All's Fair in Revenge

Chapter 2: The Blade

Arin and I sparred for the hour as promised. Sol tugged the sun to noon bringing with him the first warm day of the approaching season. Salted with sweat and our stomachs rumbling for nourishment, we called a truce and took a detour home by way of River Bryn whose waters split the territories of Srisset and a series of small run-off villages squatting along a tributary to the Ortusalis Sea. Through tall pines and oaks, emerging boulders and brown needles, our feet traveled coming upon a shallow shore where Mook lounged in the lapping, crystal waters.

"Thought we'd find you here." I rubbed Mook's exposed tummy as I waded into the icy Bryn. Three weeks earlier and the shoreline would've been frozen except for a smooth current, fed by the snowy peaks of the Cold Mountains. Soon enough the cattails and perch would return, but not yet. Like humans, they needed warmer temperatures before they'd wade in those waters. Kelvians, however, ran a bit warmer.

Healers, hotter still.

It was no surprise then that steam swirled off my skin as I sunk deeper, stumbling over the stone-covered river floor like a babe learning to walk. I thank my father for that trait. Neither of us had anything resembling balance. How I stayed on two feet was a miracle in and of itself; a trait for which Arin loved to taunt me about while training. In her defense, though I'd never say it, she was right as balance was key in all combat. Over the years, she'd helped me strengthen my ankles and knees, so they buckled less often, but buckle they did there on the stone shoreline. A particularly sharp edge ripped open my toenail. I cursed, my quick temper rising to the surface with me. Instinct told me to kick the stone in retribution. Common sense stopped me. With nowhere to go, the anger latched onto Arin who pinched my tunic and underdress between two fingers. It had thick golden embroidery along the skirt, wide cuffs, and an oversized hood. Jagged hip-high slits waved in the breeze under her grip; an addition to the stale uniform my mother loathed. "Are you just going to leave these here," she asked.

Irritation creased my forehead. "Yes."

"They'll get dirty and wrinkled." Her nose crinkled the way Ma'ma's did whenever I disappointed her.

"And? You're not the one who has to wear them." I pushed the water aside to stay upright in the strong chilly current. "It's already dirty. Leave it." I point to the long streak of dirt where she'd knocked me down earlier. Thrice. My tail bone still ached from it, but the icy water marginally helped.

My sister shook out the fabric. "Just fold it. I don't want to listen to Ma'ma yell at you when she finds out you ruined another one."

"If you want it folded so badly, you do it." I staggered once more, shifting my weight to the foot without a bleeding toe. "Otherwise, I'll get it later."

"Hana..." Arin's voice lilted in that commanding way only eldest sisters knew to use. "Please come take care of your clothes. I really don't want Ma'ma to get mad."

"Ugh!" I slapped the water, primed for an argument. "Why do you always do this? We had a nice time for the first time in weeks and now you want to ruin it over dirty clothes?"

Arin, who'd begun unlacing her leathers, paused. "Ruin it?" She scoffed. "Sorry if I don't want to listen to you two screaming at one another over dinner for the fifth night in a row."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Patronize me like that."

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. You talk down to me like I'm a little kid and not an adult. I'm twice over ten and you're less than a year older than that."