Three Years Later
----------------------------------------
38
Tiv
Saturday 29th August, Year 828
It was peculiar how a lot could change in three years yet stay exactly the same. For instance, Father had kept his post as Governor of Staventon, the first Vakosian to ever do it. He'd climbed the ranks quickly and was now Vice President Hawes. Marco had become my Fathers's right-hand man and Chief of Defence Staff. Basically, he ran Father's army. I barely saw him unless we found ourselves drinking in the same bars, which was fine by me. It did not matter how much time passed, I was sure Marco would always be a prick. He was engaged to Freesia Beckett. The gossip column reported she had already caught him cheating twice. Father gave him two black eyes the second time and warned him to keep his affairs out of the papers.
I held the position of Lieutenant Governor of Staventon with a good chance of stepping in as governor in a few years. I should have been voted in yet I wasn't. The people of Staventon didn't seem to mind; I was a Hawes. It wasn't particularly a difficult job, yet abysmally dull. Either way, it was the career my Father wanted for me and I was sure Mother would have approved.
We were at war and Vakoso were losing. President Beckett had called upon every able fighter to enlist, everyone apart from his daughter. Marco and I were not as lucky, Father insisted we both put ourselves forward to lead troops at home. We got a lot of good publicity for that. We figured that way, we continued to run the show in Lambent rather than be shoved on the front line and get eaten alive by rebels or Umbrith. The fact that Father was Vakosian and needed all the support he could get if he wished to continue as Vice President was completely ignored as a factor in our forced enlistment.
I had been put in charge of a small regiment of my choosing, so I put together a group of my friends; if I had to spend hours on end standing at a Staventon port waiting for something to blow up, I was going to do it with a group of people who made me laugh. Kale, Tala, Xander and Amelia were included in my small group of ten. Amelia's father had also chosen to get some free publicity out of his daughter. She took every opportunity to complain to me about the situation and had even showed up to training a few times in heels rather than combat boots. I held out hope we would not be sent back to Vakoso, however I knew deep down it would be inevitable as, for no other reason, it would look good for my Father's image if his sons were seen defending Lambent.
Vakoso had been surprisingly resilient in their resistance to Lambentian occupation. I did not blame them; I remembered how they lived. However there was no way they would win; Lambent was a richer and more powerful country with a lot more resources at its back. My conscience was unhindered by the notion of being on the winning side.
Since the world found out that the Umbrith could shape shift, a nightmare had broken out into reality in Vakoso completely unrelated to the war. I had to admit, the notion we could have been walking around with them amongst us was an uneasy thought. There were constant reports of people being murdered and a society gone to hell. I almost felt sorry for the people who lived there… before I caught myself. They were all dirty, thieving low-lives who had burned their own cities to the ground. I sometimes wondered what the Jamesons did since money and wealth became redundant; there was nobody for them to scrounge from any longer.
In Lambent, we were somewhat unaffected by the war. There had been a few explosions at the ports when Vakosians had managed to sneak over, however these attacks were few and far between. Only one coastal city, Peva, had fallen to Vakoso and Father assured me we would have that back soon.
The only noticeable change was a lack of certain foods that Vakoso provided and there were fewer young people out on the weekends because they'd been drafted. I ran my thumb absentmindedly along the ring on my middle finger as I thought about how little had really changed for us in three years, compared to the scabs. After all, money was the means to everything. We had it and they didn't.
I sat in The Baroness on a Saturday night. My vision swam, and my words tangled in my mouth. A lot of the regiment spent their evenings here, Marco included. Xander engaged in animated conversation with Amelia, Tala, and Kale, while Jonas and Marco leaned toward some other girls at the bar. I think one of them was called Regan. She had curves that drew my gaze with giant blue eyes and long, auburn hair. I joined them and conversed with her for a while before offering to buy her a drink. She giggled and nodded however the moment I got to the bar, Marco's firm grip clamped down on my shoulder, his fingers digging into muscle.
