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15-2

15 – 2

There's a crossbow aimed at me. The point of its bolt is primed to punch through my body. Its wielder, Rolly Pike, won't miss; he can't, not this close. I would die at the merest twitch of his finger. We both know it, and it's that which has kept me still; kept me staring at that sharp, shining end. Until now.

Until Clarke lies dazed upon the pier, her eyes glassy and unfocused; her face stained with sweat and streaks of her own blood. I shift my legs beneath me, my knees digging into the splintering planks. Her stomach shivers as I start to crawl; her throat works when Pike spots me; she vomits as he snaps my name.

I stop, fear of that sharp, shining end overriding my fear for her. I don't look at it; I can't, not when blood and bile mix and pool by her mouth. Her piece of ice is as dim and distant as her eyes.

No prayer this time, just a plea; sent down a memory of gossamer thread: be alright. Please, be alright.

Planks creak under Pike's tread. “I said, 'don't move',” he observes, “I know I did, I remember doing it, so; why are you?” I curl my fingers into an empty crevice. He's behind me, I can feel him. He waits, then barks, “Answer me!”

I have to swallow before I can croak, “Please.”

He's smiling. I can hear it in his echo, “Please? Please what?”

“Let me go to her. Please.”

A plank creaks, and then nothing. I won't look at him, his crossbow, or the point of its bolt. I won't look at Merigold's smugness or Juliana's defeated confusion. I will look at Clarke, I will watch her breathe, and I will beg, “Please.”

“Fine,” he permits, “but I so much as – think – you're trying something and...you know what'll happen.”

I jerk my head in a nod, and he prods me forward with a gentle nudge of his boot. Blood and bile smear my hands as I crawl to gather her into my lap; to make a cradle for her head in the crook of my knee. I scrub my palms clean as best I can while she blinks glassy, distant eyes at the sky. My hands flutter above her face, picking strands of her hair from the jagged, spidery gash his strike had torn into her temple. The wound bleeds, streams of it flowing, streaking, staining; it's everywhere.

I don't know what to do. There's a knot in my throat, my eyes sting and blur, and I can't stop shaking. Planks creak under Pike's tread; he returns to Merigold's side. He says, “Sorry to interrupt, Madam Mayor,” as if what he has done is no more a transgression than an over-loud cough. I blink the tears from my eyes and swallow the knot in my throat; see Merigold dismiss his apology with a wave of her hand.

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It's all she deems this worth, it would seem, for after that she returns her attention to Juliana; who looks at us with heart-broken sorrow and fierce, furious grief. I pull up my sleeve and press it into Clarke's wound, stanching the bleed as best I can. It seeps into the cloth, into my skin beneath, and I agree with that look: this is her fault. If not for her, we would've been faster. If not for her, we would've been gone.

That's not fair, nor is it true. It's why the agreement only lasts until Merigold opens her fucking mouth.

“I didn't want that to happen,” she says; her face sorrowful, voice softly sad. She shakes her head, “Really, I didn't. She's a good girl; she doesn't deserve to suffer for your mistakes, does she?”

“No,” Juliana agrees, just as soft, “They don't.”

“Good!” Merigold straightens, all but bouncing in place, “So we're agreed: – you – do what you're told, and – this –,” she flapped her hand in our direction, “never needs to happen again.”

“Fine,” says Juliana, “What do you want from me?”

Merigold scoffs, “I already told you, but...fine, one more time,” she clears her throat and bends to look Juliana in the eye, “I am so incredibly fucking tired of tiptoeing around you, so I'm going to kill you. Is that clear enough?”

“Yeah,” answers Juliana, her head bowed. Gone is the knight who battled six men and won; she is worn and weary and done. Merigold's delight is cruel and immense, flushing across her skin and giving her the only genuine smile I've seen her wear.

No wonder the moon would not take her. He has her already.

- - -

I don't know what to do. There must be something, there must be, but what?! The only weapon is the one in the hands of Rolly Pike; my only friend bleeding in my lap; our only escape a half-moored boat behind us. We are alone, helpless, and hopeless. Merigold steps back from Juliana, whose eyes are closed and her head bowed. Has she already accepted her death?

No, she can't have. It's not possible; it doesn't make sense! She is a knight, a captain of knights! She's the only one that Merigold couldn't buy, bribe, or blackmail. That means something. It has to. It has to.

Doesn't it?

Of course it does. She has a plan. She's waiting; biding her time, getting her strength back. When the moment comes, she'll strike. She'll bring Pike down and turn his crossbow on Merigold. We'll get on the boat, sail out of here, and never, ever come back. Everything will be alright. I just have to wait.

Merigold takes a step back and straightens, her cruel pleasure twisting the whole of her face. Moonlight touches her; casts her eyes in shadow. Between those dark pits and the vicious leer of her smile, her resemblance to the bramble-beast is complete. “Do it now,” she says.

My heart stops.

Pike goes to her side, the both of them well beyond Juliana's reach. I dump Clarke from my lap and scrabble to rise; to run, before it's too late. She lifts her head to look, not at them, but at me.

She still is, when he fires.

He can't miss.

He's too close.

The bolt flies fast and strikes true, deep into Juliana's chest. The point punches out through her back; sharply, wetly glistening in the moon's accursed light. Her eyes widen, her mouth falls open, and all the breath leaves her at once.

I fall to my knees. There is a hole in my heart; a sudden, depthless chasm. Somewhere within it, there is a scream.

Juliana looks at me; into me. I watch her broad, weathered face go slack as she falls to the ground. Her hands twitch, as if to reach for me. I watch the light of life fade from her narrowed, blue-dark eyes. I watch her die.