"How dare you make a fool out of me, girl," my father snarls, his voice low like the warning growl of a wolf. "We will be having a discussion about this later."

Those are the only words he speaks to me before returning to his seat. The crowd is still there, watching, waiting for something to happen. I simply nod and sit down in my own chair, a shiver running down my spine despite the heat.

"My lady, can I get you anything?" Rose asks from behind me and I smile at her, glad that she's there. She holds a pitcher of water in her left hand, the liquid sloshing all over her arms and dripping onto the pink fabric of her cotton dress. She wipes it away, taking a step forwards and filing my father's empty cup.

"No, thank you," I say. She gives a little bow, her red hair falling over her eyes.

The competition starts up again, and I am surprised to see that a few more names are crossed off of the list. They must have proceeded along with the competition without me so as not to lose too much time. 

I don't mind in the slightest. 

There are still three matches left, but Silas has already passed this round, having defeated his opponent. I frown, surprised that I had been looking forwards to watching him.

I wonder if he had killed the opponent he was up against, and I turn to Rose, the question on my lips.

Rose just shrugs in answer. "I didn't watch the match. I was looking for you."

I resolve to find out later, turning back to the face the center of the arena.

I don't watch as the men begin fighting, turn away when the cold screams cut off into nothing.

The first two matches end the same way, with too much blood spilt. I don't stop it, sitting back in my chair with my eyes shut. 

I'm no better than him, sitting here and allowing this to happen. 

My hands are tied, but does that really matter? Shouldn't I at least try? 

The last up is Leopold, who stands at one side of the arena. His copper hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and his face is pale. To my surprise, he is no longer wearing armor, choosing instead to don a light, chainmail, the metal dull in the red light of the setting sun.

Leopold's opponent is Lord Baldric, who is swinging his own weapon experimentally, his movements precise and practiced.

I sit up a little straighter, leaning forwards. This match is one that interests me despite my efforts not to care about any of the suitors.

I don't want to see Leo get hurt, and, from the looks of things, Baldric is a person who has been working with a sword since birth.

The match begins without me realizing it, Baldric spinning into motion with a snap of his weapon. My heart jumps in my chest.

Leopold had been ready for Lord Baldric's movement, throwing his body to the left and allowing the sword to whoosh by his ear. Baldric lunges again, but Leopold deflects his blade with a flick of his own, tumbling out of the way. 

Leopold has trained with a sword before, made clear by his quick movements and instant reactions. It's as if he has already anticipated Baldric's next move, thought about the best counter attack and executed it before Baldric can actually take a step forwards.

I can see now why he chose to wear what he did. His movements aren't slowed by the bulky metal armor, allowing him to dance around his opponent as nimble as a cat.

But Leo is still the smaller man, giving him a huge disadvantage in this fight. If it comes down to brute strength, I know that Baldric will win.

Baldric swings his weapon again, throwing his body forwards with the force of a charging horse. Leo rolls out of the way again, smashing the hilt into the man's helmet.

The crowd gasps. 

There had been a clear moment where Leo could have struck a significant blow, could have driven his sword up and into the exposed flesh of Baldric's arm. It might have even ended the match right there.

Why hadn't he done it?

I am leaning on the edge of my seat now, unable to look away as Baldric swings around, driving the tip of his blade with reckless abandon.

A cry of pain is followed by the drip of red blood mixing into the dirt. Leo's shoulder is coated with red, staining his white undershirt and coating his chainmail like polish. 

He falls to one knee, the tip of his sword dropping to the ground.

It's over.

I watch, horrified as Baldric brings his blade down. I am unable to do anything to stop him, helpless. Time stretches, slows, bends. 

The world is silent. 

Then, in the last second, Leo throws himself forwards, allowing his own weapon to deflect the other, the sword spinning to the dirt. The flat of Leo's blade comes down.

CRASH!

Cheering erupts from the crowd as Baldric drops, his helmet rolling away from him. I can see his head lolling, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull. 

Leo has won.

I wait, my breath frozen in my chest, watching. Leo stands over the fallen man, looking relieved. I can see the slight tremors in his arms, the blood on his shoulder. 

He looks up at me, making eye contact. 

Then, he lowers his blade, taking a step back. Turning to my father, with a flourishing bow, he states, "I will not kill this man."

The cheering dies down to mutters in an instant. My father looks down upon him with contempt.

"A strong king is one who is willing to do the unthinkable," he states, standing up. The entire arena stands with him except for Baldric, who is facedown in the dirt.

"I do not agree, sir... If I may say that," Leo says, bowing his head respectfully. His voice is soft and gentle, like the patient smile on his face. "A strong king is one who knows when a fight is over. I will never attack a prone man, nor will I murder someone needlessly."