"She is mine," he growled.
Of course she was.
"Fine," I snapped back, though heat flushed my cheeks, "but you can't always claim first pick." Sarcasm laced my voice as I added, "Shocking as it might seem, your leftovers aren't my first choice."
"You have Amelia!" I didn't bother to retort that he had Freesia as he smirked and walked away, taking the drink I had just bought Regan.
With every step, frustration twitched in the muscles of my jaw. Amelia caught my eye immediately; her eyebrow arched high like a raised blade and her lips pursed in silent reprimand. I'd suffer for that later.
We had been at the bar since six o'clock in the evening and it was safe to say everyone had had far too much to drink. The barmaid brought another bottle of whiskey to the table with ten fresh glasses and ice.
"No. I can't have anymore," I protested.
Father had shoved me against the wall the week previous and waved the paper in my face. Apparently, I drank too much. The photo showed me in a bad state, stumbling out of a club with Xander holding me up. It was embarrassing. Not as embarrassing as being made to feel like a scared infant; I had not seen my Father as furious in a while. Meredith had insisted I go to the hospital after he slammed me backwards, catching my head on a marble statue and breaking it with the force in which I hit it. I knew not to push the boundaries that hard for a while.
Meredith and I had become more like strangers passing in silence rather than siblings. Her gaze would often skirt away when it met mine when I visited her as if what she saw brought her pain rather than comfort. She never visited me anymore. I missed her.
I pulled out my phone with clumsy fingers and composed a message to Meredith, inviting her for lunch the following day. Her response was quick.
Considering you are still awake and there were many spelling errors in that message, I think you shall be in no fit state for lunch tomorrow. Go home and get some rest darling. I love you.
A small smile tugged at one corner of my mouth—affection mixed with disappointment. My thumbs hovered over the phone before replying, Why are you still awake?
The screen remained dark after that; no immediate response lit up its face. My frown etched deeper into my features as I stared at it.
A glass was put in front of me and, heeding Meredith's advice, I pushed it away.
"Stop being a spoilsport," said a small man named Eddie.
He was another one of my group. Good sense of humour and fit in well however he loved a drink more than I did. Ashley flanked him, sitting quietly as she always did. The gold in her brown eyes was brighter than most, making her entire iris seem golden. She would always sit wide-eyed and simply observe us, chuckling when Xander made rude jokes.
I picked up the bottle and cuddled it so nobody could pour me anymore. The label on the bottle read Jameson. Alayna pushing me up against the car flushed through my mind.
"Arg, stop moping, Tiv! Give us the bottle," Xander snatched it from my hand and started pouring.
I stared back at the whiskey before Xander launched the bottle's cork at my head bringing me back to reality and taking a bow to the masses for his excellent shot.
I sighed heavily. It was going to be one of those nights. I hated them. She was seeping into my thoughts as she occasionally did after too much alcohol.
"Go home," Xander muttered so nobody else could hear. He grinned widely, "Perhaps take a week off the booze."
"Am I a mess?" I asked stupidly.
"You're always a mess. It's why I put up with you—free entertainment," he jested, though he slurred the words suggesting he was just as much a mess.
I laughed as I told him as such.
"Bastard," he giggled.
Xander was always good at keeping my chin up. He had kept me falling apart a lot over the years. But some nights even he didn't help. I had a bad feeling tonight would be one of those nights. I rubbed my eyes, pushing Alayna from my thoughts and stood up too fast, stumbling much to everyone's amusement. I went to walk out and right when I could have used the tiny voice of sober reason, I grabbed Amelia and flung her over my shoulder. In hindsight, as I stumbled, it was a miracle I didn't drop her or smash her head off something.
"You're coming with me tonight," I laughed.
"What in the hells are you…" Amelia remembered we had spectators and her admonishment descended into drunken giggling. "Tala, call me tomorrow."
