Chapter 4 - Armistice

an agreement made by opposing sides in a war to stop fighting for a certain time

The city was something else when under a thick layer of snow. The smell was toned down and less people milled about. I had never seen snow before; where my family lived, both before and after my father's execution, was always warm year round. The clouds had moved out and now the descending sun turned the snow opalescent, sparkling every which way.

Shivering, I pulled my blanket closer, burying my face into the fabric. Even with my eyes closed, the gruesome image of Kazu's severed head haunted me, imprinted on the insides of my eyelids. I had gone to the roof after returning home to eat, but I quickly found that it was impossible to eat at the bloodstained table or anywhere within the small apartment. So I came up here to eat my steaming noodles and vegetables in the quiet, lonely cold. But by then, my appetite was gone so far that I could not force myself to eat. It was a waste of money and it would likely spark a lecture from Zahia because she had suddenly implemented a new diet on me. I had free, well-rounded meals everyday thanks to her, which certainly helped my financial situation and also with my lack of cooking ability.

But the fact still remained that Kazu was dead. I didn't know how it happened and my mind constantly tried to guess without my conscious permission. Perhaps the poison killed him, or the blood loss. Perhaps he was attacked again on his way to his friend and murdered there. Or maybe he ended his own life to stop the suffering from the poison. Or maybe it was my poor skills that had led to something else, like an infection, that killed him. Maybe it was-

I violently shook my head, forcing myself to stop thinking such thoughts. It would lead me down a dark path that I wasn't sure I could escape.

If my mind wanted to think about Kazu, then I should at least think about who did it. Those men at the market- they had to have some hand in it. They were there for a reason, and if they were a part of the Crows Kazu told me about, then they definitely had the motive, the means, and the cold-heartedness to kill him. They were the ones responsible, they were the ones who took my friend away from me, and they were going to pay.

Kazu's severed head appeared everywhere: at home, at work, in nightmares. It stared at me, accusing me of being the reason he was dead. So I fervently argued back, telling Kazu's ghost about the Crows. For hours on end, I made up possibilities and situations involving the Guild's rival clan. My anger, hatred and loneliness festered, an ever-present tight coil in my chest, until I finally snapped one day. I shattered an entire set of cups and bowls against the wall of the teashop. The two patrons in the establishment hurriedly left without paying, and the expenses of both the wares I'd broken and the customers' orders would be docked from my pay.

Even as Pao told me this, I hardly heard him, let alone cared. Kazu and the Crows had taken over my life. I had to do something about it or I'd never have a full night's rest again. These emotions I was feeling wouldn't go away unless I avenged the death of my only friend. I became set on this idea, fully believing the destruction of the Crow leader would be my salvation.

Once I'd finished cleaning the mess, Pao dismissed me and I was left with nothing to do but wander the streets. I tried to listen intently to every conversation I passed by, hoping to hear a mention of something related to what I wanted. But it had been a week since Kazu's head was put on display; already it seemed the people had already moved on and forgotten. My determination faded after a few hours, replaced with a strange nuance of hopelessness. I had entered a seedier section of the Lower Ring, and while I was anxious, I was not as fearful as maybe I should've been. After witnessing various crimes here, I had taken to carrying a short blade with me, tucked into my waistband. The blade had actually been a gift of sorts from Zahia, who had started me in self-defense training two days ago.

My stomach grumbled and with a little hesitation, I entered a poorly lit tavern. There was a small trio of musicians in the back corner playing a quick-paced tune, their melody barely audible over the booming voices of the men. There were a few women as well, either serving food or offering certain kinds of services. Not many noticed my entrance. Those who did only gave me a once-over before returning to whatever was preoccupying them. Their subtle actions meant that I was not worth their time, reassuring me that I would likely not become their victim tonight. I quickly maneuvered to an empty table, catching the eye of a server. She came over and since there were no menus, she rattled off the selections from memory. This was fine because had I been given a menu, I wouldn't have been able to read it.

