Wicked Games Academy

CHAPTER 9

That night we washed up and went to sleep, me on my bed first, holding back my voice as I thought back on the people who Clive murdered.

Clive returned from the bathroom built into our rooms, and he wiped his face as he sat on his bed. Only the moonlight was there, but I caught sight of his profile. His lowered lashes were long and sliver under the light, and most of all, his lips soft and supple.

But even so, the teeth behind them would eat me up, like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

I felt my stomach give out before I heaved and ran away from him to the bathroom again. I closed the door as Clive asked me if I was fine. How could I be?

I must have stayed there for half an hour, after puking I washed my face and saw the dim reflection of my face. All I could see was that ugly white face on mine, the branding of a killer.

Knights were killers, but somehow I thought they followed justice and were honorable. My father always spoke of them as great men of virtue and fair ruling but now at even the smallest tasks I was already scared speechless.

I'd rather have dealt with pheasants or boars than those ordinary people who cried "Don't kill me..." and I would have rather seen anyone kill them than Clive.

Clive, the boy I had put all my trust in. I remembered the summer days we dueled with wooden swords, he snuck in my room, and laughed so freely.

The smell of him after his bath, the smell different from his sweat after the practice, the smell of flowers was no longer there.

***

For a few days we took classes and I didn't return to my dorm room until it was nights out time. I had only seen him during practice, but we were fencing again in our armor. After we took it off I quickly wiped myself down and hopped into the bath before leaving as I heard him joining.

The uneasy pit grew in me. I was always so bad at confrontation—but what was there to confront? Clive's only way to have any status here was to be a knight, even if it may be by killing people.

My first brother Jonathan was one of those who worked the front lines, but he killed knights of other countries, not these small rebels. Daniel never killed, and I knew he'd be just as physically mortified as I was.

At the end of the week, when it was Friday, Clive stopped me in the morning, showing me a message they had delivered to us, telling us to meet the Headmaster again, at midnight.

"I'm sorry," Clive said.

"Are you really?" I snapped, then looked away. "I'll be there."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Clive asked.

I looked back and immediately missed that darling face and somewhat apologetic face. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

"I am not scared. I will do it my way, methodically and without scaring off the enemy," I said.

"You think being chased by knights won't be scary?" Clive asked.

"I'll explain it!"

"You can't." Clive's brows furrowed. "We aren't here to have a talk. If talking solved wars how many people would have survived?"

"Then don't we need to talk? Doesn't the Headmaster have to tell whoever is higher in command that this isn't right?" I raised my voice.

Clive snorted. "He'd just find students to replace us, and they would be killed nonetheless. Wouldn't it make more sense to take this golden opportunity for ourselves, Nathan? Think about it—I could even do all the killing for us. I'd shut any emotion I have away so I can continue this."