Court of Command (Age of Angels #1) - Milana Jacks Page 0,39

all about the maleness over wine.”

Georgia sighed. “I’m going to get in trouble.”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, you will bang him, then vouch for me.”

“I promise.”

Though she headed toward the chow hall, she didn’t want to be seen arriving with me, so I followed her from afar.

Seeing as the House of Command was an enormous structure on the island, finding the hall on my own would be nearly impossible. If I were starving, I was pretty sure I would have walked until I found it, but starvation and hunger weren’t the same. Tonight, I was just hungry.

Soldiers poured into what appeared to be another training ground, this one covered with sand. I followed Georgia into the rectangular building that looked like several airplane hangars stuck together to make one large one. Inside, the loud chatter of maybe a thousand people rang against the thin metal walls. I moved to the side to let other people pass and scanned the hall for Georgia. She sat with some people I didn’t know, presumably her squad. Where were the Ducklings? With so many people, it took me a few minutes to find them. There. Found them.

At the table, I sat down at the only unoccupied chair. They stopped talking and turned their heads toward me. I blushed and stared at the covered plate in front of me. Head down, I side-eyed the person next to me. He cut his steak. Oooo nice. I opened the cover and stacked it atop the tower of other covers on the table.

I looked up. Damn it. Across from me sat the man I’d sparred with today. A swath of gauze covered what I presumed was a broken nose, judging by the swelling under both his eyes. Even though someone had beaten him up, he still looked scary as he glared at me.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“You happened.”

“I didn’t do that to your face.”

He snorted, then covered his nose and cursed.

I noticed he didn’t have a plate of food, but didn’t ask why. I also didn’t ask why he sat with the Ducklings. I cut my steak in half, and blood spilled onto the plate. I looked away. I preferred my steak medium-well, but at the thought of not eating the bloody thing, my stomach protested with a growl. Mashed potatoes sat next to it, so I tasted those first. Bland with only a tiny bit of salt. There was also steamed broccoli and carrots. I hated both, though after the apocalypse, I became less picky. I cut a tiny piece of beef. Fork poised at my mouth, I looked up. The man was staring at me.

I ate, chewed, swallowed hard, then chased the bloody thing with water. “You’re gonna sit there and glare at me the entire time?”

“Got nothing better to do.” His gaze drifted to the entrance and stayed there.

I turned in my chair.

Michael and Raphael arrived and made their way toward a single long table farthest from the door and near another exit the kitchen staff used.

“Did the commander do that to you?” I asked the man.

“Do what?”

I rolled my eyes. “Break your nose.”

“No.”

“What happened?” I pressed.

“Shut up.”

“I’ll share my food if you tell me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m nice. Despite what you think of me.”

He shook his head.

I ate and moaned loudly, making my squad giggle. “You know,” I said and pointed a fork stacked with potatoes at him, “compared to today’s lunch, this is fine dining.”

People snickered.

I pushed my plate toward him. “Eat. Come on.”

He struck the fork from my hand. It flew down to the other end of the table, bounced off the edge, and landed on the floor.

In the noisy room, nobody noticed besides Michael and Raphael, who both raised their heads. I tried to make myself as small as possible. I was pretty sure Michael didn’t want me here. I succeeded at hiding behind many heads until he rose to standing. Once he saw me, I waved quickly, hoping he’d let me be.

Michael made a move toward me, but Raphael grabbed his wrist and tugged. Michael sat and leaned in so Raphael could whisper at his ear. He clearly didn’t like whatever Raphael had said to him, but picked up his fork and continued eating. Relieved, I sighed.

“He’s not allowed to eat,” a man next to me said.

“Why not?”

“Because of you,” Broken Nose said.

“You know what your fucking problem is?” I said. “You need to start owning your own decisions, so when you sit there not allowed to eat