An arena built for sword fighting was situated close to the armory. Inside the arena were dummies and targets, for archery and knife-throwing practice. The arena was unfenced but surrounded by big, snow-covered trees and was filled with sand, not snow. Several faeries were practicing inside, Zoey and Caynin among them.
She was sweating, gritting her teeth, as she swung her sword. It collided with Caynin’s with a loud clang. She used all her strength and gripped her weapon with both hands, yet the full force of her blow was not enough to knock Caynin back even a little. She swung twice more, and Caynin easily blocked her blows. He was making her angry because he was so good at this without even trying. He stood there, holding his sword in one hand, his expression one of studied boredom. He was not sweating, panting, or even grunting.
He dodged her next blow, grabbed her wrist, and sent her sprawling to the ground. She fell, spat out sand, and when she looked up, he was aiming his sword at her heart.
She cursed. Caynin’s laugh only stoked her fury. He lowered his sword, and she got back onto her feet.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. “I’ve been fighting for centuries. Most of us learn how to wield a sword when we are still children.”
That did not make her feel better and only reminded her how weak and vulnerable she was here. Was she practicing for nothing? Would the Fata still be able to kill her easily?
“You’re doing fine,” Caynin said.
She abruptly swung her sword, hoping to catch him by surprise. He deflected her blow, and she kicked the ground.
“Do you have a special enchanted sword or something that makes you unable to lose a fight?” Her breath was short.
He frowned, evidently not understanding her sarcasm. “We don’t have any special swords. Most of them stayed behind on Erken, except for the No-Name Sword.”
“The No-Name Sword?”
“It’s the sword of Ruler Tarragon,” Caynin explained. “He is a warlord who once dueled with an Elvish prince and won. He spared the elf prince’s life, and in return, he received the sword as a token of the elf-prince’s gratitude.”
“What makes this sword special?” Zoey asked between breaths.
“It can kill anything.” Caynin dodged her blow.
She swung again, missed again, and tried to avoid her frustration.
“After Tarragon kills someone with it, that someone’s name appears on the blade.”
“So, he can keep a list of the people he murdered?” Zoey said. “That’s sick.”
“For a warlord it is a sign of his strength and skills. He carried it around like a trophy.”
“Carried? Past tense?” she wondered.
Caynin swung toward her, and the force of his blow knocked her backward.
“Do you remember I told you that years ago the Prenumbras entered through the Everblossom Kingdom? And that they killed Queen Harmonia and King Calico?”
“Yes, and they stole the princess back to Erken,” Zoey recalled. “And Tarragon broke the Egress Key when closing the door.”
“He also lost his sword,” Caynin said. “It fell through the door, to Erken. I was not there, so I am not sure how it happened, but I do know it angered Tarragon immensely. That sword was irreplaceable to him.”
“Poor guy,” Zoey said sarcastically. She punched Caynin, who caught her wrist, flipped her over his hip and threw her to the ground again. The worst part about getting her ass kicked was that Caynin was holding back. He extended his hand to her, and she resisted the urge to slap it away. She let him help her up and wiped the sweat off her brow.
“That’s enough for today,” Caynin said. “Tomorrow, we practice knife fighting.”
“Knife fighting?”
“There’s no point in carrying around an iron knife if you don’t know how to use it.”
Zoey followed Caynin’s gaze to where her iron knife had fallen out of her pocket when he had thrown her to the ground. She picked it up and ignored the bitterness in Caynin’s voice. He had not tried to take the knife from her, but he did hold a strong grudge. Did he think she would use it against him? She would never. Caynin has been so good to her, and she’d never hurt him. She only kept the knife because she was surrounded by Fata who posed a threat.
“Are you two done playing?” A grim-faced Rane approached them. Was he even capable of smiling? He carried a sword by his side, and his light-brown shirt matched his hair. Zoey’s mood grew even worse at the sight of him.
“We’re busy,” she sneered and hoped he would leave. But, of course, she was not going to get lucky.
“You look like shit.” Rane sniffed the air.
She wiped sweat from her brow.
“You smell like it, too.”
“Come here and say that.” Zoey gripped her sword tighter.
She disliked Rane, but even more than that, she feared him. But there was no way she would ever show her fear. She straightened her back and held up her sword, ready to fight. Rane stepped toward her, but Caynin blocked his way.
“Why have you come here?” Caynin asked.