Leo must have some sort of magic, for instead of getting mad, my father just nods. If I had said the same words, I would have gotten a fist in the face and time locked up in my room.

"Very well, that concludes todays challenge," the king states. He dismisses the contenders with a wave of his hand. Then he turns to me.

"I'll see you back at the castle," he growls.

It is over. 

I stand in the throne room, again facing my father. We are alone in the room,  the red light of the setting sun pooling across the wood floor like blood. 

The king is pacing back and forth, each step like a crash of thunder in my ears. I am still, waiting for him to dismiss me. 

He doesn't speak for a minute, and I know exactly what he's doing. He's playing a game with me, trying to make me uncomfortable, guilty. A part of me is ashamed to admit that it's working.

When he stops pacing, I brace myself, knowing what is about to come. 

"You made me look like a complete fool in front of nearly the entire city!" His voice is a shout, getting louder with each syllable.

I know he wants me to apologize. I know that's what he wants to hear but I can't bring myself to say these words, can't bring myself to apologize again for something that in my heart I know isn't my fault.

I'm too afraid to be angry, a dark sadness covering up any hate that had once resided in my heart.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" he snarls. He is like a dragon, mouth spewing fire that scorches everything it comes across.

"I didn't want to watch those men die," I say. 

He spins around to face me and for a moment, I think he is going to throw another goblet at me, my hands flying up to cover my face.

"You disgust me," he says, voice soft. "I'm the only reason you're alive... the only reason that your name means anything. Do you understand that?"

This cold anger is somehow more frightening than the burning rage he had expressed only moments before. I can deal with the screaming. But this sharp indifference sends shivers up and down my arms.

Normally, I would fight back against him, but I'm too tired now. So tired of everything that has happened, tired of having the same conversation with him just with different words. So I just keep my face turned towards the floor, unable to even look my own father in the eye.

When did my life get like this? When did everything fall apart?

The church bells toll midnight. I sit on my windowsill, legs dangling out into the emptiness, eyes fixed on the stars.

Rose stands behind me, watching me carefully. "Are you sure you want to do this, Ev?" she asks, her fingers fumbling to tie the pack I asked her to prepare. Her face is pale, making the freckles on her nose stand out as brilliantly as the stars in the sky.

"I can't stay here, Rose," I respond. "I can't sit back and watch people die fighting for me."

"I knew you would say that," she says. "Though I had hoped you would change your mind. This is ready."

She places the pack on the bedside table and I turn my body, jumping back down to the floor with a thud.

"If my father asks you, tell him you had nothing to do with it," I say to her, my voice cracking.

"He wont be asking me anything, Ev." Rose stares at me with conviction. "I'm coming with you."

"Rose, we talked about this." I kneel as I speak, starting to lace up my black leather boots, fumbling with the knots. "If you come, I'm probably going to get stopped by someone. It's easier for one person to sneak out alone than it is for two."

Rose has tears in her eyes and I look away. "I know that. I just hate sending you off on your own."

I straighten, grabbing the cap off my desk. Rose takes it from me without asking, helping me tuck my braided hair out of view. Her hands are gentle and slow, and I can feel the hesitation bleeding off of her fingertips. She doesn't want me to go, but knows I must.

I wish I could follow her wishes and stay, but I can't not try to stop this.

I give her a little bow, a princess bowing to a maid. Something feels right about this movement, feels natural. After all, she is a much better woman than I. 

"Thank you so much for everything. I hope to see you again."

Knowing I probably never would, I leave, heart stopped in my chest.

I blend into the night.

I stand at the castle wall, looking up. My hands are placed against the rough stone, tracing the cracks in the rock, looking for a place where I can get the slightest purchase.

I have only been outside the castle walls a few times before, all for planned trips to different cities around the kingdom and only for short spurts of time. Today, I am going to go beyond the wall by myself for the first time in my whole life. 

I've always exited the castle grounds at the front gate in a carriage. Today, I have to try and climb the wall.

It's just like climbing a big, flat tree. But instead of wood, I have to scale stone.

I finally find a place where the pads of my fingers can fit, hosting myself up with all of my might. My feet scrabble against the smooth wall, toes scraping, arms screaming. I manage to push myself up another foot and then another, keeping my face turned upwards towards the stars.

Freedom is so close.

My heart already feels a little lighter, and for the first time in a long time I smile out of true joy. This happiness feels immortal, eternal. At least it does until I lose my foothold.

My body slams into the wall and I cry out in alarm, arms holding up my entire weight. I'm close enough to see the top, close enough to know that if I fall now, I will most likely die.

Then, my hand loses its grip and I'm falling into nothing.