The response was jeers and derogatory jokes, mostly from Xander, which we ignored. I carried her to the nearest taxi rank and put us both into a taxi, forgetting entirely I had a town car waiting for me. I directed the taxi driver and spent the rest of the journey with my tongue down her throat.
When we arrived at the apartment I had bought for us, although I rarely stayed with her in it, she ran to the door to let herself in while I paid the taxi fare. I dawdled after her, still not sure I could make the stairs to her room. I made a drunken mental note to buy her something on the ground floor next time, not like I'd remember the next morning. I fell up the stairs, pulling myself up the railing before remembering there was an elevator. I entered the apartment and stumbled down the hallway into her room. Amelia was lying on the bed wearing nothing but her black-laced underwear. We picked up where we left off in the taxi.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The sun was too bright when I awoke the next morning. The taste in my mouth suggested I had eaten an ashtray. I opened my eyes and groaned. Why the hells did I do this to myself? I would have preferred being beaten to a bloody pulp in training than having another hangover yet I woke with one every day. I remembered quickly what I had done the previous night and saw Amelia lying next to me asleep. I checked my phone and still had no reply from Meredith. Yet I did have a message from Regan asking me out for a drink. I took a screenshot of the message and sent it to Marco with the caption 'Has this been used?'
I glanced back at Amelia and pushed away the guilt I felt at arranging a date; what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Though I had said that last time and it certainly hurt me when she took a stiletto to my head.
I slid out of the bed as silently as I could, trying desperately not to wake her and inwardly cursed myself for the argument I was going to cause later by sneaking out again. I searched the room for my clothes, pulling the pills out of my pocket and taking a small handful. I had managed boxers and pants when I fell over backwards, my head still spinning, and swore violently as I bashed my spine off the wall. Amelia bolted upright and stared at me. She noticed me half dressed and her expression went from shock to anger as realisation washed over her.
"Are you going somewhere, Tiv?" she sneered.
"I have training," I replied, not looking at her.
"No you don't," she said dangerously.
"Amelia, don't be like this. I had fun last night but-" I started.
"Freesia gets a ring from Marco. I'm lucky if I get you here past seven in the morning!"
I rubbed my eyes, "If you want a ring, I'll give you a bloody ring."
"How lucky I am to receive such a beautiful proposal," she seethed.
"Sorry, Millie," I murmured, hoping the nickname might sway things in my favour.
"Don't call me Millie you man-whore. Get out of my apartment!" she screeched, throwing my shirt at me.
My apartment, I thought bitterly.
I carried on dressing in silence while Amelia's furious gaze burned into me. My phone buzzed and I opened Marco's reply: a photo of Regan asleep in bed next to him with the caption 'Yes but only once.' I made a mental note to reject Regan's offer of a drink the second I was free of Amelia.
The Harpy continued to glare at me and I remained silent, knowing all too well the argument I'd start if I dared to open my mouth. She was simply too much. We had dated on and off for three years and it always ended with a screaming match and me bleeding until the next time I got homesick and drunk. It was a vicious cycle. She was simply the only girl who would put up with me. The exchange was I had to put up with her.
Her phone rang and she answered it without taking her eyes off me.
"Hey Tala. Yes he is still here… Just. Caught him sneaking out again…" The pure sadness that filled her voice reminded me the woman deserved awards in acting. "I just don't know what I'm doing wrong."
Grinding my teeth, I tried to stop the humiliation surfacing.
"Bye Amelia," I said shortly.
"Tala, I'll call you back—No! Tiv, I'm not finished yet," Amelia barked, all sadness evaporating from her voice the second she hung up the phone.
"What?" I spat angrily.
"Don't take that tone with me. You're the one who can't get over a girl you haven't seen or heard from in over three years!" she seethed.
"Are you kidding me?" I shouted, "Amelia, I'm not having this argument again, you basketcase!"
"All I want to know is what the whore did to keep you by her side instead of bolting," she asked sarcastically.
