The Toxicant Throne (Book 2, The Culled Crown Series)

Chapter 2

Third Corps, Vayelle.

"I don't have time to babysit a teenage girl."

As soon as the meeting was called to a close, Callahan was out of his seat and moving towards General Oliver. The remainder of what he'd said, and her response, was drowned out by the sound of the rest of the soldiers leaving. Fritz and Kulikov stood nearby arguing loudly over which of them was going to have to watch Heidi.

I stayed in the chair as men and women filtered from the tent. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to move or not. I didn't really know what had been decided. Was I a prisoner? I didn't think I was a member of the Culled. And, judging by the uncomfortable glances of the soldiers nearest me, they didn't think I was either.

"Stay here." Ambrose's hand ran over my hair before he walked towards the corner where General Oliver and Callahan stood talking. 

My fingers hurt from gripping the bottom of the chair, but I found the sensation was stabilizing—it was a sliver of pain that was real and tangible when nothing else felt that way. I counted the flames in the room, reached invisible hands towards each oil lamp and let my mind settle within the warmth of those dancing flames.

I'd grown used to syphoning bits of my ability and now that I couldn't anymore, it pushed against my skin with increasing pressure. I'd forgotten the agony of keeping that roiling heat pent up, caged within my bones. The flames seemed to pace the corridors of my veins as if they might somehow find their own way out.

Now we were both trapped, the fire and I.

"Monroe," Ambrose was back and he had Callahan with him. My brother cleared his throat nervously and scratched at the back of his neck. "This is Captain Callahan. He's going to be working with you over the next few weeks to make sure you're following Culled rules and keeping your ability under control."

I looked up at Callahan. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and his eyes were fixed on my boots again. The scrape of my teeth against my bottom lip was the only thing that kept me from screaming. This wasn't what I'd wanted. I hadn't escaped the Culling only to be caged again.

"I don't need someone to watch me."

"I understand." Ambrose shoved his hands in his pockets. "But this is how M.O. wants to handle things, so that's how we're going to handle them."

Callahan ran a hand through his black hair and sighed. His gaze darted up to mine. "You'll stay with the healers for now. At least until I figure out a job for you." He nodded towards the door to the tent. "I'll walk you back."

I stood up and turned to Ambrose, certain that he wasn't about to just leave me with this random guy, but he was already looking over his shoulder at Graves and General Oliver. He offered me an encouraging smile. "I've got some things I need to get done around here. Stick with Callahan and do what he says. I'll try to come by the healers' tent later and check in on you."

I doubted that he would, but I nodded and trailed after my new jailer.

***

Callahan didn't like me, which was fine since I didn't really like him either. I couldn't understand how he had enough power to come up with the idea of assigning guards to us, but not have enough power to get out of having to do the job himself. Who the hell was he to tell anyone what to do? He couldn't be much older than I was.

The silence was heavy and awkward as we walked back towards the healers' tent.

He kept a good deal of space between us, enough that the occasional soldier would shove between our shoulders as they hurried past. Just like I had before, I kept my hood pulled up to shield my face. This helped me avoid looking at any of the passing people—it also gave me a reason not to look at Callahan.