‹ Prequel: The Pauper Princess
Status: Currently undergoing renovations.
The Game
Six
"Siya!” I keep walking as if I didn’t hear, but we both know it’s just a ruse. I’ve been avoiding him since this morning at the blacksmith’s shop. I know he’ll catch up eventually, but I continue to try and evade him.
“Go away,” I call over my shoulder as I turn into my room. I shut the door and drop onto the bed. My head has hardly hit the quilt when the door opens and heavy footsteps proceed into the room.
“What were you doing there?” he asks, going straight to the issue. I continue to ignore him.
“Are you still sparring?” That question gets my attention. I sit up, only to see him glowering down at me. “Is the blacksmith letting you train? Did he give you weapons? Is he-“
“Stop!” His mouth snaps shut with a barely audible click. “He’s done nothing.”
“And that’s why you visit his shop so frequently? Disguised as a common girl, you sneak around town, using Mehta as a lookout. What exactly are you so worried I’ll find?” I glare at him and stay silent, not wanting to give away any information he doesn’t already have. I look down at my knees and think back over my visits to the blacksmith, trying to pinpoint which person had been Kahlin’s spy.
“Perhaps I should ask the blacksmith. I could have my men at his door in a matter of minutes. I’m sure a few days in prison will get him to talk.”
“I hate you,” I mumble toward the floor. The words surprise me even as I say them, but the feelings that have been building for the last few years have finally formed into a coherent thought. I roll the words around in my head and then say them again, louder this time and with more conviction. In the silence that follows, I finally look up at Kahlin to see his reaction, but his back is all I see.
“You taught me to fight! You trained me to be a warrior!” I realize I’m yelling, but I can’t stop. He steps toward the door and quickly shuts it. “You made me strong, and now you’d rather I be weak? You’ve taken away everything I cared about, and now you want this too!” I’m standing right behind him, yelling at his back. Grabbing his shoulder savagely, I pull him to face me.
“Siya-“
“No! You made me want more than this-” I gesture at the makeup and dresses and books on etiquette that are strewn around my room. “-and then you tell me I can’t have it.” My fist is still bunched in the fabric of his sleeve, clenched so tight it hurts, and suddenly I hit him. I punch his right cheek as hard as I can. The blow forces him back a step, and I let my grip on his shirt slip.
“Go away,” I call over my shoulder as I turn into my room. I shut the door and drop onto the bed. My head has hardly hit the quilt when the door opens and heavy footsteps proceed into the room.
“What were you doing there?” he asks, going straight to the issue. I continue to ignore him.
“Are you still sparring?” That question gets my attention. I sit up, only to see him glowering down at me. “Is the blacksmith letting you train? Did he give you weapons? Is he-“
“Stop!” His mouth snaps shut with a barely audible click. “He’s done nothing.”
“And that’s why you visit his shop so frequently? Disguised as a common girl, you sneak around town, using Mehta as a lookout. What exactly are you so worried I’ll find?” I glare at him and stay silent, not wanting to give away any information he doesn’t already have. I look down at my knees and think back over my visits to the blacksmith, trying to pinpoint which person had been Kahlin’s spy.
“Perhaps I should ask the blacksmith. I could have my men at his door in a matter of minutes. I’m sure a few days in prison will get him to talk.”
“I hate you,” I mumble toward the floor. The words surprise me even as I say them, but the feelings that have been building for the last few years have finally formed into a coherent thought. I roll the words around in my head and then say them again, louder this time and with more conviction. In the silence that follows, I finally look up at Kahlin to see his reaction, but his back is all I see.
“You taught me to fight! You trained me to be a warrior!” I realize I’m yelling, but I can’t stop. He steps toward the door and quickly shuts it. “You made me strong, and now you’d rather I be weak? You’ve taken away everything I cared about, and now you want this too!” I’m standing right behind him, yelling at his back. Grabbing his shoulder savagely, I pull him to face me.
“Siya-“
“No! You made me want more than this-” I gesture at the makeup and dresses and books on etiquette that are strewn around my room. “-and then you tell me I can’t have it.” My fist is still bunched in the fabric of his sleeve, clenched so tight it hurts, and suddenly I hit him. I punch his right cheek as hard as I can. The blow forces him back a step, and I let my grip on his shirt slip.