Daughters of the King |✓|

Chapter Twenty-One

She just nodded. She believed me, the dear thing.

"Tell me about the Wastelands, Zelle."

She'd already told me a great deal. About the small communities that had resurfaced over the years. About the entire cities that remained intact, filled with nothing but dust. About finding the beliefs and traveling with the enlightened and pledging her life to the cause.

But I always wanted to know more. She'd seen so much of the world, and right now I needed a distraction.

"There isn't much more to say," she said, but then she always said that and it was almost never true. "Besides, it's embarrassing to think about."

"Embarrassing how?"

She shrugged. "Back then, I was always scared. Always helpless. I'm not like you."

"Of course not," I said. "You're like you."

"It's not the same," she insisted, shaking her head at me. "And I don't like remembering myself that way."

"Okay. Tell me about your soldier instead."

She just smiled sadly. "No. I don't think so."

"You're denying me everything today," I teased.

She said nothing and turned the pages of her book.

"Do you know where he is?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, very softly, without looking up.

"Is he alive?"

She said nothing, and I leaned back in my chair, feeling cold. I immediately regretted having brought up the subject—regretted forcing her to remember something painful. I personally hated being reminded of my past, and Zelle knew that and respected it. She'd never push me; it simply wasn't in her nature. She even knew about my nightmares at this point, about how they were starting to happen almost every night, but she never forced me to talk about them. Even when she'd find me still in bed late in the morning, too exhausted to get up.

"I'm sorry," I said

"It's okay." She closed her book in her lap with a loud thud. "I'm going to have another session now, if you don't mind."

"Of course not."

She didn't ask me to join her, since she knew I only did one session a day, out of necessity, and that I would skip it if I could. I watched her leave the room, the dog trailing behind her, reluctant to leave her presence as usual.

If the sessions made her feel better, then I had no reason to deny them from her. Even if I didn't understand them.

To this day, despite our growing closeness, whenever Zelle asked me what I reflected on during my sessions, I told her it was too personal to talk about. But the truth was, I spent most of my morning sessions with my forehead pressed to the floor trying not to remember my nightmares from the night before, trying to figure out what the hell my mother was up to, and trying to forget a certain soldier.

...

It was the very next morning that I wrapped myself in thick layers and headed out. I couldn't stand the idea of being confined to the house any longer, not if a major was coming, so I decided to familiarize myself with the forest as soon as possible. This way I'd have a place to escape to when he came.

Zelle chose to stay behind, of course. After what had happened last time, who could blame her? Bohdai came along instead, which I didn't mind. He was peaceful company. Quiet.

The air felt cleaner than usual as we stepped out the front door together, and the sun was high in the sky, painfully blinding as it glinted off frosted surfaces. It was the kind of cold that made your breath appear and the snow crunch beneath your boots. The kind of cold that made you hide your nose in your scarf and tuck your gloved hands deep into your wool-lined pockets.

I aimed myself for the tree line, already relishing in the promise of a little freedom. I hadn't realized how badly I needed to get away. These days, I had Zelle to keep me occupied—Zelle to entertain me with stories of her life and to distract me with words of kindness.

But a runaway still needed to escape from time to time. At least for a little while.

Despite the light today, it was harder to find paths with the snow on the ground, so Bo and I made our own, cutting through wherever passage was easiest. I wasn't worried about getting lost since we could just follow our footsteps back to the house, but my legs quickly got sore from trudging through the thick snow.

We'd only lost sight of the house for maybe fifteen minutes when I saw him.

It felt strange, at first. Like it couldn't be real. He was right there, standing in front of me, and it felt like I'd been waiting for this. I'd been waiting for him.

Our eyes clapped together when he looked up, through the trees, and for a second, time stood still as my mind reeled with disbelief.

Gunnar.

He was right in front of me, only a hundred feet away. He was in full uniform, the dark color screaming against the backdrop of snow, his width and size shocking to me now that so much time had passed. I'd forgotten just how tall he stood—just how wide his shoulders were beneath the straight cut of his military jacket.

I drank him in, having been starved of his presence for too long. But then time caught up again, and he jerked his head to the side, ripping his gaze away.

And it stunned me. This rejection from him.

Then Bo stepped forward to block me from view, and I was immediately reminded of the kind of world we lived in.

"Cover your face, please, Olya," Bo hissed urgently. "And go back to the house. Now."

I did as he asked, pulling my scarf over my nose until all that could be seen were my eyes. I spun around and took off back towards the house.

Once I'd gone, I could hear the two of them talking behind me, but I couldn't make out any of the words. I could barely hear anything besides the drumming of my own pulse in my ears or the sound of my breath coming out fast. I couldn't even feel the cold in the air anymore.

All I felt was disbelief—panic—excitement.

He was here. He was actually here. My soldier.