Flames of Ashes

Chapter Fourteen. Run.

"Running from your fears only gives them strength; face them, and they will weaken in the light of your courage."

***
'Run!' My voice screamed inside my head, but my feet stayed rooted to the ground. I should have run, but I could not move as Eritrea stalked towards me, smiling.

"I have waited for this day for a very long time, Xarian. This is going to be fucking satisfying." She said, as she got into a fighting stance and I mirrored her. Her voice lingered. Four years had passed since Maze died, but I was sure that was not what she meant.

Without waiting for Jared's signal Eritrea's fist connected with my jaw, sending a sharp jolt of pain through my skull. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and I spat, watching red droplets stain the pristine snow.

I finally managed to punch her but she evaded it, landing another one on my belly, making me stumble backward, slipping on the snow, and falling to the ground.

"Xar!"
"Xarian!"
"Jarda!" Their words felt like a fly buzzing in my ears because Eritrea was on top of me, hitting me repeatedly. Every blow was harder, and more painful than the last.

"Stop!" I gasped, spitting blood.

"Eritrea that's enough! Jarda's already down, she surrenders, stop the fight!" I did not know who spoke, nor did I care at this point. I wanted this to be over. Someone please help. Anyone.

Eritrea stood up, raised her boot, and stomped on my right knee.
"Xarian!"

Crack! No matter how much I screamed, nothing justified the way my heart cried, the way my blood boiled being pierced by a thousand swords. But she did not back down, she kept on stomping and stomping that my eyes knew no amount of tears could quantify our soul being torn apart. The worst part was all I saw was Maze's face in hers, so I could not get angry. I could not hate her even though she was not her. She needed to vent.

Finally, she stopped and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of me wheezing, as I turned on my belly and with every remaining effort, tried to slither away. My only goal was to get out of here. So I did not notice when she grabbed the ends of my two braids and used it to drag me across the snow.

'Help!' I cried out, not knowing who I was calling. 'Please! Someone help me! I can't take it anymore!'

My eyelids grew heavier as she eventually stopped dragging me around and continued hitting me on the same knee. 'Sleep.'

I closed my eyes, obeying the soothing voice in my head. The last thing I saw was a fog taking me. I should have been afraid, but my soul relaxed, knowing I was safe.

***
Darkness claimed me, the pain in my knee a distant throb. Yet there was no fire, no Arthur, No Maze, and no Drake. No face of anyone that died that day. Nothing.

When I awoke, the first thing I saw were grey eyes and silver hair glimmering in the dim room.
"You're awake." Zarir's face was passive like his voice, withal, his eyes held an emotion I could not describe. The same way he looked at me when he arrived at the place I had burnt Maze. There was never judgment in his eyes when he looked at me. I had failed, so badly. I had been humiliated but Zarir would never judge me.

"What happened?" I croaked, wrinkling my brows trying to remember the events that took place.
"Where am I?"
"Xarian-Jarda, you just woke up so I suggest, for once, rest your mind."
"Not until you tell me where I am." My eyes set on his.

"Do you recollect anything at all?" Zarir stood up from the edge of the bed he sat on and turned his broad back to me.
I tried to get up, but a sharp pain in my knee held me down. My knee! Eritrea and I fought.

"Refrain from moving too much, which I know must be quite difficult for you."
I looked down at my body to see I wore my knight's uniform with a white bandage wrapped around my knee. I did not want to see what my face looked like. If my face was terrible and I was here with Zarir... I squirmed internally. Could this day get any worse?

Why was I with Zarir, of all people?
"Zarir, why am I not in the aid Bay?"
He faced me and said, "You called me, remember?"

My brows shot up. "What? No! I did not call you!"
He raised a brow, and the action made my insides squirm. Stay focused, Xarian!
"'Someone please help me'. 'Anyone'."
"I said, anyone. I did not mean you." I pouted, my whole body aching.

"So, you came to take me away and Jared did not stop you?"
"Jared?" Zarir's eyes gleamed with arrogance.

"How bad is it?" I closed my eyes, wincing. "I am just a mess."
A warm hand caressed my swollen cheeks so gently, it made my toes curl. "You are my mess, Xarian-Jarda." He always managed to find me in positions like this, every single time.

For minutes, we stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes. When he pulled his hand away, a wave of disappointment washed over me.

I scanned the room which was more of a chamber because of how spacious it was. A desk was placed at the end facing a window, and a tall shelf resting on the wall contained scrolls and manuscripts. The bed I laid on had clean sheets that smelled of Zarir and it could contain about 5 people.

"Your friends came to visit you over the night." He informed me as he started to remove his jacket.
"How long have I been here!?"
"A day. You can rest here for the rest of today. Tomorrow you go back to train."

I slept in Zarir's bed!? Did we sleep together?
"No, my little murderer, we did not. You were too busy having a fever the whole night." So he stayed up all night, taking care of me? My heart melted.

I should be more serious, lingering on my pain but with Zarir, everything appeared easy. In his presence, I could forget he was the prince of the kingdom Arthur hated and my kingdom sought to overthrow. I could soften, letting my mind breathe free from worry. I wondered again if that was his Arcana or if it was his Arcana for me.

He chuckled and it was not helping the matter as he took off his shirt and for once the only thing the gods had done right was him because he was toned and chiseled, and none of my imagination of what he would like shirtless, came close.

He had eight packs, and muscles in his arms that were not lean but big either. Even under the light, his bronze skin was glistening, shimmering. Colored ink snaked around his arms and on his chest. The one on his left chest was of a dragon's head breathing fire. There was a writing on his right chest, but it was not a language I recognized.

One day, I would trace everyone and then ask him what they meant to him.

Being this close to him made my heart skip multiple beats. If Arthur were her, he would behead me for even thinking he was too sexy as he smirked at me.

"I know, I like me too." I scowled at his cockiness but he was right.
"Of course, you would admire insufferable pride."
"I am a prince," he retorted, donning a black doublet and a coat, "you are meant to agree with me and fawn over me."

"Oh please," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "You might be a prince to some people but you are not my prince."

He already made his way to the door, but paused when I spoke and cocked his head to me, "I might not be your Prince, but you, my little murderer rule every inch of me." With that he left me alone, his words ringing in my head.

If Maze were here, I would tell her everything that happened and we would giggle and scream by the lake licking Frostfruit Delight.

What Eritrea did broke my heart, yet her likeness to Maze complicated things. I only hoped I would be able to heal quickly before the next match. If I only knew what madness was in store for me, I would have never left this room.

I should have been grateful for his care, but how could I trust him? A Prince from a rival kingdom? He was everything Arthur stood against. Or was I wrong? Like I was wrong about why Maze came to Caramat? Wrong about the taxes wagered on the peasants? Wrong about the erasing of the other kingdom's cultures?

If I were wrong, Arthur would also be wrong, and saying Arthur was wrong was spitting in his memory. I could never do that. So what was I to do?