The Pledge

“You’re in the military?” I asked, nodding toward his uniform, unable to tear my gaze away from it. It was the dark green of a soldier, its gold buttons gleaming even in the shadow of the tree.

His smile vanished. “Yes, I’m in the army. It was the best way I could think of to rebel against my family.”

My heart was thrumming, yet I was intrigued by his answer. I looked up at him, finding those dark gray eyes. “Your family didn’t want you to join?”

“No, they were most definitely opposed.”

I weighed that, along with his knowledge of a language I’d never heard before. I wondered who he really was, and where he was from.

And then I frowned, confused as I recalled the way he’d reacted when we heard the applause coming from the gallows in the square. “If you’re in the army, what about that morning? At my parents’ restaurant? You jumped when the crowd cheered.”

His response wasn’t at all what I’d expected: He grinned. “Do you think being in the army makes me heartless?” he answered.

“No, but I—” I what? I was surprised that someone in the military didn’t support the queen’s decision to have people hanged or beheaded for breaking the law? Was he not allowed to have his own thoughts, his own feelings?

I glanced around, nervous that someone might overhear us, on the verge of debating the queen’s policies. It was not something we should be discussing in public, shielded only by the low-hanging branches of the tree. But instead I saw something even more startling. Across the street were the other two men who had terrified me so much with their strange language—giants among a normal human populace.

My pulse quickened beneath the surface of my skin. “Why are they here?” I tipped my head in their direction, accusation thick in my tone.

“It’s okay.” His dark eyes watched me closely while he answered. “I asked them to wait over there. So you wouldn’t be frightened.”

I straightened my shoulders. “Why would I be afraid?” But my question was absurd. Their presence, even from across the busy street, terrified me.

“Don’t worry about them, they’re harmless. Really,” he replied, his hand crossing the space between us. I watched it move toward me, to where my fist clutched the strap of the book bag hanging from my shoulder, and his fingers brushed lightly across the tops of mine. I told myself I should take a step back—through the tree trunk if necessary—to create some distance between us, but somehow I couldn’t move. “I was hoping I could walk you home. And please, don’t say no this time.” He kept his voice low.

I wanted to tell him no—I meant to, since it seemed the wise thing to say, but instead I heard myself answering, “I—I don’t even know who you are.” I tried to ignore the longing I felt to move closer to him rather than away.

This time his smile was easy to read, as if he’d just won a minor victory. “You know more than I know about you. I don’t believe you’ve even told me your name.”

My breath hitched in the back of my throat, and when I tried to speak my voice came out on a whisper. “Charlie Hart,” I finally responded. It felt strange, introducing myself to him.

“Charlie? As in Charlotte?”

He held his hand out for mine, and this time I let him take it, folding it into his palm and wrapping his fingers around it. It wasn’t an actual greeting; it was more like he was holding my hand. But still, I didn’t stop him.

I shook my head, almost unable to speak at all. “Charlaina,” I answered.

And then his thumb moved, the slightest caress, almost imperceptible.

Except that it hadn’t gone unnoti Bght nht="0ced. I had most definitely felt it.

I pulled my hand away, startled by the reaction he’d set off deep in the pit of my stomach.

“Max,” I said for the first time, trying out the sound of his name on my lips. And then, worried that I sounded too infatuated—too like Brook—I asked, “Why do you keep showing up? Are you following me or something?”

Aron interrupted us then, with Brooklynn right behind him.

Brook didn’t seem to remember Max from that night at the restaurant, or the club, but nothing was stopping her from trying to get to know him now. She cast a direct glance his way, raking her eyes over his uniform, her gaze filled with so much enticement and appeal that I wondered how any male could ever resist her.

“Who’s your friend, Chuck?” She cocked her head, but she wasn’t really speaking to me at all. I’m not sure she even cared that I stood right beside her or that I’d been asking her all day long not to call me that.

I should have felt nothing, Max was virtually a stranger, yet I recognized the flash of jealousy that coursed through me in an instant. It was an unfamiliar sensation, entirely unwelcome.

Aron took a different approach, ignoring the newcomer altogether. “Are you guys ready to go? I told my dad I’d be at the shop right after school.”

“Your dad’s an ass,” Brook pointed out, her ravenous gaze never leaving Max. She held out her hand. “I’m Brooklynn.”

“Max,” he introduced himself, taking her hand, but the movement was brief and controlled, and I wondered at the guardedness I suddenly saw in him.

Still, my spine remained stiff.

Aron didn’t relent; he cast a sidelong glance at Max. “Regardless of what you think of my father,” he said to Brook, “I still have to be there. Are you coming or not?” He reached for my bag.