I glared at her, remaining silent. Amelia knew exactly what to do to push my buttons. I learnt quickly with her to stay quiet and let her finish her rants or I ended up shouting something unnecessarily nasty which she would never forget and bring up every time we fought. I hated myself for ever thinking I could trust the Harpy with information about Alayna, more commonly known as the whore.
"Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for you to keep stringing me along? You need to decide what you want! You are never going to see this other girl again. She's probably dead." My stomach clenched anxiously. I still checked Alayna’s damn phone bill every month and never saw any activity again, yet I knew she was alive. Perhaps it was simply long-buried naive hope. "You are wasting my time and yours, for what? The hope that one day you'll be reunited with some money-grabbing bitch from a poverty-stricken, war-torn country?" she shouted.
"Have you been talking with Marco?" I said through gritted teeth.
I had never told Amelia that Alayna had used me for money. I hadn't shared that with anybody.
"As a matter of fact, yes, I have. I wanted to know what I was competing with," she spat.
"That is enough!" I shouted. "You want to know why I chose to come back with you last night? Because I could. I knew you wouldn't protest. This has nothing to do with the whore, I simply wanted a good night and you're easy! Or do you think I haven’t heard the exact same compliment whispered behind my back from half the men in Staventon?"
Amelia stared wide-eyed at me, her fists balled. From nowhere her phone flew at me and hit me in the face, cutting my eyebrow. I picked it up and threw it at the wall, smashing it.
"You're insane!" I shrieked, "Marco hasn't got a clue what he's talking about so getting information from him to use against me is a waste of time. At least Alayna saw him for what he was and gave him exactly what he deserved. You're a lot worse than her, you snake!"
She clenched her jaw and lay back down in bed, rolling over so her back was to me. I wasn't at the stage where I felt sorry for my words. Anger still pulsed corrosively through my veins like acid.
"Call me when you are ready to apologise, you bastard," she spat.
"Here, take it. Clearly, one-upping Freesia Beckett is all you care about," I hissed, throwing a little black box at the bed.
I'd been carrying a meaningless ring around for weeks, knowing she'd expected it the second Marco had proposed to Freesia. She hated it when Freesia got things she didn't. Marco would take Freesia on expensive holidays, so I had to. Freesia got expensive clothes and jewellery, so Amelia did too. Freesia joined Marco at official dinners so Amelia joined me. I had picked the biggest diamond ring I could find—or at least Meredith had—that was the Harpy's priority. I figured we already had an apartment together which I never stayed in. We might as well be engaged and continue to live separate lives. It might at least get her off my back.
Amelia's voice echoed again through the corridor as she caught sight of the ring box. Ignoring her plea to return, I strode away, feeling a mix of disdain and freedom with each step. Yet my solitude was short-lived; her footsteps padded rapidly behind me, and before I could react, her fingers latched onto my arm, spinning me toward her. Her lips crashed against mine with a fervour that betrayed desperation more than affection. Although every muscle in my body tensed, ready to repel her, experience had taught me that resistance would only fuel her fire.
Her eyes searched mine for a hint of defeat. "Why don't I get your mother's ring?" she demanded, one hand defiantly perched on her hip.
I barked a vicious laugh. "We don't need another bad omen in this relationship."
I didn't mention it was Beau's, not mine. That wouldn't sting Amelia enough.
My scorn seemed to slice through her poised exterior, yet she recovered remarkably, masking her contempt with an almost convincing display of remorse. Her touch became delicate as her hands found my shoulders trying to wipe away the harsh exchange with a gentle caress.
"We're being ridiculous," she murmured, voice laden with feigned contrition. "I apologise. You have your freedom; I trust you completely."
She kissed down my neck and along my collar bone and I sighed. She was infuriating however she was awfully persuasive. This was simply how we were.
"Come back to bed," she coaxed, breathing the invitation against my earlobe.
I kissed her, imagining it was Regan, and we made our way back to our room.
