"Malia, did you pick which ones you wanted?" A tear streamed down her small face as she looked at her full bookshelf.
"Can I please just take ten? Mom they don't even take up that much room!" the twelve-year old girl begged. Her mother looked devastated on her behalf, but Malia knew it wouldn't change anything, wouldn't change the answer.
"Sweetheart, I didn't make the rules. You only get three." She said softly and sympathetically.
Three personal items, that was all. Three items to remember what would never be the same. Her parents had told Malia and Olivia that they would be moving soon. At first Malia had been stupid enough as to be excited at the news. She wasn't excited now. They wouldn't be moving to a cute town with lots of children, not to a big city with lots of things to do. They were moving to a unit.
Malia hadn't known what her parents were talking about at first. They'd said the war had taken a turn for the worse. The war had been going on for years, but this was the first time Malia had ever given it any attention. The news called it the biggest civil war the world had seen. She grabbed three books randomly and handed them to her mother. It didn't matter, she loved all of them and it would hurt. Her mom looked like she wanted to say something but just nodded and walked out of Malia's bedroom.
The memory was fresh and still stung. Finn had been giving a tour of the biggest "house" Malia had ever seen, apparently with its own name, Milan Manor. She looked at General Malcolm's library, filled with shelves and shelves of books. It was bittersweet for her. She hoped she would get a chance to personally explore the library and read something new for once. On the other hand, she thought of her own lost treasures and felt a wave of anger that the general should have so many books when she never could.
The tour was simple and silent. Finn showed her the room she would inhabit; it was bigger than her entire house in the unit and made her sad. He showed her the bathroom that would be her own; it had hot water all day as well as electricity, not to mention a velvet lounge and a water feature in the center of the room. Every room that had been between the dungeon basement and the third flood bedroom had been briefly mentioned and lavishly extravagant. Clearly Finn wasn't one for elaboration. However, she didn't care, she was busy being astonished by the amenities. He'd taken her down to the first floor library last. It was absolutely beautiful. Wherever there was wall space that wasn't overtaken with books there were tall magnificent windows. The windows were indented into the walls and had benches as windowsills covered in pastel green cushions with white throw pillows. The dark polished wood floors were offset by the wide white trim that outlined the shelves and windows as well. It wasn't what she had expected of the general's mansion.
"You can wait here for General Malcolm. He should be here shortly." Finn spoke matter-of-factly and left her. Finn was less personable today; clearly any sympathetic feelings he'd previously held were dried up. She mentally shrugged; she didn't want anyone's pity. She walked up to a shelf and ran her finger along the leather spines. The ceilings were high and the shelves went all the way up, as did the windows, giving the entire room a grand appearance. There was a ladder with wheels to give access to the upper shelves. She picked a random book out.
"Do you like Greek mythology?" A voice startled her from the large archway into the room. She knew at once that this was the general's brother. He didn't look enough like him to cause her to mistake the men, but there was a definite resemblance. He gave her a friendly smile.
"I don't know," she replied tersely, returning the book to the shelf. Despite her unenthusiastic response he smiled more.
"The whole section is very interesting, though I suppose I am fond of everything here." His smile was infectious, much like a child in its innocence. She was inclined to return it.
"This is incredible," she motioned at the giant shelves filled to the brim. He smiled again.
"I know. It is most certainly my favorite room in the house, and one of the few things in which I am openly proud." He looked fondly over the room, as if it was the first time he was seeing it as well. He looked back at her, "Excuse my lack of manners, miss. My name is Tristan Malcolm." He extended his hand towards her.
She shook his hand, unsure as to how this cordial man could be related to the tyrannical general. "Ma- um, my name is Olivia Yates," her heart skipped a beat at her near slip-up. If he'd noticed he didn't say anything or look at her strangely. She needed to keep her wits about her or she would fall into the trap of becoming too at ease with the friendly man.
"You are the general's brother?" She asked though she knew the answer. He grinned towards her.
"Ah, my reputation precedes me I see. " he laughed, "Somehow I think it more likely that my brother has already left an impression, it would account for your expression at the mention of him."
She nodded slightly, looking uncertainly at him. "You resemble each other."
He smirked at her reply. "Yes, I believe we have both heard that before. I assure you, we are very different, and though I'm sure my brother has shown more of his negative attributes than the positive, more hidden ones, Cain is more than he appears." He smirked conspiratorially. His lack of cruelty was confusing her so she went with the blunt approach.
"He said you are in the market for a mistress." She couldn't help some pent up hostility from leaking out in her words. "No, you know what, I believe he said that if I didn't have sex with you I wouldn't like the repercussions?" She looked at the handsome man accusingly.
He looked affronted at first but soon began to laugh hysterically, much to Malia's annoyance. She openly glared and he raised his hands in apology while fighting off his laughter.
"I'm sorry." He said sincerely though still openly amused. "It's just, Cain has never been especially tactful when not absolutely necessary. He isn't one to beat around the bush. As for what he said, it is only his latest scheme to run my life, I assure you I am not on the market for a mistress." He smiled gently at her.
"Well then, can I go home?" she asked, uncertain that he had the power to grant her request. His brows pulled together in confusion.
"Of course you can. Where are you from? I will have someone drive you." His response worsened her fears.
