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WHAT'S MEANT TO BE WILL ALWAYS FIND A WAY
ONE. tirade of a drowning child
THE SUNLIT COMMONS OF THE LITTLE PALACE, the clear waters of the lake, the constant hum of voices and the skies more vibrantly blue than the forget-me-not flowers peeking through the grass.
And then the fraction of a second it took for it all to freeze.
There was a petite girl on the ground, clutching her bleeding leg. Her purple Fabrikator kefta stained from the grass.
There was also a group of children much older, much stronger, much more cruel. Moments earlier, they had been chasing the Fabrikator child. Moments later, they were all fighting for air in the lake, fairly far from its shore.
And there were other students, ones irrelevant to the story. Some stood and watched the scene unfold, shocked and unmoving. Some ran to the Little Palace, to call for someone, who they imagined would be able to tame the person responsible for pushing a group of more than ten into the lake.
And there was also her. A girl no older than fourteen, with her nose dripping blood. She was smaller and younger than the boys she had defeated, but it shouldn't come as a shock that there have always been people simply born greater.
When the Grisha masters arrived, they looked at the girl like she was everything wrong with the world made into flesh. They frantically fished the children out of the lake.
The did not so much as say a word in remedy of her actions. The only time she moved was to wipe her face with a sleeve of her kefta, to get the blood from dripping into her mouth.
They made her follow them back to the Little Palace, though the promise of punishment failed to make her fall to her knees and repent. The girl followed with a blank expression and her head held high.
All the while, no one realised the scene had had a silent onlooker. A young, fox-eyed boy had been observing it all, from between the little forest he had wandered into, having been led by boredom. His clever eyes followed the girl's every movement, his curious ears listened carefully to every shout of the Grisha masters.
He was watching her walk further away, when somehow, as if pulled in by a string, she stopped dead in her tracks, turned her head and faced him. Had she realised someone was watching? A shiver ran down his spine, as if he had been caught doing something forbidden, even though no consequences could ever reach him for merely watching these people. There weren't many things he was forbidden to do on his family's grounds.
If the girl realised who he was, it did not show through. Despite his status, with a single look of acknowlegment sent his way, she managed to make him feel inferior. The boy kept staring at the back of her head until she disappeared from sight ― but she never honoured him with a second glance.
