The carriage bounces heavily down the path, the sound of horse hooves treading dirt drifting into the cab. There are four of us soldiers assigned to protect the cab: the driver and two on horseback riding alongside the carriage, and myself inside. We are to take this carriage and our "cargo" to the airship field and speed to one of the other Bases. Sitting across from me is the only man who knows how to make the armor that seems impenetrable and the intricacies of the magic in the weapons: Jem Castallia. The rich black locks of his hair fall just shy of his jade-colored eyes. His gaze is affixed to the window, his slim amber hand holding the curtain back.
The faint starlight slipping in is almost all there is to light up the cab. There's a small orb on the ceiling of the cab, but it's light is turned down low so we don't attract attention. Even so, Jem looks strained and exhausted, and not unreasonably. I mean, we're travelling through a forest in the middle of the night, and there's been talk of a spy in our midst! A spy, of all things! By Gods, things just keep getting worse. ...By Gods? Did I really just...?
We're transporting Jem to one of the other Bases to continue his work there, away from where the prying eyes are. According to the captain of our Base, only a select few even know we're doing this. The soldiers here were roused and forced to move so quickly that he hopes no one could have had the time to notify Them of what we're doing.
"What?" Jem says, his hopeful eyes turned on me. It dawns on me I've been staring at him, lost in my thoughts.
"Sorry," I respond. "I noticed you look stressed. I started thinking about why we're out here, and got wrapped up in my own head. My apologies, Jem."
"Oh." He drops his gaze from mine, staring at nothing out the window again. There had been some small flicker in them, and now there isn't. I purse my lips, looking toward the other window, covered by its deep black curtain.
When I was first brought here, I spent almost all my free time down in the blacksmithing area. I was absolutely fascinated when I arrived, eager to learn about it all: the crystals, the materials, the craftsmanship; and the fact that one person puts the finishing touches to everything amazed me. It still does. Everything isn't made in just that Base, though. Jem has had to rotate between Bases all over all the time, never staying in one for more than a few days, finishing the armors that piled up there while he was away. I asked him once, when I first joined the Resistance's ranks, if he ever felt overwhelmed with everything resting on his shoulders alone. He'd looked me in the eyes and said, "You're the only person that's ever bothered to ask." Then he'd laughed it off, not really giving me an answer. He'd come and go in and out of the metalworking building all the time and I didn't think much of it. When Jem left for the other Bases, I didn't see him again for three weeks. When I finally did, he recognized my face and remembered my name immediately, and I felt bad because it took me a moment to realize I'd even met him before. As I now know, that was rare for Jem, remembering a face—let alone the name to go with.
I'm still not sure how it happened, what with who and how I am, but he started to fall for me. It baffles me when I think about it. I always thought of myself as unlovable, and yet the signs are there. Whenever he sees me his eyes light up. Jem was described to me as reclusive and always working in his hidden Room of Secrets, despite having time to go elsewhere and socialize. At first it seemed like I was told right, since I only ever saw him where his work was entwined. But then, during his second trip here, I'd see him every now and then: library, common area, training arena. He seemed to be coming out of his shell.
Except it was just at this base.
And I've been seeing Jem all over the place these past couple days. It's as if whenever he knows I have free time he tries to be there for it. Running up to talk to me, asking if I want to do anything. Acting differently around me than around anyone else. And I have no idea what I could have done to make him think I was worthy of it. I don't remember saying anything that would make him think I had feelings for him. I tried to ignore it, but I started picking up hints that he wanted to tell me what he felt. So, I started telling him I wanted to be alone when he asked to spend time with me, and holing up in my room. When did I start thinking of it as mine? He always looks so sad when I tell him it, too, like an abandoned puppy.
