THE RING ACADEMY: The Disappearance, Part 3

iii. Allies

“What can I do to help?” Malcolm’s voice startled her.

Imogene whirled around with the shovel.

Malcolm ducked.

“Stars, Kade,” she swore and the spade’s head hit the ground with a jarring clank. “You know better than sneaking up on a soldier with a weapon.”

“I didn’t know you’d swing the shovel.” He hesitated a moment before entering into the stall. He drew off his uniform shirt, a white undershirt underneath and hung it on the stall door.

Imogene noted the sinew of muscle on his brown arms, the veining on his hands and looked away to concentrate the bandon muck in the stall. She didn’t want to notice him, but of late, it seemed to be the only thing she did notice. “You just surprised me.” She pushed the shovel through the soiled bedding, the sound of the shovel against the ground loud and intrusive as it scraped across the ground. It wasn’t her first punishment in the sables. “And two students have gone missing”

“I think surprising you might be a first,” he said.

Imogene smiled, scooped, and then carried the heaping pile to the receptacle.  A male bandon snuffed from the opposite side of the stall and then walked toward her with heavy-footed wide steps. The large, stout creature, covered with a thick, light brown hide pushed against her hip with his wide, flat nose. He made a low purr in the back of its throat wanting her attention. “Stop,” she said, but pet the top of his head between his small ears.

Malcolm reached out and placed a hand on the animal. 

Imogene watched his hand move across the bandon’s ridged back, the animal’s skin twitched under his touch. Her cheeks heated thinking about Malcolm touch. “Here,” she said handing him the shovel. “You want to help. Make yourself useful.”

He took it. “So?” He pushed the shovel through the stall. The muscles in his arms flexed.

Imogene crossed to the other side of the stall. “So what?”

“We’re alone.”

She froze, bent to cut the twine on the new bale of bedding. Alone. With Malcolm Kade. Her breath caught in her chest and she choked out a reply, “Excuse me?”

He laughed. “You should see your face.” He pushed and scooped while chuckling.

This made her angry and she snipped the twine with more force than necessary. “I’m glad I amuse you.”

“You do more than amuse me, Sol,” he said. His voice wasn’t filled with humor this time.

She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was dumping muck into the container and her body tightened with awareness of him. The way this shirt stretched over his wide shoulders and strained when he reached. The taper of his waist, the shirt tucked and belted. His thighs filled out his dark pants. She wondered and when he turned, she was caught staring. She couldn’t look away when his eyes locked with hers. Even the clank of the shovel head hitting the hard ground didn’t break what was arcing between them. He stared back. His gaze filled with more meaning than what she could interpret; a language she didn’t understand and had never spoken. What did he mean?  

“What? Infuriate you?” She asked and hated that her voice sounded threaded with air.

“Among other things.” He looked away.

What other things? She didn’t ask it, however. Afraid. She also knew she couldn’t afford to wonder. She couldn’t lose the trials especially not with Sirkuhl Glyn’s threat. “So. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Jorgie and Gayleen.” Malcolm followed her into the next bandon stall and retained control of the shovel despite her request for it by holding out her hand. He waved her hand away and began mucking it out.

She gave the bandon some attention. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, the word around school is that you were the last one to see both of them.”

“It seems that way.”  The bandon purred under her ministrations. She scratched behind the animal’s ears.

“When did you last see them?”

“It was just before lights out for both. You know - section leader duties.”

Malcolm nodded since he was a section leader as well. He stopped and rested an elbow on the shovel handle, his hand relaxed. And waited.

“On the night before Jorgie disappeared, we talked about the project he was working on in Halo Butresh’s class. Since I’m older and had already gone through it, you know.” Imogene stopped petting the bandon who then pushed against her to remind her he was there. “Jorgie was stressed about whether his work was good enough, but I remember telling him not to worry because Butresh worried more about the protocol than the actual outcome. It seemed to make him feel a little better. Then he went to bed.” She stopped, recalling Jorgie’s cute lopsided grin and floppy hair he’d needed to cut. “His last words to me were, ‘See you at Morning Protocol.’”

“And Gayleen?” Malcolm asked.

Imogene, struggling to look at him because she couldn’t stop the burgeoning attraction she felt, turned away to collect clean bedding. “Gayleen was similar. Asking advice from an older cadet.”

“What was it about?”

“Does it matter?” She cut the twine and scooped up an armful of heavy, thick reeds to spread out.

“Maybe?”

She didn’t want to tell him. “I don’t think so. Besides I already told the Federation Agents.”

“Tell me anyway.”

She dropped the fodder to the ground. “I’d rather not.”

“But everything is important, Sol.”

