The Game

I don’t make it far before my body’s protests cannot be ignored. I’m gasping for every breath, like I’ve sprinted several miles, yet I’ve only gone a dozen or so yards into the meadow behind the inn. I’ve slowed down to walking before I realize someone’s footsteps rustle behind me. I speed up as much as I’m able, but a hand grasps my wrist and pulls me back.

“Siya, just-“ I swing around. Ekohl grabs my fist before it makes contact with his face, but I follow through and hit him with my elbow instead. I wrench my hands free and mean to walk away. He grabs me again. This time I land a hit to his stomach with my elbow. I wrap my foot around the back of his leg and throw my weight against him before he can react.

I land on top of him. I hear the breath leave his lungs on impact and try to roll off of him. He rolls with me, though, one arm locked around my waist. I push up to the right, trying to throw him off balance. The back of my head hits his chin.

“Just stop,” he gasps. I let my body fall limp. He’s thrown by the sudden action and I manage to twist around to my back. I kick out at his thigh and he finally falls. I scramble away backward. My feet get stuck in my skirt and I can’t get far enough away.

He lunges forward when I’ve finally gotten to my feet. His arm clamps around me, pinning my arms down. There a cold, uncomfortable pressure on my throat. I jerk my head back and catch the flash of the blade just before it’s pressed to my neck again.

“You don’t want your title? Fine,” he says. “But you can’t keep living like royalty. You want to be a normal woman? Try acting like one. You can’t just throw yourself into a fight like that.” He release my arms and pushes me away.

“That could have been you in there dying,” he continues. “Just because you can spar with me doesn’t mean you’re a soldier. Those men weren’t going to go easy on you. Do you have any idea what would have happened if they captured you?”

“So you came out here to berate me some more?” I yell. “You want to tell me again how I’m not good enough? That I should just cower in a corner and let someone else fight for me? How it’s my fault everyone’s dead!” Tears are streaming down my face when I turn to face him, but I’m so angry I don’t care. His arms hang loosely at his sides, the knife still in his hand, and he just looks at me.

“No,” he says. He lets the blade fall. It hits the dirt with a soft thud. He starts toward me and I start to back away. He stops when he sees me step back. With a sigh he runs a hand through his hair and looks up at the sky. A full minute passes and he hasn’t said another word.

“No. I came out here to apologize.” He sighs again and leans down to get the knife he dropped. He then plops back and lets his arms rest on his knees. “That wasn’t exactly how I planned it,” he says, gesturing around us. He twirls the knife back and forth from hand to hand. His lip is bleeding and there’s a clear bruise forming on his jaw, but his whole attention seems to be on that knife.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” he says quietly. The knife keeps moving back and forth, neither of us look away from it. “When I saw you lying on the ground, head bleeding and hardly breathing…” He trails off and the knife stops. It’s one of mine, I realize belatedly.

“Your brother always knew we went to the woods to train,” he says suddenly. “I don’t know how, but he knew.” The knife starts spinning again. “He made me promise we would stay near the castle, be careful, made me swear I would keep you safe.” He fumbles with the knife and it falls. There’s a line of blood on his left hand.

“It’s not your fault either,” I insist. He gives me a dubious look and reaches for my knife again.

“Whose fault is it then?” He picks up the blade again, but he just holds it still. “We all knew an attack was coming. We should have done something more to stop it. We were walking into a trap and I should have known it. I should have realized we were going the wrong way. We were hours off course, I-“

“You have to stop,” I interrupt. Without thinking too much about it, I drop to my knees in front of him. Pushing the knife out of the way, I wrap my arms around his neck in a tight hug. He tenses up at first, but then his arms wrap around my back and he leans his head against my shoulder.

“It’s done,” I assert. “We can’t know if there was something we could have done differently. We can’t change it. It’s over.” He sighs and shakes his head before pulling us both up from the ground.

“I wish it was that easy.”