I woke up in pain.

My leg and hip felt fine, but my right hand was icy cold and cramped. Mrs. Jones was sleeping at my side, blood smeared on her clothes, still she was smiling peacefully. Easing myself out of bed, I found I was dressed in a nightgown. For at least the tenth time I wondered what was up with people constantly putting me to bed and changing my clothes every time I was injured. Raising the hem, I saw my leg was perfectly healed without even a mark. My hand wasn’t so lucky.

The skin was still stretched tight, tearing in places, leaking blood and clear liquid. The dogs’ tooth had pierced my hand, just at the edge, below my little finger. My finger sat at an angle, puffy, brilliant red, even more than usual, and oozing pus. Leaves and sap were packed inside the hole and all around the finger, if they actually helped I didn’t know. But even the slight breeze that kept my room comfortable, made it hurt. I stumbled to the bathroom, my throat was dry and it seemed like my head was on fire.

Only using my left hand I rubbed cool water all on my face and hair, which helped a little. Then I drank straight from the tap, tilting my head as far as I could not wanting to lose a single drop, until I could hear it sloshing in my stomach. It didn’t help, my throat still felt as dry as dust. Giving up I went to get dressed, wondering how I’d be able to do anything without my right hand. Opening the wardrobe I saw Crier had been put inside resting at the bottom on my cloth slippers. Picking it up, I was overwhelmed by something I couldn’t comprehend at first. It was so strong, so intense I collapsed onto the ground.

I felt power.

I had defeated a monster made to kill me with a pathetic weapon, that was more for show than actual fighting. I’d outsmarted the fae with a single question. I’d faced the worst that Paula could throw at me, walking into her trap like an idiot and come out stronger. I’d faced all of their challenges and I hadn’t given up. I hadn’t surrendered. I had succeeded, learned and grew ever more powerful. A voice whispered in my mind, I wasn’t sure if it was me or Crier, but it promised that soon, very soon, all those who wanted to hurt me would regret it. It spoke with such certainty, I had to believe it.

Crier seemed to be heavier, sharper, more real. Even while holding it in my off hand, I could see myself slitting Calandri’s throat. Attacking the Lord and his Lady, pinning their dead bodies to their thrones. Making Paula beg on her knees before taking her head. Forcing Jasper to make me stronger, better than before. All I needed was a chance to heal and a little more training.

My lips curled, it took me a few seconds to realize I was smiling.

**
Dressed in a loose, sleeveless blouse and a long skirt, I stalked into the cafeteria. Crier felt odd, it was on the wrong side, so I could draw it with my left hand rather than my right, but I felt stronger, better with it at the ready. The people watched me, I saw fear in their eyes and my smile got wider. Richard was sitting on a small mushroom in the corner. Grabbing some random leaves and twigs in my good hand, I walked over to him.

He avoided looking at my eyes, but he smiled broadly as I sat down. “Alex, I am so happy you survived yesterday. You truly are remarkable.”

“Thanks. I need information and I don’t care how much it costs. How do I break an oath without getting hurt?”

His eyes widened slightly, glancing at my ruined hand. “That is not easily done. Oaths are what binds things together in this land, breaking them as you saw, always comes at a cost.”

“Tell me how I can do it without dying. Like I said, I don’t care about costs.”

“It will take time to discover a way. I have heard of some methods, but they take oaths far more seriously than anything else here. You must move carefully or it will bring down the fae’s anger,” he whispered.

Leaning forward, forcing him to look into my eyes, making him flinch, I said, “Make sure they’re pointed at me when they get angry. I will deal with them. All you have to do is tell me how, and that is enough.”

“I-I’ll start looking. But you will owe me a very large favour.” At my nod he got up and walked away as quickly as possible, his long fingers twitching and flicking so much it was like they were worms being eaten by ants.

As soon as Richard had left three big men stood up and walked over to me. I looked up at the now familiar blue face of Omar, he loomed over me, scowling and cracking his knuckles. All of them were at least twice as big as I was and far more muscular. I raised an eyebrow while eating my food, waiting for them to say something. The music started playing in my head once more, but it wasn’t for me this time.

“Doing another favour for Richard?” Omar demanded.

“Not yet. But if he gets me what I need, I’ll owe him. Are you scared?” The two men behind Omar looked nervous. They probably didn’t expect a girl to challenge them. Well I wasn’t a girl, and I wasn’t alone. Crier hummed at my side, happy that I’d soon be adding more souls to mourn.

“We respect you. You’re young and got dealt a bad hand, but you were doing well, minding your own business and surviving. Now you’re working with the little bastard Richard, and he wants to screw everything over for his own gain. You are his trump card, and that has us worried. Just drop him and nothing will happen,” he said.

I spoke slowly and carefully, making sure they heard the anger in my voice. “The only people who have helped me, have been Sam and Mrs. Jones. I killed Sam when he betrayed me and tried to kill me. Mrs. Jones is crazy, thinks I’m her daughter, and is practically helpless. Richard and I work together with an understanding. He has the information I need to survive, I have a sword. If he tries to screw me over, I’ll kill him. If I screw him over I lose the information and he tells people everything he knows about me. What have you done to help me?”

“We aren’t a support service, and you weren’t exactly making yourself well known,” he said.

