Marks of the Past - 2

Chapter 2

James and his father - Anton - were not short on money in any sort of way. 

They escorted me out of my cell and past the snarling prisoners who probably were going to form an alliance just to kill me first since I’d spent two hours total in prison. A dark-haired girl about my age gave me a death stare as I passed. I think James noticed because he hooked his arm through mine. 

We took the train to the western district of the city where most of the rich people lived. The buildings were ten times larger than the shoebox of a house I’d lived in. 

The streets were much brighter than the ones by my house, illuminated by strategically placed lamps. James and his father chattered amicably while I trailed behind, feeling out of place and dreamlike. 

Of course, their house was the biggest on the block with a front garden that could fit my house inside of it four times. Intricately trimmed hedges lined the cobblestone paths hidden behind the rod iron gate. There was a fountain in the center, spewing water. Even the front doors to the house - which could’ve been mistaken for a castle - were decorated with gold embellishments on the railings. 

If the Oasyian Republic still supported monarchy, these guys would’ve been the king and prince. 

“Do you like it?” James asked when he caught me staring. 

I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. “Do I like it? I’ve never seen anything like this my entire life.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” Anton commented. “I’d say all that work finally paid off. Your expression is priceless.” He gave me a charming smile, one that father and son seemed to share in immaculateness. 

The front entryway opened into a sprawling staircase with crystal chandeliers and a picture of the family hanging on the expanse of the wall. I was overwhelmed by the largeness of everything. The painting itself depicted James surrounded by his parents, all three of them sharing the same chestnut brown hair and fair eyes. 

James gave me another smile when he caught me looking at the portrait. “It’s a few years old, and Father says he’ll get a new one when we win the Redemption.” 

I dropped my gaze. When. He sounded so sure, but they’d chosen to sponsor me of all people. 

That’s a question for another time, I reminded myself. Out loud I whispered, “thank you.” 

“Don’t thank us yet,” said Anton. “You haven’t even seen your room yet.” That in itself sparked a new kind of curiosity in me. 

I’d shared a room with Lexi and Liam my whole life, leaving the master bedroom for my mom. Anton and James seemed to have enough rooms for the entire city. I count ten doors side by side, probably to various suites. 

A tiny part of me wondered where the woman from the portrait was, but I was too afraid to ask. I didn’t want to impose because there was still the chance James would decide I was useless and send me back. 

Anton threw open a pair of double doors to reveal a medium sized room with pastel walls and a king size canopy bed in the center. Glass doors on the other side opened to a balcony that overlooked a backyard filled with floating lights. Candles hovered inches from the ceiling in an appearance of a starry night. 

To say I was at a loss for words was an understatement. 

“Will this work?” James asked me politely. 

I gaped at him. “Are you kidding me? This room is probably bigger than my house itself.” 

James opened his mouth to say something, confusion etched on his features. Anton elbowed him in the side and they both fell quiet. The silence was like shame to me. Obviously, James didn’t know I was so poor. 

“There is clothing in the closet,” Anton explained after a moment. “I hope it fits, but if it doesn’t I can call the tailor. The lights operate on a time schedule, but there are oil lamps by the bed if you prefer to stay up late. The bathroom is attached to your closet, and that stuff is pretty easy to figure out.” 

I was in awe of all of this - of how someone could possibly have this much. 

“Thanks,” I stuttered again. 

“Would you like a tour?” James asked me, excitement appearing on his face. “I can show you the library and maybe we can go for a moonlight stroll around the grounds…” 

“I’m sure Leila is very tired,” Anton interrupted, stumbling over my name. “You’re welcome to take up my son’s offer, or you can settle down for the night. I’m sure you’ve had a busy day.” 

I nodded, once again feeling guilt welling up in me. I’d been in that cell for two hours. That other girl could’ve been in there for a year or more, and here I was, possibly taking her chance at being sponsored. This could be her room. I could picture James offering the same to her … 

“Why me?” The question spilled from my lips before I could stop it. “Why did you choose me?” 

James awkwardly placed a hand on my shoulder. “Because I felt it in my heart that we were meant to sponsor you.” He gave me a reassuring pat on the back before rejoining his father by the door. “Goodnight, Leila.” 

I returned the whisper, “goodnight.” Then he was gone and I was alone. 

Guilt pooled in my stomach as I showered and changed into fresh clothing. The fabric was incredibly soft, reminding me of how Lexi and Liam were probably huddling for warmth at home. 

It was because of that guilt that I could barely sleep. I tossed and turned for hours. The bed was too big, the blankets too warm. It’s just until the Redemption, I told myself. 

It tasted like a lie. 

Morning brought an early wake up. James knocked on my door when the sky was still dark. I grumbled at him before changing and attending a fancy breakfast. 

Most of the staff was absent, James explained to me. The week before the Redemption was a week of holidays where unneeded workers are given off. Only the essentials remained, which included a small group of chefs, a few butlers and maids, and a secretary for Anton. 

I was given a tour of the grounds, which seemed to stretch on forever. 

Lunch was awkward because Anton was called into a meeting with the Court and that left James and I alone. 

