I walked on the streets of Garbade, making my way back toward the smoke. I arrived quicker than last time, but not fast enough.

Could I feel pain in my dreams? I had to find out. Pinching myself, I realized that I didn't feel pain.

Good.

I walked straight into the fire on the palace, making my way over to where I knew Manea's body was found: Westard Tower. The toward farthest to the left.

The flames danced on my dress, burning it off. Soon, I was running around naked, the embers dancing on my skin.

Up the many stairs and around many corners and corridors, I saw the wooden door with golden rims. I touched the handle, and then screams echoed inside the room. When I bursted through, I saw her.

Manea stood there, encased in fire. Her eyes were wide and wild as she ran around the room, trying to find something to use to get out.

"The door," I said. But she didn't hear me. When I looked back at the door, it was shut. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

Manea opened her window and looked down. There was no way she could jump and survive a fall that great. She swung herself around and watched the fires, her screams stopping.

Then the fires roared toward her, and she was gone. Ashes and forgotten dust, no more important than a grain of sand on a beach.

Her face was a contorted skeleton. All her skin and flesh was eaten away, and the bones were charred in an array of unpleasantries. She was gone, just like that.

Gone.

I swung around to the door and tried to open it. This time, it was unlocked. As I exited, I searched for the Dark Prince, but he wasn't anywhere in the western section of the Palace. And as I continued to search, he was nowhere in the Palace—

Until I heard a shatter of glass come from the eastern side.

I spun around to run toward there, but I immediately stopped.

At the other end of the corridor, Manea's skeleton was standing there, her bone fingers gesturing me closer, and her head tilting as her few hairs fell over one shoulder.

*~⚜️~*

"Saints!" I cursed, shooting up from my bedroll. Sweat drenched my entire body like I had just been swimming.

Then the nausea crept in. Could I just stab my stomach and stop vomiting? Maybe I'd let those cannibal faeries complete the job since my system was already mostly vomit.

I scurried outside and hurled. Ashe got up from his chair and held back my hair as I sank to the ground, forcing the rest of the rotten orange junk out.

"Vomit like that could be used as a projectile weapon," Ashe said.

I was about to say how I was going to projectile vomit on him when another wave hit me, and I sank on my knees.

When I finished, Ashe handed me a bag. "There's clothes in there. You should probably change."

I snatched it from his hands and looked inside. Brown leather pants and a white chemise. His clothes.

"Disgusting," I mumbled, still peering in the bag.

"You are quite observant, Valarya. The orange vomit on your clothes accents your brown hair." He pinched a part of my dress up, and I saw my vomit splat on the ground near his foot. "I suggest you put the clothes on and shut up."

How I would love to stab him right about now.

"Thank you," I hissed and yanked the bag away from his hands.

"How polite," he responded.

"Keep talking and I'll throw my vomit on you," I said as I walked back into my tent.

As I changed into his clothes, I heard Ashe say, "Kindest thing you've said to me yet."

"I'll show you how kindly I can strangle you." I buttoned up the chemise and pants. "Could you shut up?"

"Do the pants fit well?" Ashe asked.

"They're musty." I strutted out of my tent, donning his outfit. The chemise was too big, so I had tucked it into the pants. His leather pants were too large, so I rolled them up just above my knees.

If Mother saw me wearing this, she'd curse me for showing my knees—my "sacred body part". Little did she know...

"You look hideous in my clothes," Ashe told me.

"You look hideous in general, buddy." I patted his head and threw his bag at him. "We're training."

"No we're not—"

"I wasn't asking." I glanced back at him and saw his arms crossed. "I just want to practice my Entorrean fighting techniques with the sword."

"You want a chance to stab me."

"That's only one benefit." I slipped on one slipper that I had taken with me.

He cursed and put his arms down. "What does that mean?"

"I'm sure you and Manea has plenty of opportunities to train together."

His face remained neutral. "Manea and I—"

"Don't bother lying. I already know Manea was the one to start this group circus. However, thanks to your lying, I had to find out myself." Before I slipped on the other slipper, I decided to chuck it at Ashe.

