Wicked Games Academy

CHAPTER 20

The same old routine started after the exams. The Headmaster telling us the location and people, and Clive humming in a calm tone as we headed out and rode our horses.

It was such a soft humming that it made me do a double take.

"Clive? Are you humming?" I asked although I knew.

"Yes, why?" He sounded just as happy, making me frown.

"We're going to kill two rebels again, this time in a barn. It's no laughing—no, humming matter," I said.

Clive rode in front of me so I couldn't see his expression.

"I'm not kind like you, Nathan. I really don't give a damn who they are and how we kill them."

The vibe returned. Clive isn't always a beautiful boy in flowers. Killing is second nature to him. His hands are stained with blood, and while I grimaced, he smiled.

"Do you never regret this?" I whispered.

"I've done worse. Regretting every unreasonable action in my life would take all of my lifetime," Clive answered.

At this time after the ball I began reading a silly book about philosophy—about feelings, death, and love. I despised that I had to find a meaning in our love as the ancient culture's philosophy said.

Or else it would never last...

No, Clive and I had meaning together—we were the best killers.

Lies.

I still couldn't kill without that guilt, but I lived my life in Graycotts normally, passing exams, smiling at friends, playing chess, riding my horse in the snow.

I gently stroked the mane of my horse, leather gloves on. We have began to wear gloves and learned to hold our swords or daggers with gloves on. It wasn't ideal but I didn't want my fingers to freeze.

My horse's name was Midnight—a dumb name for obviously a black horse. Clive's horse was a black one too, but he always got things, a better horse, and a better name. Her name was Tarot.

As Midnight followed Tarot I felt sad at the revelation maybe I'd been following and loving someone who wasn't really what they seemed to be.

If I ripped Clive's mask off, would he still look the same?

***

That night we successfully killed rebels and then went to bed after a quick rinse from the basin. Clive spoke on always on horseback again, like he did all year. How many missions had we even been on?

It all seemed so routine now, getting called out of class early or getting a notice for Friday being off so we could leave school premises. It must've been twenty or so, but we killed at least double that number so—forty? No way, maybe I miscalculated.

The faces were merged and I only remember certain nights, when we killed women or child rebels. It hurt me worse when they can't fight back, when they hide behind their husband or father. They seemed so innocent then, and it wasn't their fault their husband or father chose the wrong path.

That same night he had plopped onto my bed and relished my warm blanket in only his nightwear. I turned over to peer over my shoulder and saw him pick up the book I was reading—something about the human psyche and exercise for say, claiming yourself down when you had anxiety, or being happy when you feel sad.

"Are you reading these funny books?" Clive picked up the copy of the book near my nightstand. I opened my mouth to argue but he flipped through it. "Hmm, you bookmarked the session called Love. Interesting."