I finally managed to calm my temper.
Well, mostly.
The anger had passed, but now I could feel a headache slowly creeping in. Perfect. As if the day hadn't already given me enough problems.
There wasn't much I could do about it. Once a headache decided to show up, my only real remedy was sleep.
Before going to bed, though, I made a call home. I told myself it was simply to check whether everyone was doing fine without me.
That was one reason. The other reason was harder to admit. I felt scared.
Insecure.
And, more than anything, awkwardly alone.
Maybe "lonely" was the right word.
It had been almost a whole month since I had seen them, and suddenly, being away from home felt heavier than usual. I felt homesick out of nowhere.
The call connected.
"Rose. Why didn't you call? I was worried. How are you doing there? Is everything okay?"
There it was.
Another Q/A session. But this was one questionnaire I didn't mind answering.
Because on the other end of that call was the person my eyes had been longing to see for almost a month.
I missed him. More than I wanted to admit.
"I miss you," I breathed.
"Liar." His response came almost immediately.
I frowned. Why did I suddenly feel like something was wrong?
My ears never lied to me, especially when it came to him. I had known him for too long not to notice the smallest changes in his voice.
Something was definitely off.
"Are you okay?" I asked, sitting up a little. "Your voice doesn't sound right."
A cough interrupted him. There we go again.
"I'm fine," Rosen said quickly. "Didn't I already tell you? It's just a minor fever. Nothing serious."
"You still have a fever?" My brows pulled together. It had been several days already. At what point did a minor fever stop being minor?
"This doesn't sound minor."
"Rose, don't start." He sounded bored with me.
"Then stop lying to me. You know what happens when you do."
A brief silence followed. Then he sighed.
"You're overthinking."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm coming home tomorrow."
"That doesn't prove anything."
"It proves that I can check for myself."
He let out a small laugh, though it was followed by another cough.
"See?" I immediately said. "You're coughing again."
"I said I'm fine."
"Sure. And I'm six feet tall."
"Rose."
"Fine, fine." I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see me. "By the way, you do know I'm coming tomorrow, right? I'll probably reach at night."
"Yes. Uncle already told me." There was a pause before his voice softened.
"Just get back here already. I really miss your scolding."
I smiled despite myself.
Of course he did.
I cleared my throat. Not because I needed to.
I just suddenly felt awkward.
"Aunt May?"
There was a brief silence.
"What now?"
I stared at the wall in front of me.
"I have a question."
"That sounds dangerous."
I ignored him.
"Do you think I'm... a cold-hearted person?"
This time, the silence lasted longer. Honestly? I had no idea why I had asked that question in the first place.
It had simply slipped out. But now that I had asked, I found myself waiting for his answer.
"Of course not. Did someone say that to you?" The change in his tone was immediate.
Yep. Angry.
Time to change the subject before this turned into another interrogation.
"No. No one said anything," I replied quickly. "I was just asking. Nothing more."
A pause. Then I added, "Are you helping Uncle, or are you just lying in bed and enjoying your little vacation?"
There was silence for a second.
Then he laughed.
"Why are you laughing?" I narrowed my eyes, even though he couldn't see me.
"Rose," he said, amusement slipping into his voice, "even if someone had said that to you, what exactly could I do about it?"
"What do you mean, what could you do?" I frowned. "Do you seriously think I'd just stand there and let someone call me cold-hearted?"
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" His voice grew quieter.
"I'm useless."
My expression immediately changed.
"What?"
"I should be the one making sure no one speaks badly about you." His voice caught.
Wait.
What?
My grip around the phone tightened.
"Brother?"
He didn't answer.
And then I heard it.
He was trying to hold back crying.
Great. What had I done now? I hadn't meant for the conversation to go there.
"Hey," I said quickly, my voice softening. "Who told you that you're useless?"
Silence.
"You are my strength." I swallowed before continuing. "And I can't exactly live without my strength, can I?"
"Rose..." His voice cracked slightly.
Then came the words I hated hearing from him.
"I'm a coward."
"No, you're not."
"I am."
"Brother, please."
"No matter what you say," he continued, his voice growing heavier, "in everyone's eyes, I'll always be a coward for sending you there."
My heart tightened. For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
Then I frowned. "I don't care what everyone thinks."
"Rose—"
"And neither should you."
He went quiet. I leaned back against the bed.
"If anyone ever thinks of you that way, tell me who they are."
"Why?" he blurted out.
"I'll scratch their eyeballs out."
A small laugh escaped him through his tears.
Good.
At least I had managed to get that reaction out of him.
"I'm serious," I added. "No one gets to decide what you are. Especially people who don't know a damn thing about you. About us."
My voice softened.
"You're not useless. And you're not a coward."
There was another moment of silence.
Then I added, quieter this time:
"And stop blaming yourself for sending me here. I'm the one who chose to come."
