by Emma Couette
She holds it out to me and I take it in my right hand, swinging it a couple times to get a feel for it.
“Seems good,” I say. “What now?”
She grins. “Now the real fun begins.” She whips her dark hair into a quick ponytail and faces me. “Fighting stance,” she barks.
I spread my feet apart and crouch.
“Axe on an angle, like this.”
She draws her own weapon and I mirror her.
“Now go!”
She flies at me and I dodge and block her blows, not landing a single thing before she disarms me.
“Tsk tsk,” she mutters. “We have a lot of work to do.”
She gives me a few pointers before she comes at me again.
The next hour is a blur of shouted words, metal, and bruises. Blake is a force to be reckoned with, whirling her axe around her like Mother Nature wielding a tornado. I try to stay out of her way, but I still feel the sting of her blade through the armour she makes us wear. She’s a good teacher though and by the end of the lesson, I’ve landed a couple of blows myself. I walk out of the training room with the promise that tomorrow will be easier, knowing that means it will be leagues more difficult.
…
Ajax is standing outside my room when I arrive. I try not to think much of it. This is a normal occurrence. He’s here because he’s supposed to be watching me, not because he likes me.
“Jax,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I should see how your lesson with Blake went. She might have told me about it.”
“I see. The lesson was good. I can hazard to guess I learned a thing or two. Blake gave me this.” I hold up the axe I’d been sparring with. “It’s a simple training one, but she says it’ll be good to carry around so I can get used to it while they make me my own, whoever they are.”
Ajax laughs. “They are the Resistance agents who fashion all of our weapons, highly-trained individuals. Did you order anything special? They like a challenge.”
I shrug. “Just a black handle so it’ll match the rest of my collection.”
“Nice,” he says and then, “What do you say we go for a walk?”
I narrow my eyes. “What for?”
“No reason; it’s just something to do.”
“All right then,” I reply. “Just let me get changed.”
He nods and I head inside, changing into a clean grey uniform, before joining him in the hall.
“So, are we going anywhere in particular?” I ask as we start walking.
“Nope,” he replies, “we’re just walking.”
“That’s kind of boring.”
“Well, I was thinking we could walk and talk, nothing too serious. I realized the other day that we don’t really know much about each other, and since you won’t tell me your name, I thought we could start with favourite colours.”
“Okay,” I say, not expecting this at all. “Um...”
It’s actually a hard question. I’ve never thought about it before. Automatically, I want to say black, but then I realize that isn’t right.
What is my favourite colour?
And then I have it.
“Blue,” I say, “but not a light blue, a deep blue, like the sky just before dark.”
He smiles. “I like that. Is that why you dyed part of your hair blue? I’ve been meaning to ask you about it for a while now, but never got around to it.”
I touch my hand to it. “No, it’s actually in remembrance of my mother. It’s her favourite colour too, light though, like a baby blue. I tell myself that as long as I never let the dye fade away into nothing, my memories of her won’t fade either.”
He smiles. “That’s a great way to honour someone. She must have been an amazing woman.”
I allow myself a small smile in return. “She was, from what I can remember anyway.” I shake my head to clear my thoughts before I can slip into nostalgia. “How about you? What’s your favourite colour? Your mom’s too, if you’d like.”
“Mine is green, like a forest green. Mom’s was any shade of purple. She was a typical girl when it came to that.”
“What was she like...your mom?” I don’t know why I ask, but for some reason I want to know more about the person who gave Ajax life.
Ajax sighs. “My mom was Superwoman or at least, that’s how I saw her. She was an agent of the highest level, one rank below Ross. She doted on me, called me her greatest achievement.” He smiles. “She loved to sing and she would dance around our house as she did the chores. She was so vibrant, full of life. I guess that’s why it was a while before I could believe she was dead.”
I go against my instinct and place a hand on his shoulder. The two of us come to a stop.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
He turns his head to look at me. “Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but it was the Guild’s fault and I apologize for them, since they never will.”
“Thank you,” he says and we start walking again. “What about your mom?”
“What about her?”
“What was she like?”
“Oh, um... She was a gardener. We grew every type of flower imaginable in our backyard. Tulips were reserved for the front yard though. She was quiet and beautiful. She always said I had her eyes...” I break off, a single tear running down my cheek. “I miss her.”
“I don’t blame you,” he sighs. “What I wouldn’t give to have my mom back... But they’re gone and there’s nothing we can do to change it. We just have to remember them like you said and make their killers pay.”
“Oh, I intend to,” I assure him.
“What are you going to do when this is all over, when you’ve made the Charger pay and avenged your mother, what then?”
I sigh. “The truth?”
He nods.
“I don’t really know,” I admit. “I thought I did. I had all these plans but now... I’m torn. I’ll have to get back to you on that, if I ever get my life figured out.”
He laughs. “Fair enough. I tend to look at the small steps and right now, my future looks like lunch.”
I laugh at that. “I guess our walk has a destination now.”