She left with my order, dodging gropes on her way to the kitchen. Zahia would likely not approve of my selection, but I shrugged to myself and chose not to care. As I waited, I thought of my family and what had happened ever since the orb abducted me. Perhaps a clone had taken my place, or maybe they mourned me. Perhaps they thought I was kidnapped, or if I ran away. I wondered if Brenna went back to school to escape, if Aaron was able to take leave from the military to come home for my funeral, if Melanie had made any improvement, if Ryan was able to stay away from those parties, if Mom had finally resolved her conflicts with my grandparents.

If they missed me.

By the time my food arrived, I had counted forty-three people, one-hundred-twenty-eight cups and glasses, two bartenders and six servers. I forced my family to the back of my mind as I ate, and suddenly my ears pricked at the sound of the word I'd been waiting to hear.

"...Crows entering the tournament? If they're joining, then why would anyone else sign up? There's no doubt that they're going to rig it somehow. Well at least I know who I'm bettin' on..."

Approaching the two average men sitting at a booth, I gripped the edge of their table. "What tournament?"

They glanced at each other and peered up at me, and then they went back to eating, mumbling nonsense to each other.

"Excuse me," I said irritably. "I believe I asked you a question."

"There ain't no tournament. It's just a cover word for uh, ehh..."

"A baking competition?" His friend supplied.

"Yep, that's it! Our wives were complaining about cookin' all the time so it became a competition to see which husband cooks the best!" Under his breath to the second man, he said, "Really, Po? Couldn't do better than that?" Po shrugged, his sheepish grin showing several rotting teeth.

"Please, I need to know about the Crows and the tournament."

The man threw up his hands, exasperated. "See whatcha did, Po? You blew the cover to some annoying little girl trying to nose her way into tricky business." He slumped down, crossing his arms and looking about suspiciously. "You gonna get us all killed." I wasn't sure if he was referring to me or Po.

"No one is going to die," I said. "No one but the Crows."

Grim expressions fell over both as they glanced at each other yet again, seeming to agree on something. The man spoke in a low tone, as if what he was about to tell me was a secret. "The Armistice is an underground fighting competition-"

Po chortled, "Still think it's a funny name for a place where people bash each other to death."

The first man waved him off. "Anywho, there's a rumor that a few of the Crows- you know who they are, right?" I nodded. "They're going to enter."

"What about their leader? Is he going to as well?" I asked.

He nodded. "So the wind says."

Upon further questioning, they told me that the tournament was about a month and a half away and actually was taking place beneath this pub. I just had to walk in, simple as that despite being an illicit event. I thanked them shortly for the information, pleased with the new development. As I turned to go back to my meal, the man tugged on my wrist. "You're going to be quiet about this, aren't you girly? The Armistice ain't exactly...approved of, you see."

Grinning back at them, I said simply, "I won't tell." The man released my wrist and I returned to my table, planning and oblivious to the fights that erupted around me.

That night, I finally figured out that the silver band Zahia had forced on me was how she brought me to the lake. It warmed each time it was about to send me, so when it heated shortly after tucking myself into bed, I was not surprised to open my eyes and see Zahia on her boulder. The relationship between us had grown to be tense. I had questions and she was tight-lipped, causing tension when she refused to answer. The most interaction that occurred was her intently watching and criticizing my every move once I began using the knife.

The dynamics had to change if I wanted to be a proper fighter by the Armistice. A leader wasn't a leader if he wasn't more powerful than those under him, and at the moment I doubted that I would be able to take on one of his lackeys and win. I felt that the way Zahia and I were now was hindering my training. If we were at least amicable, it would be easier to learn. Of this, I was sure, but was she?

"Zahia," I began but instantly regretted it. I still didn't know what to say, so whatever was about to spew forth would lack the confidence and eloquence that would get through to her. "I think we need to talk about all this stuff." I winced, expecting criticism, but she remained unmoving. I took it as a cue to elaborate. "The way we are now isn't helping either of us. I get that you don't want to be here training me and I don't want to be here either, but the longer it takes for me to learn, the longer we're stuck with each other. So I guess what I'm suggesting is a truce. You'll put in more effort to teach -and some compassion and emotion and words in general would be nice too- and I'll put in more effort to learn."

