A Girl Named Calamity by Danielle Lori

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AN ASSASSIN’S AMUSEMENT

“Why do we always have to go off the path?” We once again took a detour that nobody else seemed to be taking. “It never ends up being any good,” I told Weston as we stopped at the end of the forest to water the horses.

“I think that’s mainly because of you.”

I scoffed. “You’re the one forcing me on this sadistic trip of yours.”

“Does it look like I’m forcing you?” he asked with some amusement and something else in his eyes that I wasn’t going to lie, frightened me.

I raised a brow. “Oh, so I can leave then?”

“The world is your oyster. Go ahead, Princess.”

I watched him for a moment in a heavy silence.

“I don’t like this,” I said uneasily.

“What?” he asked with mischief lacing his voice.

I shook my head. “I’m not playing whatever game this is.”

“No game. Go on.” He gestured towards the field in front of us.

“Weston . . .” I growled. I was going to kill him for dangling the fruit in front of my face, just to pull it away.

“You couldn’t make it out here alone, admit it, Princess.”

“Stop calling me Princess!” He made me so angry that I could scream, but not from that stupid nickname he called me; that was just an annoyance. I was angry that he was right. And because I might have had anger issues—which I was sure ran in the family—which I would be chastising Grandmother about if I ever saw her again. Because those pesky issues might have made me make some decisions that didn’t have self-preservation anywhere near them.

“Your thoughts give me a severe headache,” he said with a sigh.

“Yea, well, you give me a severe headache.”

Real mature, Calamity.

He crossed his arms. “I’ll tell you what. If you can make it across this field, then I will escort you to Undaley myself.”

I blinked, not believing it. “What?”

My heart was beating faster, and if he was lying, I was going to stab him.

Get real, Cal. You’ll try.

“You heard me,” he drawled.

I looked at the field in unsettlement and then back at him. He could see the uncertainty on my face and apparently thought it was funny enough that he laughed.

I frowned. “This is stupid.”

He laughed again. “Well, I’ve never had a hostage who didn’t want to get away.”

“Shut up,” I retorted. “You’re bored, and you’re playing some kind of sad game on me. And I don’t want to play.” I crossed my arms.

A grin pulled on his lips. “Admit it, Princess. You’re scared.”

“Call me princess one more time . . .” I growled.

Again, not the thing I was pissed about.

I told myself I would get through this without playing his game, but then, what he said next had my pesky issues coming out full force.

“You got a thing for me, Princess? I’ve had less clingy maids, who hadn’t seen another man in a year.”

I had to bite my tongue. Hard. And tell my mouth I’m the one in charge here.

“You’ll escort me to Undaley?” I growled, not being able to be near him for another second without stabbing him.

“I’ve never been around someone who thinks so much about stabbing another person until you, and you think I’m the lunatic?”

“I swear—”

“You get across that field. I’ll escort you to Undaley.”

“And I get to stab you,” I said. That was definitely going to be part of this stupid deal, or no deal at all.

He smiled, like that was a standard term in an agreement. “And you can stab me,” he repeated.

I didn’t know if I could stab someone while they just held still, but that was a moot point because if I did this, he’d take me to Undaley.

“How do I know you aren’t lying?” I asked.

“You don’t.”

Well, at least he was honest about that.

That had to count for something, right?

I turned to the field and watched the long grass swaying in the breeze. Nothing abnormal about it stuck out to me. I had no idea what this was all about, but, maybe the magic that I was supposed to have would get me through this. Because there was no doubt, there was something odd about this. Or maybe Weston was insane, and I would make it across the field just fine. Yea, I’d latch onto that thought.

I stared at the swaying grass and bit my lip in reflection while a thought gnawed at me until I spit it out. “I’d rather go the way we came from,” I tried.

He smiled. “Nah, the field is fine.”

And, there it is.

Definitely something wrong with it. Nervousness settled in my stomach and grew by the minute. How could I not try? If not for Alyria, then for myself. I needed to be the brave farm girl from Alger.

The stupid fortune teller’s omen swirled around in my stomach unwanted. But I couldn’t let her ramblings take over my life. I looked at Weston; he was sitting down, leaning against a tree with his forearm resting on his knee. The sight of him, being at ease, made my blood hot enough that I mounted Gallant and walked him towards the field. Weston was so relaxed, and yet I was in a constant state of turmoil. Talk about frustrating.

The grass was tall enough it reached my feet on Gallant; a couple of strands got underneath my pants and tickled my legs. I jumped when I felt it, already antsy. I gritted my teeth when I heard Weston’s chuckle behind me, and pushed forward. The only noises were the swish of grass, the crisp breeze, and the occasional chirp of a cricket. I glanced behind me, and Weston was still in his relaxed position. As we got farther and farther away, I started to assume Weston really was insane.

And that was when the clouds descended on me.

I watched with wide eyes as they circled above my head, and I hopped off Gallant when they were undoubtedly coming straight towards me. My heart raced as they chased me. Sounds of laughter came from the clouds as one knocked me off my feet and I fell, down, and into a dark hole.

It was only wide enough to crawl through, and my chest tightened with fear as it seemed to get smaller and smaller. The air supply was diminishing, and I crawled faster until I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I shoved myself out of the hole before I realized I was in the sky.

I was screaming as I fell from a tunnel in the sky. I fell and fell for so long that I was sure I had fallen asleep. My eyes popped open, and I screamed as I noticed where I was going to land.

The sharp point of a mountain.

I threw my hands out to stop me before I hit the ground with a thunk, and everything went black.

* * *

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was that every muscle in my body was sore. The sky was dark, and the heat of a fire warmed my skin. I looked up and met the eyes of an assassin.

Who knew assassins had a sense of humor? Maybe he should have been a jester.

Okay, definitely not.

Half of the spectators would probably end up dead.

“Did you enjoy the show?” I croaked, my throat sore from screaming.

“Quite. Although I didn’t expect you to scream so much. That really put a damper on the entertainment.”

I bet, bastard.

A sense of foreboding hit me. It was easy to fall into conversation with Weston lately.

Somehow, I couldn’t help but feel that was a game in itself.

Disgust washed over me. For some reason, I was the one who was entrusted with the future of Alyria. And here I was, chatting with the enemy. I stood up, with nothing but leaving on my mind.

“Sit down,” Weston ordered, having heard my plan.

“No,” I retorted, “I’m leaving, and you can’t stop me.”

I asked myself if I really wanted to throw this tantrum, and I did. Because I needed some reassurance that I wasn’t willingly following my captor around and that I really was a prisoner.

“Oh, trust me. You really are,” Weston said.

I glared at him. “Why don’t you stay out of my head? And go hang yourself while you’re at it?”

“Sit down.”

“I told you, no! Get it through your thick skull! No—” One leg swept out and knocked me off my feet, and down onto my pallet. Definitely not human. I hadn’t even seen him move before the side-sweep. I went to stand up again.

“Stand up and I will physically tie you down,” he said, his voice harsh.

I watched him, trying to decide if it was a bluff.

“I assure you, it’s not,” he said.

“And I assure you, if you don’t get out of my head, I will cause you bodily harm!”

He ignored me and somehow we got back on the right track. I no longer felt like a voluntary prisoner. And he was back to being the self-absorbed assassin he had always been.