“That’s your problem now, not mine. If you have something I need let me know, I’ll make a trade. Otherwise you’re wasting my time.”

“What do you need?” he asked. Lifting my infected hand, I let him guess what my most immediate problem was. “That’s an oath breakers wound. You’ll need powerful magic to heal it.”

As if I didn’t know that. “Do you know where I can get some?”

He shook his head. “Can’t help you. You’ll need to ask your keeper.”

“Well that was helpful. If I see you on fire, I may piss on you to put it out.”

I heard someone growling, probably the hairy guy who looked a little like big foot. Omar held up his hand, quieting him. “Listen Alex, we’re trying to be reasonable. Everything is nice and stable here now, we don’t need you or anyone else tearing everything apart in some struggle to be top dog of the slaves.”

“I just want Paula to leave me alone. She can do it willingly, or we can see who’s the better dancer.”

That got a laugh. “Are you an idiot? You saw what happened the last time you hit her.”

“If she tries to pull another trick like she did yesterday, I won’t care what happens to me as long as my face is the last thing she sees.” I was out of my chair and jumping over a mushroom table a full second before Omar’s foot crushed the stiff leafy bush I’d been using as a chair. Crier came out, its dark blade absorbed the light, I heard it calling for blood.

The three men drew their own weapons, thick clubs for the two I didn’t know. Omar closed his eyes for a second, his tattoos joined together, flowing down his arm. In the time it took to blink, he was holding a rainbow sword that was longer than I was tall, it was see through and made of ink, but the edge looked sharp. “If you leave right now, I won’t do a thing. But if you try to hurt me, I’ll make sure you regret it for a very, very long time,” I said, giving them one last chance to back off.

“Sorry kid. Paula has a lot more pull than you,” Omar said, edging towards me, while the other two spread out to make sure I didn’t run. Sin came in and sat down, smiling as if this was a hockey game.

The last bit of the old me panicked, screaming at me to run away, to call for help, to beg them to stop. It was pushed away in a wave of anger. They wanted to attack me, to hurt me. I hadn’t done anything to them, except tell Omar to leave Richard alone. Everyone wanted to hurt me. Even Sam had wanted to hurt me at the end. His dark eyes flashed through my mind, how when I first got Crier it looked like he was going to kill me. How easily he had decided to kill me when we'd been ordered to fight. I thought he would help me, but it was all a lie. Lies. Lies. Lies.

My own family had abandoned me for a fake. Hitting me, calling the police, threatening me.

There was only me.

A child against the world.

A child with a sword.

A child who was a killer.

I threw myself at the hairy man, laughing madly. Crier cut through his club as if it was paper. He fell backwards with a cry. My blade flickered, slicing deep into the bottom of his shoeless feet, leaving him screaming. Spinning away, easily dodging Omars’ blade, I kicked him on the side of his knee. If I’d been normal, it wouldn’t have done much. But with my hardened muscles, trained over the last two months under the brutal eye of Crier and Calandri, it made him fall with a grimace of pain.

Ignoring him, I attacked the third man, who looked completely normal except for his large, well-muscled gut, like a sumo wrestler.. He was staring in shock at how quickly his companions had fallen. He tried to hit me with a club that looked like a leather covered bone, studded with bronze bolts, it was too high, I barely had to duck. Crier crisscrossed his stomach, cutting into the muscle, painful but not lethal. He turned and ran, screaming in pain.

Omar was back on his feet. He swung again, aiming for my chest. I rolled under the blow, coming to my knees just behind him. With a savage smile, I cut his Achilles tendon. He screamed and fell on his face. The tattoo sword slithered back onto his skin like a colourful leech. I sliced his other tendon, I didn’t want him moving.

He was struggling on his hands and knees, trying to get away, that wouldn’t do. My foot lashed out, hitting his cheek. There was the crack of bone, he fell again barely able to groan.

Something was pushing at my mind, trying to move my muscles. I wasn’t sure what it was, but decided to go with it. Jumping on Omars’ back I placed my ruined right hand on his, pressing hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. Throwing Crier spinning into the air, I caught the sword so the blade was straight down. The next thought was insane, but I felt Crier heating up, there was energy in it that needed to be released. Black metal moved in a blur, piercing both our hands to the floor.

We screamed.

My dark, infected blood flowed over his hand. His own blood flowed up into mine. The fever and pain moved through my veins, clenching my heart in an iron grip. The scream became a shriek. Then it moved on, going down my arm, into my hand and into his. Omar went rigid, paralysed from pain. His warm skin became burning hot. The tattoos turned into shrieking faces. His head banged against the floor. Crier glowed a sickly, pulsing green, every pulse moved more of the infection and wounds from me into my attacker.

The pain stopped, there was only a dull ache from my hand. Pulling Crier out, made me hiss in pain. Omar's howling overpowered that sign of weakness. His hand was throbbing and as sickly looking as mine had been just moments before. Looking at my hand, the skin was still too tight and too red, but it was bearable. The almost incision like cut was clean more like a nasty paper cut than anything else.

I turned on big foot, who was looking at me in complete horror. “I am not weak. I am not a pawn. If Paula wants to fight me tell her to get it over with, and not to send idiots like you. If you get in my way again, I will kill you.”

Sin began clapping. I ignored her and walked out. Calandri would probably be coming for me soon, and I needed to be calm for that.