"I know the real reason why you are proposing this 'truce'."

At her words, I deflated. I had already assumed she would not agree if she knew it was to compete in the competition. "But-"

"One cannot skip a stone without causing ripples in the water," she intoned. "I was once prone to the mortal desire for revenge as you are now. You cannot learn to choose otherwise until you feel its misfortunes, and therefore it is necessary for you to make such mistakes. I will train you with more compassion and effort," she recited mockingly. "But you must promise to remain studious to my teachings even after you have made your mistake."

Her insistence that entering the Armistice was a mistake provoked a deeply ingrained anger in me and I refused to believe it. Losing that passion would make me lose the fire that was keeping me going. At the same time, I wasn't sure that I wanted to bind myself to this enigmatic woman through a promise that essentially allowed her to torture me for as long as she desired.

"Before you decide to break the promise after the completion of your revenge, let me entice you further," I had not expected this whatsoever. She was a 'take-all-give-nothing' sort of negotiator, so to hear that she was putting another offer on the table surprised me. "At every pinnacle of significant improvement you display in areas of combat, I will disclose unto you an answer to one of your questions."

I blinked rapidly, not quite believing what she was saying. I was curious as to what had changed her mind, but I felt that I needed to act fast before Zahia retracted her offer. "Okay, yes. I promise to uphold my end for as long as you do yours, answering my questions fully and honestly."

Zahia emitted a low humming noise that sounded like approval. Perhaps she was proud of my smartly said promise. Though when it came to her, I was certain of nothing. "And I to you, Sasha."

Excitement bubbled inside of me. I was going to avenge Kazu and I was going to get the answers I'd been longing for. Tonight had gone much better than I had originally anticipated.

The sound of metal scraping against a scabbard barely registered before I dropped myself to the ground, narrowly dodging the sword that nearly decapitated me. Zahia jumped down from her rock, finally opening her eyes to look at me. I rolled out of the way of her sword as she slashed it down to impale me and got to my feet in time to avoid another swipe. Again and again, she cut through the air in front of me, forcing me back a step with each stroke. The fabric of today's maroon dress flowed with every motion, her swirling eyes intense as they caught and predicted my movements. Even though I knew she would not kill me, despite any scarcely hidden desire to, I needed to act and react like she was. If I defeated her now, I could get my first answer.

By changing her stance, I knew she was changing her approach. I took the two second lapse in relentless attacks to draw my own blade. The clang of metal against metal rang in my ears and I felt the vibrations travel through me, causing me to shudder. These random, sudden tests terrified me simply because she was terrifying and aggressive.

I parried her rapid blows with great difficulty; she was taller, stronger, and more skilled. Her sword was longer and made of a stronger material. In the end, I was entirely outmatched and entirely doomed. Attempting to pull the scrambled bits of my mind together in coherent pieces, I tried to formulate a plan of attack instead of blocking the sword seeking to cripple me. Even waiting for her to tire herself would be futile -my arms would slacken long before she started feeling weak. Then I saw it. A tiny gap between her repetitive moments was revealed for just a few precious seconds.

My foot never hit its mark. Zahia slammed the hilt of her sword hard onto my knee, sending shocks of pain intense enough to make me think she'd broken it. I nearly buckled when I returned weight onto it but somehow managed to remain standing. The only benefit from my assault was that now the chain of attacks was broken and I had more freedom to turn on the offensive. I countered, pushing down and away and quickly retracting my knife, aiming for her side. She parried it, of course, and we exchanged several more blows. Then suddenly, she dropped, sweeping her leg out and knocking mine out from under me. I hit the ground, and by the time the stars faded from my eyes, she had the sharp point of her blade nicking the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Dead," she said, and defeat filled the void where my first answer should have been.