He caught the slipper with ease. I thought he was going to throw it back at me, but instead he slipped it into his jacket pocket. "You don't get it back until I think you're good enough."

I wanted to rip my hair out. I wanted to just tear his body apart and feed it to the wolves. Or, better yet, hyenas. Ashe and hyenas were similar after all.

"Wait," I said, thinking about what he'd just said, "when I'm good enough?"

"Let's go train!" he said enthusiastically.

What was he saying? He wasn't supposed to agree! This was a trick. There was no chance—No, there was no way that Ashe Knightley was agreeing to train me. He was planning something, that schemer. He was going to feed me to Zeena, or Jaks, or maybe... the cannibal faeries. Oh, Saints, have mercy on me! I didn't mean it! Whatever I did, I take it back!

"Are you serious?" I walked up to him, but he just rolled his eyes and walked away. I followed behind him, tapping his shoulder, trying to see if he was still responsive and right in the head. Maybe he had hit his head when I was getting changed.

We arrived to the training grounds. Ashe threw a sword at my feet. "Pick it up and stick it toward me."

I did as I was told. "You know Entorrean fighting techniques, too." I knew he did. He had disarmed me last time we tried training together. There was no way he'd be able to if he didn't know it.

"Correct." He lifted his sword and met the tip with mine. "My mother taught me."

"Ashe Knightley has a mother? I had no idea you were somewhat normal." Our swords went up together, then struck together.

"Surprise, surprise," he said dryly.

His sword slammed at the base of mine. I quickly countered, using my body to push him back. Father always told me I was great at fencing, and I planned to prove him right. Ashe grunted and dipped to the left, trying to hit my side, so I dipped to the right, staying in front of him. Again, he dipped to the left, but this time, I dipped with him and struck his side with the pommel. The second he was stunned, I kicked him off his feet and grabbed his sword away. He tried kicking me off, but I swung my foot in between his legs—and I hit! His eyes rolled back, and while he moaned, I angled one sword at the side of his head and the other at his chin.

I went between his legs and laid on his body, my smile visible and clear. "Hello down there," I whispered.

When he struggled underneath me, I pushed myself down on him firmer, the tip of one of the swords piercing his chin. "Don't move too much, Ashe. I could hurt you," I taunted.

Ashe sighed, and his body relaxed. "Impressive what you can do with a sword," he praised.

"Unfortunately, I'm not as blessed with daggers and bows." I crawled off his body and fixed my chemise. It was a shame I had gotten it dirty already. "Which is why I wanted you to train me with them."

Ashe got off the ground, grumbling as he rubbed his back. "You can't even hold a bow correctly."

"So teach me, you moronic idiot," I urged. "That's the point of training me. You teach me to become better. Stronger. More capable of defending myself."

"Why are you so worried about defending yourself? You have guards protecting you at all times in Malakette Palace."

Because my father probably wasn't trying to save me now. Now, he could be trying to kill me.

"You never know who could turn around and burn you," I admitted.

"Like who?" he pried.

I was about to say my father, but I hesitated. What if I really was betraying my family?

Then again, my father kept me locked up in the Palace and never allowed me outside. He kept me a prisoner—a weapon he could use at his disposal. My sisters and Ilias were the only ones that helped me sneak out occasionally to see the ocean.

"Like my father," I specified. "He controls Captain Blackus, so he controls the guards." My throat tightened as I finished: "I think he might've killed Manea for helping you all."

Ashe slowly nodded as he leaned back against a tree. "You don't trust your father?"

"No," I ended. "Until he proves otherwise, then no."

"Finally." He sighed as he pushed himself off the tree. "All right, here's a dagger. Let's train."

"Wait, what?"

He lifted a dagger up, smiling. "Good answer. Now, let's train."

We trained past my legs giving out. Every time I fell, I continued to train, trying to get better with the dagger. I'd beat Ashe one day, and when I did, I'd smile and tell him that his death was a minor inconvenience.