“Funny how that happens, isn’t it?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
We spend the next week and a half doing much the same. I wake up at eight, have lessons with Blake from nine to ten, and then I spend the rest of the morning with Ajax. We talk and laugh and just get to know each other better. He doesn’t bring up the L word again and I find myself getting comfortable.
I like it a lot better when we’re on speaking terms. I wouldn’t want to lose our friendship over something as silly as love. I don’t know what that says about me.
The two of us have lunch with Bast every day and then I spend the afternoon back in my Resistance lectures. The number of times I contemplate putting a knife through the teacher’s throat is appalling.
After dinner is free time, which I spend with either Ajax or Bast. We play our game while Ajax goes to meetings. He’s helping the council finalize the plan to bomb the food warehouse.
On the day before the appointed date, Blake, Bast, and I are sitting at lunch, waiting for Ajax to come back from yet another council meeting.
“I can’t believe the second stage of your plan is happening tomorrow,” Blake says. “I can’t believe we’re blowing up a warehouse. We’re declaring war.”
I cross my arms. “We’ve been at war for decades,” I point out. “We’re simply stepping out of the shadows we’ve hidden in for far too long. We’re showing them we’re not afraid and that they shouldn’t underestimate us, not that they would. We’re also taking their food. That’ll weaken them, but I know their retaliation will be swift and brutal. We are not in the clear, far from it. We’re stepping into a field of open cannons and daring them to fire.”
“Lovely,” Bast mutters.
Blake’s eyes reflect a hint of fear.
Good. She should be afraid
. I am.
“What comes after this then?” Bast asks.
“We wait to see what they do and react to it. Everything we do from here on out depends on them.”
“What do you think will happen?” Blake asks.
I sigh. “No idea,” I reply, “but I know we’ll never see it coming.”
“A bit like her royal highness?” Bast wonders aloud. He turns halfway in his seat to face the entrance to the cafeteria.
I follow his gaze and swear under my breath. We haven’t seen her at all since the Den incident. Ajax scared her good, but she must’ve heard he wasn’t here today.
“If she comes over here...” I growl.
“As your friend, I will fight her off for you,” Bast assures me.
I smile. “Thanks, but I think I can handle her. I’d just rather not have to knock some sense into her every time I see her. It’s getting tiresome.”
“She better sit somewhere far away,” Blake mutters, putting her head on her arms on the table.
“Now, Blake,” Bast chides her, “we have to be nice to the royalty.”
She sends him a look that could melt steel and he shuts right up. I feel like I’m missing something.
Is Blake...shaking?
Before I can ask, Natalie walks up to our table. “Hello Bast, Blake darling, Assassin,” she purrs.
I’m not crazy; Blake is definitely shaking.
What is wrong?
“Roseanne,” I mutter. “To what do we owe the utter displeasure of your presence?”
“I just wanted to give you an update on my accomplishments.”
I roll my eyes.
Why does she insist on pushing me?
She is gaining nothing that I can see. I can’t wrap my head around it. Maybe she is stupid.
I start to tell her that I don’t particularly care, when she starts talking.
“Me and my team,” she says—my team and I, I correct her in my head, “went scouting in the farming district and caught a couple people stealing food from the stores. We suspect they are assassins so we brought them straight here. I disarmed them so fast. You should’ve seen me. I’m practically running this place.” She beams, head held high.
I lean over towards Bast and whisper in his ear. “The only thing she’s running is her big fat mouth.”
He sniggers and Natalie stops her story. “What’s so funny, Assassin?”
“The fact that you think I’m interested in your bedtime story. You couldn’t catch one assassin, let alone two.”
“What are you implying?”
“That you’re lying to yourself and bragging about something you didn’t even accomplish. Those two ‘assassins’ are probably farmers who you took to the barn cells. They’ll stay there for a few days before they’re let out again. That’s it. It’s not worth a pat on the back.”
“How dare you...accuse me of...” she scoffs.
“Oh, shut up and listen for once, princess,” I snap. “You are nothing special. You’re actually terrible at being a Resistance member. Your daddy probably sends you on all the easy missions and assigned you to a team to get you out of his hair. I’m not impressed by you. I don’t like you. No one at this table likes you, least of all Ajax Forrester.”
She flinches at the mention of his name and stands frozen for a second before she replies with, “You aren’t anything special either. You’re not really a Resistance member. I bet Jenson’s just keeping you alive long enough to see this plan through and then he’ll have you executed. It’s no less than you deserve, you despicable human being.”
I smile, my wicked little ‘I would like nothing more than to kill you’ smile. “You think I haven’t considered that possibility, Roseanne? Make no mistake, I’ll be the one doing the killing if it comes down to it and you’ll be on the top of my list.”
She swallows hard and I know I have her.
Move in for the kill, Night.
I lean back in my seat. “I met your father last week, Nicholas Ross I believe his name is? He’s quite the character. He tried to get rid of me again, but I put him in his place. Answer me this, princess, why do you have a different last name?”