Pao's son was a mean, narcissistic man and absolutely nothing like his father. Had Pao not told me the man insulting him was his son, I never would have guessed. The only quality they shared was being scrawny. Perhaps he'd inherited his cheap personality from his mother. His son, Yan, had sauntered into the shop around noon in a flurry of clothes, snootily examining his surroundings and refusing to touch anything lest it burn him.

"Hello, Father. I've come to check in on how you're...holding up. I see you're still stubborn about keeping this ancient, rickety tomb open."

"This tea shop has been owned by our family for seven generations. I'd dishonor my ancestors by not choosing to carry on this tradition." Pao's reply hit the mark he wanted it to apparently, for the corner of Pao's mouth turned up when his son's twitched down. It was safe to assume that Yan was supposed to inherit the family business but refused to. By the look of his clothes, he'd made his fortune elsewhere.

"I doubt the ancestors would mind of you burned this pitiful death trap to the ground. It's shameful." Pao's face turned stony and his son picked at dirt under his fingernails. "Mother says hello."

"Hmph."

"Don't tell me you're still sour about Mother leaving you for another man all those years ago," Yan's expression showed that he knew his father was still hurting, but he kept at it, rubbing salt into an open wound. "You know you could've kept her if you had just closed this dusty money pit and become a real business man like her new husband. She doesn't miss you, in case you were wondering. Neither do I, to be honest. I just pity you for making yourself suffer like this-"

Seeing Pao's eyes begin to glimmer, I slammed the rag I was cleaning the tables with down, the sound causing his stick of a son to jump in fright. I stalked toward Yan, shoving him hard towards the door. "Get out."

He sneered at me, and then he became horrified when he noticed the stain my dirty hands had left on his tunic. "Look what you did, you uncivilized mongrel! Father, you cannot let her treat me-"

This time I shoved him hard enough that he fell to the floor and I moved my apron aside just enough to flash the hilt of my knife. "Out."

The coward glared at me and got to his feet, emitted a contentious huff, and stormed out. I turned to look at Pao, but he had already retreated into the back of the shop, shoulders hunched and shaking over a cold pot of tea.

The collection of swords gleamed against the firelight, each one tempting me to grasp its handle and choose it. Sweat from today's rigorous training made my clothes slick against my skin. My stomach rumbled quietly as the scent of cooking food wafted past my nose. But my attention was not on the weapons or the meat. It was on the woman standing behind me next to the fireplace. Even without looking at her, she still made me anxious.

I never knew there were types of swords. Here, mounted on the wall of Zahia's cabin, were several types. One was a few feet long and thick. Another had a curved blade and another I recognized as a katana. They were all of varying widths and lengths, though I knew I didn't want one that was heavy or one that was too thin. The hilt on the rapier was especially flashy.

"Choose," Zahia commanded, her tone impatient.

My gaze returned to the katana. It seemed sturdy and not flimsy, and it fit with the culture of this world. I wrapped my hand around the grip and lifted it from its place, feeling its weight. Yes, I choose this one to train with.

I spun around, glancing to Zahia's face as if expecting some form of approval. Her frown was ever present and I don't know why I expected anything different. I wondered how far I would have to push myself to turn that frown even a little bit upwards; I wasn't sure I wanted to know what it would take.

I had mastered my knife skills enough that Zahia was allowing me to move on. Knives weren't her focus and swords were, but I argued that moving on from the knife counted as a 'pinnacle of achievement' and therefore, I deserved an answer. I had thought about it all through training -what question did I really want to ask first? Was I ready to know some of these answers? Now, looking at Zahia, her snowy hair orange in the light, I made my decision.

"Why were you chosen to train me?"

Her eyebrows arched in mild surprise. "Interesting. I expected a more self-centered inquiry." She strode towards the window, watching the remaining rays of sun disappear behind the trees. At that moment, I realized a section of her life's story was about to be revealed and I looked around for a place to sit. Then again, she'd probably think I was rude for sitting down without an invitation, so I remained standing.

"I have lived a long life in my few decades of existence. I lived most of it in a world much like what your world calls the Victorian Era, though we are further in technological advances than those of the Victorian Era were.

