The sweat on my brows. The tension in my shoulders. The daggers in my hands. The mental distress I am currently experiencing. “Severin,” I yell, my voice shaking. “Are you sure we are going to do this? Is this really safe?!” “You were the one who wanted to train with your daggers a while back, and I think you are more than capable!” “You think?!” It has only been a sennight since Severin had first trained me, after practically begging him to, and only then has this cabbage-head decided to spar with me… …with my daggers! I've only learned enough from him to be able to spar with him weaponless! He may be a sly, ill-mannered saddle-goose but I do not want to cause him any harm! “I’m reconsidering everything hither!” “Stop letting your hesitance impede you!” “B-but what if I actually hurt you?!” “Cease all your whats and ifs— just come at me, Maia!” Despite my hesitance and my instructor’s exasperation, I grip the daggers’ hilts in a forward grip. My eyes land on the green-ha
“How else was I supposed to help her?” I ask myself, annoyance rising as I shake off the hood on my head. It falls down at the back of my neck. “She would not have agreed to have her garse sealed off even if I had asked. She thinks she knows better, leaving it exposed like that…” I am still vexed due to the morn’s events. I make my way back to the dug-out, a large slab of pork resting in one hand, and some carrots in a cloth sack in the other. I refused get any other greens— cabbages, to be exact— to add to today's meal, for it reminds me of my own head. “'Tis Maia’s fault for constantly comparing me to a vegetable. It's not even close to the shade of green my hair actually is! My mother casted a spell on me, and its side effects altered the color. She will never be able to comprehend that if I tell her, though.” Today's raid was successful— too successful, perchance. Compared to the past few days, I needn't use another potion of fog. The village I stole from was not even bustling w
“Eternal suffering…” I mutter to myself as I pull back the hemp bowstring to nock an arrow. “That is what they all deserve… They will pay for what they did to their own kin.” When I release the bowstring, the arrow flies past my head and into the hay target thirty paces away from me. The arrow lands just slightly off the middle ring. I curse under my breath. I risked my life just to escape the manor. I was hurt, alone, and in a half-naked state. I suffocated the man I was to wed to death beforehand. I jumped across my window, latched onto the old oak tree across it, and climbed down. I knew not where to go, but I had to get out of what was once called my home. Going around the entire manor’s walls was no easy task; I had to ensure that I was not going to be seen or caught, so I took the perilous route— nearer the valley. Right when I went past the forest’s edge, this band of rebels found me, and took me in. If it hadn’t been for the healer they were with, I would have been left to
“Let us go.” “Huh?” I ask, confused. I’m in the middle of cleaning my daggers with a spare cloth when Severin comes out of the pit house donning his hood. “To where?” “To the second village I stole from,” he replies, throwing me my shoulder cape. “Come on, now. No time to dawdle.” That is rather odd, but I shall go with it. As I return the daggers to their rightful place, I wear the belt around my waist and follow the cabbage-headed man into the forest. It has been two days since my accidental poisoning. If not for the elixir he claims he “made with ease and not at all panicked whilst making it”, I would have succumbed to the poison’s effects, and lost my life. What was strange about the entire occurrence was he expected me to feel pain, since he mentioned that the poison should have attacked my heart… But I felt completely fine afterwards, not even weak! He also babbled about seeing a demon in his sleep, but I believed he must have had a nightmare, in fear that he could have end
Oh, off with my head. For the next few days we have been training, after I had taught Maia how to thieve— well, something like that, I came to realize that I’ve been stealing glances at her, especially when she is minding her own business. I sincerely hope that she doesn’t think that I’m being an absolutely despicable and perverted dalcop, but there’s something about her that is… appealing to me, aside from her physical appearance. I’ve started noticing the tiniest of details about her. For instance, she beholds views and gazes at objects that pique her interests, or “are pleasing to her eyes”, as she claims. When she recently suggested buying goods with the large amount of money she stole, I watched her bite her lip and stare longingly at a miscellany of blankets, sheets, and clothes made of either wool or linen hung about outside a merchant’s house. I insisted that she could buy one of the items she wanted if she deemed it necessary, and the smile on her face was beyond compare. S
Continuation. “Really?!” I exclaim, unable to hide my shock. “Really… what, Maia?” he replies, tilting his head in befuddlement. I feel so sorrowful for this man— losing every person he loved in his life? Fate has been so hard on him. “Yo— your other sister… is dead?” “Sadly, yes. I think you have already met her, actually.” Fear suddenly strikes, making the hairs on my arms rise. “Oh my— what do you mean?” “Do you remember the grave you saw in the clearing? The one lined with blue and white wildflowers?” Realization dawns on me. “OH MY GODS, I STEPPED ON SAPPHIRE?!” Severin visibly flinches at my sudden outbresten. My hands fly to my face, dreadfully remembering what had happened the day I got poisoned by mindlessly eating monkshood berries. The green-haired man opens his mouth to say something, but the words just flow out of my mouth like a raging river. “O-on the day you found me in the clearing, I was predominantly training on my own! I had accidentally stepped on some
“Either we do this to make things simpler, or make things difficult, Yelena,” importunes the man dressed in fine red, blue, and gold garments, jabbing an adorned forefinger at me through the bars of my cell. The red-jeweled gold ring wreathing his finger looks so familiar… but I cannot remember where I’ve seen it. “If you do not have answers on my daughter’s whereabouts by the time your masters return, you are done, wretch.” With this, Lord Eadmond stares daggers at me, amber eyes squinting in the dim candlelight, before leaving with a scoff. ‘Tis another day in the dungeon, and the only thing keeping me warm and giving me a wee sense of protection in this dark, damp, and lonely chamber is Clemence’s red, silk gown— the very one she used to hide my bare body with from the condemnatory stares of her family. I truly do not know where my beloved has gone— after the guards ruthlessly threw me into this cell, I've been unaware of what has been happening up above. If the Davidsons themselv
A month later. “Oh, you want a buffeting?” I say aloud menacingly, flaunting my daggers in a reverse grip with the edges out at a tree I have randomly selected to be my “opponent”. I’m practicing the moves I learned to do during spars with Severin. “You want to fight me? Ah, no… You are unworthy of being my opponent. Hm? What did you call me? Take this, then!” In a flurry of attacks, I strike the trunk of the tree, leaving cuts, marks, and dents on its dark, rough bark. I occasionally slip in a kick or two to make my battle against my imaginary opponent more realistic, but I only end up hurting myself. The dull sounds of metal meeting wood surround me with every hit I make, giving me a small sense of satisfaction as the sharp edges slice through the tough outer layer. I’ve become more nimble, more reactive… mayhap impulsive, even. This might be enough to put a stop to my father, but I must do more, I must continue to improve; not when it will be two people against an entire nobleman