Cardinal Tower (Trinity Central Book #1)

Chapter 5

My hand is outstretched towards the still shaken young woman, but my face remains solemn. There's a coldness in the touch I offer her, like it's the first time I've shown any semblance of empathy. I can tell she feels it too, even if neither of us acknowledge it, but she just smiles and whispers a phrase of gratitude. With that brief interaction, she limps back to the central market with her shoulders still shuddering from the situation prior.

"Are you okay?" I turn around at the sound of Silas's voice. His face shows concern while he draws a line across his cheek. I reach up to touch my own when a dull pain shoots through my skin. It's almost as if I can still feel the knife lingering, threatening to close the gap between my lips and my ear, but the irritation is from a fingertip length cut at the corner of my mouth. He knicked me so quickly I almost didn't notice. The pain doesn't bother me nearly as much as the idea of weakness the injury portrays. How could I have missed such a simple detail?

"I'm fine, really," I lie, using my sleeve to wipe the corner of my mouth. A drop of blood trails onto my jacket, and I shake it off before turning back to Silas, still looking at me with worry.

"Well, if it doesn't bother you too much to talk, then I think I deserve one of those too," Silas says, stepping towards me with his hands shoved in his pocket, "A 'thank you', I mean." As he walks forward, I can get a better view of him than I could earlier. He's not the same boy I remember five years ago, instead his big eyes finally fit in comfortably with his face. His shoulders are broader and his arms fall nicely at his sides, built like your typical officer. He's wearing a high ranking Trinity guard uniform, an array of medals hanging under his epaulets displaying his meaningless achievements. I doubt this Rex has ever been in a real fight.

"Sorry," I say, yanking my knife from the leg of the fallen man still yelling expletives, and wipe the blood onto my already stained jeans, "but I don't thank people."

"I assumed so," he just lets out a breath and shakes his head, not knowing what else to expect. He runs a hand across his hair, eyes fixed on the ground. I keep my eyes fixed on my blade, wiping off a smudge on the hilt before sliding it back into my boot. I'm aware of the eyes still staring at me and trying to think of something to say.

"It's nice seeing you again. Castelle, right?" he settles with, the generic greeting seeming forced.

I nod at my name, but I can't help but chuckle. "We both know that that's not true," I laugh. It seems like he wants to say something more, but I simply walk away, my hair swaying with each step, indifferent to my old acquaintance.

* * *

When I returned home, the first thing I received was a scolding from Devon. Waiting for a chance to explain the situation and why I'm actually innocent for once, I eventually gave up knowing there was no convincing him.

Time passes and his temper cools, so we continue about our day as though nothing happened. I toss out my blood stained pants, not wanting to deal with the hassle of washing them, while Devon prepares another bland meal. The cable set fills the silence between us, though I prefer the silence to the headache I get from the static. It sounded like a report about the Asian provinces creating a natural disaster to get rid of a particularly hostile region, but I didn't care enough to pay much attention.

That night, the Karmas sent over a tall bulky boy and it took two attempts for me to hit something vital. I simply brush off the dagger, and try my best for some sleep, thinking about how this became the normal in my life.

I go through the same cycle the next morning, and frankly, I'm a bit tired of the same repetitive routine. I'm like a bee whose only purpose in life is to serve its queen, or rather, its president.