The Offering (The Pledge 3)

“I’m here,” she called out to the box before she’d even reached the table. Static stretched between them as I stepped aside, making a place for her as she leaned forward, spreading her palms flat over the tabletop. “What do you want?” She was shades quieter than Aron was, and far more reserved, but I knew—I could hear it in her voice—that she’d missed him.

Brook hadn’t confided in me, so I didn’t know exactly what had transpired between her and Aron in the months since our return from Vannova. But even without Brook to tell me her secrets, I hadn’t missed the private exchanges, the looks and discreet brushes of their hands that had passed between them whenever they’d believed no one was watching.

Aron’s voice squawked over the line from halfway across the country: “I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT IF I DON’T MAKE IT BACK . . .” I could practically hear him grinning as he spoke, despite the distance that separated us. “THAT I LOVE YOU!”

Between any other couple it might have been a tender moment, that declaration of love. And maybe it was between them as well; it was impossible to know by trying to read Brooklynn’s expression. Her face remained motionless. Impassive.

I lifted my hand to my mouth and pretended to cough to cover my smile.

“DID YOU HEAR ME? IS ANYONE THERE?” Aron’s voice echoed when Brook—and everyone else in the room—stayed silent for too long.

The corner of Brooklynn’s mouth quirked up. “You do realize this is a simple operation to establish communication, don’t you? You’re not a soldier who’s gone off to war or anything?” Her smile grew then, becoming more mischievous than it had been before.

She caught my expression, recognized my feigned cough, and winked at me. I hated that I so badly craved her forgiveness, that I’d missed her so much, for so long, that her simple gesture made my heart soar.

“In fact,” she added, “I’d venture to say you’re more like a child with a new play toy, wouldn’t you?”

There was a momentary silence from the other end, and then Aron’s voice returned. “OUCH, BROOK. THAT REALLY STINGS.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust me,” she answered, just as her finger moved toward the button.

“WAIT FOR ME—” Aron started to tell her. . . .

Right before she disconnected him . . . in front of the entire room full of witnesses.

And then the applause started.

I couldn’t stop grinning.

It had been years since a message had been able to travel from one end of our country to the other in an instant. And today we’d done just that. I’d spoken to Aron from inside the halls of the Capitol, while he’d stood in one of our southernmost cities. It seemed like something out of a far-imagined dream.

But it wasn’t, and now I couldn’t keep the excitement from my face.

We hit a bump in the road and I bounced unsteadily, my head colliding with Max’s shoulder. His musky scent filled my nostrils as I leaned against him, sighing dreamily.

“Can you believe it?” I asked, turning to gaze up at him, and wishing I could say something more, but coming up empty every time I tried.

“You know why I can believe it, Charlie?” He pushed a wisp of hair from my cheek. “Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever known. Because you’re clever and iron-willed and selfless. You can do anything you set your mind to,” he whispered. “You’re going to take this country and turn it on its head.”

“Maybe when Xander and Niko return, we can open a line of communication with Astonia,” I said, exhaling.

Just saying Niko’s name made Sabara stir within me. And as always, I had to concentrate to quell her. To stop her from surfacing all the way.

“Charlie . . .”

I frowned at the caution I heard in Max’s tone, my eyes searching his.

Max scrutinized me, and I watched as his expression changed from warning to worry to something softer. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. It’s already been too long since we’ve heard from Xander, or any of them, for that matter. We’ve no idea if he’s even made progress. It was a long shot to begin with. Elena’s not to be trusted, not after the stunt she pulled with Sebastian.”

Max was right. I should never have let Xander convince me to send him in the first place. I should’ve denied his request and come up with another plan. There was no excuse for putting him in harm’s way. But hearing my former stable master’s name made me bristle all over again. Sebastian had turned out to be both a spy and a murderer, enlisted by the queen of Astonia, who we’d later discovered had been working in tandem with Brooklynn’s traitorous father to assassinate me.

I’d never so much as suspected the stable master in my employ, someone who’d taught me everything I knew about horses. Who’d taught me to appreciate them, even if he hadn’t broken me of my discomfort around them.

“I know,” I said, shrugging and trying not to let my disappointment show. I knew I was being fanciful, entertaining such notions, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to start anew. For Ludania to live in amity with our neighbors.

I let my palm drift over the exquisite fabric of Max’s suit. I wondered if I’d ever tire of the feel of fine fabrics, if I’d ever grow accustomed to that aspect of my new life. Wools woven so tightly, they could feel like silk; silks so delicate, they were sometimes transparent; and velvets, creamy fleeces, and luxurious cottons that were weightless against my skin.