Whisper (Whisper #1)(42)

Warrior, I am not. Nor will I ever be. But I would be a fool to ignore the offer before me. Not if there is the slightest chance that he is right. So I give him what he wants, hoping he was telling the truth earlier about the glossy black walls protecting the rest of the world from whatever I can conjure with my words down here.

“Yes, I’ll cooperate.”

My voice is brittle and weak from lack of use, but Ward’s eyes flare with triumph, whether at my agreement or simply because I spoke out loud. He doesn’t appear cocky, though, which surprises me. Instead, an echo of the warmth I’m used to lights up his features, almost as if he’s pleased. Relieved, even.

I remind myself that it’s only an act. I won’t allow myself to forget that. Never again.

“Good,” he says. “We’ll start first thing tomorrow morning. What should we call you from now on?”

I lift my shoulders and drop them again. “Whatever you want.”

Even just the few words I’ve said so far make my heart feel lighter. Down here, protected by the Karoel walls in this small, dark room, I feel freer than I have for a long time. Until —

“What I want is to call you by your real name.”

Shaking my head, I quietly rasp out, “That’s not going to happen.”

Ward’s voice is dangerously low. “Do I need to remind you that you just agreed to cooperate?”

My throat is already beginning to sting, but I manage to say, “And I will. I’ll cooperate with whatever training you throw at me. But that’s all you get, so you might as well stick with ‘Jane Doe.’”

Before he can argue, I add, “Here’s one last thing for you to think about, Landon.” It’s the first time I’ve spoken his name — the name he once told me to use, even if I’ve never considered him as anything other than “Ward.” I find vindictive pleasure in seeing him flinch at my tone. “You once told me that’s not who I am. That I’m not a Jane Doe. But like everything else you’ve said and done over the past month, I’m guessing that was a lie, too.” He flinches again, his reaction telling enough to open a wound within me that will never heal. I swallow and finish, “You deserve a medal for your performance. I’d almost convinced myself that you actually cared.”

I snap my mouth closed and ignore the raw, burning sensation from my screaming vocal cords. I won’t let on that I’m in any kind of pain — physical or emotional. He doesn’t get that from me, either.

I force myself to maintain eye contact. The emotions on his face appear for a fraction of a second, barely enough time to register and fleeting enough that I doubt what I see. I could swear I see remorse. But that’s impossible, since he’s been Falon’s lapdog all along. I’m the fool here.

And what’s worse is, from the very beginning, I knew better.

“You said we start training tomorrow,” I say when it becomes clear that he’s not going to respond. “Does that mean we’re done for the night?”

His face is blank once more, but he nods curtly. “I’ll take you back to your suite.”

He turns, and I follow, releasing a silent breath of relief.

“Remember not to Speak once you leave this room,” Ward says, stopping just before the door. “Until you learn how to control it, you still have to be careful.”

As if I need the warning. Even if the impossible happens and I learn how to control myself, I’ll still be careful. Words are too precious to throw around carelessly. I don’t need to have a supernatural power over them to know that. I’ve seen it. Words demand respect. They are beautiful; they are terrible. They are a gift and a curse. I will never forget what they can do.

Because words have cost me everything.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


“I’m sorry I left like I did.”

Those are the words that greet me after Ward drops me at my suite and I step inside to find Cami curled up in a ball, nestled deep into the corner of the couch.

“I didn’t — I couldn’t —” She takes a deep breath and tries again. “I’m so sorry, Jane.”

I cock my head to the side, wondering what, specifically, she’s sorry about. There are so many possibilities.

“Someone should have told you. I should have told you.”

At least if she’s going to apologize for anything, she’s jumping straight to the main event.

“Please, will you sit down and let me explain? I promise I’ll tell you everything I know.”

I’m standing just inside the doorway, tense as a brick wall. But at her begging tone, I make myself move forward. I feel a pang of distress when I’m close enough to see her puffy red eyes, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and comfort her. I still don’t know if she was a part of Ward’s act from the beginning. This could just be some kind of new performance.

“Do you remember that first day we met?” Cami asks, her voice quiet. “How we made pancakes and spent the day together? You were so guarded, Jane. So careful. You were damaged. You still are.” She says the last as a whisper, her words hitching at the end. “It’s this place. This stupid, awful place.”

She scrubs a hand across her face, wiping away fresh tears. “Not the training rooms down below — they’re actually okay, if you can believe it. It’s everything up here that’s like something out of a nightmare.”