Protagonist Bound (11 page)

Which, let me tell you, is no easy task.

Don’t believe me? Give it a try. Pull-ups when you’re a girl are nuts!

No, when it came to tree climbing what I tended to fall short on (pun most certainly intended) was the dexterity. Between the rough, yet slippery feel of a branch within your hands, the difficulty of clinging to that branch while your shoes blindly searched for footholds, and the persistent, realistic threat that both might snap at any given moment, it never tended to end well. Every time I tried, I severely injured myself and/or those around me. The last time Blue and I had gone climbing together, for example, I’d broken my arm and knocked her out of the tree as I fell—causing her to sprain an ankle and one of her wrists.

We’d just gotten back to school and, needless to say, I was in no mood to put either of us out of fighting shape so soon. This, unfortunately, didn’t register to Blue until I huffed, “Great, now what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Crisa,” Jason said, backtracking. “We could do something else if you want?”

“Well . . .” I started to say.

Then I caught a look at Blue who was shooting me a sort of silent
“please.”

“Thanks, Jason. But you two go on ahead,” I conceded.

It was nice of Jason to offer; dude was always putting others before himself. But he and Blue were really good friends and were no doubt excited to catch up. I wasn’t about to hold them back. Jason still seemed to feel guilty though. So, in his innocent, yet misguided attempt to remedy the situation, he made an even more horrible suggestion than tree climbing.

“Crisa, Daniel’s an awesome sword fighter. Why don’t the two of you hang out and practice?” he said, gesturing to the sword in my hand.

Suddenly I lamented bringing my wand. The sheath swung across Daniel’s shoulder apparently had a sword in it as well, so neither of us had a plausible excuse for rejecting Jason’s proposal. As consequence, we were both victims of our friend’s good-natured idea and the unwritten rules of social decorum that dictated we go along with it.

After some unenthusiastic “yeah okay’s” from both Daniel and myself, Jason and Blue headed off toward the campus orchards and left us alone together.

At first we stood there facing each other wordlessly. I didn’t hang around with boys one-on-one very often, so I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to initiate the conversation or if there was some secret code word to get his attention or whatever. Eventually, after shifting the weight back and forth between my left and right foot for a bit, I cleared my throat in an attempt to start a dialogue.

“Soooo . . .” I began.

“Yeah?” he responded.

Ugh. This was going to be like pulling teeth.

“So do you want to fight or what?”

Daniel eyed me up and down like he was calculating something. “Sure,” he finally responded. “Could be interesting.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean it’ll be like a test of my control.”

He removed his sword from its sheath and spun it confidently to add flourish to the point. “I’ll have to go against my instincts and hold back. Practice restraint.”

I gave him a really skeptical brow furrow to hint that I needed further elaboration. He, in turn, went on to provide it and thus affirm what my instincts had been telling me since I’d first laid eyes on him. I did not like Daniel.

He drew into a fighting stance to signal he was ready.

“Have you ever had a pet dog?” he asked.

I mirrored his stance and raised my sword. “Yeah, what of it?”

Daniel delivered the first strike across my right side and I parried and endeavored to counter. He blocked it easily and went on offense, slowly pushing me back as we continued the match.

“Well,” he explained calmly as he blocked one of my strikes after another, “a hard trick for a dog to master is balancing a treat on his nose and not eating it until the command is given. It’s a pretty big challenge because he has to be strong enough to restrain his natural instincts.”

The comment, and the little toadstool I almost tripped over, caught me off guard and filled me with annoyance.

“Am I supposed to be the treat in this anecdote?” I asked.

“Yup.”

He swung at my left arm and I sidestepped just in time.

“And you consider yourself strong because you are such a great swordfighter? And resisting making me your dog chow is a challenge?”

Daniel smirked. “In a manner of speaking.”

“All right then,” I said as I calculated my next move. “Let me ease your troubles. I give you permission not to hold back, because
I’m
definitely not planning to.”

At that, I broke my sword away from where he’d previously been blocking it, swung around underneath his arm, and came back across toward his head. The down and up move caught him by surprise. He ducked just in the nick of time and the shock was evident on his formerly smug face. The humility didn’t last long, though. A second later he recovered and grinned like the impressiveness of the move was more amusing than threatening. And then I realized why.

Not that I would’ve ever admitted it out loud, but he was right. Holding back was a feat for someone of his natural talent.

Daniel moved with both force and agility. He was much better at sword fighting than me, or even Blue, and it was all I could do to avoid getting sliced by his swift strikes.

It killed me to acknowledge it, but the fact was that he was just plain incredible. I had been practicing for most of my life and was not nearly as strong as him. The scary thought also occurred to me in that moment that I might never be. I mean, I was used to trying a bit harder than most people with the sword because the ability did not come easily to me, yet in the broad perspective I’d always considered myself to still be fairly skilled. But the way Daniel confidently fought me without even breaking a sweat—smirking all the while—made me feel a lot less sure of it.

Amazingly enough, five minutes later I was still in one piece.

“You’re pretty decent,” Daniel said at that point. “For a princess anyways.”

