Chapter Six

Entry:

I had a burst of energy yesterday, but I was correct in assuming it was a temporary state. I honestly can't tell what's real and what's not. Am I actually sad (I think not) or do I just make myself sad for the sake of my sanity? To be able to define who I am, to try to easily victimize myself so I don't see that my disgusting way of life is really just me in the rawest form.

I am truly horrible. My real emotions hurt people, yet I still allow myself to feel and talk. Perhaps, I should simply stop myself from doing both. Simply cease existence.

Phoenix

--

"So, you're the champion," the commander slurred, a smile slithering across his sagging skin.

"Yes, sir," Phoenix said.

"A female, excellent. The King and Queen have requested your presence right away."

"Oh," Phoenix clarified, "I already told Felix yesterday that I wasn't going to work for the royal family."

"They have requested to see you immediately."

The blood drained from her face.

What did they want with her? She turned down their offer, had she upset them? Had they gone through her files and realized she was legally responsible for children? Out of all these thoughts, one began to boil over the rest; this is what happened to mom, this is what happened to mom. Summoned before the royal family, tried, and killed on the spot. Mom, this is what happened to you.

Sweat dripped from Phoenix's brow onto the floor and she dug her nails into her palms until they ached.

Two guards barged into the room, patted Phoenix down, and confiscated all her weapons, including two daggers she kept strapped on either leg. She was never issued a gun. No woman had, although they were trained to use one.

Losing the weight of each weapon left Phoenix feeling more and more vulnerable. Once Phoenix was disarmed, the men's rough hands dug into her arms and yanked her through the hall, neither showing hesitation as they carried one of their own away.

She needed to prepare for the worst.

After endless halls of identical beige paint, up two staircases, and a left turn, the guards pushed Phoenix into what had to be the Throne Room. She cautiously lifted her gaze to avoid eye contact with anyone in the room, instead slowly drinking in the overwhelming environment.

It was unbearably bright, windows behind a dais of thrones letting in the beams of the sun. The sun reflected brilliantly off the white tile floor, cleaned so thoroughly that everything in the room cast a mirrored image. Craning her neck up, she saw that the ceiling was painted with murals, no doubt glorifying how the royals came [CU1] into power.

Phoenix's scuffed shoes scraped against the white polished floor as she approached the foot of the royal dais. Four thrones towered over her, the center two being for the King and Queen. The Princess sat beside the Queen and the Prince beside the King. A perfectly hateable family.

King Malik's throne was the most extravagant. Gold vines climbed up the chair towards the top, where they eventually entwined together to form a circle holding a bold blue jewel in its center, shining brighter than anything Phoenix had seen before.

The Queen's throne was smaller, silver, and held a black gem on the very top, which imitated the one in the crown, but was obviously made from a different material. Finally shifting her gaze to the Prince, Phoenix realized none of the royals paid her any mind, and she stared openly.

With only his sharp jawline from his mother, the Prince appeared to be his father's son, and a couple years older than Phoenix. He carried the King's straight nose and icy eyes. His hair was as bright as his skin, although, unlike Lucas, it had no yellow- the Prince's hair was white, like his father's, except from genetics rather than age. He had a green stone and his chair resting inside his bronze throne.

The Princess sat on a throne copper-topped with a purple gem, her hair a lighter red than her mother's but skin just as pale. She seemed to be the same age as Phoenix, if not one year older. Unlike the Prince, however, the Princess had her mother's rounded nose and green eyes.

None of the royals spared Phoenix a glance beside the Queen, whose gaze was so burning Phoenix had to look away. The Princess checked her nails, and the Prince whispered something in the King's ears, who listened intently.

So, this was the royal family.

These were the people in charge of the world.

In charge of Phoenix's fate.

Phoenix felt water gather in her mouth and she resisted the urge to spit at their fake perfection. The Prince's whispers consumed the room, the echo enough to blur his message into incoherent static. Phoenix glared at the prince, desperate for him to shut up, to stop acting like Phoenix's situation was nothing more than an annoyance of the day.

She scanned the room with a trained eye. The only windows rested up on the dais and behind the thrones. They had no latches. She was surrounded by guards wearing the same uniform as her. Only one exit was in sight- where she had entered. There were probably secret routes for the royal family to slip through, but Phoenix couldn't find them.

"Come before me," the King demanded, interrupting her fruitless search for escape.

From her position, she could reach the top of the dais in three long steps and attack from behind with step five. She waited patiently for her chance to act, all she needed was a weapon and an opening.

"What's your name?" the King asked. Why did her name matter if she was to be killed? Maybe they took records of people being executed.

"Viloria, your majesty."

"Your first name," the King clarified dryly.

The Princess played with the ends of her hair, the Prince looked in Phoenix's direction but his eyes were clearly out-of-focus. Only the Queen watched Phoenix with intent.

"Phoenix," she lifted her chin.

"Well, Phoenix, glad to finally meet your acquaintance."

What? It didn't matter, Phoenix just needed to get back home to her siblings. But why would he ask for her name? Focus.

"You're our Tournament winner. Took out the two strongest men competing with more ease than anticipated," the King stated. "Impressive."

"Yes, your majesty. I was trained by the best."

