Page 55 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

54

FINNLEAH

I f I thought Zora was strict with our training before, I was very na?ve. Because in the past couple of weeks, now that the War Games had started, she was brutal . Bordering on cruel, really, considering the state of my swollen and sore joints.

My wrists ached, my feet hurt, and if I had to summon a heat shield one more time, I was going to undoubtedly puke.

Each day, my eyes stayed open just long enough to wake up, train all day, and walk from the dining area to my tent to collapse onto my cot into a dead sleep. Even my dreams became a rarity within the last few days—the only perk to this never-ending exhaustion.

I fought a loud yawn. Gods, even my jaw hurt somehow. My sore legs took me down the familiar path to the large tent that had become my home.

My lips stretched in a soft smile at the passing Destroyers. All of them were heading out to the post-dinner social hour, a daily War Game event, that was filled with this week’s games’ discussions, bets, and a ton of cards. I chuckled to myself, remembering the absurd thumb war games I got sucked into yesterday. I embarrassingly lost every round, yet the amount of cheer and laughter and ultimately, terrible-terrible bets, made the time incredibly enjoyable.

The camp was so alive, unlike I had ever seen it before. The longer spring days brought a new level of energy to the soldiers, and War Games filled the air with a certain buzz and excitement.

Yet, none of it was enough to distract me from the fact that he was gone. My eyes still scanned the crowds every morning, looking for his overwhelming presence. My heart skipped a beat each time I walked by his tent, foolishly expecting to see him emerge.

I had hoped that I would finally be able to focus on my goal, on my purpose here, considering my main source of distraction was gone. But each day that had gone by where I had not seen or heard from the General somehow turned into a sizzling wound. One I couldn’t heal, less he’d be near me.

The evening breeze ran through my hair before I stepped inside the dimmed tent.

“Liriya?” My forehead wrinkled with concern as I saw the large bird standing on my bed. I motioned to the oil lamps, lighting the tent with a warm, yellow light.

“What is it?” I grabbed the small paper she held, quickly opening the letter. My heart raced in my chest at terrible speeds as I read a very neatly written line by none other than Gideon Bellator.

Who is leading the games? was all he wrote. Not a word less, not a word more.

My eyes scanned the simple question a million times, but before I could give it another thought, I grabbed my small, sharpened pencil and keenly scribbled.

The Blueblood league. They are fighting against Bronstein tomorrow.

I folded the same paper in half, handing it off to Liriya. With a loud clap, the bird disappeared, leaving me in the flickering light all alone. My eyes scanned the empty space, anxiously waiting. The demon, entrapped in form of a messenger bird, came back a moment later with a new line added below mine.

That was quick. Not participating in the social hour? Why? he asked, and I could almost hear his voice saying the words in my mind.

Zora’s vigorous training. I’m too exhausted to even lift a spoon to eat, much less participate in social hour. And I’ve already lost an embarrassing amount in thumb wars, I replied. It wasn’t long after I handed the paper back to Liriya that she returned again with the General’s response.

Your Elvish nature for terrible gambling precedes you. I couldn’t resist a smile at his words, my heart purring like a cat as I scanned his meticulous handwriting. Too tired to eat and yet, not too tired to write to me? Careful there, Finnleah, or I might think you actually miss me.

A girly squeal escaped my mouth, and the large raven tilted her head, questioning me.

“Oh, Liriya, the audacity of this man…” I bit my lip in excitement, adjusting in my seat as I wrote.

You flatter yourself too much, General. I’ve barely missed you at all. It was a very adamant lie. Because as much as I wanted to pretend, I missed him from the moment he was gone, with each and every second. I missed him more than I would ever dare to admit to anyone.

The enormous raven flew away a second later, and I stared at the ceiling, awaiting her return. A minute had passed, then another. I nervously twisted the pencil in my fingers, adjusting my blankets on my bed, my heart beating unevenly as worry laced my breaths.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. What a dumb joke.

“He will never write to me again,” I hissed under my breath. I shouldn’t care if he ever did. But as I impatiently tapped the pencil on my leg, it became obvious that I undeniably did, in fact, care.

A loud clap sounded in my ears, filling my heart with relief, as the large, onyx bird landed on my bed with a note in her beak.

I shall accept your ‘barely’ for now. But only because I wouldn’t want you to suffer on my account. Though your soul doesn’t extend the same mercy to me, tormenting me each breath that I am away from you.

