The King's Games

1. Zealous

June 2009

The tiles beneath my bare feet felt cool and rough, worn down from the years of students hurrying across them. I paced with deliberate purpose, taking quick steps and turning sharply to continue my loop.

Behind me, my best friend Tilda Moller leaned against the wall, her long legs stretching out from her jean shorts. At only fifteen, she stood five feet-eight inches, towering nearly half a foot over me.

When we'd started tracker school two years ago, she'd been all skin and bones, but thanks to the work outs, combat training, and good old fashioned puberty, she'd been filling out nicely with toned arms and legs and curves in all the right places.

"You know, Bryn, galloping around like that won't make time going any faster," Tilda told me, but she said it in that resigned way, like she knew her advice would fall on deaf ears.

"I know," I muttered, slowing my steps slightly.

"I don't even think he's here yet," she said, playing absently with her thick braid. I'd pulled her out of bed so early this morning, she hadn't had time to fight the constant frizzyness of her long chestnut hair, so she'd just quickly done it in a side braid.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall, protected by a wire frame in case any of the students got too rowdy, and the seconds hand seemed to be ticking by extra slow to taunt me.

"It's 7:06," I said, glancing over at the closed office door. "He's usually here by seven."

Tilda suppressed a yawn. "I didn't realize you were such an expert on the Dekan."

"I'm not." I pushed back my blonde tangles from my face and let out a sigh of frustration.

The large metal doors swung open at the end of the hall, and I whirled around to them, in case Tilda was right, and the Dekan was only just arriving now. But my excitement was short-lived - instead of the school headmaster, Adam Lindström, it was just another student.

Simon Bohlin smiled sheepishly when he saw the disappointed expression on my face. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he walked down the hall to meet us. Tilda and I had a few classes with him, and we'd become friends with him, even though he'd been two levels above us.

"I thought I'd be the first one here, but I should've known you'd be here already." He grinned.

His black curls were long, falling into his russet eyes, and he'd need to cut his hair soon. He'd graduated last month, and when he started getting assignments to go into the field and track changelings at ritzy human prep schools, he'd need to look sharper than he did now.

"We've been here since 6:30," Tilda informed him, and he glanced over at her, as if noticing her for the first time.

"So I'm guessing Lindström hasn't posted the list yet?" Simon asked.

I shook my head. "Nope."

"I'll wait with you guys then." Simon went over and leaned against the wall beside Tilda. She stood an inch taller than him, but Simon was just sixteen, so he might have a growth spurt coming yet.

Since it looked like Dekan Lindström wouldn't be posting the list at any moment, no matter how much I wished he would, I went over to Simon and Tilda and slumped against the wall beside them.

As we waited, I tried to not think about how we'd look to anyone that passed by - Tilda and Simon standing beside each other with their dark messy hair and rich olive skin, and then me, short and stocky with pale skin, blue eyes, and wavy blond hair.

In a game of "which one of these things doesn't belong," I was always the loser.

Finally, when I'd all but given up hope that Lindström would ever appear, the door to his office creaked open, and I straightened up.

The Dekan stepped out of his office, and he stopped short when he saw us. His skin subtly shifted color, slightly blending in with the surroundings.

Many Kanin with powerful bloodlines had the ability to alter their color, sorta like a chameleon, and when they were startled or frightened, their skin would reflexively change hues.

"You guys are here awfully early," Dekan Lindström remarked, after his skin returned to its normal caramel shade, and my eyes locked on the piece of paper in his hands.

"You said first thing Monday morning, and its Monday morning," I reminded him.

Lindström gave a bemused smile. "So it is."

He stepped out into the hall, and on the patch of wall between his office door and the restroom, he secured the list with a piece of tape. When he'd finished, he turned back to face where Simon, Tilda, and I stood waiting in apprehension.

"You know it's summer." His hands were on his hips, but the expression in his eyes was playful. "It's shaping up to be a beautiful day. You should be playing outside, like normal kids."

"We will, sir," I said, as if being polite now would be able to change any of his decisions about who he'd chosen.

"Good." Lindström nodded, then headed back to his office. Since we hadn't left our position yet, he motioned toward the list. "Well, go on then. You've waited long enough."

That was all the push I needed. I ran across the hall, holding my breath as I scanned the paper for my name. Then - there it was, second from the bottom.

"I told you you'd make the cut." Tilda elbowed me gently. "You had nothing to worry about."

"I know, I know." I was beaming so hard, my face hurt.

"I guess it's me and you, then," Simon said, grinning down at me.

I was so excited to see my name that I hadn't even bothered to look at who I'd be up against, but sure enough, Simon was right.

Squire Konstantin Black in the King's Games

Senior Tracker students and recent graduates can earn a chance to prove themselves worthy enough to squire one of the most elite members of the guard in the prestigious summer games. Trackers will compete in head-to-head King's Games style combat, with winners advancing to the next round until there will be only one.

This is the first round draft:

Niklas Tapper vs. Karl Wickstrom

Oskar Abbott vs. Jakob Peerson

Markus Abels vs. Aleksander Salin

Edvin Norell vs. Erland Falk

Östen Sundt vs. Fredrik Kasten

Isak Lonn vs. Jesper Väan

Bryn Aven vs. Simon Bohlin

Rodrik Brom vs. Janus Mose

Now I studied the list the more carefully, seeing who else had made the cut, and a startling realization came to me - I was the youngest competitor, and I was the only girl.