The MORE Trilogy (60 page)

“Shut up.”

“Ignoring the truth won’t make it disappear.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she shouted. “You think I don’t know something’s wrong with him? I
know
it, Tiernan. I’ve known it for a while. I’ve
felt
it, and I ignored it, and maybe if I hadn’t
 . . .
” She turned away, wiping tears from her eyes. “I know I should have told you. I guess I hoped . . . I don’t know what I hoped.

“But I
am
sorry,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I’m really sorry.”

Tiernan didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not your fault.”

“But maybe if I’d—”

“Ava, it’s not your fault,” he said more firmly. “This is all so new to you. There’s no way you could have known what Emma did to Caleb. You couldn’t have seen this coming.”

“He said
 . . .
” She cleared her throat, turning back to him. “He said I couldn’t trust the Council. He said it’s been ‘keeping us down’ for too long.” She used air quotes, earning a smirk from Tiernan. “He denied that Emma did anything to him. Said he’s fine. And he . . . he said I should stay away from the Colony.”

Tiernan seemed surprised. “Why do you think he’d say that?”

“I don’t know. Someone was coming so he had to hang up.”

“Strange.” Tiernan walked toward the tree line, thinking to himself. “Although anyone who knows you knows that telling you
not
to do something pretty much guarantees you’re going to do it.”

“Hey!”

“You can’t deny it’s true,” he said with a halfhearted glower. “The fact you’re standing here is proof.”

Ava sighed. “I really am sorry.”

Tiernan shrugged, and his discomfort with the emotion showed in every inch of his tense frame. “I know. It’s okay.”

Ava cleared her throat. “So . . . have you found anything?”

He shook his head, walking along the edge of the trees as she followed. “Nothing. Any word from Gideon?”
 

“I checked in with him before coming out. I think he might have been up all night. The cloaks haven’t been disturbed, and there’s no sign of anyone. I know I don’t feel anything.” She reached out again with her gift, just to make sure, but the Caleb-shaped hole remained, untouched and jagged.

“I don’t like it,” Tiernan muttered, crouching as he examined a blade of grass. “None of this makes any kind of sense.”

Ava said nothing, and trailed after the Protector as he continued to scan the perimeter. Her mind wandered to her discussion with Gideon and all that he had told her, and before she could think better of it, she asked, “You ever been in love, Tiernan?”

His frown deepened as he crushed a handful of dirt in his palm. He sniffed it before letting it fall to the ground, standing, and brushing his hand off on his jeans. “That’s a weird question.”

She shrugged. “It’s just . . . Gideon told me last night about Madeleine.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “You want to know about the bond.” He glanced at her briefly before turning back around to stare out through the trees. “Worried about your boy?”

“No,” she said, lifting her chin as she crossed her arms almost out of reflex. Ava couldn’t deny that she sounded like a two-year-old about to stomp her foot, and tried to cover her embarrassing curiosity best she could. “I was only wondering if it’s like that for everyone.”

“Well, most bonded pairs stay together. It’s rare for them to separate, for obvious reasons.”

“So, in all these years, no girl’s gotten under your skin?” she asked, keeping her tone light and teasing. “Or are you waiting until you’re older to settle down—like maybe when you’re in your three hundreds?”
 

“Ha, ha,” he grumbled. “The bond is no laughing matter. It can destroy as much as it strengthens.”

Ava was taken aback at his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s . . . it’s fine.” Tiernan took a deep breath and appeared to be considering his words carefully. “You’ve never asked about my scar.”

Ava’s step faltered. She was a little stunned by the change in topic. “I didn’t think it was any of my business.”

“Weren’t you curious?” he asked. “Why I would have a scar when we heal so quickly?”

Unconsciously, Ava lifted her hand to her own scar on the back of her head. “Caleb told me . . . if a healer isn’t skilled, and the wound is bad enough
 . . .
” She felt sick and wished Tiernan had never brought the subject up. In fact, she wasn’t sure how they’d even gotten on the subject.

“Yeah,” Tiernan said, coming to a stop and gazing out into the forest. “Or if you won’t let a healer near you.”

Ava gasped. She’d almost gotten to the point where she didn’t even notice Tiernan’s scar, but now the jagged line running down his face shone white and angry against his flushed skin. “Why would you do that?” she asked.

“There was a woman,” he said, jaw tight as he looked away. “We had a bond. She betrayed me.”

“How is that even possible?” Ava couldn’t stop herself from asking.
 

“The bond doesn’t
change
you,” he said tightly. “It doesn’t affect what you
want
, your personality. Greed, corruption . . . a thirst for power. If they are ingrained deeply enough, not even the bond can overcome them.”

Ava swallowed hard as a heavy feeling settling in her stomach. “She became a Rogue.”

“She thought I could help her—use my connections with the Council somehow. I’m not even sure. When I refused
 . . .
” He touched the scar, tracing his fingertips down the jagged skin and seemed lost in the memories. “She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t. Because of the bond.” His words were monotone—dull, lifeless. “She wasn’t strong enough.”

“She tried to kill you.”
 

He blinked, turning away. “She tried. She failed.”
 

“And the bond?”

“Broken.”

Gideon’s words came back to her.
“It lasts for life, you know. It doesn’t matter if you’re together or not.”