“So,” I said, trying to make conversation while picking at the food. “What’s after lunch?” It wasn’t that I wasn’t hungry, but every bite reminded me of how hungry my family probably was. It didn’t seem fair. 

“Eat something first,” James prodded, shoving a plateful of food my way. 

I shrugged, putting something in my mouth just so he’d stop bothering me. James didn’t seem satisfied. 

“We have training,” he answered after I’d eaten enough not to starve. “

“Training?” 

“You thought you were going to win the Redemption on pure luck?” 

“Kind of,” I admitted. “Although training criminals to properly use weapons doesn’t seem like a good idea to me.” 

James laughed and heat swelled in my chest. “In theory, the elite would choose the most ‘innocent’ to sponsor - which we did.” I gave him a small smile to show that I did appreciate him choosing to sponsor me. “Besides, the Court doesn’t actually care.” 

“You said in theory. So some of the elites don’t choose the innocent ones?” 

James shook his head. “A good bit of my dad’s friends do choose the ones who have committed lesser crimes or deserve second chances. But some of the elite choose the people who they know have a better chance of winning.” 

I understood that winning the Redemption gave the elites a bonus, but I wondered if it was really worth it. For one, you were letting a convicted criminal stay in your house and they could murder you at any moment. And if they did win the Redemption, then you were letting a murderer go free. 

“What kind of training?” I asked, trying to distract myself. 

He gave another shrug. “I dunno for sure, but I think weapons mostly. The Redemption is about survival, and the trainer needs to know if you can even perform basic fighting before they spend time teaching you the more peaceful skills.” 

Weapons. I suppressed a shudder. Using weapons or any sort of violence had always been terrifying to me. I could just picture King Mark lurking beneath the surface, waiting to take over if I showed any signs of being willing to harm another person. 

And the last thing I wanted was to be like him. 

“Don’t worry, it won’t be hard,” James assured me, misinterpreting my hesitance. He probably thought I was scared to make a fool out of myself. 

I gave him a small nod, but I was already trying to plot a way of escaping this training session. Sure, this was probably essential to my survival but if I did harm someone, I was just as bad as everyone else in the Redemption. 

Lunch ended and James led me back to my room so I could change into ‘better’ clothing. 

At my house, I’d worn the same clothes for a week before washing them to get the most uses possible. Here, I could wear whatever I wanted whenever I felt like it. 

The trainer met us in the backyard. Yes, us. 

James insisted on staying to “gogue my proficiency”, though I was pretty sure he was just bored. 

My instructor, on the other hand, was frustrated beyond belief. 

I couldn’t fire a gun, couldn’t hit a target with a bow and arrow, nor could I swing a sword to save my life. Hazel - my mentor - tried every weapon she could think of, but I was useless at all of them. 

To be fair, I was pretty sure it was a matter of my build. Hazel was stocky with long, blonde hair that made her look more like a fashion model than an assassin. I was skinnier with clothing that hung off my bony form. 

“Have you tried knives?” James suggested, much to my dismay. “Supposedly, King Mark was really good with a dagger.” 

And that was exactly the reason that I didn’t want to use them. It was yet another chance that King Mark would gain more control of me, become more human. I didn’t let myself show my fear, though, instead giving a small nod. 

Hazel took a look at me like she was seeing me in a new light, possibly inspecting my scar. She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Perhaps…” 

A few minutes later, I had a silvery knife in hand and a target across from me. 

“You can throw this, or you can use it like a sword,” explained Hazel. “Throwing, of course, would be the last ditch - and that’s even if you can aim. Knives have the disadvantage of a shorter range but more accuracy and concealability than a sword.” 

I nodded, showing her that I was listening.

Hazel quickly demonstrated how to hold a knife, showing me where to place my fingers. “I don’t expect you to be perfect,” she reminded me, as if I hadn’t failed at everything else for the past hour and a half. 

I raised my arm, preparing for the throw, but then I felt a sort of presence beside me. There was no need to look, I already knew who it was. 

“Just observing,” Mark noted quietly. Don’t let him distract you, I told myself. 

My fingers seemed to move themselves, wrapping around the hilt in a different way than what Hazel had shown me. The grip came more comfortably and my muscles seemed to relax. 

The attack reminded me of a snake, coiling up and preparing to strike. 

Hazel gaped at me as she tried to pry the knife out of the center of the target, where it was stuck fast. I heard Mark heave a satisfied sigh beside me, and then the presence was gone. 

“The grip was all wrong…” Hazel scoffed, but even she seemed amazed. 

Suddenly, James was at my side too, acting like an excited puppy as he practically bounced up and down. “Wow, that was awesome! Can you do it again?” 

Much to James’s excitement and my dismay, I was able to reproduce the results of the first throw with a narrow precision. My muscles simply seemed to know where to go and I followed my instincts. 

But all of this faced me with an even greater challenge. 

Now I knew that if I really wanted to, I could kill someone. One hit with my accuracy and they’d be gone. I didn’t like the power that came with that, because was it really my choice of who got to live and who didn’t? 

Is it okay to hate myself because of who I might become? 