At eight-thirty, the phone started ringing in my hand. The ringing seemed so loud it made the room shudder. I had not slept, the pills taking their desired effect and preventing me. My heart beat too fast and my mouth was too dry yet I did not wish to move in case I woke the Harpy up, my foot tapping irritably instead.
"Hello?" My voice was jagged. It felt sharp and stabbing in every direction.
Shit, you're so high.
"Son, I need you here in an hour. Are you around?" Father asked.
"Yes, I was planning on coming in now," I lied, needing an excuse to get away from Amelia. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Schedules have been moved up and it looks like you'll be taking a small group to Vakoso in a few weeks. It's just to be present, show your face, you understand."
"I'm not going," I asserted immediately.
The words spun around me as if they had a life of their own; I hadn't expected them any more than Father had. I knew it was inevitable yet the moment I was face to face with the notion of returning to Vakoso, I felt nauseous. The room blurred around me.
"You are going, boy," Father growled, his authority reverberating through the phone.
Panic seizing me, I bolted for safety behind locked doors in the ensuite. "Please," I gasped into the phone as anxiety clawed at my chest. "There are many eager to go over there and kill people. I'm not one of them."
"Fine. I shall send Marco alone if you are too much the coward."
His manipulation cut deep. It was a calculated move he knew he would need to use. Despite my disdain for Marco, I could not see him shipped to Vakoso alone. My Father was nothing but a bastard.
"Marco need not go either," I begged.
"Yes, however he enjoys employment with me. You clearly do not. Therefore you shall not have it any longer."
My heart thundered uncontrollably, blood pressure so high I thought it may spurt out of my ears. I could refuse and knew I would lose far more than a job in my Father's subsequent wrath. Or I could shoulder the burden with Marco, endure the publicity, and close the chapter. Eventually though, another would open at Father's convenience.
Silence settled like a fog down the phone line as my mind waged war with itself. I considered the consequences, each more dire than the last. My breath quickened, heart hammering with a rhythm that matched the frantic pace of my thoughts.
I went quiet, "Fine. I'll go."
The descent into despair deepened as Father outlined my role—being in charge of ten individuals, chosen by him, to join our existing forces and destroy rebel leaders across Vakoso.
"We send my people," I cut in with a sudden surge of energy.
"As you wish," he conceded. It felt like a small mercy.
The final blow came with the announcement of an imminent press conference, a charade to unveil our participation to the masses with the simple purpose of making him look good.
"Be presentable. If you arrive in the same state as last time, you will be sorry," he snapped. "Have you given that ring to Amelia yet?"
"How do you know-"
"Meredith informed me."
Oh, I am going to kill her.
"Yes, I gave her the ring this morning," I mumbled.
"Good. Bring her. We can announce that too."
Bloody perfect.
I assured him of my readiness within fifteen minutes, concluding the call with an empty resolve. I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out how I was to make myself presentable. The whites of my eyes were red and my pupils wide, engulfing the gold entirely.
I needed a shave. Start there.
As I held the razor, my hand trembled. The usual euphoria that washed over me after the pills was overshadowed by electrifying anxiety. Reality crashed down on me for a moment as I stared at my own hollow gaze. It was barely a reflection I knew. Instead, it was a man who had been caught between his Father's machinations and the wreckage of his own sorry life. The imminent press conference felt like a noose around my neck. In an hour, I would step in front of a camera and force a smile along with the façade of patriotism for a country that I hated.
And announce I was getting married.
Clutching the sink until my knuckles went white, I was very nearly sick at the notion.
Taking a steadying breath, I glanced at Amelia in a deep sleep. The only thing she wore was the giant diamond on her ring finger.
"Get up," I barked, shaking her foot. "We need to put on a show and pretend to like each other."
She swore, "Tell your father no for once. I'm not in the mood for that today."
"Tough," I snapped, pulling the blanket from her.
"I hate you," she mumbled. "Pass me your pills. I'm not doing this sober."