Chapter Eight

Entry:

Why am I still alive? I do nothing, am nothing. Why do I live?

I feel like a prisoner here. A prisoner so deep in pity, so numb from feeling, that people think I'm dead. Why do I hesitate to leave? I wish to go.

I thought I was prepared. My pen scratches the pages, such a thin point. Scratch, scratch, scratch. I want to leave, I swear. But I won't leave, because of you.

It's always you.

Phoenix

--

Greyson's body was thrown onto the ground with predictable ease. Sweat dripped down his tan forehead as he was pinned onto his stomach.

"One, two, three!" his opponent declared.

Greyson's adversary chuckled and got up from the ring, his hands up high in victory. Greyson slammed his own fists on the matted floor. Sneers and laughter echoed around Greyson, his defeat delivered once again. Greyson wanted to get up and fight them all, charge with all his might and prove his worth, but that was the old him. He had sworn to himself to get his temper under control.

Being sold to the guard was supposed to help, but he knew his family wanted him gone. Too much temper, too many street fights over nothing important. And now, that side of him was completely dead.

"You're getting better," Greyson's opponent offered, reaching out a hand.

Greyson grasped it and hauled himself up from the floor. "I'm still not good enough to participate in the Tournament of Crowns."

"You lasted longer, though. Plus I heard some girl won this year, it was obviously rigged."

He was wrong, but Greyson appreciated his opponent's attempt to cheer him up. His opponent, with that chiseled jaw, his sharp and muscular body. Tall, well-rounded, and a relatively good sport. Greyson scowled, he despised such a bulky physique, such picturesque features.

Greyson himself was by no means scrawny, but he was no muscle man, either. He stood just tall enough to pass as average and always lost in fights because of his sloppy footing and weak technique. His skin wasn't pale but not dark. Nose a good size but too arched at the bridge.

Average, average, average.

"Another round?" his opponent offered.

Greyson shook his head, causing locks of light brown hair to fall into his eyes. "I'm on duty soon."

His opponent nodded and left the ring without glancing back. Greyson rubbed his shoulders and hands, massaging the ache in his bones. Head down, Greyson walked to the sleeping quarters, eager to get the day over with. Perhaps he should switch to the first shift squad, get his guard duties over with quickly. No. He was stuck on second shift, guarding the same door at the same time every day.

Greyson scowled as he buttoned his jacket and buckled his belt. His fingers felt the cool touch of each gold button and he ran his fingertips over the stitches on the lion on his breast.

This job was heinous.

Standing in front of a door all day. Not talking. The sun beating down.

Grabbing his gun from the side of his cot, Greyson left the barracks for his post. He meandered past the main entrance, decorated with glorious statues and brilliant light displays. His eyes looked up at the castle in all its glory and a heavy sigh escaped him.

This stupid castle, and that stupid moat. And worst of all, the four access points into the castle that always needed guarding. The side entrance came into sight and defeat deflated Greyson.

He couldn't even be trusted to guard the main entrance. But Greyson didn't care, what difference did it make if in both posts he just stood and watched time pass?

As he arrived, his regular shift partner walked up too, and they exchanged a small nod of recognition.

"Shift change," Greyson informed monotonously.

The guards on duty nodded and dispersed, walking back to the barracks. Greyson lined his feet up in the usual stone marker. His partner followed suit on his respective side.

Nothing would happen today, and nothing would happen tomorrow. Greyson remembered his commander talking about introducing some girl to court, but that would probably lead to nothing, as well. A scream rose in him as he cursed the boredom, Greyson's mouth widened, and a mighty yawn escaped.

Greyson had made three promises to himself: first, he would never let an opportunity pass him by. Second, he would find something to love, and he would never let it go. Third, Greyson would never go back home to the parents who had given him up. It had been two years since then, and his temper was finally settling down. But what he wouldn't give for something new-

A blurry figure falling from the third story window broke Greyson's train of thought.

He blinked, unsure if what he saw was real. Soon after, the royal family came through the door and stormed over to where the splash occurred. Greyson stood up straighter as they passed.

A girl climbed out of the moat.

Greyson couldn't hear what was happening nor see clearly what was transpiring, but the royal family the girl were talking. Not long after, the royal family left two figures behind under a tree and came back through Greyson's door. Greyson acted appropriately, as in, he did nothing but stand and look ahead blankly. Once they passed, Greyson saw two figures remaining by the willow tree.

Oh, who were they?

A boy and girl came into focus as they walked towards Greyson. The girl seemed pissed. She was soaked and blood stained her uniform from an abundance of cuts that made Greyson wince.

