The tradition was that all nightbloods would be sent to Polis to train and eventually fight in Conclave; the winner would be crowned Commander.
Your parents had another idea which included hiding you in your village so you could live a life that di...
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"I think that was the worst one yet."
Lexa refrained from laughing beside me, instead nudging me in the shoulder playfully. "You say that after every training session."
I groaned dramatically, moving my shoulder to ease the ache. "And I mean it after every training session."
"Well, at least we're done for the day," she said, fingers brushing mine; I wished I could just hold her hand properly, but we were with the other natblidas. "Shower and then we have the whole afternoon free."
"Lucky us," I mumbled grumpily.
One second I was walking side by side with Lexa, beginning to head inside, and the next she was on the ground, having slipped in some mud. I barely acknowledged her fall until she was beginning to get up, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. Thankfully, nobody else saw, but I couldn't stop laughing as she wiped the mud off her butt.
"Stop it," she said as threateningly as she could, but her lips were daring to smile. "It's not funny."
I continued laughing. "It is a little."
She blew a strand of loose hair out of her eyes and moved forward, wiping her hand on my cheek. I pulled back instantly, away from her hands.
"Hey, that's not fair!" I said between laughter. "You did that on purpose."
She played it off with a shrug and kept walking forward, leaving me no choice but to follow her.
"It means something," she said, though I didn't believe her. "I didn't just wipe mud on you."
"Oh, yeah?" I entertained her, glancing at her with a suppressed smile. "What does it mean?"
She looked at my cheek once more before leaning close. "Means I love you."
I rolled my eyes. "According to who?"
A sneaky smile appeared on her lips. "According to me."
"You can't just make things up because you're a sore loser," I told her knowingly, the two of us entering the tower.
She grabbed my arm, stopping me in the hallway and motioning to the mirror hung on the wall in front of us. Pointing to my cheek, she said, "See? That's the symbol for it."
Tracing the symbol on my cheek once again, I made no effort to wipe the mud away and instead looked in the mirror at her poor excuse for wiping mud on my face. It was four parallel lines crossed over one another with a squiggle at the end. Messy and definitely not thought out – the product of a few seconds opportunity. She looked impressed with herself though, so I played along and smiled at her.
