No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

No was the only word in my head as I flew into the air and smashed into a rosebush. I cried out as my head banged into it. Thorns pricked my head and back, and all I could think was: If this was how being thrown into a freaking bush felt like, I could only imagine the pain my mother must've gone through.

I sobbed as the tiny demons raked across my back, eliciting a song of pain that backed the string of No's. The napkin around my mouth turned red, the back of my dress tearing as gravity pulled me to the stone.

I tried to angle my face away, to somehow defy the laws of the world and fly away. But my efforts turned out to turn on me.

I fell to the floor, crumbling onto it in a boneless heap of blood, thorns, and tears. My cheeks pulsed with pain, shoulder aching from the fall. I twisted my body to lay on my back to ease the pain for my shoulder

I quickly regretted the decision. I hissed as the thorns sunk deeper into my flesh.

The floor was cold, the night air moving wisps of my hair and gently caressing my face.

I was tempted to just lay there as the floor bled. And then, above the pain, the laughs and cackles of Alaric and his goons reached me over the bloody symphony.

A fresh wave of anger surged over my body, and I shook my tears and blood away as I rose and sped towards them. I ripped the napkin off my face, and clutched my right arm for all of a second before I let out a frustrated breath and swung my fist towards Alaric's face.

"What, in the name of the seven demons, was that for?" I bared my teeth, covering my bleeding arm with one hand.

Blood turned my hand red, but all I could think about was the look on the prince's face after I'd punched him.

His head snapped to the side. Scoffing, he brought a hand up to his nose. "I could have you hung this very second."

"Getting someone else to do the dirty work for you again?" I crept closer, ignoring the bursts of pain as my dress shifted on my back.

"Oh I try not to waste my efforts on people as torturous as you." He sneered, stalking closer.

"Fight me. Fight me, without the help of your goons. I think I'd enjoy seeing you try." I hissed. My fingers tightened around my arm, stopping the bleeding while stinging my skin.

"Oh, I don't need to try." He drew closer still. "I've sentenced a woman called Lilia who has done crimes worse than what you've done to death, I could do the same to you this very second." He snapped.

Lilia.

It took me a moment to process those words. The only thing that I could focus on was my mother's name.

Lilia.

My hands trembled, chest heaving.

So that was why the prince was there. I didn't think much of it then. Why would I worry about what the prince was doing while my mother was burning? But the prince was the link to it all. He was the one that had sentenced her to death. He was the reason she had burned. He was the reason she was gone.

An enraged cry left my mouth as I punched him once more.

He staggered back a step, clutching his hand to his nose. His hair fell in front of his face, just as the moonlight showered on him. It covered his face in shadows, turning his venomous green eyes murderous.

"You bitch." He swore.

"How dare you?" I seethed before tackling him to the ground. I couldn't tell if I said it for the unsavoury remark or for killing my mother. My dress, somehow, miraculously managed to stay on me and not fly everywhere. Tears flowed down my eyes, falling onto the prince as I punched him again and again.

He had the audacity to admit he'd killed my mother. He had said that my mother deserved to die. And then he called me a bitch? I heard a crack sound through the air once one of my punches met his nose. Again.

The prince groaned, trying to push me off of him. My fingers tightened and bit into my palms as I put all my force into another punch.

His head banged against the stone floor and remained there. For one horrid second, I thought he was unconscious.

Or worse—dead.

And then his feet got under me and pushed me from his body. I flew off him, landing a few inches away from him. I coughed for a second before raising to my feet on shaky legs. When I looked at Alaric, his eyes were smouldering. He had absolutely no right to be mad. He'd killed my mother. He had no one to be mad at other than himself.

I panted, circling him. He rose to his feet and matched the pace with which I moved, rubbing his nose.

I couldn't kill my father. I wouldn't have been able to best him in any way. Poisoning, stabbing, punching, nothing would've worked against him. But... Bashing a rock into the prince's head wouldn't have been as hard. No, it actually would've been rather easy. So, so easy.

I flicked my eyes left and right. All I needed was a rock, and then I could kill the perpetrator who stole my mother away.

The prince spoke, stealing my attention momentarily. "What happened, Ophelia? Realise you can't defeat me?"

"No, I just found a way to do just that." Was all I said before running to the side. I raced for the garden, skidding to a stop before kneeling down and searching the dirt for the rock I'd caught.

I heard feet beat against the rock behind me.

I had to go faster. Alaric was coming.

"Come on, come on, come on." I muttered. Dirt caked in my nails as I dug around.

The footsteps grew louder and louder, and my search turned desperate still.

"Come on." I pleaded. To whom, I didn't know. I just did. And then my fingers found it.

"Xander, what are you–" Alaric was behind me now, and I whirled around with the rock raised to find him with a knife.

It glinted silver in the moonlight, spotless. And it was at my throat.

