Gods, let me forever hate him.
My palms sweat, catching my breath after we just finished training. Now I know why he gifted me these, so I can touch without burning someone. I lost count of how many times he grabbed my hands, twisting them around the reins to practice tightening them around my palms.
I lost count how many times he would reach for my hands, lifting me off of the ground after I fell off the wooden horse.
I believe it was an excuse just to be somewhat close to me. Our last time together. Something inside of me didn’t want it to end.
But now, the rage I felt is back.
My body shifts, gripping the edges of my windowsill and letting my hands dig into the edges of the chilled rocks.I hate him.
I’m unsure if anything will ever make me stop hating him.
Or, if the hurt I feel is too powerful and I let myself feel the pain instead of hating him, I fear I might never stop crying.
He did betray me that night. He has betrayed me countless times.
There is no way he would have taken me to the archives. He was going to trade me in the Darklands, I just know it. The Queen throwing me into the games might have saved my life. If she wouldn’t have interfered, I could have been dead. I would have never found the stones. The dragons. My memories. The Deskyiara bloodline would have been lost for good. I should have known a darkling would do anything in its powers to kill the last Deskyiara.
But now I fear I'm just a pawn in their chess game. I can sense something brewing, a wicked feeling that sends shivers down my spine.
I wonder why they haven’t tried killing Tilly. They should. She deserves the worst death possible.
My eyes shift upward, catching sight of the chosen heading out for our next battle game. Ivker strides ahead, his auburn hair braided, which is smart. If he is up against the horse of fire, this will protect his hair from catching the flames. But also his mechanical arm might benefit him when trying to bond with a horse this year. I’ve seen the way he wields his swords, as if they’re light as a feather. I wish I could watch him ride, but the contestants cannot watch. We wait our turn in the tunnel.
Let's hope Dryden doesn’t put a blade to me again.
He might regret that this time, as I'd burn him in seconds.
Zake hustles up towards Ivker, walking beside him as Octavian does the same. My eyes follow their path until they are no longer visible in the Pyre.
My eyes shut, shifting on my heels to turn and take a seat on the edge. I suppose it’s time.
Use that anger to ride. You are the last Deskyiara, and I have loved watching you remember.
His voice replays in my mind. That’s all I hear. It's consuming me. Maddening me.
More than anything, I wish I could remove every thought I have of him. Every memory.
I don’t want them anymore.
I want himgone.
My fingers curl tightly around the hilt of my dagger as I pull the blade free, watching it glint in the dim light.
My reflection sways on the polished surface as I tilt it from side to side, yet the face staring back at me feels unfamiliar, like a stranger's. I can't fathom how they expect me to rise for them when my life is tangled in a chaotic blur.
What would my father want me to do? My real father, the one who raised me and shaped me. The one who taught me to wield a sword and to fight, to never stand down to any man or woman. Not the man I was forced into hiding with.
If only I could remember the power I have from the Deskyiara bloodline, that could make me unstoppable. But it's as if Tilly still has control over my memories and desperately is keeping me from remembering it.
Gripping the dagger tightly, I thrust it into the narrow cracks of the rugged windowsill, its blade scraping against the stone with a harsh, grating sound. A guttural yell erupts from my throat, echoing through the room. My veins bulge against my flushed neck, pulsing with intensity as my face burns with heat.
I deeply suck in the air, steadying my heart rate. My fist repeatedly hits the rocks, and I clench my eyes tightly, avoiding any pain I feel inside me.
“Damn, are you okay?” A sudden, raspy voice startles me.
My eyes widen, catching sight of Klayra leaning against the doorframe. Her arms are crossed, brows shifted upward as she stares right at me.