"I KNOW. But would that make any difference?"
This conversation was going in the completely wrong direction.
"You did not send me here," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Remember that. I came here by myself. Why are you blaming yourself?"
My throat tightened. "Please... you're going to make me cry too."
"I'm a coward," Rosen said stubbornly. "That is a fact."
"For God's sake, can we please talk about something else?"
Before he could answer, the door suddenly opened.
I froze.
Right.
I had forgotten to lock it today.
Wonderful. My irresponsibility had finally caught up with me.
Thank God it was only an officer.
Not him. I genuinely did not have the emotional strength to see the general's face right now.
The officer looked between me and the phone in my hand.
"I heard someone crying," he said. "I came in to check. Are you alright?"
I quickly lowered the phone and wiped my eyes. After taking a moment to make sure my voice no longer sounded hoarse and broken, I looked up at him.
"I'm okay," I said. "Thanks for checking."
He gave me a brief nod before leaving and closing the door behind him.
I immediately pressed the phone back to my ear.
"Rose?" My brother's voice made me sit upright. "Rose, talk to me. Can you hear me? Please, say something."
Oh no. His crying had reached an entirely different level.
If I didn't calm him down now, this was going to get completely out of hand.
"I'm here," I said quickly. "I'm here now. Please stop crying."
"You scared me."
"Calm down." I tried soothing him.
"Where did you go? Why did you suddenly stop talking?"
"I had to talk to someone else," I explained. "I'm fine."
"Don't do that again."
His voice was still shaky.
"Look, bro," I said softly, "I'm fine. I'm right here. So, at least for my sake, calm down, okay?"
There was a pause. Then he took a shaky breath.
"I'm okay."
"Liar." I didn't buy it.
"I am."
"Your voice is still panicked."
"Just... don't scare me like that again." He retorted back.
I sighed. He really thought he could convince me.
Not a chance.
"Call the doctor."
Silence.
"Now!"
"I said I'm fine."
"And I said, 'Call the doctor.'"
Another cough came from the other side.
My expression darkened.
"It's nothing." He tried again to make me understand, but their abytung left to understand.
"You've had a fever for days. You keep coughing, your voice sounds terrible, and now you're crying as if someone personally hired you to test my patience."
"Rose..."
"Call. The Doctor."
"I'm fine."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Do you want me to come home tomorrow and drag you to the doctor myself?"
A small, weak laugh escaped him. "Now that sounds more like you."
"Good. Then listen to me."
"Bossy."
"Dying people don't get to complain about my personality."
"I'm not dying."
I tried smiling for my sake. "Then prove it by calling the doctor."
This time, he went quiet.
And honestly? That silence scared me more than his coughing.
"I'll think about it."
"No," I snapped back at him.
"Rose."
"Call the doctor." I stood by my stance.
"You're impossible."
"And you love me." A small pause. Then, quietly, "Unfortunately."
I smiled despite everything. "Good. Now call the doctor."
"I hate you."
"Love you too."
And somewhere between his coughing, his ridiculous stubbornness, and my growing urge to fly home and physically drag him to a doctor, I realized something.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.
"Do as I'm telling you. Listen to me." I wiped at my eyes, trying to keep my voice firm. "I'm not ending this call until you agree to call the doctor. Okay?"
There was a brief silence.
Then he spoke. "So you think I'm weak too."
My heart sank.
"No. Never."
"Then why do all your actions make me feel like I am?"
What was I even supposed to say to that? I didn't want to have this conversation. Not because I didn't care about what he was feeling, but because every second we spent arguing was another second he spent avoiding the doctor.
Don't think too much about it, Rose. Just make him call the damn doctor.
"Will you just call the doctor already?"
"Rose," he said quietly.
Something in his voice made me stop. "I'm your strength. I know that."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"But you should know something too."
I waited.
"You can never be my strength."
The call ended.
For a few seconds, I just stared at the screen.
He...
He hung up on me.
My eyes betrayed me immediately. Tears blurred my vision before I could stop them, and once they started, I couldn't hold them back anymore. I pressed the phone against my chest and began crying like a child.
Fine. Let them come. Better to let everything out now than have these stupid tears appear in front of someone later. Especially in front of him.
I curled my legs toward my chest and wrapped my arms around my knees.
"Brother..." I whispered.
Why didn't he understand? I never wanted him to feel weak.
I never thought he was a coward.
I just... I didn't want to lose him. Was that such a terrible thing?
I buried my face against my knees as the tears continued to fall.
"You're my strength," I murmured, even though he couldn't hear me anymore. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to protect you too."
The room slowly became quieter. My crying turned into occasional shaky breaths. My eyes burned, my head hurt, and exhaustion began creeping over me like something heavy settling onto my body.
