Chapter 56: Taran
I hadn't expected to wake up alone. Though I tell myself that Diogo is an important man and he has an important job to do, especially in the wake of the explosion, I'm still disappointed. I roll out of bed, groaning in pain as sore muscles stretch. I test my ankle as I stand up, using the bedframe for balance. It's still tender but I can walk without too much pain. I limp to the washroom where I brush my teeth and then sit at my desk and run a brush through the tangles of my hair. I smile wanly at the wild fluff I've made of my hair, then I look at myself. Really look at the dullness of my eyes, the paleness of my features, the dark rings under my eyes.
The smile drifts from my lips as I take in the last twenty-four hours; the elite dinner party, the explosion, the desert, the attack. Dead people everywhere, Primitives and humans. A lump forms in my throat and I shudder, dropping the hairbrush back on the desk. I change into a pair of long pants made of soft material and a shirt with a high collar. All good quality. Only the best for the Warlord's wife.
I fluff my hair over my bandage and open the door, catching the attention of a soldier on the other side. I stand for a moment staring at him, not sure what to say or do. Finally, I whisper, "I'm sorry."
I'm not sure why I'm apologizing. I didn't startle him, I didn't ask for him to be here. But something about the cool assessing look he's giving me forces the words from my lips. I'm uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
"What's your name?" I ask, strengthening my voice and standing straighter. "I assume you're the new guard."
"Yes, I'm Garrett's replacement," he says, his eyes moving off me to stare at the wall. Waves of chill accusation hit me. Does he blame me for Garrett's death? Maybe he should. Maybe I should've realized the explosion was a distraction and that we'd be ambushed. Maybe there was more I could've done for Garett. He'd been my guard, but also a friend. He was a good man.
But Garrett's death doesn't change our current situation. If he really is replacing Garrett then we'll be spending a lot of time together.
"Your name?" I prod him, trying to sound more like a Warlord's wife.
"Grayson Truss, ma'am."
Though he looks anything but welcoming I decide to proceed as I would with anyone assigned to work with me. "Nice to meet you, Grayson." His shoulders stiffen when I use his given name. "I'm absolutely starving. I think I'll grab something to eat. You hungry?"
I don't wait for an answer. I turn my back on him and limp toward the kitchen. As I reach into the cupboard, looking over the canned fruit, I glance over my shoulder confirming that he followed me in. A scowl gives his already fierce features a truly frightening look. I shudder but continue to act as though our meeting doesn't faze me.
"You okay with pears?" I ask, frowning at him as though this is the most important question of the day. "We appear to be out of the peaches."
His terrifying expression melts for just a moment as he readjusts his viewpoint. I wonder if he was expecting hostility from me? What has he heard of me? Definitely that I'm a rebel. Did he assume that would make me difficult? I smile to myself. I like to consider myself pretty easy to get along with. When there's a disagreement, I tend to show my feelings in actions.
"I'm fine, ma'am."
"Oh good, I didn't know where I was going to get a can of peaches at this time of night," I say, purposely misunderstanding his meaning.
I make a fuss out of opening the can and splitting the pears into two bowls. He makes a sound as though to reject my offering, but I shove the bowl into his hands, pick mine up off the counter and head toward the door leading to the roof.
"I'll be upstairs," I tell him. "I'd rather be alone right now, but I understand if that's not an option."
Sure enough, he follows me up. My guess is that he has orders not to let me out of his sight. Maybe for my protection, or maybe because Diogo doesn't trust me. I try to tell myself it's probably a combination of both, but the thought that I've lost Diogo's trust saddens me all over again. I stand right next to the ledge of the rooftop, gazing out at the dark city, wondering where my husband is. The wall? The police station?
When will he come home? And what mood will he bring with him? The easy camaraderie we shared is gone.
I lift my fork and eat the pears, forcing the tears back as I wait for him.
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