Page 110 of The Bonding Games: Part 2

The relief that had drenched me only moments ago ebbs away, replaced by that pain from earlier when Ezla gives me no emotion, only an iced-over mask. Whatever she’d been feeling when we ended Aider’s Bonds together and during our mad rush for our lives is gone, tamped down on. And I get it, really. The Bonding Games Champion isn’t someone who can be controlled; she’s notoriously cutthroat and always in charge, and that’s what she prides herself on being. She’s uncomfortable enough discovering she has a softer side with us, and people out there can be vultures, picking celebrities apart and trying to discover deeper meanings. I know she wouldn’t want the world to see the bits she’s discovering beneath all the cruelty, not when she views that as a weakness she never wanted to have. I’m pretty sure that’s why her laugh earlier cut off so quickly—because she realised what she was doing.

She doesn’t seem too averse to declaring her claim on us to the world, but that’s possessiveness, not a vulnerable emotion, and the words I’d said without thought have had a bigger impact on her than they would have on anyone else when it suggests it’s possible to influence her, that she can be stopped, that she’s not as indestructible as the globe believes her to be. To put it simply, she doesn’t want anyone to know she has a heart. She only wants everyone to fear her and respect her, and with her life experiences, I completely understand that, why that need is so strong.

I’m sorry, Love, I repeat my words from before, pushing the apology down the bond that’s still luckily open.

She stares emotionlessly at me for a few more moments as we rise higher and higher. Stomach tied up in sickening knots, I struggle to swallow around the lump in my throat.

Without a word, without any of her true feelings seeping into the bond, the love of my life looks away from me, standing straight, expression blank. A suffocating weight presses down on my lungs, making it hard to retain any of the oxygen I’d just managed to get in as The Bonding Games Champion I used to know takes over.

33

EZLA

“Good girl,” Father praises, taking my armoury stick from me as I demanifest my dagger as he taught me to. I have only recently been named an Exot, but Father and I knew I could be nothing other. Experts advised waiting until I was at least eight years old for as much accuracy as possible to learn my social classification, but he decided there was no harm in finding out a week before that time came. Now, I have my own Avri cluster, and I have just used an Avri dagger for the first time to kill an Evot. Before, I have studied and practiced the basics with non-Avri daggers, but Father told me I could not start any hardcore exercises until I was old enough, and of course I did not have the fascinating energy over the past two years to work with. Yet even so, the green-infected eleven-year-old girl was not too hard to kill.

The other two social classifications truly are abominations.

Father continues, “I knew you would not falter on your first kill. You do not get upset when a life is taken, Daughter. They mean nothing to you. It is only I your heart should beat for.”

“Yes, Father.” My young voice holds no emotion.

“You are so perfect already,” he murmurs as he cups my cheek in his hand. “I will show you better ways to take a life for your eighth birthday tomorrow, and then your true training can begin.”

“Yes, Father,” I repeat.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you, Ezla. I love you so much.”

I love you so much.

I love you so much.

I love you so much.

Tipping my head forwards, Father kisses my forehead, lingering for long enough that my brows threaten to scrunch. “And I know you love me too.” Pausing as he pulls back, he then continues, “The world will adore you; they will love you in the way all celebrities are loved. But only I can love you truly. Only I can understand you, Ezla. Because you are special. You are different from the rest. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” I say once more. And I do understand: Father does not let me leave home very often, as I have everything I need right here and he does not think the world deserves to see my face, but I am aware that I am different from other people. Father tells me I am superior, like him, and I can feel that I am. He tells me what other humans are like; he tells me others would feel remorse when they kill, that children my age would burst into humiliating tears if they were denied ice cream.

After he educated me through television, I was curious about the dessert, but I certainly did not care when he told me I could not have it. And after today, I have discovered I cannot relate to the first piece of information revealed either.

Father’s thumb caresses my cheekbone. “Such a good girl.” Moving on, he rises to his full height. I find I do not much like the way I have to tip my head so far back to see him. “I must attend a meeting now, but make sure you complete each strategy game I left out on the dining table for you. And always remember that I love you.”

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

My eyes snap open.

A single drop of blood hits the bathroom sink.

Uncurling my hand from around the blade of my Avri dagger, I watch, detached, as the crimson energy absorbs the red fluid on it.

I am back in my Bonded chambers now, in my bedroom. As so politely requested, I informed my Bonds that I would be coming in here when we arrived and that I would be closing the bond for some much-needed alone time, leaving them with clear instructions to feed themselves well, leave me be, and take some Avritabs for their aches and pains along with the tablets brought from Father’s penthouse. I could tell they wanted to protest, not eager to use them when they feel they should be reserved for worse injuries than minor cuts and bruises, but one look at my face had them nodding along like the good boys they are supposed to be. However, a certain two most definitely were not in line with the idea of showing me the respect I deserve today.