Still holding my knees close, I stayed curled up on the bed.
I didn't know when my eyes finally closed, nor do I remember how long I slept like that either. At some point, exhaustion simply won.
And for the first time in a while, I fell asleep with tears still drying on my face.
A loud knock shattered my sleep. Curse whoever was standing outside.
I woke up with a jolt, my heart still racing from being pulled out of sleep so suddenly. My head was already pounding, and whoever had decided to knock this loudly was about to become the victim of my terrible mood.
I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the door. The moment I opened it, I decided my earlier cursing had been completely justified.
Of course. Kyson Hawk.
"Good morning to you too," he said, looking far too awake for someone standing outside another person's room.
"What?" I asked, not even trying to hide my irritation.
"The General has ordered everyone to report to the training grounds now."
"Okay." I started closing the door.
"Whoa." His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at my face. "Your eyes are—"
Bang.
I shut the door before he could finish whatever unnecessary observation he was about to make.
Firstly, my headache was already trying to make itself permanently comfortable inside my skull. Secondly, he woke me up.
So, honestly, I had no interest in listening to Kyson Hawk comment on my appearance.
I leaned against the door and sighed. If it had been someone else standing outside, I definitely wouldn't have shut the door in their face.
Would I?
Then another thought appeared. What if it had been the General? Would I have done the same thing? Why was I even thinking about that?
Both of them should be treated equally.
Equally badly, preferably.
Rose, control yourself.
What the hell is wrong with you? I've never felt this hurt in my entire eighteen years of life. Well, almost nineteen.
Losing Father hurt.
Seeing Brother sick hurts.
My mind immediately began reminding me of every painful thing I had ever experienced, as if it had suddenly decided to prepare a presentation on the various ways Rose Nightingale has suffered throughout her life.
But this was different. And I didn't understand why. Why was I feeling like this just because I had hurt him?
I should be happy. Satisfied, even.
So where the hell did I go wrong?
I rubbed my face with cold water, hoping it would somehow wash away the headache, the tears, and whatever emotional nonsense had taken over my brain.
It didn't. Great.
After washing my face, I headed outside.
Within two minutes, I reached the training grounds.
Or, as I would currently prefer to call it, hell.
Everyone was gathered there, standing together in one enormous crowd.
My mood immediately worsened. I hated crowds. Why aren't all of them in lines?
I had been surrounded by them once or twice before, so it wasn't as if this was some completely new experience. Still, every time, I felt the same uncomfortable urge to either disappear or climb onto the nearest building and escape everyone.
There were too many people. Too many voices. Too many bodies standing far too close together.
I quietly moved toward the edge of the crowd, where I could at least pretend I wasn't trapped inside a human wall.
Then I saw him. The General. Standing at the front. He looked like he was about to give a speech.
Of course he was.
I immediately lowered my gaze. Don't look at him. Just ignore him.
Pretend he doesn't exist.
There are hundreds of people here, Rose.
Focus on literally anyone else.
I found myself a place among the trainees from District Eight. Jackson, who was from District Nine, was standing with them as well, probably because he had somehow ended up there and decided to stay.
The moment I joined them, I noticed something strange.
People were looking at me. Not openly. More like stealing glances.
Peeking.
I can tell when someone is actually staring at me and when they are just pretending not to.
Is there something on my face?
I turned toward Jackson, who was standing right beside me, and poked his arm.
"Excuse me."
He turned his head.
Looked directly at me.
And then turned back around as if absolutely nothing had happened.
Did he just ignore me?
I swear he heard me. He literally looked at me.
My blood was already beginning to simmer.
"Excuse me."
This time, he slowly turned toward me again. His big, annoyingly pretty eyes widened slightly.
"Are you talking to me?"
Now that was embarrassing.
He was pretending he hadn't heard me the first time, wasn't he?
I decided to let him go, though. This was practically the first proper conversation we had ever had. How was he supposed to know that being ignored was one of the quickest ways to test my patience?
"Is there something on my face?"
I leaned closer to him so he could get a better look.
Which required me to stand on my toes.
My poor toes.
Why are all these guys so ridiculously tall? Actually, that isn't even the real question. The real question is why the hell I'm so short.
Jackson examined my face for a moment.
"No."
"Really? "I asked suspiciously. "Then why are all these people looking at me like that?"
I glanced around with my eyes, silently pointing out the people who had apparently developed a sudden interest in my existence.
Instead of answering, Jackson asked, "How did you sleep?"
What kind of question was that?
I sleep the same way everyone else sleeps.
"Please elaborate."
"You have a sleep mark on your left cheek."
My eyes widened.
"What?"
I immediately began rubbing my cheek.
Great.
Of course I hadn't bothered looking in the mirror after washing my face. I had been too busy dealing with my headache and preparing myself mentally for whatever disaster was waiting for us.