Before Greyson could close his hanging jaw shut, the girl shrugged off her companion and waltzed right up to them. Greyson turned his head to check out the boy. He was lean and wore all black and a permanent scowl Greyson labeled as disgustingly honest. Just who were these two?

"Where are our rooms?" the girl demanded.

Greyson was right, she was rude and arrogant. Her wet hair fell to her elbows. She could have been attractive if she wasn't drowned in cuts. And water.

She was… odd.

"Phoenix," she said, "and this is my brother, Cole."

Greyson looked at Cole again. The name seemed to fit his character. As for this Phoenix, Greyson couldn't pin her down as anything but troublesome. The two locked eyes and she raised a brow.

"Follow me." Right before opening the door to the castle, Greyson asked, "Who are you guys?"

"This is my brother. And I'm the person you're supposed to be showing around the castle," Phoenix grumbled.

"Why did you fall out the window?"

"Because I was dying for a swim."

Greyson couldn't help but laugh a little, and not because she cracked a joke. "Have you ever socialized with another human being?"

Phoenix put her hand to her chin and glanced at her brother. "Outside my family, no, I suppose not."

Greyson's eyes narrowed at the blunt answer. "Let's get you to the infirmary."

"Thank you," she mumbled quietly, seemingly lost in thought.

How exceptionally odd, this girl who falls from windows and loses herself in thought. Her brother didn't grace them with any more words, either.

They continued down the halls and past the library until they reached the infirmary, just below the Grand Staircase. Greyson glanced behind him and noticed that Phoenix was leaning heavily on Cole. Greyson's eyes shot to the ground as he found himself wondering what that warmth would feel like, having someone to lean.

"The infirmary," Greyson announced at an open door.

Cole nodded his thanks and went inside, practically carrying Phoenix. Then, like Cole was used to tucking people in, he delicately laid his sister on an empty bed. On his own agenda, Cole left, mumbling something about finding a nurse.

"Shit," Phoenix cursed, looking down at her own body, "Daisy and Lucas are too young to see me like this."

The more Greyson heard, the more intrigued he was about this person. "You have kids?"

"No, they're my other siblings." She said it like Greyson was stupid for not knowing.

The two sat in a moment of awkward silence as Greyson looked around for something to do. Bright light streamed through the windows lining the opposite wall, the curved corners of metal bed frames reflecting sun beams on the walls. He got up and stole some disinfectant from another bed. Finding his way back to Phoenix, he wet a cloth, clearly preparing to clean her wounds.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "This isn't part of your job."

Greyson wasn't quite sure why he was sticking around, he needed to get back on duty or he'd be scolded, but something had finally happened, and he wasn't ready to let go.

"Let me help," he offered.

"I'm okay, Cole will be back soon."

"But I'm already here."

"It's okay, I feel fine-" she winced in pain as Greyson put the cloth on a cut on her forearm, blood immediately soaking into the cloth as the disinfectant foamed.

Greyson was gentle as he wiped away some blood and cleaned the surrounding flesh.

"Why are you doing this?" Phoenix asked, her fist clenching the sheets.

Because they were the first people to ever fascinate Greyson. "Because it's good to be nice to strangers."

Phoenix rolled her eyes again. "Okay then, Greyson, I'll play by your rules. How long have you been a guard?"

"Two years."

She nodded in approval. "Want to spar some time?"

What? He knew he was no good, but he had passed basic training, which was more training than women got in the squads. He had a clear advantage physically, too. Phoenix only came up to his shoulders, perhaps an inch shorter than most women.

"No?" Phoenix asked upon his hesitation. "Then how about a chat sometime: you, Cole, and me? You're right, I really ought to socialize with other people."

Greyson shrugged. "Sure."

Before they could talk about details, Cole hustled over with a nurse.

Cole took one glance to Greyson and then at the rag in his hand and scowled, "I'll take care of her, you can return to your duties."

Greyson smiled, Cole was so straightforward and attached to his sister. It left something to be desired for Greyson.

"Of course. Nurse, their rooms are the empty ones in the residential wing. The ones that were just set up." Greyson rose from beside the bed and set aside the rag. "Until our chat, Phoenix and Cole."

He bid Phoenix farewell with a wave of his hand. Greyson glanced over his shoulder to see Cole stare at Phoenix, who dipped her chin in confirmation. As Greyson returned to his post, his steps felt lighter, shoulders less stiff, eyes twinkling just a little brighter. He covered his mouth as a smile crept across his face. A chat with those two.

Finally, Greyson had something to look forward to.

#

They met in the gardens.

