We Promised

Chapter 8

The sun rises but I never slept. I watch orange and red blend together over the horizon, slowly rising over the trees. Somewhere in those trees lie our childhood treehouse, where Corbi, Blayne, and I spent most of our time. I can't see it, the wooden planks well hidden in the leaves. If Father or Mother knew where it was, it'd be burned down, or worse. The balcony is ornate with chromium railings, lush black lawn chairs lining the tile with a crystal-made tea table perfectly centered.

Ceramic hits the table and I look to my left, watching Cada place hot coffee on the surface. Her white hair cuts against the fading brown. Her wrinkled hands, worn from years of service, place the sugar neatly next to the steam of the delicacy. Coffee doesn't wake me up anymore, but I enjoy the taste. The brew is probably why I'm anxious in certain situations but I can't find it me to care. I must be addicted, I think. "Thank you, Cada." She bows her head, making her way over to me. "Have you slept, child?" I contemplate lying but think better of it. She's known me my entire life since I was born. She knows when I lie. "You must sleep, beautiful girl. You'll get sick." I smile at her softly. "You always take care of me." She pats my cheek, her creased fingers rough against my skin. Just as she comes, she goes. I down the contents of my cup in one gulp and head to the training room.

The funny thing about this rebel is that he sleeps like the dead. His hair is wild around his head, and his mouth is open as he snores. I kick his side and he stirs but doesn't wake. "Hey." I kick him once more. I kneel, shaking his shoulder. Soon, the mats are under my head, his fingers around my neck, threatening to squeeze. "Are you going to let me go or do I have to put you on your ass?" His eyebrows raise. "You curse colorfully for a royal." I grin, standing as he releases me. "Blayne taught me all those words. You should hear him." He clenches his jaw. "Are you ready to get started?" My hair blows past my shoulders under the vent of the AC. "Yes."

We stand in the center of the room, and he runs a hand over his growing stubble. "I've thought of some new things for you to try. Then, we're going to spar." My arms fold over my chest and I smile. I love to spar. The adrenaline of it and the practice excites me. I've trained ever since I was a little girl, with my brothers and other council children when they came to the castle. They haven't been here in years, but the work paid off all the same. I can hold my own, and I know that for sure. "I want you to start making webs, and try and see if you can transfer the energy from your hands through the floor to your target." I nod in understanding, placing my palm against the ground. Green travels across the stone, jumping as it absorbs the world around it. The atoms travel up his boot, his clothes, and then, his skin. He stills, and I start to touch on the components of his lungs. "Hard to breathe," he grits out through his teeth. I pull back before I hurt him. I touch on something else instead, his muscles, and he walks to me robotically.

I feel the pulses of his brain, of his blood, every inner working of his body, I can feel it like different parts of a machine. I could make his heart stop if I wanted to. I settle with hitting one of his nerves, and he falls to the floor. This is easy at least but the problem is if I don't control it, and I go too far? I could kill someone. "I think you got the hang of that one." The world around me floats back in waves. I can't feel the cameras like I did in the halls this morning, but I can feel the static on the floor, the atoms that bounce around in the walls. If I tap into my senses just enough, I can feel the wavelengths from a storm brewing outside, the raindrops gathering in the clouds, the lightning threatening to strike. I pull away from the sensation, the force of it exhausting me. "Show me the web." His own ability takes form, and he plays with it in his hands. "You can extend it with the force of your mind. You'll have to practice independently but use your hands for now. Picture a web in your mind, a shield. Just like the spheres, just make it bigger so it's around you." They spark up on command, whipping in my hands. I let it grow into the shape I'm picturing and just as they grow, so does my concentration.