After Yvlen's passing, the small group in the bunker searched out the root cause of her death—arsenic. Water from the ground was the first to be tested and rigorously monitored. But there wasn't a trace of it there. Next were the crop fields, should the soil have been tainted. It wasn't there, either. Worried that the toxin had come into contact with anything to make it airborne, they tested the air quality and ventilation to search for its gaseous partner, arsine. Nothing.
Even as he helped with these endeavors, Mateo didn't believe it originated in the bunker. He didn't want to make assumptions, but Ivan….there was something that made knots form in Mateo's stomach every time he saw the dark-haired cadet. Something that made his mouth dry whenever Ivan opened his mouth to speak or made him shiver whenever Ivan's dark eyes traveled over him.
While everyone was still grieving over Yvlen's death, it seemed that Ivan hadn't even mourned the day they sent her to the heavens above. Granted, he also hadn't attended the ceremony, but not even Mateo expected the cadet to seem so cold. No sorrow, no fear…nothing. And Mateo really wasn't comfortable with it.
He'd thought about talking to Zubia about his fears once more. Most of their conversations even had openings for him to voice them. However, he didn't have hard evidence that maybe Ivan was the one behind her death. That possibly—contrary to how much distrust Zubia had with Camille and Frederic—it was Ivan that was the insurgent. Well, if there even was one, and Mateo wasn't simply being overly paranoid.
"Little stallion?"
Zubia's silvery eyes were watching Mateo with that ever-present concern that she seemed to have taken up lately. It aggravated him that he was always the cause of her stress. She'd probably be so much happier and carefree without having him dragging at her side.
She set the plate of food resting on her lap to the side, walking from her side of the room to Mateo's and pulling up the chair she'd set up for whenever he had one of his attacks. They'd been happening more frequently, and Mateo couldn't tell if it was the stress of the whole situation in general or the fixation on Ivan causing them.
"Ivan still roughin' you up?" she asked, gently taking his hand. Her thumbs rubbed comforting circles over his knuckles.
"Mm," Mateo hummed, nodding his head.
Zubia's jaw clenched. Her gaze shifted downward at their hands. "Um, so, listen here. I think it's 'bout time we bring this thorn in yer side to the commander."
Mateo tensed. Zubia wouldn't have said that if she didn't agree—at least partially—with his concerns.
"When you first brought it to me, I was sure you was just paranoid. Probably a bit more on the freaked-out side of this whole shebang," she started once more. "Not that I don' trust ya, it's just—no, I know you know what I'm gittin' at. An' even then, the commander wanted to talk, but then we lost…." she trailed off, biting her lower lip while her eyes shimmered.
"Ah, anyway, I did what any smart owl woulda done and kept my eyes sharper than mama's sewin' needles…." she paused, continuing to trouble over her lower lip, not caring that it'd begun to swell.
"He doesn't seem unsettled about her death," Mateo whispered, his voice weaker than it already was.
Zubia's brows furrowed, and her gaze returned to him. "'xactly. I know not all you little biscuits git along real well, but usually, you mourn a comrade's departure. Ya don' just snap back like a Queen's whiptail. But Ivan—"
"Acts like she never died."
Zubia nodded. "Aye. Mayhaps it's time to tell our leader. Together. 'sides, I feel like he's wantin' a talk with all y'all anyways." The silver light in her eyes died out entirely as darkness took over.
Mateo's breath caught. Usually, this was where Zubia calmed his nerves, but it didn't seem to be the case this evening.
"I think it's best commander delivers the news," she answered Mateo's silent plea. "Not sure I'll be better than a zephy cub in doin' so myself."
Mateo nodded, but his heart was still racing. Zubia was hard to scare. Whatever brought that dark look of terror stomping out her usual light….it was bad. Real bad.
***
Mateo purposefully sat next to Ivan. The guy sent his guts churning in the most unpleasant of ways, and he didn't necessarily like being in any kind of proximity to the older cadet, but Mateo felt the need to keep Ivan in his sight. Even if it was during a gathering that the commander had called where there were plenty of vigilant eyes.
But, Mateo's uneasiness wasn't the only thing that had him on edge. The room was saturated with so much tension it seemed as if the air buzzed with everyone's nervous energy. Ten neat piles of accounts the older adults had been going through were aligned on the long, glass table. None of the cadets were entirely sure what had been found that warranted this, but they all knew it was something significant.