It was somewhat strange that he had come to the fighting arena since Rane would want to stay as far away from Zoey as possible. If he was here, it meant he had something to tell them.
Rane glared passed Caynin, at Zoey. His canines were bared, like those of a rabid dog. He did not push past his prince. Instead, he said, “I have news that Ruler Tarragon will be arriving early for the Red Festival.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Then we had best prepare everything for his arrival.” Caynin looked back at Zoey. “We are done practicing for the day.”
“Okay.” She was too pissed to muster a thank you.
Kismet stood in the distance, looking her way, and Zoey gripped her sword tighter. Had Kismet seen Caynin kick her ass? Had she enjoyed it? Kismet noticed her staring and glanced away. Kismet must be jealous that Caynin was teaching her. She was spying like the insecure, pathetic Fata she was. She was not worth Zoey’s time.
Caynin and Rane left without a backward glance or noticing Kismet’s stares. Zoey was tired and sweaty, but she was not done yet. She practiced sword fighting, by herself, for a long time after Caynin left.
***
Zoey’s body cooled quickly as she returned to her room. In fact, she was shivering, and her muscles were aching by the time she pushed open the door. She yearned for a long hot bath in which she could close her eyes and relax. On her way to the bathroom, she stopped next to the bedside cabinet and was surprised to find a single flower. It was black like charcoal and unlike anything she had ever seen in the human world. Next to it was a small note with elegant handwriting that read: May this flower bring joy and laughter to the kingdom.
Zoey was not sure what the note meant, but it was a thoughtful suggestion. She did not have any friends, other than Caynin. He must have sent it. Her heart beat like a drum as she picked up the flower and brought it to her nose. She closed her eyes as she inhaled the scent, then her face twisted in disgust. The flower was beautiful, but it smelled horrible! It was musty and made her think of rotten meat.
She put it down on the cabinet, went to her bathroom, plugged the bath, and opened the faucets before she slipped out of her sweaty clothes. She admired her black, lacy bra and matching panties in the mirror and noticed that her body had become leaner these past few weeks. She was about to remove her underwear when movement in the water caught her eye. She closed the faucets and leaned over the bath to try to see what it was.
Slowly, someone’s reflection was forming. She looked behind her quickly, but there was no one, then she looked back to the water. This Fata male had a thick, dark beard and wild, shoulder-length frizzy hair. He had dark, crazy murderous eyes that frightened Zoey. What was happening?
The reflection reached for her, and his hand broke the surface to reveal real flesh and bone. Zoey cried out and fell backward before leaping to her feet. She could not believe her eyes as the reflection climbed out of the bathtub holding a silver-hilted sword. No water dripped off him – it was as if he had never been in a full bathtub. His sword was long, and the blade boasted a detailed inscription.
“Who are you?” she cried and retreated to her room.
A baby started wailing, and when she looked to her left, a crib had appeared. She didn’t have time to wonder how a child had materialized; her only thought was that of protecting the child. She rushed toward the crib and pulled away the blankets, only to find it empty.
Zoey barely had any time to process what was happening before two Fata, one male and one female, were standing in front of the crib. Neither had any weapons, but they stood as if on guard. Their shadows danced on the walls as if they were death angels.
The mad swordsman was approaching with a murderous expression. The two Fata attacked him, their teeth bared, while snarling like wild animals. He ran the female through first then pulled his sword from her stomach. She dropped, her blood pooling around her on the ground like bath water.
The swordsman then sank his sword to the Fata male’s heart. He did not pull it out immediately but sank to the ground with the man and held him as he died.
“I’m sorry,” the mad male said.
Then he looked up with murderous eyes, toward Zoey, and a small sound escaped her lips. She stepped away from the empty crib as he pulled the sword from the man’s chest. He began to approach her, and she clasped her hands in front of her mouth. She now regretted having left her sword at the armory. Her iron knife was in her pants pocket, in the bathroom, where she had undressed. She was not going to push past the crazy male to get it.
She ran out of her room into the gardens to get help. She was running around in her underwear, but given the circumstances, she did not think it would matter. When she saw Rane, she rushed to him.
“Rane!” she cried. “There is a mad male in my room! He killed two Fata.”
Rane would not be eager to help her, but he wouldn’t let a murderer get away, either. She looked back to see if the male had followed her. As she did so, Rane slammed his first into her jaw. She fell to the ground in a big heap of sweat and dirt. Before she could rise, Rane had his boot on her face, pushing her deeper into the snow.