She sighed. It was embarrassing, but she knew he was right even if she didn’t trust him completely. “She had a crush and wanted to ask me about it.”

He made a face, his mouth mimicking the arch of his eyebrows. “And?”

She sighed and left the stall for the next one. “And, I offered her my two cents and she went to bed.”

Imogene heard him latch the bandon stall and then enter the next one behind her. She held out her hand for the shovel. He waved her hand away. 

“What were your two cents?”

“It isn’t relevant,” she said as they followed the previous routine.

“I think it could be,” he said.

“Look, Kade, why do you care?”

He stopped and stood up. He was taller than she was by a good six inches. She’d never noticed that before. 

The truth was, she’d confided in Gayleen about her attraction to him. The one and only time she’d allowed herself the reprieve of dropping her guard. It had been to help the other cadet out, to offer perspective, but venting her feelings had been freeing, at least for the moment. The next morning, Gayleen had been gone. No trace.

“I care because one, two cadets are missing, and that could mean other cadets are in danger; and two, your name is associated with it. Don’t you get it, Sol? You’re a person of interest.”

She reached for the shovel. “Let me.”

He released it, but not before their hands collided. 

Imogene’s heart sped up in her chest at the same time she felt like she might scream. Turning away, she shoved the head of the implement through the muck needing to take her frustration out on something. How hard she’d worked! The sleepless nights studying. The endless hours training. Using her wiles to get ahead of everyone else just so she could be seen. See Imogene Sol the amazing Ring cadet not the kid of the traitors. Tears pierced her eyes and the ground blurred.

“Sol?” 

She didn’t want his pity. 

“Ima?” 

She froze mid scoop, her father’s nickname for her having come from Malcolm. Her back to him, the tears started. She used her arm to wipe them off her cheeks.

“I’m here to help.” His voice was quiet and filled with sympathy.

She whirled on him. “Why? It doesn’t make any sense. None at all.” Her voice was loud and the bandon started, bumping against the stall wall. She lowered her voice as to not spook the animal further. “Why Kade? We’re competitors. I’m your competition. I win the trials, I get the better placement. You win the trials, I get sent to Carnos.” She wiped her cheeks with her shoulder.

He stepped closer. “What?”

She turned away and continued mucking out the animal refuse. “Yeah. That’s pretty much what Glyn told me earlier. Can’t recommend me if I don’t win. He’s pretty happy about it too.”

Malcolm’s hand on her arm stilled her; he took the shovel from her and leaned it against the wall. He turned her to face him. “Stop with the trials.” His eyes searched her face, warming her from the inside. “If you’re blamed for these disappearances and the Federation comes after you, Sol, the trials won’t matter.”

“Why do you care?”

He swallowed, the masculine bump under the skin of his neck bobbing as he did, and his look roved over her face stopping for a split second on her mouth. He let go of her arms and stepped back. “I just want to find out who’s guilty.”

Her gut tightened with what he hadn’t said. “Even if it’s me.”

He grabbed the shovel and started scooping the manure, not looking at her. “I just think that if we put our two capable heads together, we might be able to solve it.”

There was something he wasn’t saying, but she couldn’t fault him for it. There was a lot she wasn’t saying either still not sure if she could trust him, still not sure what to think about all the mixed up feelings inside of her. When she was small, before her mother had died, before her father had been captured, he’d told her to listen to the voices in her gut, the tiny flutters telling her to trust herself. She hadn’t understood then, but his words had stuck with her all these years. Now, she closed her eyes and listened, but what they told her didn’t reconcile with her brain. She opened her eyes and watched Malcolm before moving across the space for clean bedding. 

Malcolm helped her finish the rest of the stalls, both of them working side-by-side. He didn’t have to, but he did. 

“Thank you for the help,” she said when they were done.

“I told you I’m here to help.” He shrugged into his shirt but left it unbuttoned. “You might just have to trust me.” He smiled a brilliant smile that reached his eyes and dared her not to.

She didn’t reply but replaced the tools they’d used and then turned to face him. “Ready for tomorrow’s trial?” She asked.

He tilted his head and studied her, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, she felt as though he were taking measure of all the things she wasn’t saying. Then he nodded. “It will be what it will be,” he said. “See you for training.”

He walked past her and out of the stables. After he was gone she stood there staring at the cleaned out stalls. The bandon had their necks arched over the half doors snuffing and purring, wanting a treat. “What?” she asked them but she knew they couldn’t tell her. The only one that could tell her what she needed to hear was herself because those tiny voices in her gut that were telling her to trust Malcolm Kade, and stars help her, she was going to.

To Be Continued… Next Monday: The Team

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