Wicked Game

One

"And the stars blinked as they watched her cautiously, jealous of the way she shone."

~

The sun had begun dipping behind the horizon, setting the sky ablaze with the fiery red and orange colors of every homely hearth. The last amber hues fought a losing battle against the dark, and the wind brought with it the sighs of the heavens as they resigned themselves to the arrival of the inevitable night.

She ran down the cobbled streets, and people turned to stare at her as she darted past them gracefully. The soles of her feet were besmirched with dust, her dress torn from being caught in a shrub, and she was out of breath, but as she closed her eyes and let the wind stroke her face gently and slip into her lungs, never had she felt more alive.

She could hear the footsteps of the Royal Guard close behind, she knew she was wanted back at the palace, but the sights of the city were alluring, the beauty of the sunset ethereal, and she would rather spend the night out here , somewhat hungry, with her bleeding feet and matted hair, than in those large, empty halls, spending her days in solitude, save for occasional visits by her father, with no one to talk to, not a soul to confide in.

She ducked into an abandoned, dimly lit alleyway, and tried to calm the erratic pacing of her heart. Doubling over, she curled her body into a ball, and gradually, the pounding in her head eased, blood rushing into her ears no more. She thought she heard the footsteps fade, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"And what do we have here?"

She turned around, her soiled hands trying to push the hair out of her eyes. Standing in front of her was an elf, looking down at her with curious eyes. It seemed to her that he was of age. He was slim, yet muscular, his dark hair closely cropped, eyes green as an elm leaf, and as he knelt beside her, his expression inquisitive, his graceful brows rose gently.

"Your Highness, I didn't recognize you," the smooth richness of his tone reverberated in the desolated alley. "Are you lost?"

"Go away!" she squealed, hitting at his chest with her tiny fists. "You're going to get me caught!"

The muscle in Daniel's jaw twitched as he tried his best not to smile. "You're a wild one, aren't you?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly froze. Closing her eyes, she focused, and there was no mistaking the sound of approaching guards. Her eyes widened, and he watched in bewilderment as she shrieked and dove behind the nearest thicket.

A member of the Guard peeked into the alley, squinting as his eyes scanned the dark space, his gaze washing over him dismissively, before he turned around and took off. She listened to his receding footsteps, but chose to remain crouched in her hiding place for a little while longer, lest she may be discovered and dragged back to that wretched place she called home.

"You can come out now, Princess."

She peeped over the bush, meeting his eyes, and he smiled at her. A glow spread across his face, and she watched in wonder as his lips lifted upward, bringing out the warmth in his eyes. It had been a while since she had seen anyone smile, and she welcomed the sight, as an emotion stirred inside of her. It was happiness, she realized in wonder, and genuine surprise, for she thought she had buried every last shred of it with her mother's coffin, deep down in the arms of the earth, never to rise again.

She slowly crawled out from behind the thicket, and dusted her arms in a futile attempt to rid them of dirt as she stood before him. "Thank you," she scowled. "For almost getting me caught."

He looked down at her with amused eyes. "First rule of surviving on the run, never pick on someone bigger than you."

"I know how to take care of myself," she fired back. "I could defeat you if I wanted to."

"I'm sure you could," he nodded, pressing his lips together to hide his smile. "Are you lost, or can you find your way back home?"

"I'm not lost," she scoffed. "I don't need your help. I'm seven, old enough to take care of myself."

She was a stubborn little thing, but he knew how to deal with her. He shrugged. "Have it your way." Turning around, he began to walk away from her. Nearing the end of the alleyway, he turned to his left.

"Wait," she called out.

He smiled to himself as he turned around, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "Yes?"

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably as she lowered her gaze to the ground. "I'm lost," she mumbled in a small voice.

"Now that wasn't so difficult to admit, was it?" He held out his hand for her to take. "Come on, then." She ran up to him and grasped his hand.

It was in that moment she felt the calluses on his hand, the roughness of his fingers as they held hers. They felt raw, and hard, not unlike stone, and if she listened carefully, she could almost hear them telling her a story. They spoke to her, narrating to her incidents of a life that was not half as privileged as hers, a life in which everyone had to work twice as hard to get one half of what they deserved.

She looked up at him. "Father tells me never to trust strangers."

He grinned at her. "Something tells me you don't really care about what others tell you."

She shook her head, making her raven black curls bounce around her face, as they started walking. "I don't want to. They tell me that young ladies should be talented, that they should be skilled in various arts, and learn to sing, dance, draw, and sew."

"And what do you want to do?"

"I won't sing my enemies to death, will I?" she scowled. "I want to learn how to defend myself. And more importantly, how to defend others. The lords don't take me seriously when I say that, but Father believes in me. And I suppose his opinion is the only one that matters. He says that I'm too young, though, that I could hurt myself, and thinks it would be wise for me to wait for a few more years." She looked up at him, a challenging expression in her eyes. "Do you think women cannot fight?"

"I don't see why I should have any reason to think that," he answered. "Every being of a species is made equal. Women are neither the inferior sex, nor the better sex. The same desire which drives men to fight wars and conquer lands, drives them to oppress women. Many men are under the illusion that masculinity is the need to gain as much power and control as they can, and they try and steal away that control from women. It is pathetic, because ultimately, all they are trying in vain to do is increase their own sense of significance."

Her eyes widened in wonder, and he watched her expression soften as she squeezed his hand, before looking away. Night was almost upon them, and the gentle moonlight fell upon her face, lighting up her eyes. "Well," she mused to herself, a smile playing on her lips. "Aren't you special."

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Hey guys, welcome to Wicked Game!

This is my first ever novel, so I'm extremely nervous, but I'll do my best and try not to make mistakes :)

Thank you so much for reading, and if you feel this book will be worth your while, I would love it if you could drop a comment and a vote!

(epigraphs by Atticus)