Fate and Destiny (The Fated Series, #2)

Chapter 13 - Rohana - Our List of Why Today Was Shitty

Arthur tosses two knives to Darius who catches them with ease, then takes his black and orange handled blades out. I'm still jealous of their color and utter beauty and precision of them. I heard him mention that he got them from a man in Serac, but when I went searching, I couldn't find him. Not even Tanith could find his thoughts when I asked her about it.

Arthur is well-trained, only pulling his punches when it's aimed to kill. I can find very few missteps when he moves, and I try imagining who would come out of a sparring ring if he and Nilsa went one-on-one. That'd be a show I'd pay to watch, and I don't like paying for anything. Especially overpriced tonics and salves. I could buy every ingredient they list for less than half a tin of the already made medicine. Only blubbering idiots will pay them the four silver coins.

Darius, on the other hand, he's got many lessons to learn, but he's improving quickly and the assassin is a good teacher. The others often join them, splitting into two or three teams and fighting until someone calls time. It lasts an hour at least, two most days.

I watch today from a nearby tree as their blades clash and separate, and then clash once more. There's a shield around them, one made entirely of still wind that lacks oxygen. Kathika tried getting through it to see if it was one made through experience, or one unknowingly put up. Willa misted into my chambers seconds later, yelling at me to get there before she died. I found her on her knees, face turning purple and eyes wide with fear. I couldn't get to her without risking my own safety, so I may or may not have blown up something in Mave to draw Darius and the others away.

The Prince doesn't know that he's constantly holding a shield around him and his companions, and though it makes our job easier not having to constantly worry about someone sneaking up on them. If someone did manage to do so, we wouldn't be able to do much aside from taking a deep breath and running. I throw a few rocks at it here and there to see if he senses something breaking through, but he only gets the slightest of eye twitches. If he was smart, he wouldn't dismiss it. I found out the hard way what ignoring a simple tic could cost you. The evidence is scarred on my shoulder. I've never worn a shirt that exposes the marred skin since. I'd rather not have to explain how I let pleasure overcrowd my judgment. The only reason it's a scar and not new untouched skin Willa could've easily healed is because I need the reminder of what happens when I let my guard down.

Dusk soon nears, and I stifle a yawn to keep myself awake. If I'm being honest, staying under the mountain has made me a sleeping hog – or an old hag who goes to sleep early and wakes at dawn for Gods knows what. If the sun's up, then I'm up. If the moon's out, then I'm out. The crickets I complained about earlier, have now become my personal orchestra that puts me to sleep.

Oh, Gods. I'm becoming Willa.

For Saint's sake, I need to get out from under that Gods damned mountain, and soon.

Bored, I hop from the short tree and walk up the hill behind it. My own shields are up, keeping anyone from seeing or harming me. I could let it down since Willa stitched wards into the inside of my coat, but it's only another protection ward, which means they'd be able to see me as I follow them like a stalker. Dee said we couldn't have contact with them, she never said I couldn't freeze time, take their cloaks, and stitch the same wards into them so that they have an extra layer of protection too. Of course, that was cycles ago, and they haven't found the sloppy mess on the bottom corner since.

I'm not the best stitcher in the world.

Off in the distance, I can faintly see the beginning lights of the city. There's not much between here and it aside from hills and a flower field that attracts swarms of bees in the spring and mosquitoes in the summer. Everything beautiful comes with a cost, it's how this world was built. I've been alive for a hundred and thirty-two years, and in that near century and a half, I've managed to always find a fault in everything. I don't know why I do it, but I always look for someone or something's imperfection upon seeing them or it for the first time.