We both stared at each other, one with a knife, one with a rock.

"Bringing a knife to a fist fight?" I scoffed as I raised my hands.

"Maybe you brought a rock to a knife fight." He whispered.

"Move the knife, Alaric." I inched my hands a little higher.

"Drop th–" He didn't get to finish his sentence.

I pulled my arm back and threw the rock into his face. It was as heavy as a thick history book, and he fell backward with a soft thud.

What had I done?

Words lodged in my throat. He wasn't bleeding, but he didn't move either. Maybe he was pretending, like before.

Except, this time, he didn't rise.

Slowly, I walked closer and checked to see if he was breathing. My fingers hovered over his nose, and his warm breath hugged them.

He was alive.

Relief flooded me.

I didn't know why I was relieved. This person had killed my mother, was the reason she had died. Why was I happy he wasn't dead?

Maybe I was just relieved that I wasn't the one who had killed him. What would have I done, if I had become just like him? Would I also be a monster, too? Would I be heartless, too?

Tears of relief and pain welled and fell, turning the grey stone dark.

And then his eyes flew open.

He shot up and pushed me backwards. He came on top of me and brought the knife to my throat.

I was so naive.

He'd only feigned unconsciousness; so that I would let my guard down and he could attack me by surprise.

"Foul play." I demanded, trying to get my feet under him without him noticing.

"Well was it foul when there were no rules?" He smirked at me, hand pushing the knife harder.

My neck stretched and strained, head pushing harder into the dirt to get away from the piece of metal.

The knife pressed harder still, so, so, close to splitting my skin. One wrong breath or gulp and then blood would be spilled.

How hopeless it would've been, to die because of Alaric with a knife to my throat, to die now.

My legs shoved him off, a wrangled war cry rang through the air before I turned him around and pinned him with his own knife.

I panted. He looked like a fox who'd been caught in a rabbit's skin.

"Foul play." He said, smooth neck bobbing.

"Well was it foul when there were no rules?" I gave his sentence back to him.

We stopped talking, and stared at each other. He still held the knife in his hand, I just twisted it to him so that it pressed against his neck and not mine.

I could've killed the prince before, and almost had killed him. If only the rock had been heavier.

But then I had regretted it. I didn't want to become a monster. Like him, my father, or his father.

Then again, could I let Alaric go, in this moment of vulnerability? He was right here with a knife to his throat, killing him would be as easy as breathing.

Don't resort to violence, my little flower.

My mother's voice flooded my head in waves of soft, sombre tones. Along with it came another wave of anger. My mother was dead. I didn't know why it still shocked me.

She was gone, and nothing I could do could change that.

But what I could do was make sure the people who'd caused such a thing to happen ceased to exist, or were tortured so soundly that they would wish they'd been burned instead.

My hands pushed the knife deeper, and I felt it cut the first layer of flesh and then—

I was pulled back.

I was shoved backward by Hael, who rushed to Alaric and checked to see if he was alright. Warren followed, doing exactly as Hael had done. Alaric assured the two that he was alright, then turned to face me. Hael and Warren turned, too.

All three pairs of eyes were seething.

I got to my feet and took a fighting stance, one taught personally by my mother.

I had been thrown into a bush, nearly killed someone with a rock, had a knife to my throat, and had my mother die all in the same day.

What more did I have to lose?

Hael swung a fist for me, the same time Warren jumped for my legs.

What more did I have to lose?

I jumped away from both their reaches. They stumbled over each other, but quickly rose.

I let Hael throw in a punch, and let Warren kick me.

In turn, they let out disgusting chortles. Their guards lowered, their moves turning sloppier.

How hard was it, to beat some random girl who had never gone to an official sparring lesson her whole life?

I struck when Warren tried tackling me. My knee flew upwards, kneeing him in the groin before giving him a left hook. He groaned before crumpling to the floor.

Well this random girl was trained by her mother.

I whirled around to Hael. Rather, I tried to whirl around. A hand clapped over my mouth, something cold pressing against my neck once more. "Stay still, Xander." Hael's sticky breath warmed my ear. "Wouldn't want that pretty throat gone, would we?" His voice rasped as he whispered.

No.

I wouldn't die. Not like this. Not yet. And most certainly not because of Hael. At least, with Alaric, we both had put up a fight. Hael was just a snake.

What more did I have to lose?

He didn't hesitate. He pressed the knife fast, but I was faster.

I stamped on his foot, and the knife clattered to the floor.

I picked up the knife, and held it to his heart. I didn't shove it immediately, unlike Hael. I hesitated.

What more did I have to lose?

I set my face in stone and shoved the knife in. Hael screamed, so loud that I wanted to cover my ears.

He crumpled to the floor like a piece of parchment. His body was lifeless, blood spurting out of the gaping wound I'd made.

What had I done? I had killed a man.