Page 15 of Artemysia
“Love is deadly,” I argue.
“Goodnight, Captain. I’m proud of you.”
I tread down the hall to the showers, frowning. I’m not sure if Throg means my promotion or if he’s happy that I let myself slip and do something out of character that he approves of, but in the shower, my thoughts confusingly wander back to Riev. Did I allow myself to indulge simply because it was a one-time thing? Perhaps Throg is on to something. There’s comfort in knowing there’s no chance of attachment, no future, no risk of pain or heartbreak. If Riev dies by a Syf hand on his next assignment, I don’t have to know.
Unlike other men I’ve been with in the past. Though I try my hardest not to, I can’t help listing their names in my head. Thom. Kiran. Galliver.
Mortality rates for men my age are too high in the corp. I watch the suds at my feet swirl away into the drain, and my throat constricts. Human lives, as easily extinguished as soap bubbles popping. Abrupt and irreversible. I may be tough on the outside, but I hurt on the inside.
I haven’t decided if that makes me strong or weak.
Palming the water off my face, I spin the spigot and wrap myself in a towel.
It’s best to put my efforts where they matter most: keeping people alive. I want to make a difference in the world using the skills I have. It would be nice if there were room for a romantic relationship, butromance doesn’t keep everyone alive, and it’s a surefire way to get your heart broken in a world where there’s enough heartache already.
At the very least, Throg is right on two points.
Riev is hot.
And I’ll probably never see him again.
“This feast is the real reward.” - Delphine
“Captain. Captain? Elphie. Wake up. We’re going to be late. I don’t want to miss the free food,” Throg urges. Our official promotion ceremony is today, and those who’ve moved up in rank are invited to the main castle stronghold here in Stargazer for a banquet.
Food. “I’m up…” My poor head. I don’t drink often, and the brandy from last night has stuck around in the form of a raging headache. I squint up into the frosted light of our window. Throg is pulling his boots on, his sapphire blue cravat tied neatly around his neck. Blue for corporal, which will be replaced by the forest green of commander today.
“I don’t see any sign of life over there,” he says, angling his head.
I grumble an incoherent response and rub my eyes.
Throg taps his expensive pocket watch in my face and punctuates his point by ripping off my quilted covers.I kick out at him, but he backs away in time and lets loose his deep, hearty laugh.
“Also, a cadet stopped by with a message. You’re to meet with all twelve colonels in the war room after the feast.”
“All of them? Today?” I roll upright slowly, the world spinning slightly as I stand and shuffle over to my wardrobe. “You think our next assignment is that important?” It’s unusual for the colonels to gather all at once.
Perhaps our next mission will take me by the West River, where I used to live. It’s been ten years. I often wonder if the farm is still there, or if it’s been destroyed by Syf.
Throg shrugs his bulky shoulders and tosses a freshly ironed shirt in my direction.
What would I do without him?
An armoire of high-collared white shirts and brown riding pants makes it easy to get dressed, but I don’t always get to the ironing myself. I might be the brains and strategy of our team, but he keeps the details and logistics in check.
With a quick glance, I check the weather through the window overlooking the training courtyard from our second-floor dorm. The morning mist that rolls into the valley from the sea to the east and west of our peninsula hasn’t burned off, so I choose my long coat instead of my cloak. Both have a white moonflower with a blue center embroidered on the left breast pocket, the crest of the current High King of South Kingdom.
I twist and tie my cravat into a neat fan that cascades down my sternum and repeat the familiar colors of rank to quell my anxious thoughts.
“Violet—Cadet.
“Sapphire blue—Corporal.
“Forest green—Commander.
“Gold—Captain.
“Crimson—Colonel,” I mutter under my breath.Again. “Violet, blue, green, gold, crimson.” I’ve repeated this like a meditative mantra since my violet cadet days whenever I need to calm down and focus.