Two days later Greyson stood by the entrance, marked with a green gate woven with roses, scanning the area for Phoenix and Cole. His nerves couldn't help but get there early. Perhaps this time Greyson wouldn't be rejected. Perhaps this time, life would feel better than horrible.

"What are you doing?" a voice inquired.

Greyson shook his thoughts out of his head and looked down. Phoenix stood a couple feet away, squinting her eyes, arms crossed over her chest.

"Where's your brother?" Greyson asked.

She offered a half-hearted shrug. "Didn't want to come."

Greyson sighed and scratched the inside of his wrist. everything was okay, only one person would still be okay. He extended his arm, gesturing into the gardens. Phoenix raised her eyebrows, unimpressed, and marched herself through the gate.

"What do you think of the royal family?" Phoenix broke the silence.

"Interesting topic," Greyson placed a hand on his chin, "as a royal guard, I have a deep respect and await for their commands."

"And as a human being?"

"A little entitled." Greyson corrected himself, "But they still deserve to be treated fairly."

Phoenix covered her mouth as she chuckled, "Of course."

Greyson thought she looked a lot less terrifying when she smiled.

"So, do you spend a lot of time with your fellow guards? Do you know anyone from court?" Phoenix continued.

"Not really," Greyson said, "we all stick to our own circles."

She nodded and looked to the ground.

They'd made it rather far for the time they'd walked. The single yellow rose bush in the entire garden greeted them. It marked the halfway point.

Greyson was impressed Phoenix kept such a fast pace and found himself trying to catch up. He hoped they could walk leisurely and appreciate the gardens a little more, but it seemed Phoenix was going to stick to her own plans. Like her brother in the infirmary. Were the rest of her siblings like this?

"So you don't know anything about anyone in the court?" Phoenix clarified.

"No," Greyson sneered. Greyson smiled to himself, perhaps his temper hadn't gone away completely.

Phoenix stopped in her tracks. "Well, if that's all, I'll be off."

Just like that, she turned back the way they came.

"What?" Greyson asked. They had only been walking for a few minutes.

"I should go see my family," she offered over her shoulder. Did she only want to ask about the court?

"Phoenix, the girl who falls from windows, is rude to strangers, and extremely socially inept," Greyson read.

"I'm not that socially inept," she stated, pausing her retreat. Good, he had her attention.

"Then how about you walk with me a little longer? Test your fantastic conversational skills? Plus, I'm supposed to teach you about court life."

Phoenix looked at him, dragging her eyes up and down his body. Her face revealed nothing, but she made no move to leave, and Greyson found himself smiling ever so slightly.

"And if you get sick of me, walking in the gardens will guarantee you running into at least one other woman willing to talk with you," Greyson said.

"I'll never be a woman's first choice to talk with," Phoenix smiled back.

On cue, a large, blue dress with a small bow and white frills approached them.

Chin high, a young lady marched right up to them, dropped her handkerchief, and used her hands, half-hidden behind lace gloves, to pick it up.

"Hello, my name is Isla." Isla looked up while battering her eyelashes at Greyson. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind walking with me once in a while?" She glanced at Phoenix with her deep brown eyes. "If you aren't busy."

Isla seemed nice enough, a perfectly pleasant lady. Greyson smiled wider- this could be perfect. He could hang out with even more people.

"I'm usually working every other day, but-"

"He's busy," Phoenix interrupted. "With me."

"Oh?" Isla inquired. "Well, I need someone to walk with me at least once a week."

"I'll do it," Phoenix stepped forward.

Greyson looked from Phoenix back to Isla. Women were confusing. At first, Phoenix didn't want to talk to him, but now, she was stopping others from talking to him.

"That would be just fantastic!" Isla chirped. "Let's walk tomorrow, this same time?"

"That's great!" Phoenix cheered, matching Isla's energy. "And did I tell you that you're as radiant as the Palace from my hometown?"

"I remind you of a palace?" Isla smiled. "That's so sweet of you. Well, I'll be off then, eagerly waiting for a walk with my new friend."

With a wink at Greyson, Isla turned, her bow moving with her steps, and walked up to another gentleman. She dropped her handkerchief in front of another gentleman- she sure was clumsy.

Once Greyson was sure Isla was out of earshot, he asked, "There's a palace in the Lowlands?"

Phoenix smiled like she was on the inside of a joke. With herself.

"You're… interesting," Greyson muttered.

She let out a huff and took her place back by Greyson's side. "You're not too boring yourself, Greyson the guard."

"Please, just call me Greyson."

She nodded and they continued walking. This time, they walked without a purpose; slow and unsure.

Yeah, this could work out.