I frowned, not understanding what this information had to do with anything. Nevertheless, I nodded and he followed my gesture, remaining quiet for a few beats.
“Stabbing to the heart would be most believable, make sure you puncture between his heart and lung. You can nick the lung a little but stay clear from the heart. What healing solutions do you have?”
“I have a Cloutie root,” I immediately answered, thanking all the gods that I hid the last one in my wardrobe to keep it away from PDD.
“It won’t be enough; he needs to appear dead.” Another long pause where Valeyan’s brows furrowed so deeply, I could almost touch his worry. “I can get river berries potion. The weapon needs to be boiled in it. It will regenerate the tissue from within and place the body in a stillness while it does so, but it cannot heal fatal wounds.”
I shook my head, confused. River berries potion? What the hell was that? Sensing my confusion, Valeyan explained.
“We use it to transport hostages, if shot through the bloodstream, it makes the bearer remain in a catatonic state.”
“For how long?” I enquired, filled with hope.
“Ten to fifteen hours. Sometimes a little more.”
“Then I also need your help to get his body out of here, while he’s still passed out,” I urged, plans already developing in my mind.
“I will do whatever you ask to bring Galenor home,” the man replied, his words braiding a cape of hope around my heart.
Disgust swam through my body. My stomach clenched, barely keeping its contents together as I walked out of the living quarters with a full round of applause, bowing my head to several officers and guards who formed a passageway through the corridor and cheered for my success.
They cheered for murder.
I was once one more of them. I stood idly, sometimes felt happy, for colleagues who’d successfully completed assignments, without having actual details of their mission. This may not even be the first time a subject loses their life in those damned rooms, it may be a common occurrence which we were all, in one way or another, privy to.
As I forced my steps to plant themselves one in front of the other, I received handshakes, congratulations, pats on the back and appraisals, some going even as far as already calling me Major. Through it all, I forced a polite smile and kept it plastered for the next hour, until everyone who had participated in this assignment in one way or another disappeared and allowed me to take a full breath for what seemed like forever.
Not that my lungs enjoyed the oxygen when I knew Galenor’s body was barely getting any, if at all. The air around me felt dirty, putrid, unable to sustain the beating of my heart. With heaviness and despair caving on my shoulders, I walked to Milosh’s office, where I was told he would be expecting me to declare the trial assignment officially complete.
Night lurked on the hallways, whispers and traces of steps sounding from the lower floors while I trotted my way up to Milosh’s office. I was so tired, my eyelids were heavy, and I struggled to keep opening with every blink while my feet turned into lead, the weight was heavy on both my body and conscience.
I didn’t know if my plan worked, I had no idea if I hit the correct area with the knife I had received merely minutes before midnight from the Wind delegation and especially, I had no idea how and if Galenor would wake up. The potion might last a few hours only, making him wake up right under the cameras or it might take forever. I had no way to know. Only the last thread of hope that struggled to keep hanging onto my chest.
“I must insist, general. Given the situation and our recent findings, this visit has reached an abrupt end.”
I heard a voice creeping from Milosh’s office as I knocked on the door and, without waiting for an invitation, I let myself in. After all, I was the person keeping him awake at three in the morning, so the sooner we got this done, the better for the both of us.
I painted the perfect picture of surprise as my eyes laid on Valeyan, sitting on the chair in front of Milosh’s desk, the general leaning on his wide leather office seat, looking tired and very pissed off.
“Is this…a bad time?” I pressed my lips together in apology and took a theatrical step back to show my intention of leaving and allowing the conversation between these two to continue, but Milosh flicked his fingers to stop my movement.
“Not at all, I was expecting you,” the old man replied with a curl of his lips. The bastard was smiling, just like everyone else. The number of times I would have given anything to see even a dash of pride, of acknowledgement from this man was uncountable. But here I was, killing an innocent and everyone was ready to throw a parade in my honour.
This was not the best moment to lash out at him, however. After all, I owed him for using his connections to bring Galenor back and for that warning that offered us three days of supervised bedroom porn.
“If you would excuse us,” Milosh turned to Valeyan with dismissal in his tone, but the fae stood his ground, leaning back on the chair to make himself comfortable and folding his arms across his chest, a sign that he had absolutely no intention of leaving.
“The conversation can be continued after I speak with Major Harrow, it will only take a few minutes.”
Major.
Major Harrow.
This was it. The confirmation I needed, the seal of approval that came with my position. The mark that would improve my future tenfold, the rank that would help me get my own cabin, a better life and enable me to be of better support for my family.
I should have rejoiced this, it was a moment I had worked my ass off for the past twenty-two years, ever since I was first recruited. Yet, none of it mattered. Not when my soul was cracked in two, the other half lying dead three floors down.
Instead of gratitude, I felt hatred for these people. Disgust. Shame for being a part of this unit and despair to get myself free from them.