She could guess how the bond had been broken, and she didn’t want to make him say it. “I’m sorry,” she said instead.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.” He shook off his melancholy and started back toward the Colony buildings, Ava hurrying to catch up to him. “I only told you so you know what you’re dealing with. The bond is a two-sided coin. It’s not something to rush into.” Tiernan bent to pick up a rock and threw it into the forest, where it lodged in the trunk of a tree.
 

She raised a brow. “Yeah. I’m beginning to see that.” When Tiernan ignored her comment, she opted to change the subject, eyeing the rock still embedded in the tree. She thought about picking up her own rock but knew it would just bounce off. “It’s still so frustrating to me, you know. The whole strength and speed thing.”

Tiernan, for some unknown reason, seemed to be able to follow her train of thought. “Maybe you need to focus more.”

“That’s what Caleb says,” she replied. “But I’ve tried, and it doesn’t seem to help at all. You don’t have to focus, do you?”

Tiernan grunted noncommittally, but when they reached the center building, he led Ava around the side.
 

“Where are you going?” she asked.
 

“Found it earlier this morning,” he replied when they came to a high fence with a padlock hanging open on the gate. “Think it’s just what the doctor ordered.” He shot her a half grin as he swung open the gate, and extending a hand along with a slight bow, he gestured for her to precede him through.
 

She rolled her eyes a bit, but curiosity won out, and she walked into a large fenced area about the size of a football field, with a full track running around the perimeter of the grassy expanse. One side of the field looked to be laid out as some kind of obstacle course, with zigzagging barbed wire, a swinging rope over a big muddy puddle, several wooden platforms, and a high wall at the far end.
 

He led her to the other end of the field, littered with colored cones, some large black balls, and metal boxes in various sizes. Tiernan approached one about four feet square and slapped a palm on top, the sound echoing around them. “Let’s start with something simple,” he said.
 

“This isn’t going to work,” Ava all but whined. “Caleb’s been trying for months—”

“I’m not Caleb,” he snapped. “Now, no more excuses. Come over here and put your shoulder to it . . . unless you’d like to start with running,” He indicated the track with a flick of his eyes, and Ava winced. She wasn’t much of a runner, and keeping up with Tiernan was sure to be an exercise in frustration.

“Okay.” She relented, but not altogether graciously, and stalked over to the box, fighting down her negative attitude with every step. The fact that Tiernan actually wanted to help her was incredible, to say the least, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste.

Or he could have been as antsy as she was waiting for something—
anything
—to happen, and was looking for a distraction. Not that she could blame him.

With a doubtful glance at the box, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “What do you want me to do?”

“Try again.” Tiernan ignored a twinge of compassion at Ava’s sweat-dampened hair and red face.
 

Her breath puffed out with exertion, teeth clenched as she shoved her shoulder against the weight block.
 

Again.

They’d been at it for about an hour, and the girl still showed no sign of accessing her Race strength. If she had any to begin with, and Tiernan was seriously beginning to doubt she did.
 

Ava grunted, and he could tell she was pushing against the block with all her might. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. The block was thick-walled steel, and even though he’d moved to a smaller one when it became obvious Ava couldn’t move the larger one, it still weighed close to five hundred pounds.
 

He’d tried everything—leading her through meditation techniques, hard-core drill-sergeant tactics, even encouraging her, as much as it went against every fiber of his being. He was about out of ideas.

“Maybe you’re just
 . . .
” Tiernan winced slightly. “Not very strong.”

She scowled at him, turned around, and pushed her back against the block, feet digging into the ground. “You think?” She turned back around, shoving it—or
failing
to shove it—with her hands again. “I don’t know why I even worry about it. It’s not like I need it. I can just use my gift.”

“You can’t always rely on that,” Tiernan said, reminding her of the reality of the situation. “There are dampeners out there—and people like Emma, who can mess with your mind, despite your gift. You need every weapon at your disposal if it comes to that.”

Ava grunted, obviously annoyed, but she kept pushing, so Tiernan took that as a win. It didn’t make any sense, though. Ava was Race. She should be able to do it. Perhaps she only needed a good incentive.

“Come on, Ava,” he said, forcing a note of cheer into his voice. “If you move it an inch, I’ll give you a
 . . .
” He searched his mind, at a loss at what to offer. “Cookie?”

Ava slumped against the metal block, and she seemed unable to hold back a laugh. “A cookie? Seriously?”

Tiernan wasn’t sure why he said that, but he wasn’t backing down now. “I like cookies,” he said, trying not to sound defensive.
 

Cookies are good. Cookies are tasty. Nothing wrong with a good cookie.

“No offense, big guy,” she said, straightening and patting his chest—a little condescendingly, he might add. “But cookies aren’t gonna do it.”

“Yeah?” Tiernan considered her carefully as another idea came to mind. He rounded the block to the side opposite Ava. “Maybe you just need the right motivation.” Without warning, he shoved the block toward her a few inches, and Ava stumbled back in surprise.

“Hey!” She regained her footing and glared at him. “You almost smashed my foot.”

“Maybe you should push back, then.” He nudged it forward a bit more, trying not to grin.

Ava narrowed her eyes and put her shoulder to the block, her jaw tight with determination.