"Unlike your world, females are viewed as equals and I entered the military after my country fell into a war against itself. I rose through the ranks rapidly, faster than anyone my age ever had before. In the battle that ended the war, we were losing and our general was killed. I took command and turned the tides within minutes. Our side became victorious, and for my heroics my king placed me in charge of the entire military. I personally trained recruits and had a hand in every decision. Soon after taking the position, we won the war and I was known throughout my world..." She trailed off suddenly as if sensing she was going off track. She looked at me, the dark swirls in her eyes wild. "Eventually, I settled down somewhat with a man and had a daughter. Ten years after that, my life took a very dark turn that resulted in actions I regret to this day. One of those actions involved me doing something terrible to myself because I thought it would help me, but it only made me suffer more. More years went by suffering in damnation, until one day Spirit heard my pleas. What I asked of it was no easy task even for Spirit. However, it told me that it would grant me freedom from my plight so as long as I swear myself to it, serving it for the rest of my life. So when Spirit asked this opportunity of me, I could not refuse."

"So you're bitter towards me just because you've been forced to train me?"

"Your one allowed question has been answered. Now leave."

Soldiers, onlookers, and a menacing Jingfei awaited me after I returned home from work. The apartment was destroyed, and the soldiers were digging through the broken pieces and taking note of whatever they found interesting. The symbol of the Crows, seemingly painted in blood, was smeared across the wall. The shock of seeing it here in a place I thought was safe caused me to slacken and my fruit fell from my hand.

A soldier noticed my presence and approached me warily. "Miss, are you familiar with the Crows?"

"They killed my friend."

The vehemence in my voice assured him that I was not one of the murderous thieves and he relaxed somewhat. "Your apartment has been vandalized, and while their symbol is on the wall, we cannot be sure that it was the Crows. Is there any reason they would come after you?"

"I don't think so, no." Yes. I had continued asking around about them and the notorious organization, despite being well, notorious, had very little information about themselves on the streets. I'd identified two members and had been following them around their usual routines, but there was nothing of value that had yet to be discovered. The Armistice was still my biggest lead. But apparently, someone had noticed and now they were aware of me. That on its own was a very bad development, let alone the fact that they must have followed me home at some point.

The soldier asked a few more questions but my attention was not on him. If I had been here, I might be dead now. Or maybe this was originally intended to be a warning to back off.

The people filtered out slowly. Jingfei stayed behind, the last to leave. Her eyes held anger. "If something like this happens again, you will no longer be allowed to live here. Is that understood?" I nodded once and she held out her hand. It took me a moment to realize she was asking for this week's rent. Grudgingly withdrawing the coins and dropping it in her hand, I reflected on how I thought I liked this lady. She certainly was not as kind as she had seemed to be.

After Jingfei departed, I closed the door behind her and examined the apartment. There were holes in the walls, cabinets were stripped empty, the table was in pieces, dishes laid cracked beyond repair on the floor. The one window was smashed in where the vandals likely entered. Likely, I'd have to fix this myself and that meant spending money. Above all of it, I wasn't safe here. They could be waiting for me to sleep to come back for all I knew.

Even though I pushed my chest of drawers in front of my bedroom door and hid my knife under my pillow, I knew that this would not stop me. If anything, this only proved I was closer to my goal than I'd realized.

The clang of metal against metal rung loudly in my ears despite the opposing blade not being metal; it was shadow. The sword was literally an extension of the genderless shadow being's arm since it had no hands. I ducked as a second shadow attacked, its blade missing me and instead impaling his friend in the gut. The stab had no effect on it, except the light in a circular gadget in the middle of its chest depleted. The gadget showed its health bar, much like a video game. Once the bars were completely gone, it would fade away like it never existed. Zahia had started using the shadow people to train me the day after I chose the katana since it was apparently beneath her to do it herself. She possessed magic, as I realized that day, with a particular affinity over shadows.