To him, that meant his commanders; to Phoenix, it meant mom. Play the game carefully.

"Have you ever killed on duty?" the King asked.

Phoenix instinctively took a step back at the mention of murder. All the guard's gazes snapped to her, wondering the answer themselves. In front of her, the royal family finally gave her their undivided attention. The marble floor was a mirror for their pointed glares, reflections perked with judgment. Phoenix looked down and realized that her reflection was muddy, the earth from her boots staining the floor.

"I mean no harm. I am simply curious," the King assured.

"Why are you bothering with these questions? Don't pretend to care about a Lowlander." Reconsidering, Phoenix added, "No, sir."

It was enunciated with too much attitude toward the one who could order her dead in the blink of an eye.

But the Prince burst out laughing. Laughing. Not only him, she realized, but the Queen and Princess glanced at Phoenix with amusement in their eyes, entertained by what she had said.

The King appeared less happy. Addressing his heir he asked, "Is there something funny, Talon?"

"Yes," the Prince wheezed, wiping tears away with his pale fingers. "I have never seen you take so much shit from a woman."

The King was okay with his son's outburst- they had a close relationship. Phoenix filed that information away.

"I suppose so," the King agreed with a smile, "I've never met a Lowlander so eager to have their tongue cut out."

It was the King's turn to laugh at the threatening remark. Large belly bouncing, he didn't stop for an uncomfortable couple of seconds. There were three steps separating her from the royal family. The windows beyond were too bright to know what laid beyond.

The King's face switched to a grave expression injected with absolute fury. Brows pinched so close they almost touched and a lip tilted slightly up. With this tension shift, all the laughter once dancing between the royal family died.

"Lives have been lost for less, Lowlander."

Phoenix's stomach burst into intense pain and her eyes widened when she remembered that she hadn't eaten. Hungry and gripped with fear, Phoenix couldn't help but think mom. Was this how mom felt before she was executed? If she didn't get out, what chance did Phoenix have?

No. Mom couldn't fight her way out because Cole was at the training grounds. They'd punish him if she escaped. The family was safe in the Lowlands, Phoenix could fight her way out.

Resting his hands on the arm of his throne, the King pushed himself up until he stood, towering above her. Phoenix smirked; standing was the King's crucial mistake. As he rose, the glint of a sword hanging from his hip caught her attention. A weapon. What were the chances that the King wore it for looks and didn't know how to use it?

One last survey.

The guards were busy watching the King, hands at their sides, not on their guns. And now, there was a weapon approaching Phoenix. It would have to be now. The King walked toward her, each step pulsing with certainty. The King's four shoes, leather and reflection, carried his presence closer to her. Almost halfway between the dais and her.

Just a little closer.

"Don't worry," the King gestured with his hands and all the guards looked up away from Phoenix, "I have someone here that would like to see you. To comfort you."

Halfway to Phoenix, a quarter, lunging distance-

Phoenix lashed out and snatched his sword!

The King stumbled back in surprise, but she swung the sword and clasped it tightly in her hands. Continuing her stride with sword in hand, she ran up the dais. The soldiers couldn't shoot, she was too close to the royal family. Blood pulsing, her sword and body settled behind the pale throat of the Prince.

Phoenix looked back to meet the King's eyes, who turned to her with wide eyes. Eyes not wide with hate. No, in the once confident man's features, she saw true terror of having his only son held hostage by the champion.

"Guards down!" the King yelled, voice shaking.

They followed his command but didn't retreat from their positions.

"What do you want?" Phoenix snarled, impatient and eager to survive.

"I know you take care of your siblings, Phoenix," the King explained, holding up his hands to show good nature, "I know you're in the guard with kids under your name, which is illegal."

The jaw of her hostage dropped a little, the sword digging deeper into his throat.

The Prince then craned his neck to look up at Phoenix. She glared down at him. It was hard to see from the angle, but there was something she couldn't read in the Prince's eyes. It was as though he was re-analyzing her, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. All she knew was his lack of panic was concerning.

"So you're going to kill me, for being a lying Lowlander? I do have your heir's life in my hands," Phoenix threatened, sliding her gaze back to the King.

"You do indeed. But I know you, Phoenix. I know what you do, and I know who you are."

"You know nothing," she snarled.

"Am I wrong again? I don't think so. Just tell me this: Why haven't you killed anyone?"

What was with this question? Was it this eagerness for blood that led to mom's execution?

"No one deserves death. No one," Phoenix enunciated.

"Not even my son? That makes your threat useless, as he doesn't deserve death," the King's confident aura returned.

He was right, of course, so Phoenix slowly pulled back and let the Prince go.

"If you would just wait two seconds," the King said, "I'd like to-"

Move.

The Prince stood and turned toward Phoenix as she sprinted away. She held up the sword and charged to the nearest window. Guards closed in on her as she ran into the window.

The sword broke the glass, and she jumped-

Falling-

Glass shattering, she flew. In the distance behind her, Phoenix heard the King shout at his soldiers. Chaotic glimmering shards fell around her, reflecting the sun from above.

Once, two, three sets of windows she fell past on her way down. The last thing Phoenix saw before impact was the Prince looking down at her, face a blur.

Then, Phoenix hit the moat's cold and unforgiving surface.