Training ended with Hazel dismissing me and promising that she wouldn’t return - I was apparently as far as she could teach. That left tomorrow to begin the survival aspect of training. 

The rest of my evening was relatively clear for once. Anton dined with James and I this time, regaling me with embarrassing stories from the boy’s childhood. Mark made an appearance once, glowering at me from across the table. 

After dinner, James invited me on a stroll around the city. 

“C’mon, Leila,” he said, smiling brightly. “It’s what kids our age normally do. We can go shopping or something.” 

Honestly, shopping was something I absolutely despised, but I reluctantly agreed to join him anyway. “Fine,” I sighed. “But you have to help me pick out something for Lexi and Liam at a souvenir shop.” 

“Deal,” James laughed. “Let me go grab my jacket.” 

With only two hours until curfew, James and I set out to explore the retail district of the city. I’d only seen it once or twice with my mother, and it was definitely ten times nicer than the poverty-stricken housing areas on the other side. 

The storefronts were decorated with tiny lanterns that glowed brightly in the dim light. Some of the shops were beginning to close so parents could get home to their children, but others were still bustling with any excitement. James waved amicably to people everywhere and I felt out of place. 

To be honest, it was actually quite enjoyable. We didn’t actually buy anything, but we saw all kinds of really expensive luxuries. James knew people everywhere so we got a fair bit of free samples too. 

“We should probably head back soon,” James sighed, checking his watch. “Curfew starts in half an hour and we’ll probably get distracted on the way back.” 

I laughed, knowing he was right. I seemed to get distracted by every tiny detail. 

We were turning around - heading past the bakery that gave out free muffins to the Court and their sponsors - when I spotted a gathering crowd. 

James and I shared a look, his eyes meeting mine in worry. 

The crowd cleared a path for us as we approached, whispering as James pushed his way through the people. I wasn’t sure if they recognized his authority or if they saw the mark on my face and were afraid. 

There was a woman on the ground, unconscious, her chest heaving with every breath. 

“What’s going on?” James asked, taking hold of the situation. “Someone tell me what happened.” 

A man answered him, but I was too distracted by the woman. I knelt down, brushing her hair out of her face. When I caught sight of her facial features, a gasp escaped my lips and my stomach sank. 

The woman was Hazel, and her lips were blue. She was dying. 

“James,” I whispered. Then, louder, “James!” He turned to me, annoyance evident on his face until I managed, “It’s Hazel.” 

Suddenly, James was at my side, taking her pulse. “Someone call a medic!” he cried. 

I was about to stand and find someone to send out, but a woman grabbed my arm, yanking me backwards. “Don’t let that witch of a girl near the poor lady!” 

Before I could register anything, I was being forced backwards, pushed by the crowd. 

“Her fault!” “Criminal!” “Curse of King Mark!” Their shouts were even worse than their hands and I couldn’t help it. Fists rained down on me, accusing me. 

I pulled my mind into the tiniest corner of my brain, protecting it from the chants. 

Logically, I knew it wasn’t my fault. I’d never done anything to Hazel, I’d only seen her for a few hours to begin with. 

 The words stung more than the bruises. I knew I wasn’t a criminal, but these people obviously thought that I had done something terrible. And this stupid, useless curse of King Mark was so much worse to me than it was to them. They had no right to… 

“Leila!” This was James’s voice, yanking me back to the present. My pride was practically dripping off of me and disappearing into the sewers like the rain water. Rain? When had it started raining? 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, more of a sob than anything. My ribs hurt where the people had hit me. “I’m sorry that you sponsored me and you have to deal with this and I’m sorry about Hazel and…” 

“Shh,” he whispered, voice soft. “You’re safe now. The people are gone and Hazel is on her way to the hospital where she’ll be healed. None of this is your fault.” 

“The people think it is.” 

“They don’t matter,” James argued. “It’s just some theory that’s going around, but no one has proven it yet-” 

“Theory?” 

James nodded, still holding me close to him. I was aware of the rain tumbling down around us, pooling under me. I was soaked to the bone, but James was keeping me warm enough. “But as I said it’s not proven true.” 

Something struck me as wrong. “Wait … is the theory about me or Hazel?” 

James ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I suppose your parents never would have told you about it.” 

Parent, I wanted to say, but I didn’t care enough to. 

“It all relates back to King Mark,” James explained. “A lot of people don’t think he could’ve killed as many as he did without some sort of magic, possibly over death.” 

“But there is no death magic,” I corrected, remembering the words Mother had drilled into my head as a child. 

James shrugged. “That’s besides the point. A fair bit of the citizens think that you possess King Mark’s power because you have his mark.” Nothing new there, I thought bitterly. “They think that you’re here to finish the job, and Hazel’s illness is just kindling to the fire. Nothing to worry about.” 

But it was something to worry about. 

Now I knew that the people weren’t just afraid of me being a descendant of King Mark, they thought I was here to kill them all. 

And I couldn’t help but feel that maybe - just maybe - I was the cause of all this.

Author's Note

Sorry if these chapters are taking longer. I've been writing each one twice actually because I don't like how each of them was going first. A bit of important stuff, still trying to get a feel for who the characters are personally.