Day Twenty-Nine: It's been an honour

It's just us left, now. Thalia and Noble, alone against the world. In better circumstances we would have been laughing with Marquise and Guerre and Cimeter and Solteira as we all agree this day will never end. But Marquise died alongside the Seven boy when we were only three, and Cimeter and Solteira both got swept away in that damned flash flood that had destabilized the cliff. Marquise said that was why Guerre fell.

So now we're facing each other. Nobody else is left, our lists match up. Twenty-Four dead, two remain. The outliers are all dead, of course they are. The one who'd gotten Guerre was last, and my sword through her back had ensured that was the end of it.

Still, neither of us wants to do it. That's why we're both putting off the inevitable as long as possible. She's smiling, trying to ignore what has to come, I'm doing the same. She's got the fan in her hands, letting it spread out and then snap back in. It's not that sharp, of course it isn't. Bladed fans are for our One girls, and (though none will ever admit it) way too impractical in a proper fight. Not that they'll be sent into the games, not when the swords and spears and recurve bows exist.

Still, her fan could do a hell of a lot of damage. It's heavy, heavy to be used as a club, to beat us down. Not too much of a threat against my sword, but given what I've seen in the past week or three, maybe it's for the best that she's not using it to beat the hell out of me yet.

We've sparred. It ends in a tie enough to worry me, because she's awfully good at using the fan and even if I think I can take her when it flicks out and distracts me it's more than possible I'd get stabbed in the ribs with that knife she seems to carry around everywhere.

I grab that damned canteen of water she's encouraged me to carry around the entire time, taking a swig. Not poisoned, of course, I may not have known Thalia long but I know enough not to expect such tricks out of her. Marquise, maybe, but if Marquise was still here then I'd be questioning whether that outlier's spear had been holographic. I can still feel, see, the light draining out of her golden hair and porcelain skin, the wide blue eyes going grey and glassy. The rivers of blood pouring out of her back, around the shaft embedded a foot deep into her back, running my District Partner straight through.

The relief I was feeling, because she'd gotten far too close to Thalia and it felt like I was screaming into the void when I'd tried to insist that yes, she was a threat. She was playing us like a fiddle, I knew it, but nobody else seemed to and gems they were all too slow to comprehend it even when I'd begged them to listen. Guerre had nodded along with me, but when she'd been whimpering that she'd been framed and Guerre had mis-stepped they'd gone along with it? Well, I was glad she'd ended like this.

Thalia knew Marquise's Game, I could see it in those shocking eyes that seem to be black. She's said it's because of some physical issue, some reason. Some excuse she has. I don't particularly care, but the way the light sparks off them for a moment I'm almost drawn in. Shame we're fighting.

She smiles. I do the same. She steps forward. I do the same. Her fan, gleaming and heavy in her hand, my sword light between my fingers. She laughs, and raises her right forearm, slanting it to the left. I do the same, after a moment, and we touch them together. Guerre taught me that Two tradition, before.

Well.

Then we bow. My tradition, and I taught her that. Her voice is light when she speaks next. "Well, Noble. May the best win." "May the best win," is my echo, "and it's been an honour." Inclining her head, Thalia responds. "Likewise. Send my love to Marquise and Solteira, and Cimeter and Guerre."

It begins.

I thrust forwards, and she steps to the side. It's almost insulting, before she steps in again and tries to grab my wrist, taking a slap across the face and slipping to the ground. It's too late I realize my mistake, and she trips me, sending me into the mud with a laugh. "Come on now, Noble, get going properly. Coward."

She laughs, and I thrust forward again, sweeping the sword. It almost gets her, but in an instant she's slipped under the blade, pushing it away with her fan far enough to step in again. She's playing, I know that, but she's surprisingly good

And now my blade's sweeping forwards and now it's all over but it isn't. She's stepping in, punches me in the face and my nose hurts and my eyes are swimming but I can see. It isn't over, and with a roar I sweep in, failing to keep my other hand out of her reach.

It ends. She grabs my wrist, just like another Two girl with fans, and tugs me forward. Unlike that other girl, she doesn't go for the nose. She doesn't drive it up and try to break my nose, sending blood spilling all over my face. Instead, she steps in again, and jabs it into my throat. Again, again, until I'm struggling to breathe and the tears in my eyes are keeping me from seeing. I can hear stifled whimpers from her, a reaction suggesting she wants to do this about as much as I want her to. But she knows what's the job she has. She draws a knife, frowning. Shaking her head, kneeling down. "Sorry."

It ends.