I read once, then twice, then once more, my eyes darting between the inked words and the empty tent spiked with a certain eeriness. It was that blatant statement, that sheer admission that made my heart freeze. And though he was miles away, gods only knew where, I couldn’t deny the heavy feeling that he wasn’t okay.

Are you okay? Are you hurt? I wrote as my breaths became laden, waiting for his reply.

Those are two different questions. And no, I am not hurt.

My heart ached and my soul thrashed, eager to find him, eager to comfort him.

Do you want to talk about it ? I’d written out, hating that this was the only thing I could do to help him right now.

No. At least not yet , he replied. Do you ever wonder what you would say to your younger self if you had a chance to go back?

I stared at the empty space below his immaculate handwriting, unsure what to say.

I think if I somehow got to see myself as a child, I would just want to give her a big hug. Gods know, she needed one. But I think I wouldn’t say a word about her future. I would let her innocence stay as long as I possibly could. I would let her dream of that small cottage with the white picket fence, full of peace and loving voices, each night. I would let her believe in magic and miracles and a world full of love and possibilities. I would linger there, watching that still-happy little girl and her elf-maid for a minute longer, to remind myself, that though I might no longer be that person, I might no longer have that goodness and that pure, unscarred heart, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist anymore and that I should do anything that I can to preserve it in others. You?

If I could go back, I would tell him not to give up. He obviously wouldn’t believe me because he was an asshole kid, and I’d probably have to Utradecend him just to get him to listen to me for more than a second. But then, I’d tell him not to give up so quickly on something that he’s dreamed of from the moment he found out he wielded raw fire. That even when the desperation of loneliness would suffocate him, to hold on a bit longer. That after a thousand faces that he’d spend his years glancing over, guessing if that’s the one he was searching for, he’d stumble upon her on a random summer night. Then, I would tell him to get his attitude in check because there will come a day when he’ll finally find her, and she will tell him that he is the biggest arrogant ass she’s ever met. Though, he’d wonder if she just likes talking about his ass.

Little shadows flickered around the tent as the sun hid well beyond the horizon. The corners of my lips tugged upward as I reread his letter, my soul shimmering at his words. My fingers picking at the calluses on my hands as I searched for what to write.

He might not be that far off... I scribbled, but then declared, As much as it pains me to admit it, I really do miss you, Gideon, your arrogant ass and all. Sending it off before I could think more on my words, Liriya came back a few minutes later, impatiently dropping off the paper as she jumped to my nightstand, where I had laid out a few small trinkets for her to take. My lips stretched in a soft smile as my eyes read his words.

Please tell me you are sober, because if you are drunk again, I swear to the gods, I will incinerate all of the wine in Esnox.

If I were drunk, would I be able to write as beautifully as I am? I chuckled, clearly aware that my handwriting looked more like chicken scribbles than anything else, especially next to his calligraphic letters.

That was part of the concern, he replied.

Asshole. No, I am not drunk. I shot back. Though, I will pick up day drinking if you don’t come back soon.

I paused, heart racing as I reread the last sentence. My cowardly hand scratched it out, then grabbed a new paper and wrote again.

No, I am not drunk.

“How come you are still awake?” Ashe’s voice startled me, and I crinkled the paper as her and Motra stumbled back into the tent.

“Couldn’t fall asleep,” I mumbled back, though her eyes were on the large raven playing loudly with the shiny knick-knacks behind me.

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told. You were literally falling asleep at dinner, and that was an hour ago.”

“How is our dear General doing?” Motra snickered, grabbing a jacket from her dresser.

I bit on my bottom lip, attempting to hide a secret smile.

“He is just checking in about War Games and stuff,” I shyly replied.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is.” Ashe smirked, openly not believing me. “Tell him he can chit chat in the morning, otherwise you’ll be dead meat if you fall asleep during training tomorrow.” Motra said something in agreement that I couldn’t hear as they both left the tent, leaving me alone with the bird and a blank paper.

Will you write to me tomorrow? I asked, fighting exhaustion with everything I had as my blinks grew heavy.

Of course. How else would I know about the games, he replied, making me smile.

Until tomorrow then?

Until tomorrow.

I held on to his letter, not ready to let go as I plummeted straight into my pillow. No longer able to hold my eyes open for a moment, my mind slipped into a dream, longing for tomorrow.