“That’s where you belong,” Rane told her. “Beneath my feet.”
“Caynin is going to kill you for this!” His foot was like a ten-ton brick wall on her face.
“Caynin gave me permission to kill you,” Rane said, and she heard him drawing his sword.
That could not be right! Caynin would never let him hurt her. But if Zoey did not act now, she was going to die. She grabbed Rane’s ankle with both hands and twisted. He cried out, dropped his sword, and she squirmed out from under him. She got up and shoved him as hard as she could, into the snow, before she started running. Zoey’s bare skin was turning pink from the cold, but she couldn’t focus on anything other than Rane.
When she looked back, Rane was getting up, then she ran into someone. She cursed as she fell onto the snow again, and cold traveled through her body. The impact hurt but did not stop her from regaining her feet. She was about to run again but then she realized who she had knocked over.
“Eric!” she cried and swooped in to hug him.
“Get away!” he cried angrily as he got to his feet and brushed the snow off himself.
She had no idea how he was here or why, but she was glad to see him. Surely he would calm down once he understood that it was she who had knocked him over and not a Fata.
“It’s me,” she said.
He looked right at her face. “I know.” He got to his feet. “You’re pathetic. Why are you always following me? Why are you so obsessed with me?”
“What?” Zoey let the full impact of his words wash over her.
“All I want is for you to leave me alone. Haven’t I made it perfectly clear that I don’t want you in my life? It’s why I’ve been staying away these past few years. But you keep looking for excuses to see me. You even used your dying sister as manipulation to get me to come visit you at the hospital.”
Zoey stepped back. She had never intended to use Violet to see Eric, but when she had received the news that her sister was sick, Eric had been the first person she’d told. He had held her on the school grounds as she buried her face in his jacket and let herself cry softly. She hadn’t meant, or tried to, manipulate him to become a big part of her life again.
“I didn’t mean to…”
How was this even happening? She wanted it to stop. She wanted Eric to make it better – like he always did.
“I thought you loved me.” Her words were so soft a mouse could barely hear it.
“I don’t love you!” He laughed. “And the only person who did is dead.”
Zoey wanted to ask who he was talking about. He looked to her left, and she followed his gaze, where a small body lay. Zoey shook her head as tears welled up in her eyes.
“No! Violet no!” She rushed away from Eric and threw herself to the ground, next to the body.
Violet’s lifeless eyes were staring into the gray sky where griffins were flying around. Her corpse was frozen solid. She had died. The leukemia had killed her, and there was nothing Zoey could have done to stop it.
Zoey started crying hysterically as she touched her sister’s corpse. “No, no, no, no! This can’t be! You can’t be dead!”
The pain in her chest was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was like every single one of her ribs had broken, and the splinters were jabbing into her heart. She thought it might kill her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she wailed and gripped Violet’s small hands. When she opened her eyes again, her sister’s body had vanished.
“What?” she mumbled with the rivers of tears flowing down her cheeks.
She blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. Someone was laughing. Everyone was laughing. Around her a small crowd of Fata had gathered, and they were pointing at her and laughing. A Fata on a unicorn was approaching. When he was close enough, Zoey recognized him as the male who had murdered the two Fata in her room. She cried out and got to her feet.
“You murderer!” she cried. “Get away from me!”
The male looked down at her from where he sat on his pink unicorn. She could not tell if he was confused or bored. Maybe both. He did not draw his sword, nor did he attempt to hurt her. Then a strong hand closed on her arm, and she cried out as if it was hurting her.
“Zoey! Zoey calm down,” Caynin ordered.
She struggled against his grip, but to no avail; he easily held her.
“Get away! You told Rane he could kill me!”
Rane was standing behind Caynin, and she swore he looked surprised. Moments ago, he had stepped on her face. She had to get away from him.
“Rane, please welcome Ruler Tarragon,” Caynin said. “I need to get her out of here.”
Rane went over to the male on the unicorn. “This way,” he said, and the male followed him.
“Get out of here,” Caynin growled, and the Fata around him obeyed.
Zoey was not calming down, and Caynin was not releasing his grip. She was frantic, like a mouse caught in a trap. He was holding her left arm, yet her right hand was free. She swung it toward his chest but did no damage. When she hit him again, he grabbed her arm then picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her away.