Riveting.
I let my thoughts run wild as I keep a steady pace through the foliage, thinking of my opponents, the ball, the calloused hands on my back and grey eyes studying my face.
I huff in annoyance and kick a rock harder than I should. A string of curse words spills from my mouth—directed at the rock, myself, and the cocky bastard I hate for not completely hating.
The sun is making its descent across the sky as I continue to trample through the greenery, swearing at the multiple spiderwebs I walk through and the giant spiders that accompany them.
A Sight catches up to me and I try my hardest to ignore his presence. Once he’s satisfied with the footage he’s collected of me stomping and huffing through the forest, he turns and disappears.
Warm, late afternoon sunlight streams through the trees, casting the forest in golden shadows. For a moment, I allow myself to take in the ominous beauty of this eerie place.
And then something hits me in the face.
Well, I hit something. I nearly trip backwards, sputtering, only to find that I walked right into a large, cotton shirt hanging from a low branch. I grab it, grumbling about how I don’t need the king’s kindnesses even as I slip on the garment.
I walk and walk.
I’m bored. I’m bored during a bloody Trial.
And then something catches the light, glittering out of the corner of my eye. I pivot towards it, leaves crunching beneath my feet. My mouth nearly falls open at what lies no more than thirty yards away from me.
A deep pool of crystal water sparkles in the sunlight, rippling slightly in the warm breeze. Welcoming and wonderful. I blink. I didn’t see this pool when I was high in the tree, scouting. Then again, the shimmering water is surrounded by trees, nearly swallowed by the foliage around it.
I practically trip in my haste to reach it.
Water. Water. Water.
I’m so thirsty, so greedy to gulp as much as I can. Then build a fire, cook my rabbit, and—
There’s something in the water, bobbing on top of it.
I’m much closer now, the sun not so blinding as it glints off the clear surface, and I can make out an outline on top. A human outline. I creep forward, pulling my bow from across my chest, clutching it in my fist.
The figure isn’t moving.
The figure with dirty blond hair plastered to his tanned forehead.
The figure with the same glassy green eyes as the king, staring unseeingly up at the blue sky.
A strangled scream rips from my throat, sending birds scattering out from the trees around me.
Kitt.
He’s dead.
I’m gasping, stumbling to the edge of the pool. I may hate his father and the kingdom he will one day rule, but that doesn’t mean I wish to see him dead. The thought startles me, considering how very much I crave that fate for the king that looks so much like him. But what if their familiar features are where the similarities between them end? What if there is hope for the prince to step out of his father’s shadow, out of his footsteps, and create change in his kingdom?
I force myself to meet his glossy gaze where I now only see the potential of the prince rather than the presence of his father. Those once amused green eyes will never crinkle with laughter again. Instead, they stare up at nothing, wide, dull, and leached of life. That crooked grin will never again grace his lips. Instead, his mouth is pressed in a thin line—blue, kissed by the chill of death.
I jump into the pool, wanting to pull him from this watery death.
Instead, my feet are met with solid ground.
My bones sing with the impact, feeling as though they will crack with the force.
I blink away the pain, though it does nothing to clear my confusion. There is suddenly no pool under my feet, no Kitt floating dead on its surface. I look at the dirt beneath me in disbelief, trying to puzzle out what is going on.
“Help me.”
I knock an arrow and draw my bow before I’ve even turned to face the owner of that broken little voice.
I choke on my gasp.
It’s me.
Deep blue eyes bore into mine—sad, starved eyes. Long silver hair, tangled and matted, hangs from the little girl’s head. She is—I am—small, so small. Weak and weary and wide-eyed as she stares up at me.
She stretches a bony finger towards me. “Please,” she whispers, whimpers. I stumble back at the sound of that—my—broken voice, nearly losing my footing when she takes a shaky step closer.
This isn’t real.
I turn, ready to run from this nightmare, only to nearly run into another little Paedyn, her cheeks sunken and eyes hollow.
I’m delusional. Dehydrated.
I bite my tongue to keep from screaming as I turn to my right, finding another starved version of myself staring back at me.
I’m surrounded. Completely surrounded by pleading Paedyns. They step forward, begging me to help them as they reach out, trying to grab hold of me.
This time, I don’t bother biting back my scream.
They are closing in, crowding me. I’m crying out, confused and—
No, not delusional.
They stagger towards me, seeking help I can’t give them.
This is Ace.
Even knowing that, I still can’t stand to look at them, to look at myself. Can’t stand to hear them begging for help as I do nothing. This was me. I was this starved and sad girl once. Because when my father died, so did a piece of myself.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
I cry out, dropping to my knees and clutching my head in frustration.
“I know it’s you, Ace,” I shout through clenched teeth. I hear haughty laughter grow louder as he makes his way towards me. Taking a deep breath, I stand to my feet, shaking with disgust and rage as I prepare myself to be surrounded by sickly Paedyns.
But the pleading stops and the Paedyns vanish, leaving only Ace standing before me. His gaze drops to the arrow pointed at his chest before traveling back to mine. He has the audacity to smirk.
“Hello, Paedyn.” His voice is smug as he quirks an eyebrow. “Did you enjoy catching up with your younger self?”
“You’re sick,” I spit, pulling my bowstring taut.
He sighs, already bored with our conversation. Sticking his nose in the air, he says, “Just let me take your band and I’ll be on my way.” A pause. “In fact, I’ll even let you take it off yourself, so I don’t cut you.”
“How generous.” I’m practically growling at him. “But I’ll pass on the offer.” My teeth are bared, and I’m a flinch away from sending an arrow flying towards that black heart of his.
He blinks at me, slicking his brown hair back from his face with an irritated huff. “Fine.” His eyes darken. “Have it your way. I don’t mind having to get messy.”
And then he’s striding towards me, reaching for my arm. I don’t hesitate before firing my arrow into his thigh, aiming to injure and not to kill. I refuse to give the king and the people what they desire: death.
Except, the arrow never meets skin, never sinks into flesh. It flies right through him. The illusion blows away like smoke on the wind, tempting me to scream in frustration.
Another Ace steps out from behind a tree a few feet away, leaves crunching under his feet as he claps slowly. “Wow. Good try.” He grips a sharp spear in his hand, smiling like a cat.
“Quit hiding behind your illusions, you coward!” I’m fuming, adrenaline pumping through my veins.