Page 94 of Beyond The Maples
Farra groans. "Do I have to come?"
I haul her from her bed and shove her towards the bathroom.
"Yes, you do. We all need to be together to try and find some decent intel about Soland and Zaphira, and this is the perfect opportunity. Plus, Leo's right ––we should really let off some steam, too."
Farra doesn't put up much more of a fuss as she heads to the bathroom to get ready, when there's a knock at the door.
I open it to find Deacon leaning against the door frame, like he owns the place. He's out of his Cadet uniform and back in his regular clothes. Something aboutit sends a pinch of fond nostalgia to my heart. This is Deacon ––myDeacon. He enters, giving me a whistle and spinning me around by my hand.
"Well, look at you Mae. All done up. You look beautiful!" he grins, which has me grinning back.
I'd found him after we had got home from our assignment. His had gone off without a hitch. Their crew hadn't run into any issues, and got back in record time. I don't even know why I worry; Deacon has a way about him. When we were younger, he had me convinced he was a lucky charm.
He flops down on Farra's bed, and when she comes out and scowls at him for making himself comfortable, he just chuckles. I hadn't wanted Deacon to come out tonight. He doesn't know the real motivations behind our little excursion. But when it was announced that we'd now be allowed a little more free time before we were sent out on our permanent assignments, it was hard to come up with a reason why he shouldn't join us.
Besides, IknowDeacon. He'll be doing his own recon after he gets a few drinks in. Women love him, and he loves women, and now that the boundaries between us have been clearly and painfully drawn, that no longer bothers me. In fact, I find it a bit of a relief; not having to constantly wonder if he's ever going to look my way.
My mind wanders back to the pod, with Tane, and I feel my cheeks heat slightly. Deacon looks at me and gives me a smile, and I wonder if he noticed my blush. I feel the faintest pang of guilt as he watches me intently. Which is ridiculous. Tane and I didn't even do anything. I probably made up the tension in the pod in my head, considering how all our other interactions have gone. And even if there was something there, what would I have to feel guilty about? I'd made my feelings abundantly clear to Deacon, hadn't I? He shot me down. That was that. Nothing to feel guilty about either way.
Still, guilt has always been a comfortable companion. Perhaps that just comes from being the oldest? Maybe being responsible for other people just inherently makes you feel a little guilty about everything.
Farra comes back out of the bathroom for the third time. "Ok, let's go!"
My jaw hangs open slightly, shocked.
"You look amazing!" I say sincerely, which earns me roll her eyes. I rarely see her in civilian clothes, and it changes her. She's got the same kohl lining her eyelids as I do, and she's got her own blackish, long-sleeve top. It doesn't have a low neckline like mine, but she doesn't need one to attract attention.
"Stop gawking! Let's go!" she growls, batting away Leo, who is trying to play with her silky, brushed-out hair.
I stand, taking in the bustling tavern where we end up. There are tons of cadets I recognize from our cohort, everyone looking to blow off a little steam.
Firelight flickers from the lanterns hanging throughout the wooden rafters. This place looks like it never fully embraced the advances of the modern world. Smart, considering how things turned out. It's all old dark wood and leather. It smells musky, years of spilled beverages on sticky floors. People already getting sloppy as they walk around, socializing. There's a dance floor that's picking up participants as the band up front plays lazy tunes.
Leo plunks down a tray of drinks on the table, spilling some of them.
"That is the last time I go get us all drinks. The barkeep berated me for five minutes about my age, claiming he didn't sell children alcohol. I had to show him my flippin' cadet tags," he whines.
"Maybe try to refrain from saying words likeflippin'when you're complaining about people not taking your age seriously," Farra laughs beside him.
"Not all of us want to sound like pirates, Farra," he teases.
"Now, now," Deacon pretends to chide, as he hands out the beverages.
I take a gulp and am pleasantly surprised. This tastes moderately better than the stuff we get in Strayton. It's a familiar sensation; everything is just slightly better here. The food, the beverages––even the air.
I eye the room, and see several scenarios playing out. There's a group of travellers by the tall tables near the bar. All men, ogling every woman who comes within a four-foot radius. Easy targets to get information out of.
There are several tables of cadets, who are either drunk or on their way.
A few tables I can't quite peg, although their clothes and lack of urgency toseize the momentwould suggest locals just out for an evening.
My attention's brought back to the table by a boot to my shin.
"Earth to Maple. I asked how your head was," Deacon chastises.
I give him a sardonic grin, that he returns.
"It's fine, honestly. Those healing accelerants are almost magical," I shrug. He nods absently, and I'm unsure of the answer he was expecting.