I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or sarcastic; either way the remark was unexpected and irritating enough to distract me for half a second. Half a second, however, was all Daniel needed. He came at me so fast I couldn’t even half parry his strike. The sword was knocked out of my hand and I was left standing there defeated. To add injury to insult, the universe also picked that particular instant for me to trip over a large rock when I took a step backwards—causing me to fall on my butt.

“You overextend your strikes. It’s like you think the blade is way longer than it actually is. And you make these weird swooping motions that don’t work with a sword,” Daniel lectured as I sat on the ground awkwardly. “If you ask me, sword fighting isn’t really your thing
.
But hey, you should be proud of yourself. For a minute there it was like I was fighting an actual opponent.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” I snapped.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

Daniel reached out his hand to assist me, but I scowled and picked myself up. I did not want or need his help.

In a huff, I went over to collect my sword from the ground. When I turned around I saw there was a smirk on Daniel’s face, but also a bit of previously unnoticed coldness—making me wonder if maybe he didn’t naturally like me either.

I was too angry and embarrassed to say anything more, so I just marched past him, shooting a massive death glare in his direction as I did so.

“It was nice meeting you,” Daniel said sarcastically as I stomped off toward the school grounds.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” I called back.

The Prince & The Hero

gave Blue and SJ an earful that afternoon, sparing no expense in telling them that while they had both had wonderful Saturdays I had been stuck with the most obnoxious boy in the history of time.

My re-telling of the story was very theatrical and not lacking in colorful adjectives, so the two of them were thoroughly entertained as we readied ourselves for that evening’s ball.

“He was so smug-looking I just wanted to smush his face,” I continued as I searched my desk drawers for some kind of necklace to match the dress I would be wearing tonight.

“Smash,” SJ corrected as she fastened the straps on her shoes.

“What?”

“‘Smush’ is not a word. You mean you wanted to ‘smash’ his face.”

I rolled my eyes. “SJ, I’m in the middle of a rant here. Focus, please.”

“Right, sorry.” She looked at her sleek, silver watch. “Can we continue this later though, Crisa. Not that I do not love your stories, I just—”

“Yes, yes, I know. Go ahead. You have work to do. Blue and I will meet you there when we’re done.”

SJ smiled and nodded before hurrying toward the door.

“Do not be late,” she called back as she shut it behind her.

I sighed and made my way into the bathroom, and then to our adjacent closet. There I found the shimmering silver gown I would be wearing for the next few hours. It had a bodice twinkling with crystals and a skirt that poofed out in the shape of a pound cake. I tersely removed it from the hanger and inspected it closely. å

Whenever we had a ball the school seamstresses made each of us a custom gown. In anticipation of this, I always went to see the seamstresses earlier in the week to request that they sew a zipper into the back of my dress instead of making it in the normal, loathsome corset style.

Like forced socializing with irritating boys wasn’t painful enough, our professors expected us to do it while barely being able to breathe?

Not me, thank you very much. Tiny waist be darned; I happen to be very fond of not having my diaphragm crushed.

Zipped up, now all that was left were my shoes and I would be ready to go.

Tonight’s main event was being held in Lady Agnue’s grand ballroom, which was on the opposite side of the school. Given that, I laced up my trusty and comfortable black combat boots beneath my dress instead of putting on sparkly high-heels like a proper princess would.

Had SJ not already left for the ball a few minutes ago, I was sure she would have nagged me about the choice. But nothing she could have said would’ve swayed my decision. I loved my boots almost as much I hated corsets. And anyways, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see them beneath the massive skirt of my gown. Heck, I probably could’ve smuggled three dwarves across state lines under there without getting caught.

Boots secured, Blue and I left the suite and made our way downstairs. From there we commenced our walk through the dimly glowing, heavily tapestried hallways of Lady Agnue’s.

In order to get to the ballroom we had to pass through many corridors lined with dozens upon dozens of regal columns, precocious oil paintings, and hollow, armored knights dressed similarly to the live ones consistently patrolling the school.

Overall, every one of these hallways was pretty similar to its counterparts. Except for the one that connected the East and West wings of the school, that is. This hall (at least 200 hundred feet in diameter) was the vast intersection that housed the Treasure Archives I’d passed by earlier in the week.

Hmm, I never got a chance to finish telling you about those did I? Lady Agnue had interrupted my train of thought at the time.

No worries. I’ll remedy that oversight right now.

The Treasure Archives was a collection of the most precious and famous historical objects in our realm. They were the important trinkets that our fairytales were known for, and they were kept in five locked glass cases here at school.

On this night, like every other, they glowed before us in the light of the chandeliers above—all too aware of their unrivaled significance.

Like every other girl at Lady Agnue’s, I had the contents of these cases memorized from having walked past them so often. No one could help it really. From the golden magic mirror used in
Beauty & the Beast
to the enchanted water lily that could turn people, like Prince Egot, into frogs, each object on display was intriguing and mystifying.

Of course some of the items in these cases were also relentless sore spots for the Legacies and Half-Legacies at Lady Agnue’s. They served as constant reminders of the shadows we lived in, and the expectations we were supposed to live up to.