Forged in Frost and Fire (Book 1 in the Chronicles of Kings trilogy)

Chapter Twenty Two

-Part Four-

THE KING'S KILLER

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You're holding it like an idiot," she said, glaring at me from where she was resting against a tree trunk, her bad leg stretched out in front of her. My sisters leg had been shattered from a cannon mishap, not even as a result of war. How disappointing was that? Getting your leg shattered from your own canon. Ironic.

"I'm not holding it like an idiot," I said, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at her. "And it's not like you're helping me or anything, you're just...sitting there, glaring and pointing out things about my footing."

"Because your footing is shit," she said. I let out a loud sigh, twisting the dagger in my hands so that the leather bit into my palm.

"Oh stop acting like a dramatic teenager," she said, her high arched brows arching even higher. Tellie was pretty in a harsh sort of way. She had intense features that seemed locked in a hard position all of the time. She rarely smiled, actually, ever since she got back home a few months ago, I hadn't seen her smile. I hadn't seen her smile in such a long time. I wondered if she still could.

"I am a dramatic teenager. I'm sixteen," I said. She rolled her eyes and stood, wincing and stretching out her leg. I had only ever seen her leg once before. She had been getting out of the bath the night she got home. She thought she was strong enough to lift herself up but she hadn't been. She clambered to the floor and I rushed in, not caring about her nakedness or the fact that she was dripping wet. She allowed me to help her sit up and then screamed at me to leave. She had been angry, but not at me, at herself. She was angry that she needed my help in the first place. Tellie was as independent as they came, she never asked for help or assistance. She saw it as a sign of weakness. I realized that as I grew up, I was much the same.

I still remembered what she looked like on the floor, her cheeks red from shame, her eyes filled with tears that she would never let fall. Tellie never cried either. She was steel before she left for the army, hard and cold. But when she became back she was changed, she had transformed from steel to iron. Deadly iron. She felt so unreachable now we might as well have had an iron wall between us.

"Yes, sixteen. I'm so glad I got to miss your fourteenth and fifteenth years," he said, "The tween years are always the hardest." She limped towards me and I stuck my tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes, the freckles at her nose scrunching and moving. I always loved her freckles, and wished I had more like hers. Instead I just got a splatter on my nose. What a shame.

"Well I'd rather it had been you than that official they sent." Since I was underage and Telllie was my legal guardian, they had sent an elderly woman to come care for me. Well, she didn't really care for me. She was gone most days, I wouldn't see her for months and then she'd suddenly make a surprise appearance and act like everything was normal. Of course those surprise visits only ever happened when there'd be a visit from one of the child service officers.

"I know," she said, looking down at me. She reached up and squeezed my shoulder gently. "Now let's teach you how to throw that dagger like a woman and not like a prepubescent boy."

"Ew," I muttered. Tellie and I both had similar thoughts about men. While I liked some, she didn't like any at all, and we were both attracted to girls. Which was nice, considering I'd come home gabbing about a girl I met at the market and she'd only grin and nod, remembering her teenage years full of flirting and blushing. I think she missed those times more than she'd like to admit.