Game Of Survival •in editing•

13 Every Game Has A Broken Piece

"He's insane. He's absolutely, utterly, Godforsakenly crazy."  I mutter at the ridiculousness of it all. "Why did he even start now? Why us?"

"Your failure was seen as a sign, Skye." I hate the way he says my name. Like he knows me. Like this is somehow my fault. As if my failure was the trigger to some twisted version of chess. I stare at the drawing on the floor. Anger brims in the corner of my vision. "He had everything planned. He used your failure as the reason for starting this whole thing. A reason to start..."

"Eliminating a waste of resource. I get it."

"Maybe if you'd succeeded, this wouldn't even happen in the first place."

I turn on him, struggling to keep the heat from shining through. "Succeeded? On my first mission to kill a General? A man of implied nobility and years of training that I hadn't even acquired? He set me up. He wanted to use me as a reason, and he had the power to do it. So he did."

He simply stares at me. As if doing that will give him the answers he needs. This was all a scheme of something bigger. These pieces and rules were put in place long before the board was even made. A new emotion overtakes me; grief. Grief over the loss of freedom I once had, before all of this happened. Grief for a lost childhood, a lost girl sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Grief of a normal life.

Maybe if I had just gone through with the mission, none of this would've happened. That's what I want to tell myself. But the Reaper is the devil in human skin. A man with invisible horns and power at his fingertips. It would've happened regardless. If I'm to blame, so be it.

"Is that it?" I ask the man who stands quiet as I think.

"It starts tomorrow. The General will obviously be safe until there is one standing. I'm here to relay the Reaper's wishes, even if it means to put the General in danger. I'm also here to make sure you don't cheat. As is the rule of the game. In order to kill him, you must be the only survivor."

"Get out. I'm tired of hearing your voice." He raises an eyebrow, as if he didn't just utter something that can possibly kill me if I didn't adhere to it. After a few seconds of staring at me like I'm the lunatic, he says, "In all consolation, I hope you win."

I scoff. With my head still turned I reply, truthfully and wholeheartedly, "Only I decide whether he lives or dies."  Then he leaves and locks the door behind him.

The next morning comes quickly. I'm not sure if it's because I spent the entire night staring at the piece of paper in my hands or if planning Arman's 'sudden and horrific' betrayal to the General in order to get him flogged did the trick. I think about every possibility to get him thrown out of this house, even if it's to get a word to the General. A word that I may just be on his side until my initial role takes play. He has to believe me. He has to trust me.

If I want this to work, The General must become my...friend. After so long, the word tastes like grass in my mouth.

I take a charcoal pencil near my bed and draw an X through the center of the the King's piece. After all, you don't win if the Queen still lives. And that's exactly how this game is going to go.

Rider opens my door around noon. I'm assuming because I have to eat at some point. He doesn't look too happy to see me, but when does he?

"Good morning you handsome chunk of gold. How did you sleep? Did you have sweet dreams?"

"You're an absolute nuisance." He deadpans, leading me down to breakfast. As I'm to be a part of this household after my probation period, in theory, I'm supposed to have dinner with the other members and servants every morning. Albeit, with a rope tied to my hands and legs to prevent me from "gutting someone with a butter knife" as Daina had so politely put it. My chest fills at the thought she'd even think me capable—which I am.