The Colosseum

Message to the King

Kova

Feeling assured and revived with a new sense of purpose, I exit the vehicle and wave as Leon backs out. I stride down the underground tunnels with a limp, expecting someone to pop out from around the corner and bash me in the face with some sort of weapon. But nothing of the sort happens. The one thing people are more concerned with than bringing me down is raising themselves up, after all – they're all probably crowded at the Event Hall.

Without someone to lean on, I feel like a strong breeze could topple me over. You're a force to reckon with. Go out there and like it. I repeat the mantra in my head over and over, trying to convert mental strength to physical strength. Gradually, I become desensitized to the rhythmic pain in my knee, my hobble becoming a lopsided walk, to evolving into a breezy pace.

The gentle sloping of the ground is pesky, but doable. When I enter the door that leads to the stairs to the Event Hall's corridor, someone is propped by the wall at the top. The lighting is dim, at most. But I recognize the short haircut and sharp nose. "Ten," I greet, partially startled at his looming.

In the lowlight, his silvery eyes look at the lower part of my dress. "You're walking decently," he notes, voice on the fence of irritation and guardedness. "It's obvious that I can't do things like give you surgeries every time you need it. Does that mean you've decided to help the king?"

Carefully, I watch Ten, recalling our last encounter. I can't say for sure that things wouldn't have gotten violent between us had I not fled when I did. It's so strange to hear Ezra addressed as "the king," especially knowing that once upon a time to Ten, he was simply just "Ezra." "I don't have to pick sides, anymore," I tell him. Ezra wants me to focus my attention on Annette, and on top of that, I want to help add understanding to their conflict in hopes of relieving some of the tension in their rivalry.

"That's impossible," he spits.

"Maybe in your world it is," I fire back. If there's anything I've learned about Ten, it's that he's selfish. Gray areas don't exist in his head – you're either with him or against him. To him, there's no way that I could be helping both brothers at once simply because I want to. It's impossible that Ezra told me about his past to secure trust in our peculiar relationship. It's unfathomable that I could be communicating with the king while also keeping Ten's best interest in mind.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ten defensively grunts.

"I'm not out to get you," I clarify.

"Then what are you trying to gain from trying to get close to me?"

Your backstory. Your advice on how not to die. Someone I can confide in when I'm scared or laugh with when I need to cheer up. I know Ten has a light side to him – it's that side of him that I first met. But now that I'm trying to chip away at the barriers he puts up, he feels cornered and attacked. "An acquaintance, at the least," I respond. "Working my way up the ladder to friend."

"No strings attached?" Ten dubiously inquires, standing up from the wall and closing the space between us. He gets so near that I swear I can feel his heartbeat in the small sliver of air between us. His eyes sparkle with doubt instilled from childhood scars, their gaze hot and piercing as he stares through me. Slowly, he bends down, craning his head so his mouth his brushed up against my ear. "I don't believe you," he mumbles.

I feel heat flush my neck – a different kind of heat than the one I felt when Ezra patted my head. This time, it's infused with fear and excitement. Nerves jittery, I try to rack my brain for an appropriate response. Barely, I manage to find one; one that will take him by surprise as much as his sudden proximity surprised me. "I'm not asking you to. I'm just answering your question, Everett."