From my crouched position, I swung my katana, which I had named Ragnarok, out in an upwards arc, the blade passing through the weakened shadow's legs. I jumped up as its form faded quickly, focusing on the remaining shadow. I had already vanquished at least a dozen today, and my muscles were sore and crying out for a rest. With a sudden burst of energy and the desire for food and sleep, I gave a small roar and hacked, with skill and grace of course, at the shadow, adding more and more force until it was unable to parry my blows. My katana passed through its neck and the shadow disappeared. I looked to Zahia, who sat watching me on her boulder, and at her nod, I went into her home to change out of the heavy, white, kimono-like gi I now wore for training and into my casual clothing. I applied an ointment to the scars I had gained over the last few weeks. They marred the skin on my arms, abdomen, legs, and hands. I used to have a cut on my cheek that I received on the first day of training, but constant application of the ointment had fortunately caused it to fade.

Getting them had chipped away at me with every one that showed up on my skin. I had spent so many years covered in them, being a monster up until over two months ago. I obsessed over even the tiniest of scars. I didn't know when I'd become vain. I just didn't want scars anymore. I didn't want to hide anymore. I wanted the freedom of being me.

Sighing, I put everything away, sheathing Ragnarok at my side and holding my stomach as I was sent home. The Armistice was in a week, and while I felt prepared, I also felt completely unprepared. Right now, all I wanted was sleep. I had restored the apartment, but it seemed to be cleaner than how I'd left it. I shrugged to myself, assuming that I'd cleaned it and forgotten I did, and turned towards my bedroom.

The leader of the Crows leaned against the wall by the window, a haughty grin stretching across his face. I worried that he had seen me pop in without using the door, but I realized his green eyes held remnants of sleep in them. He took a step out of the dark corner, closer to me, an obsidian pendant catching the light. "Hello, beautiful."

I ignored his obvious attempt at confusing and disarming me, and instead reached for Ragnarok. The next three seconds revealed a fact I was unaware of previously: he was fast. I had barely touched the hilt before his knife was at my neck. "So you're the pesky little girl spying on my people and bungling my operations," he used the knife to force my chin up. "To be honest, I expected more. What are you, fifteen?"

"What are you, twelve?" I snapped back.

"Ooh, feisty. I always love when my prey squirms," he said and I glared. His eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his fringe. "My oh my, I recognize you. You're the crying baby who wanted to kill me that wonderful day in the Market. Tell me now, was that you?" When I stubbornly refused to answer, he applied pressure.

I bit out, "Yes, it was me."

"Interesting," he snatched the katana and even my knife from where it was tucked in my boot. He unsheathed Ragnarok, examining it with a knowledgable eye. "Very interesting, Princess."

Unable to fight back, I stood there, hands curled in tight fists, glaring at the dark haired intruder and seething over his nickname for me. He moved Ragnarok experimentally, and my only thought then was that Zahia would torture me if he stole it. But he didn't, instead dropping it unceremoniously onto the ground along with my knife. Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he took steps toward me and I defiantly stayed put. "Now, what was the boy's name? Something wit believe...Kyu? Kerin? Kobe? Or perhaps it was...Kazu?" He glanced at me and his grin turned vicious. "His name was Kazu, I can see it in your face. Kazu Kazu Kazu. Poor little dead, headless Kazu." He laughed gleefully. "Oh, how lovely the anger in your eyes is. I like you, yes I most certainly like you, Princess. So much anger and ferocity!"

"You're sick!" I growled, the feelings he was describing fully evident in my voice. I spit, my saliva landing on his chin, and his expression went from delighted to terrifying. With an open palm, he slapped my cheek. I bit down on my tongue, trying to ignore the sting, and tasted blood. My breath shuddered out of my lungs almost painfully and turned my head to look at him again. His playful side had evaporated, and I now saw the young man who ruled the gruesome Crows with a bloody, iron fist.

He got in my face, near enough that I could feel his rancid breath ghosting over my lips. "How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to be so close to the Crow who murdered your poor little friend and not being able to get the revenge you've been hunting after for weeks? Hmm? I bet you feel frustrated, hopeless even. But most of all, I bet you feel angry, don't you Princess? Good good, be angry. Little princes and princesses like you always mess up when they're angry. Your friend Kazu, well he was more of a lowly street rat than a prince, but even he made a very bad mistake too."

