But I can feel them watching me.
There is someone I don’t mind looking at, however.
Dolan is sharpening a small ax just a few feet away. He’s dragging the blade from base to tip across a small, oiled whetstone. When he finishes, he straps the ax to his side and begins on another blade.
Finally, he stops and looks up at me, grinning as though he knows something I’m not privy to.
I do not want to kill this man. As repulsive as he is, I do not wish to end his life.
I am a healer, for the sake of the gods! My purpose is to mend, to fix, to sustain life and end suffering. Senseless killing is not part of my repertoire.
Dolan spits at the ground next to my feet. “You ready, girly? Think you can make it to the top with those feeble little arms? You want me to carry you up?”
The men within earshot laugh, but I ignore them. I suppose if it means one less rebel threatening my queen, I can try to get past a single death. Besides, once I’m in the guard, I will have to be willing to do whatever is asked of me.
It’s just good practice, really. At least, that’s what I tell myself over and over again when we line up, and I wipe my damp palms on my pants just before the trumpets blare.
I sprint for the hooks, pumping my arms as hard as I can, and surprising myself with how quickly I reach them. My lungs burn from the effort.
I’m hinging on most of my competitors assuming I’m not a threat and taking each other out. My peripheral vision is blurred, but I can tell a handful of them are doing just that based on the grunting and crashing of weapons around me.
As much as it angers me, my best advantage is that they see me as weak, and I’m not going to draw attention to myself by proving them wrong right now.
Instead, I make myself small. I slide the rolled-up rope around my arm and make for the wall, slowing my pace to catch my breath and watch my back. I have no intentions of dying today.
Dolan reaches the wall before me. He swings the hook over his head and hurls it, clearing the wall on the first shot. As do many of the others.
Great.
There’s no way I can climb the entire wall using just my arms, and my legs can only help so much. Even though I know it’s going to slow me down, I have to stop and tie knots in my rope as quickly as I can.
When I finish the final knot, I look up. Dolan and a few others have made it a quarter of the way up, and a fire lights within me.
I scan the length of the wall, and dread falls like an anchor in my stomach. I don’t know if any of these men can be trusted. I don’t know who is a true Lukasian and who is a rebel.
An image of Queen Daphne being skewered with a grappling hook flashes in my mind.
I have to do whatever I can to stop them. I line up on Dolan’s right.
When I throw my own hook, it surprises even me that it clears on the first try. The knots have stolen some length, which means I have to get a running start and use the momentum to kick myself off the wall.
My fingers barely brush the end of the rope.
I go again and miss.
On my third attempt, I kick off the wall with both feet as hard as I can, and my hands finally grip the rope just above the first knot.
I swing my legs and pull hard, flinging myself up to the next knot, and praying to every god that my hook has found a steady hold and Dolan doesn’t see me coming.
The gods must not be listening, though. Dolan looks down at me in the next breath, and his lip curls. I can do nothing aside from climb higher and faster as he pulls his ax from his waist, fumbling a little with how to stay on his rope while simultaneously ending my life.
He swings in my direction, and the edge of his ax barely grazes my rope. It’s enough to have me scurrying higher. I pull my rope as far as I can away from Dolan, but not so far that the competitor on my right can reach me.
“What’s the matter, girly?” Dolan shouts, and I bristle. “Scared of heights?”
I am not scared of heights, but I don’t bother telling him that. He’s just given me more fuel for the blaze burning wild within me.
He swings at my rope again, but loses his grip on the ax. I attempt to press myself flat to the wall, but the handle catches my temple. Pain radiates across my skull. Darkness threatens to swallow my vision, but I refuse to allow it.
