Page 79 of Powerless

There.

A fat rabbit hops out of the bushes a few dozen feet away, completely unaware of my ill intentions for it. I pull the bow over my head and slip an arrow from the quiver. I knock it, aim, and breathe deeply just as my father taught me to. And then I send the arrow flying towards its mark.

Straight through the rabbit’s eye.

It’s dead before it even crumples to the ground. I snatch up the animal, wipe the arrowhead on a nearby plant I hope wasn’t poisonous, and return the arrow to my quiver.

Find water. Start a fire. Eat food.

And then I’m back to walking, tripping over tree roots and stumbling over stones.

Riveting.

I let my thoughts run wild as I keep a steady pace through the foliage, thinking of my opponents, the ball, the calloused hands on my back and grey eyes studying my face.

I huff in annoyance and kick a rock harder than I should. A string of curse words spills from my mouth—directed at the rock, myself, and the cocky bastard I hate for not completely hating.

The sun is making its descent across the sky as I continue to trample through the greenery, swearing at the multiple spiderwebs I walk through and the giant spiders that accompany them.

A Sight catches up to me and I try my hardest to ignore his presence. Once he’s satisfied with the footage he’s collected of me stomping and huffing through the forest, he turns and disappears.

Warm, late afternoon sunlight streams through the trees, casting the forest in golden shadows. For a moment, I allow myself to take in the ominous beauty of this eerie place.

And then something hits me in the face.

Well, I hit something. I nearly trip backwards, sputtering, only to find that I walked right into a large, cotton shirt hanging from a low branch. I grab it, grumbling about how I don’t need the king’skindnesseseven as I slip on the garment.

I walk and walk.

I’m bored. I’m bored during a bloodyTrial.

And then something catches the light, glittering out of the corner of my eye. I pivot towards it, leaves crunching beneath my feet. My mouth nearly falls open at what lies no more than thirty yards away from me.

A deep pool of crystal water sparkles in the sunlight, rippling slightly in the warm breeze. Welcoming and wonderful. I blink. I didn’t see this pool when I was high in the tree, scouting. Then again, the shimmering water is surrounded by trees, nearly swallowed by the foliage around it.

I practically trip in my haste to reach it.

Water. Water. Water.

I’m so thirsty, so greedy to gulp as much as I can. Then build a fire, cook my rabbit, and—

There’s somethinginthe water, bobbing on top of it.

I’m much closer now, the sun not so blinding as it glints off the clear surface, and I can make out an outline on top. Ahumanoutline. I creep forward, pulling my bow from across my chest, clutching it in my fist.

The figure isn’t moving.

The figure with dirty blond hair plastered to his tanned forehead.

The figure with the same glassy green eyes as the king, staring unseeingly up at the blue sky.

A strangled scream rips from my throat, sending birds scattering out from the trees around me.

Kitt.

He’sdead.

I’m gasping, stumbling to the edge of the pool. I may hate his father and the kingdom he will one day rule, but that doesn’t mean I wish to see him dead. The thought startles me, considering how very much I crave that fate for the king that looks so much like him. But what if their familiar features are where the similarities between them end? What if there is hope for the prince to step out of his father’s shadow, out of his footsteps, and create change in his kingdom?

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