She crosses her arms in an attempt at defiance. “I don’t have to tell you that.”
“Then, I would be right in assuming you’re adopted?”
“I am not. My father gave me my mother’s maiden name to remember her by, after she died in childbirth.”
“How sweet,” I drawl.
“At least I’m not an orphan,” she retorts. “You probably did it to yourself; slit your parents’ throats while they slept.”
She says it so casually, as if she is talking about what colour to paint her room, but in that moment, all I can see is red.
I stand up, slamming my hand against the table. “Shut up!” I snap at her. “Just shut up!”
Bast puts a hand on my arm and I shake it off.
There is a wicked gleam in Natalie’s eyes as she looks at me and says, “I don’t think I will.”
“Leave her alone,” Blake says softly, speaking for the first time in the conversation.
“Or what?” Natalie demands. “What will you do?”
Blake looks properly chastised and Natalie turns back to me. I look at her darkly, daring her to dig her own grave.
“As I was saying… You murdered your family. You put them out of their misery though, because they never actually liked you. They hated you because your heart was and still is black as pitch.” I don’t disagree completely with the last sentence. “Yet, the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree,” she goes on. “Your father was a liar and a drunkard, and your mother, well...”
I start to tremble as I brace myself for what she will say next.
“Let’s just say that she was often seen in the loving company of less than reputable men.”
All the resolve I’ve been holding against her, the walls I’ve built to keep my killing desire inside all these days, shatters and scatters in the wind like shreds of paper. With a scream, I lunge across the table at her—
Or at least, that’s what I mean to do, but as I start, I look over at Blake.
The look on her face is a familiar one, though not one I have seen in a long time. My mother was the last one to wear it, and now, as I look, I see her in Blake. The resemblance is uncanny, but there and gone in an instant. In its absence, I forget how to breathe. My walls snap back in place and the storm within me dies.
Mom.
Why must you haunt me?
A memory surfaces.
We’re in the garden.
I’m chasing a butterfly.
It heads toward the fence.
It’s getting away.
I jump and clap my hands up to catch it…
My mom yells at me, scaring it away and my fingers brush a wing before gravity pulls me back down.
“We don’t kill the butterflies. It is not up to us to judge.”
She gives me that look—that Guild-forsaken look….
I squeeze my eyes shut as I return to the present. Blake is just Blake now, but she is right. Natalie is far from a butterfly, but it’s not up to me to judge. Now is not the time to let everything I’ve gained go to waste, not over her. Now is the time to hold my head high and use my words to wound instead of my fists.
I take a deep breath, pushing away the image of my mother. This is the second time I’ve seen her in two weeks; I hope it will be the last.
“Excuse me, Assassin, did you hear me or have I finally managed to shut you up?”
My eyes fly open in annoyance, but most of the wind has fled from my sails.
“Oh, I heard you, Natalie,” I say, “and as far as I know, you might be right about my father, but it could be worse.” I walk around the table to stand right in front of her as I say the rest so only she can hear. “At least my family didn’t leave me to become assassins.”
Her eyes go round like big white orbs and her mouth opens into an o of shock. “How did you...?�
�
I smile. “Oh, princess, it wasn’t that hard to figure out, not once I got your daddy’s last name; they look so much like him.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” she breathes.
“How do you know I haven’t already?”
She goes paler than a sheet of paper.
I laugh. “Scared you, didn’t I? But no, I haven’t said a word and I won’t, as long as you stay away from me. You hear? Show up at this table again and all bets are off. Oh, and stay away from Ajax too. He has enough to worry about without your harassment.”
She has nothing to say to that and let me just say, I’ve never seen a person walk away from me so fast without running in all of my life.
I shake off the nasty feeling that settled on me and return to my seat. “So,” I ask Bast, “if Haven wasn’t the way it is, who would Roseanne be?”
He laughs awkwardly for a moment, still shaken up by what I almost did and the final exchange he didn’t hear. Then he replies, “Oh, she’d be Ms. Priss in her designer dresses, four-inch stilettos, and genuine diamond earrings her daddy gave her.”
“Right,” I agree, “and she would be the queen of her prestigious boarding school because her daddy can’t stand to have her at home.”
That sends Bast into a fit of laughter. “Oh man, that’s good. And she would own a horse.”
“A horse?” I repeat with a giggle.
“Yeah, you know, she’d parade around on it. It would be a pure white stallion, named Rufus.”
I clamp a hand over my mouth in an attempt to contain myself, but to no avail. Bast and I get weird looks from everyone until we settle down and are able to breathe again.
I lean back in my seat, sighing. “I love this game.”
“See? I keep telling you: it’s great for the mood.”
“I think it’s stupid,” Blake says, crossing her arms.
“That’s because you have no vision,” Bast replies.
“Whatever.”
“What’s up with you?” I ask her. “You always get super touchy after an encounter with her highness.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve seen your eyes when she’s around: eyes of fear, like you’re her prey, as if she’s holding a knife over your head, daring you to say something.”