It wasn’t very convincing, considering Gwenda was now at home sitting on the couch and staring at the wall on the other side of the room. The king wasn’t very convincing when he invited her to stay at the castle.

Gwenda wondered why the king would offer her a place in his home. But it was obvious. She was the Shooter, that would only bring them closer so that she could be persuaded by that man. After all, she would have her mark, and her signature would be on the paper, living that would be another clever way to protect him. But from what exactly? It was inside the castle, a protected, closed place. So, the young woman became confused about the shallow reasons the king might want her inside his house.

What could threaten the king his castle to offer a place for the Shooter willingly?

A shiver of anger ran down Gwenda’s spine as she thought about it and returned to her thoughts a few moments ago.

She had been taken to her house. No one took care of her wound. Not that she expected anyone to. They removed the handcuffs from her wrists as soon as they left her at the door, and the first thing she did was massage where the wind could finally touch, without the metal piercing her wrists.

Gwenda couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t thank Kimer and Louise for being there. As soon as she entered the house and closed the door quietly, she knelt in the kitchen. She spent the whole day doing nothing else. She didn’t eat, didn’t go to work, didn’t take care of her new label that could very well get infected. She didn’t bother to deal with the wound, protect it from bacteria. She spent the rest of the day sitting on the couch.

Gwenda lamented all this time. She lamented for her father, for her mother lost in the darkness of her mind. She lamented for whatever gods were listening. She lamented for Kimer and Louise, for Darcy.

Darcy saved her skin in the last case. Gwenda put her boss in danger more than once and Darcy was still there for her when she was about to be devastated. The boss knew that Gwenda refused to shoot, to kill at times. So, she did the job for her.

Gwenda’s mind was involved in deaths. She could think of burying a bullet in someone’s heart, but she always feared doing such a thing. She reached the point several times of seeing everything blurred, the gun pointed at someone who simply didn’t want to surrender. So, Darcy had to do that job for her. And end. That was the end of the case.

She had always been taught that species didn’t matter, that killing would be the last option. But never an option to be set aside. What would her father think of her now that she was in the sector of a Carvlinea? A place that taught them to be tough, always willing to go all the way. That wasn’t what her father wanted for her; Gwenda knew.

The young woman sighed. She was thinking too much about what her father wanted or didn’t want for her and what he thought was best, that she hadn’t thought about what she herself really wanted.

Maybe because she didn’t want to know her conclusion about the life she was living. Everything was spinning, and Gwenda found herself forced to sleep on the couch when the dark and quiet night came earlier than planned.

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Someone opened your door, and Gwenda opened her eyes, wondering why the hell she didn’t locked it. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Louise. Her friend never knocked on the door.

— Gwen — The weakness in her voice made her falter, and her eyelids drooped. — How are you?

Gwenda didn’t respond as Louise closed the door and walked to the middle of the room without taking her eyes off her friend on the couch with her knees pulled close to her chest.

It’s raining, Gwen. It’s raining.

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She took a deep breath and replied, hoarse:

— Fine.

Louise sat down beside her and rested her head on the alarm propped against the back of the couch. She didn’t dare touch Gwenda. Not when she was in complete agony.

— Can I stay here tonight?

Gwenda dragged her hand to Louise’s hand and tried to hold it firmly. Louise seemed to hold her breath and gripped her friend’s trembling hand. Gwenda couldn’t hold back tears and pursed her lips before lowering her head.

— Gwenda — Louise voice faltered as she leaned closer — It’s not your fault.

She shook her head in denial.

— Kimer and I are here for you. Here. — Louise placed her palm over Gwenda’s pounding heart — You were never alone.

Louise knew what she was feeling. She knew about the loses, the betrayals, the chaos of living day after day lost in the jungle like a savage at eighteen. Louise knew that Gwenda couldn’t stand to fail. She knew everything. Every detail.

Gwenda’s father had taught her to accept the defeat. Because it’s better to fail than not to try, and without failure, there is no means of winning. Her father showed her that failing wasn’t absurd. Gwenda followed his advice for the long years she spent by his side.

When he left, that’s when the sky turned ash. She couldn’t bear to fail. When she saw herself failing at something, she saw herself failing her father, what he had built. Not a weapon as most must see her, not a pawn for the king to use with a mischievous grin on his face. But a daughter. A strong woman. And Gwenda wasn’t in favor of failing at anything.

Being marked was a defeat. She was a paw of the king. She was becoming what she promised her father she wouldn’t be. His pride in his daughter may have diminished even though he wasn’t here in front of her. Because he was with her, he would always be.

Get up, Gwenda.

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The rain arrived as Louise and Gwenda went to bed. They lay side by side, embracing each other. One comforting the other.

Louise was the first to fall asleep, and Gwenda only noticed when her friend’s hand stopped stroking her hair. She opened her eyes and carefully disentangled herself before putting her hands under her head and staring at the ceiling.

Her face felt stiff from dried tears. Her eyes were full, heavy, sore. There was nothing left to think about or do. She had to go on as if she were a slave.

If the king were more direct, maybe she could think about going to the castle. If the threat was facing affected all Carsany... maybe Gwenda could think about helping to defend from inside the castle, planning and calculating the next steps. But first, she wanted to know every detail precisely.

Make it stop raining, Gwen.

She would make the king fail in his duty. She could bring him to his knees.

She would find a way.

Gwenda got out of bed quietly and headed to the bathroom, taking off that now bloodstained and muddy beige coat, dropping it along the way. She needed to clear her head.

She let boiling water fall on the floor with a snap as she waited on the rug. She watched the stream. The same that cut through the air in the square this morning.

Gwen closed her eyes and felt the heat she had inhaled that morning, back in the square and failing to the ground that cruelly injured her knees.

She didn’t take a deep breath. Gwenda didn’t wait until her courage ran out before stepping into the shower and getting completely wet. Every muscle of Gwenda relaxes, and she didn’t bother to push her hair away from her face as she opened her eyes and looked down at her feet. She caught a glimpse of the open, wounded mark, but did nothing. She didn’t hiss between her teeth, didn’t she away from the hot water. Just let it washes her soul slowly and savored every moment.

A spot just below her collarbone burned, seared. Gwenda hunched her shoulders forward, shrinking, and forced herself to pass the products through her hair. Massaging her scalp and sore rips carefully with the soap.

Gwenda didn’t stop when the tears came and were washed away by the water. But it was just tears.

She stepped out of the shower feeling cleansed and quickly made her way back to bed. She put on her underwear and found a sports bra and loose shorts in the closer. Without a second thought, she put them on and got under the covers.

Louise was asleep turned to the other side when Gwenda closed her eyes and found herself accepting being taken into the nightmare that haunted her night after night.