"You made the mistake of killing him."

"Oh, you think so? Tell me, Princess, why is it a mistake?"

"Because I'm going to kill you in the Armistice."

A voice floated in from the other side of the window, sounding frightened to interrupt. "Master Nerin, sir."

Nerin roared in annoyance and pushed me back, stalking to the window and exchanging words with his lackey. Storming back to me before I could reach Ragnarok, he seemed to be less irate but just as irritated. "Well, Princess, it seems I have to go for now. I won't kill you today, no, you're far too much fun to kill you just yet. But I warn you," he stepped up against me. "If you keep up with your annoying hindrances, I will end you personally, just like your friend."

He exited with a dramatic whirl of his ebony cape and was long gone before I could go after him.

Nerin the Nuisance did not leave me alone, and he proved himself to be an annoying pest. He was in my apartment in the morning, eating a fruit. He offered me one but I refused, not putting poisoning me past him. Not one to be deterred easily, I sat and ate breakfast, wishing I could get to the weapons that he always managed to keep behind him while he attempted to rile me up.

He left for a few hours and then came back while I was at work. I asked him if he really had nothing better to do, to which he replied, "This is the best thing I could be doing, Princess."

My temper flared several times, which only egged him on. I begged Pao to kick him out but he wouldn't because Nerin was providing him more business in this one day than he'd gotten all week. Nerin had me constantly fetching every tea and food on the menu, but strangely enough, he never became cruel and almost never mentioned Kazu. He was simply teasing and pushing all the buttons he could find. And man, did he find a lot of buttons to set me off. He reminded me of my younger brother Ryan; they were both annoying just because they wanted to be. At least my brother was not a murderer. My fingers itched for the comforting weight of a blade and for that blade to be impaled in the chest of this man.

Four days passed. A new routine developed, one that started each day with eating breakfast with my enemy and then spent the rest of the day ignoring said enemy to the best of my ability. Thankfully, he left in time to not see my disappearances to Zahia's. All day long, he baited me, and I had given in just enough to reply with snarky comments that he only laughed at. I was his plaything, his source of amusement. I was the helpless mouse and he the predatory cat. If I strayed to far or did something he didn't like, one well-aimed claw would snap my little neck. I did not like being a mouse. I was already submissive to Zahia, Jingfei and the economy, but none posed the threat he did.

A concept I struggled with was imagining how I'd kill him. I struggled because it was getting harder and harder with every passing day to envision it. The images of his death had been so vivid in my head, but they were now slipping from my grasp as I became used to him. It irritated me intensely that some part of me was so desperate for a friend that I'd even make a companion out of him. Though every so often, when I stopped paying attention and saw him out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan. That hope made my heart jump until I realized it was Nerin, and I'd spend the next two hours in a gloomy mood. My chatty stalker noticed and prodded at me unrelentingly to know who he reminded me of, but I remained silent.

Two days before the Armistice, Nerin did not show up for breakfast and was absent from the teashop. It was all eerily, unnervingly quiet. He appeared the next day as if nothing had happened, though he moved his right arm gingerly.

"Where'd you go?" I inquired, trying to sound like I was making polite conversation and not because curiosity once again got the best of me.

He gave me a wide grin. "I was just away on some...business. Why you asking, Princess? Is it because you missed me?"

"Of course not," I spat, slamming his food and tea down in front of him. "Don't be so ridiculous. I can't miss the murderer I'm going to kill tomorrow."

Nerin shot up from the table, the scrap of the chair against the ground startling me. He pinned me against the wall with his body, and I searched the shop over his shoulder for help. But Nerin was the only customer, and Pao was in the storage room. Nerin leaned close, his long fingers tracing the shell of my ear down to my chin. "Now now, Princess," he purred. "Do you really think you'll be able to kill me?"

I couldn't give him an answer.