FanStory.com - Barbed Wordsby Rinshikai

Giselle clears her throat. "Lady Runa. I'm sure you and your daughter would like some privacy." She gestures to one of the rooms. "As long as you are my guests, these quarters are yours," she said, sitting back down.

"Thank you, Lady Giselle. You have been a generous host." She leads Becka out of the common room. Once the door clicks shut, I rise, pain rushing across my arm. I fight the urge to wince, not wanting Enid to know what happened. But there's no hiding it from Giselle. I feel her inspecting me, top to bottom.

"Servious, I believe it's time for Enid's morning lessons."

Her veil shields her eyes from the sun but can't hide her sour expression. "Do I have to?" She pouts, focusing on Giselle. "It's so dull. I'm never going to use it." She turns in my direction, trying to get me on her side. She gives me her best puppy eyes, but I refuse to fall for it.

"I know my lessons can be tedious, Miss Enid. However, I must insist on them." With a sigh of defeat, she takes the hand he offers, allowing him to lead her toward the double doors. However, they stopped beside me, and those faded eyes hit me.

"Are you two going to fight again?"

That question always cuts deep. I hug my baby sister. "No, little light," Her fist sends a ripple up my spine. My gaze darts to Giselle, who nods in agreement. "We just need to talk about a few things." The lie twists my gut, and guilt chips away at me. But she doesn't need to hear the barbs. "I promise we're not going to fight."

"I'm thirteen, Colton. You don't have to defend me." She hugs me, "And stop calling me Little Light," she said, pretending to be angry with her nickname. Yet, her half-hearted laugh can't hide how she feels. Taking Servious's hand, they exit the room.

The doors close, and the room's aura changes; I sit while Giselle sips on citrus water. I'm about to join her. "How much did you drink last night?" She throws the first knife, "I saw you with Melissa, so I assume you must have been drunk." She twists it deeper, those sapphires piercing into me. It takes all my will not to snap at her, but I cap my frustrations.

I pour my citrus, savoring the sweet taste. "Nothing happened. Melissa and I met Iona in the garden. Then, her mother dragged her off. That's it."

With a heavy sigh, "You know how it looks," her disappointment oozes. As my heir, you're expected to present yourself in a way that befits your future station." She shakes her head, refusing to lay eyes on me. Yet you fight me at every turn. Most would kill for what you have."

Unable to take anymore, I stand. Finishing my drink, and I slam my cup on the table. "Sorry to be such a disappointment." Walking towards the doors, every memory of her venom hits me. I'm tired of these arguments. I fight to control myself through heavy breaths and the thumping of my heart.

"How did we end up like this?"

I stop dead in my tracks, forcing my anger into the pit of my soul. Ever since I was little, she told me to forget that day, to bury my past, and to think about our people and our responsibility to them. Where were they when my people needed help?

"After the loss of your parents, I gave you and your sister a home, education, everything your parents could only dream of." Her honeyed words, laced with barbs digging into my resolve. "Yet, you start fights and affiliate with those mercenaries? Why?" Her eyes demanding an answer,

I march towards her until we are face to face. "Because they treated us better than you ever did. They were all we had from before...." Her hand rests on mine, and I pull away. "To them, we're not tools." I throw barbs of my own. "We're family." This spat is pointless. I'm about to leave when she sighs, the weight of my words pushing her down.

"Her sight has gotten worse."

Pain rips through my chest, and I stop. I clench my fist, trying to bottle my emotions. But it takes all my will not to fall apart. My job was to keep her safe, and I made it worse. What kind of brother does that? "How long?"

"Before she's eighteen," she wipes tears from her eyes. "I warned you time and again that this would happen. Had you just done as you were told, maybe she wouldn't be going blind." Her words cut deep, and my guilt overwhelms me.

I pull myself together. "You're right. It's my fault Enid is going blind." I rip the torc from my neck, tossing it to the ground. "If I had been the good little soldier everyone wanted me to be. Everyone would be better off." I give her exactly what she always wants: to be right. "Maybe I should go to the frontier." I open the doors, "After all, what's one more dead Arverni to the Empire." I walk past the guards, unfazed by my actions.

The echoes of her feet bounce frantically from the walls and then stop at the door. "Colton, wait!" she yells, unwilling to leave the safety of her quarters. She crossed a line but wouldn't jeopardize her image to follow me. Every time this happens, I want her to follow me, to show me that I'm more than just some tool for her legacy. But again, she disappoints me.

With hastened steps, the world disappears. I want to hit something, anything, and the yard is the only place to do so. Focusing on my goal, I stretch as I walk, ignoring the weary eyes on me. It's early, so I should have everything to myself.

I leave the halls, and the stone floor turns to sand. There isn't a soul in sight, only some training dummies with crudely drawn faces. Taking a stance, I start my routine, striking my stuffed opponent in the gut. A twinge of pain shoots through my arm. I've always remembered those words. I start muttering, "'You should be grateful,'" I land a blow on my opponent. "'You'll just be a burden to them,'" I strike faster. "'Stop being selfish. Think about your sister.'" I punch faster. "'It's your fault she's going blind.'" With one final blow, the dummies head is gone. But my anger remains. My body refuses to move, and every breath is a struggle. I collapse, sweat falling like rain. Guilt blurring my sight, a hand grips my shoulder, and I jump to my feet, whipping my eyes.

When my vision clears, that hand cups my face. Aunt Iona stands before me, offering reassurance with a faint smile. Without a word, she rests her head on mine. My anger fades as my heart slows, but the guilt still claws at me. I have to do something.