fingers tighten reflexively, drawing a wince from him.
“Put me down,” I demand. “I don’t need you to protect me anymore.”
“Anymore? I’ve been protecting you this whole time! I watch your back every second I can. I’ve stopped Angus from attacking you more times than you know. Protecting you is one thing I never stopped doing.”
Confirmation of my suspicions about Lance douses my anger like cold water. I can’t put the same venom into my voice as I did a few seconds ago. “Lance, it isn’t your job to keep me safe anymore. It’s Milo’s.”
“Why?” he demands. “Why Milo instead of me? He’s nobody, some freak transplant from who knows where with barely one worthless talent to his name. There is something wrong with him, something very wrong. I don’t know what it is yet, but he’s hiding something. You can’t seriously want to be with that guy. Why him?”
This time I do slap him. Prideful anger hardens his features. He sets me back on the ground stiffly and I cling to the fountain for support. “Don’t talk about Milo like that, Lance. You have no business making judgments about anyone else at this point.”
“I’m better than him and you know it,” Lance argues.
I scoff at his delusion. “You want to know why Milo and not you? Because Milo never would have abandoned me like you did. Your daddy scared you into turning on me. Howe threatened you? Well, he threatened me too! You think you’re so powerful because you’re training to be a Guardian, but if you really had any strength, you would have stood up to both of them. You wouldn’t have left me. I’m not going to take you back and wait around for your guilt and hormones to wear off so you can walk out on me again.
I’m not stupid enough to fall for your promises a second time.”
If I had my crutches I would walk away now, but since I can’t even bend down to get them without falling over, I have to settle for turning away. Lance just won’t let up. He grabs my shoulder and turns me back around. The intensely possessive glint in his eyes startles me. “I won’t walk away from you again, Libby. I was wrong to do it the first time, no excuses, no asking for forgiveness. I was weak, stupid, a coward, call me anything you want, but I promise you I will never leave you again.”
I can feel the honesty in his claim, but apparently he doesn’t think that will be enough.
Lance’s hand leaves my shoulder, presses against the Guardian emblem on the hilt of his dagger, then to his forehead and heart. I watch each step feeling like I am trapped in a Matrix-style slow motion scene. My whole body is trembling. The motions he just showed me, I know them very well. A Guardian Oath is binding, physically binding. The band of diktats on Lance’s wrist blaze scarlet, like they have just been raised, then fade back into the puckered white of scarred flesh. His body tightens as the oath imprints itself onto his being, but his eyes are aglow with defiant pleasure. Every ounce of my weight falls against the fountain, my one good leg threatening to buckle and drop me again.
“What did you just do?” I whisper.
“It was the only way I could make you believe me, Libby.”
My head starts shaking back and forth. “No, no, no, no. Lance, what have you done?”
“I did what I had to. I’ll never leave you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to now,” he says. He seems to find some kind of humor in that.
Oh please, there has to be some way to reverse this. There has to be. I can’t walk around linked to Lance. Please, I beg, even though I know there is no hope. “I don’t want you, Lance.”
“You will,” he says. “I know you will.” The back of his fingers trail down my cheek. My whole body shivers in fear of that statement coming true.
Anger and confusion battle for control of me. Anger wins easily. I shove him away from me, and say, “Get away from me, Lance. Leave me alone, now.”
Lance takes a step closer to me despite my demand. A voice from behind me stops him and causes his face to darken to an angry black.
“She said she wants you to leave, Lance. I think you should respect her wishes,” Milo says.
Gratitude bubbles in my chest, followed immediately by dread. How long has he been standing there? I didn’t think I could feel any worse than I did a moment ago, but I am horribly wrong. Only a long, deep breath keeps me from losing everything in my stomach. Please let him have just walked up. Please, please, please.
“Are you going to try and make me leave, Milo?” Lance sneers. “What a laugh. You can’t do a thing to me.”
“I think you’d be surprised by how much I can do to you if I really want to, Lance.” Milo stalks forward, facing Lance without a hint of concern or doubt.
Lance takes it as a challenge. “Fine. You want to see what a Guardian can do? I’d be more than happy to show you.” His right hand clenches into a fist as his shoulder rotates into the beginning of a punch that I know will be backed with everything he has. Lance doesn’t do things halfway. I reach forward in the fraction of a second it takes Lance to move in an attempt to stop him. Milo’s own fist barrels past me. Blood blossoms on Lance’s face. He flies back into the wall and slides to the floor with a thud. He stares at Milo in complete and total shock. I’m pretty sure I have the same expression on my face. He never should have gotten to Lance so fast.
“Who are you?” Lance asks, blood bubbling and bursting on his lips as he speaks.
Milo’s grin is fierce and slightly terrifying. “Just some freak transplant,” he says.
My heart drops. Lance said that before the Guardian Oath. Milo must have seen everything. Was he there before that, too? Did he see Lance kiss me? This is worse than my Inquest. At least at my Inquest I had the hope of dying. The fact that both of these two are intent on saving me means there’s no escape from the humiliation.
Milo picks up my crutches and hands them back to me. I slip them into place completely numb. Milo presses his hand into the small of my back but turns toward the still bleeding Lance before guiding me away. “Oh, and Lance,” he pauses, glancing down at his fist, “I think you might be right about me hiding something. Have fun trying to find out what it is.”
Chapter 26
Found