kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ

“Miss Tarondotter.”

Tarkien pauses his pacing, hands still clasped behind his back, and turns to me, cold eyes piercing.

“I expect far more of you in the future. You carry a phenomenal responsibility on your back, but you cannot let it cripple you. You are Elysian, and you must remain strong at all costs. You will not buckle under the pressure. Additionally, you will not continue on like you have. You must attend your classes, all of them, and you must be punctual. The last thing our people need is a sloppy queen. You will amend your behavior, and you will change. Am I clear?”

My face is warm, shame churning in my belly. My classmates’ eyes burn through me, and even Aeryn has become serious.

It’s more than true that I’ve been slacking lately.

Ever since Jaeger betrayed me and killed Turner, I’ve found it extremely hard to function properly. Sometimes I forget my brother is dead, and then I find his room half-full of Jaeger’s things, and I remember, and suddenly it’s dark and I’ve lost him all over again, and that stabbing pain drives through my belly like a broadsword.

My world has flipped upside down in less than a fortnight. The man I thought I loved came for the throne, not for me, and now Turner is gone and I’m helpless and alone in the knowledge that it’s my fiance’s fault. I have to remind myself that Jaeger doesn’t care how I feel, and I have to remind myself that he is my king’s murderer. And yet… this ring remains on my finger.

In just over a year, I’ve grown from a child into a woman, yet I feel smaller than ever.

My vision swims, though I try to keep the hot tears from spilling onto my face.

If only I could tell them. Maybe they’d understand if they just knew how much this hurt, and they could help me fix… fix what, exactly? Turner was dead. Somehow, there was nothing to fix, nothing, in a world so shattered as mine.

Suddenly, I remember that Tarkien asked me a question. He looks at me expectantly, hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes,” I say softly. “Yes, you’re clear.”

“You must train as hard as you can. Learn as much as you can. Try hard, and you will be just fine. But continue on as you have, and you will lead our country into ruin. Your nation will fall at your own hand.” He stalks toward me and stops a breath away, and I keep my eyes downcast. “Miss Tarondotter, you are laying your own trap. You must be careful where you step. Do you understand?”

He tips my chin up, forcing me to look at him. A few tears fall loose onto my cheeks with the movement, but I focus my blurry gaze on the bridge of his nose and nod slightly. “Yes, Tarkien. I understand completely. I’m sorry, I’ll do better. …I have some things to do, so…”

Tarkien, however, grabs my shoulder as I turn to go. Suddenly his arms are around me and my face is pressed against his chest, and I’m crying, clutching my teacher as desperately as if he was my brother and this was my very last chance to save him.

“There we are,” he whispers. “Have a good cry, Miss Tarondotter, and you’ll feel much better.”

I doubt that highly, but I appreciate the sentiment, so I nod through a sob. The sound echoes against the curved walls of the Ring, and I realize that my classmates have gone silent.

It hits me then.

These kids are not just my classmates anymore. They are my subjects, and I am to be their queen. The pressure of their eyes weighs on my back, my muscles tense, and I pull away from Tarkien to find every person in the room turned toward me. Only a few pairs of eyes flicker away as I meet their gaze, and some of the soldiers have bowed their heads.

Something else catches my attention, so I look at the ground in front of me.

Blade kneels at my feet. I feel my eyes widen; a sheepish flush rises in my face. Instinctively, I want to haul him to his feet and smack him, but something about his posture is so regal and strong, so sure. He’s completely, utterly serious.

It’s enough to make my heart swell, and more silent tears roll down my face, some glistening on my collarbone and others dropping off the tip of my nose onto the sand below. I’m about to make him get up when someone else nearby bows, and then another, and suddenly only Tarkien and I are standing, except Tarkien’s not standing at all because he’s on his knees too.

I’m not crying anymore.

A surge of power rushes from my feet, up my spine, and into my shoulders, resting there like a heavy cloak. These are my people. Mine. I know already that I may have to send them into battle one day, but I will do anything to protect them.

The moment becomes slightly awkward as I fumble over what I’m supposed to say in a situation like this. Frustratingly, I don’t think it’s awfully common because Gwenn didn’t teach it to me. So instead, scrambling for something, anything to say, I open my mouth to form the word “Rise”.

As soon as my voice hits the far wall, it bounces back, and again, echoing over each person’s head as they stand. Blade is the last to find his feet, and he looks squarely at me with his jaw set.

This is your kingdom now, his eyes tell me. This is your kingdom, and we are your people, but you must be strong for us.

I nod, understanding perfectly, and then he smiles and grabs me in a warm cedar hug, burying his face in my hair. He’s sturdy and strong, cozy. He smells like the forest surrounding the village, and his breath is warm against my neck.

This is an awfully intimate hug, especially for a classroom. My heartbeat falters, and I panic, pushing him gently away. If Jaeger saw us like this…

“I’ve got you, okay?” Blade’s eyes search my face, and I can tell he’s itching to brush my tears away. I stare down his hands, willing them to stay where they are.

“Yeah, I know.”

He glances around at the rest of our class, and then back to me. Luckily, though, Tarkien saves me before I have to say anything.

“Back to work, you boneheaded, fish-brained suck-ups. Remember, tuck and throw.”

We all get back into our pairs, practicing the set Tarkien taught us. We’ve been in unarmed combat forever, but hopefully, that just means we’ll be extremely good at it.

“You wanna come over tonight?” Blade asks, throwing his arm. “Mom’s making soup.”

I duck, and then we reverse roles. “I…’d better not. Not after what Tarkien said today. I have some business to take care of, and we still have to…” I trail off, trying to clear the lump in my throat that’s making it impossible to speak. “We have to finish clearing out Turner’s old room. For, uh, Jaeger.”

“…right,” Blade said. “Because that’s something you should have to help with.”

Tarkien calls for us to switch sets, giving a few groups pointers and then setting us free again. Kick, block, throw.

“Actually, it is,” I argue. “He was my brother, I can’t just let them throw all his things out. I should at least help sort through it.”

“I guess.” Blade kicks into my hand, blocks my return, and then fakes throwing his fist into my stomach. “You really can’t come over?”

I falter, then kick extra hard, smacking his palm and sending a shock down his forearm, or I assume that’s what happens by the way he shakes it off. “No. I can’t.”

“Okay, what about tomorrow?”

“Blade.” I fall into a resting stance. “Look, I’m sorry. I am. But I have responsibilities. I have things to do. I have a fiance. I don’t have as much time for you as I used to. I’m sorry, okay? I’ll drop by whenever I can. Promise.”

My very fake smile doesn’t do much to calm either of us. But he nods anyway.

“SWITCH!”