The First Bridge

His warriors slept on either side of him, their powerful chests rising and falling in time with one another.

Thurucaln men were so much larger than Xhaian's, their muscles formidable, especially with the crisscross pattern of scars which marked them all.

Shyana withdrew her sword and retracted a smooth stone from her right pocket, before running it down the impressive blade, her eyes never leaving the dark prince before her.

He smirked at her expression, as if she were challenging him to make a move, so he leisurely stretched and started curling the sleek whip in between his fingers.

How he longed to wrap it around her neck, see the look of terror in her proud eyes when she realized it was her end by his hands.

The fire crackled as one of the logs toppled over, sending a fresh wave of sparks into the air. Silence enfolded them for at least an hour, until Shyana had thoroughly sharpened her blade.

Believing she had made her message clear, the general rested her sword on her lap, before crossing her arms and maintaining her stare.

Vikas matched her expression. "Well, aren't you going to sleep?"

"Are you?"

He smiled at the challenge in her tone. "I can go three days without sleep."

"Four."

The Thurucaln prince rolled his eyes. "You're ridiculous, little princess. Parading yourself around as if you are a true warrior."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm not? There are several Thurucalns who would tell you otherwise. My army has all, but put an end to you mongrels."

Vikas felt a wave of anger flush his cheeks. "The stories about you are clearly more about inflating your ego than any truth. The Crimson Blade is not a legend. Now that I lay eyes on you, I don't see a single scar marring your skin. You're just like the royalty before you, hiding away in your castles while your men die. Pathetic."

"What are you trying to gain from that? I know you've seen me in battle, Vikas, just as I've seen you. The reason I don't have any scars on me, is because none of your men have been able to get close enough to touch me. But that doesn't mean I am not marked by your filth."

He scanned the body that he wished didn't belong to a Xhaian. Those curves didn't belong to such a miserable race. "Oh? Do tell."

"Why are you so insistent on making conversation? Isn't it enough for us to sit in our silent hatred?"

If it had been anyone else, Vikas would have laughed at the question. The edges of his mouth twitched slightly. "Because it's clear neither of us is willing to relent to sleep while the other is awake. I foresee this being a very long night otherwise. And didn't your blind walker say it's our hatred which is feeding this forest? Trust me, I take no pleasure in your company."

Shyana shifted her weight, her fingers flexing on and off the hilt of her blade. "For once it appears you and I agree on something."

He placed his arms behind his head, resting against the tree trunk, before extending a hand forward in a dramatic sweep. "Please. Enlighten me on how any of my men harmed you. I don't see a scratch, so this should be interesting. How have we harmed, the great General Makea?"

"You killed a man who was like a second father to me."

Vikas didn't say anything to that.

She sighed. "When I ran away to join the Xhaian army, there was an older general who took me under his wing and taught me the ways of battle. You killed him and paraded his naked body around your city, before securing it to the gate of your camp. They told me General Elyin was lost. No mere lieutenant could break through the Thurucaln barrier and retrieve him. I did. Needless to say, I killed a lot of Thurucalns that day, for taking my true family from me."

Vikas listened to the story, watching it play out over her face. He remembered that day, the death of a Xhaian general is considered a great victory.

He heard of a woman who fought like a demon, slashing her way through his men like flies. They said the blood dripped from her red hair, staining her sword and earning her nickname the "Crimson Blade."

He never thought he would meet General Makea this way or that he'd understand what the old general saw in her.

"We took what you thought was family from you? Well, you've taken what was actually family from us. Fathers, brothers, sons, how many have you killed personally, Makea? Forgive me if I feel no sympathy for you."

Shyana scoffed. "Is it in your nature to feel at all?"

The prince smiled darkly, his long hair falling in curtains over his bronze shoulders. "Certainly, we feel the joy of the kill and trust me, princess, it feels good."

Shyana returned his stare, with a smile that threatened to run his blood cold. "I know, that's all I can feel anymore."