Jackson continued, "Your eyes are pretty red too."
I stopped rubbing my cheek. "Do I look scary?"
"A little." There was a smile on his face.
Wait.
Jackson Woods was smiling.
At me.
I had barely seen him interact with anyone since coming here. Either he was naturally quiet, or he simply didn't care enough about people to waste his energy talking to them.
Looks like I had somehow become an exception.
"Are you telling the truth?"
"Yes."
He looked at me again, completely serious.
"You look like you just came back after murdering someone."
I raised my eyebrows at him. "Then you should be scared of me."
Jackson's smile widened slightly.
Before either of us could continue our completely innocent conversation about my apparently murderous appearance, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
"Rosen Nightingale and Jackson Woods. Step out of the crowd."
Busted.
Both of us slowly stepped forward.
There were hundreds of people gathered here, yet somehow the general had managed to catch us talking.
Well, finding Jackson probably wasn't difficult.
One tall head. One very short head.
A perfect combination for getting caught.
We stopped in front of him. I could already feel the punishment coming.
"Two laps and fifty push-ups."
Yep. There it was.
"Both of you know why you're being given this punishment."
Jackson and I answered at the same time.
"Yes, General."
We saluted and left the grounds to begin our punishment.
Our laps started almost immediately.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was technically my fault. I was the one who had started the conversation. Jackson had gotten dragged into my doom, and he wasn't even complaining about it.
A tiny amount of guilt appeared inside me.
Very tiny.
"I'm sorry."
Jackson looked at me while continuing to run.
"For what?"
"Well, for bringing this doom upon you."
"You're flattering me."
I frowned.
"How?"
I genuinely had no idea how apologizing for getting someone punished counted as flattery.
"I wanted to leave that place," he said. "Now, thanks to you, I'm out."
I stared at him.
"Don't you want to know what he was going to tell us?"
"I already know."
He sounded confident. Which meant he probably did know.
"Then tell me, because I have absolutely no idea."
Jackson sighed.
"It's nothing that important. The winner of tomorrow's tournament will face the general in a final challenge. That's it."
I thought about it for a second. "So the trophy is basically going to the General, then."
Jackson stopped looking at me for a moment.
"Are you actually an idiot, or are you pretending to be one?"
Excuse me?
He rolled his eyes and spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a five-year-old.
"Of course not. The trophy belongs to the winner. The General is only going to challenge whoever wins the tournament."
"Oh."
That made more sense.
"Still, the winner is definitely going to lose if they're facing the General."
"That's probably the point," Jackson said. "I guess he wants to make sure the winner doesn't become too full of himself."
We finished our laps and moved on to the fifty push-ups. Since we were already suffering, I decided the conversation might as well continue.
"What if he loses?"
I turned my head toward Jackson and smiled.
Jackson paused mid-push-up.
"Oh."
He looked at me.
"I forgot about you."
Exactly.
"But he's still the General," he added. "He might win."
"Then let's have a bet."
Jackson immediately became interested.
"If I win—"
"If you win, I'll treat you when you come to my district."
I stopped.
He continued before I could even finish my sentence.
"And if the General wins, you'll treat me when I come to yours."
Is this bet okay? Before I could find an excuse to reject it, Jackson spoke again.
"Don't even think about changing the bet. I'm taking this punishment because of you."
"But you just said that—"
"Forget about that."
"Jackson, I didn't give you this punishment so you could sit here and chit-chat."
We froze. Neither of us needed to look up.
We already knew.
The General.
Standing right in front of us.
Jackson slowly looked up.
The general's eyes moved toward him.
"Jackson, another lap."
Jackson immediately stood.
"Yes, General."
He saluted and ran off without another word.
Traitor.
Leaving me alone here.
The general then turned his attention toward me.
"You. Get up."
His voice was so deep and firm that my arms almost gave up beneath me.
My hands trembled, and instead of pushing myself up properly, I lost balance and dropped onto my chest.
Wonderful.
I quickly got to my feet and gave him a salute.
"Yes, General."
For a moment, he didn't say anything.
Then he spoke.
"You and I are going to have a match tomorrow."
My eyes widened slightly.
"Be prepared."
His gaze shifted somewhere to the side instead of meeting mine.
"For it."
A pause. "Physically and mentally."
Then he turned around and walked away.
I stood there, staring at his back.
He hadn't even looked me in the eyes. For some reason, that made me more uncomfortable than if he had stared directly into my soul.
Wait.
It took my brain a few seconds to process what he had actually said.
You and I are going to have a match tomorrow.
He thinks I'm going to win.
He believes I'll be the winner of the tournament.
A small, stupid feeling of satisfaction appeared inside me.
I'll win. And hearing that from him... It sounded surprisingly good.
I sighed. There I go again. Thinking about him.