As should be, it was the commander that was first to speak. "We've been made aware of information regarding our leaders and have come to the decision that you all need to know what we're up against moving forward," Isaiah said, his voice somehow commanding and soothing all at the same time.
Mateo wanted to keep his eyes on his commander. It was the dutiful thing to do, and his devotion to Commander Isaiah, in particular, was absolute. However, Ivan was behaving unusually. So, while Mateo's eyes remained forward, he focused his peripherals on Ivan.
"We know that you've been kept in the dark ever since we landed here. For the most part, it's simply because…." Isaiah glanced at his comrades on either side of him, "well, we haven't really found enough to make sense of it all. However, Frederic and Camille salvaged records from Arkasia that only people of their prestige could get their hands on."
The information was interesting to Mateo. He'd assumed these records were from the bunker, not the great burning city. His intrigue grew as Ivan seemed to stiffen in the seat beside him. The guy knew something. Something he shouldn't if what the commander said was true. And Mateo never doubted Isaiah. Never.
"Good afternoon, cadets," Frederic took over, his wife stepping up with him.
"We wish for you all to stay as calm as you can as we cover these files. If at any time you feel like you cannot mentally handle what's being shown, raise your hand, and Norman will escort you out. He'll stay with whoever goes until we've finished."
With Camille's words, Mateo grew disturbed once more, his curiosity being replaced with a frightening foreboding that made him ill. He had enough trauma to cause his entire body to slip into episodes he couldn't even be conscious for, much less control. Still, he had to concentrate on Ivan.
"Please, take whichever file you'd like. In essence, they all have what you need to see, even if they revolve around different individuals."
Ivan was the only one to move, his hand tense as he reached across the table and grabbed one of the ten stacks. His facial expression showed none of the panic or fear that's clear on the faces of the other five cadets. It's neutral, even if his body seemed to betray this facade.
Ivan's lack of hesitation was strange, but perhaps it's what gave the rest of them the push they needed to grab their own documents. By the time they're all settled back in place, there are only four remaining, and Mateo's peripherals are trained on Ivan once more.
"Please read out which document is in your hand. We'll start with Amalee," Camille ordered.
Amalee squirmed in her seat. Evidently, she didn't like being the first in the spotlight, but she looked down to the cover sheet and swallowed hard. "The B-Bishop," she answered, her voice stuttering.
Camille nodded, her gaze shifting to Kostas.
"The Eldest."
"T-The Knight…" Kyler said quietly.
"Queen," Ivan replied dryly.
Mateo looked at his own sheet. "Sister."
"The Archiver." Judice's voice was hard and cold. She'd been like that since Yvlen's passing, but it still made him shiver every time.
Camille nodded in approval. "Alright. Now that you know who you'll be looking at, please be advised that it is the next page that may cause…unrest," she stated tentatively. "As I said before, allow Norman to escort you out if you cannot handle what you see."
Amalee shifted uncomfortably; the twins leaned into each other for support; Judice grunted, stiffening in her seat. Even Mateo felt nauseous. But, Ivan? He looked bored.
"You may turn your pages," the commander murmured. And they did.
Kostas stumbled back over his chair, making a b-line for the door and throwing Camille's system out the window. His brother looked to Isaiah with a mortified expression before following after Norman to tend to his brother. An audible growl came from Judice, and Amalee shoved the papers back to the center of the table, where they came undone from their paperclip and scattered. Ivan remained motionless.
But, that was irrelevant as Mateo looked down on the misshapen being. Two thick legs supported a built torso while skinny little arms were seemingly useless at the Sister's side. Instead of a head, a half-sphere with a brain carefully contained inside.
Suddenly, the room shifted, and Mateo was transported to the time when he'd had his first seizure. When they sent him to the Prism. Mateo's road to recovery had gone cold. The medications weren't working. The injections only made them worst. Electric pulses brought only pain and suffering.
When he failed to gain his health, he was brought to the Sister for judgment. She'd spoken with a chill to her voice. A chill that lacked any sign of life while her words deemed Mateo an expendable puppet for war.
As he was dragged, kicking, and screaming from the room, he managed to break free of the guards that took him. Busting back into the room to try and convince the Sister otherwise, he was halted in his tracks, her ceremonial garbs having been removed.
To this day, Mateo thought it was a nightmare, an episode of terror. But, now, he had solid evidence. The Wings were quite literally monsters. And, presumably, so were the leaders of the Domed Capitol.
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