says you can have this back.”
She reached for it quickly, like she was afraid he’d try to retract it. Held it a moment, once he’d passed it over, thumb tracing over the largest ruby in the hilt; then she set it carefully aside on the mattress and went back to removing her socks.
“You know, you coulda pried the rubies outta that thing and pawned them. You could be living in a mansion right now instead of slogging through the trenches with us,” he tried to joke. It would have fallen flat with anyone; with Rose, it fell like a case full of bricks.
She balled up her socks and tossed them lightly into the laundry sack hanging on the wall. Her feet, when she set them down on the cold, concrete floor, were pale, with high arches, and slender toes. Delicate, girlish feet that clashed wildly with the look she gave him.
He sighed. “Look. You know that can’t happen again, right? I told Captain Bedlam that you aren’t a risk to the rest of the team, but you can’t go off half-cocked doing your own thing on a mission like that.”
She stared at him, gaze inscrutable.
“Rose, tell me you understand.”
“You think I’m insane,” she said.
“I think you’re reckless. I think you’re still hurting really bad, and that you don’t care about your own wellbeing.”
She blinked, a brief surprise flaring in her eyes before she drew it back.
“There,” he said. “Right there. You’re so clamped down it’s like you’re not even all there.”
Her brows went up a fraction, mouth setting in a sour line.
“You have to compartmentalize in this line of work. You can’t feel everything, or you’ll drown in it. Hell, I lost a guy yesterday, and I don’t even remember his name.” He felt an inward lurch of shock at his own confession. He hadn’t meant to say that; hadn’t meant to let frustration bleed through like this.
“It’s good that you’re tough,” he said, starting again with a deep breath. “That you’re hard. And God knows you’ve got the skills. But you didn’t know what would happen today. You acted on your own, off book, and you could have gotten my whole team killed.”
Her gaze flicked away, lashes lowering. He chose to see that as remorse, because the alternative – that she didn’t care if any of them lived or died – hit too close to home.
“I’m glad to have you on board, but if you’re gonna be on my team, you have to be a part of that team, and not a free agent tagging along for the ride. Got it?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Lance,” he corrected. “The Knights don’t stand on ceremony like all the rest. We’re…” And now he felt a pang of regret for the poor boy he and Tris had buried last night. No words had been said over his cold spot in the mud; Lance had no Polaroids or fond memories to carry forward to remember him by. He’d been just another shlub with a set of tags. He wanted to do better; he had to, if he was going to continue to lead this team and keep them from disaster. He knew all too well that there was a gulf of distance between stoic and indifferent. He didn’t want to be the latter.
Not with Rose, especially.
“We’re not just a bunch of guys following orders,” he continued. “Small and tightknit. Specialized. We can do what we want without all the pretension. The Knight Companies…they’re like little families.”
Her head jerked up, eyes momentarily wide – and haunted. So, so wounded. Her throat jumped as she swallowed, and she sent him a fleeting glance, lips pressed together into a single, white line. She didn’t speak – he had the sense she couldn’t – but nodded.
He swallowed, too, his throat sticking. Dropped his voice to a whisper. “It won’t bring him back.”
She sent him another startled look, her head kicking back, nostrils flaring. He watched her pull on her mask this time: glittering anger to cover the pain.
“Being reckless. Taking unnecessary risks. I know you miss him–”
“You don’t know anything.” Not a hiss, or a snarl; flat resignation. Absolute knowledge.
“I’m sorry,” he pressed on, still whispering. The urge to touch, to comfort in some way, was so strong that he shifted forward, hand lifting.
But she leaned away.
He let his hand fall. “I’m sorry you lost him,” he said again, with his own resignation heavy in his chest. “I really am. But getting yourself killed won’t bring him back.”
She