Fatefall - 10

Chapter 10 - Poppy 

After all, what chance does a blade stand against a Fate with the power to stop your heart in your chest with a single thought? 

Poppy loved her new living quarters. 

“We get this all to ourselves?” The question slipped from her lips before she could stop it and she sent a look to the team’s sponsor. He couldn’t be older than twenty, and yet he was sponsoring an entire team for the Tournament. 

The sponsor nodded. “This room is for the girls, and the adjacent one is for the boys. Unless, of course, you want to share. But I figured you probably would want separate spaces--” 

“It’s great,” Poppy cut him off. 

She would share a room with the dark skinned girl dressed as Basar. There was more than enough space for both of them, as the room itself contained four relatively large beds, two wooden desks, and more clothing trunks than Poppy thought reasonable. Poppy and her new roommate would get their own washroom as well. The boy’s room was identical, though there would be three of them---four if the sponsor decided to stay. 

Additionally, the quarters boasted a large living area and attached kitchen. They could request meals or make food themselves, and the same applied for a cleaning service once a week. The living area itself consisted of a couch and several chairs arranged in a circle around a small table. For planning purposes, the sponsor had explained. But you’re free to move the furniture. 

Poppy flopped down on her bed, feeling it give beneath her weight. The blankets felt like silk against her skin. Forget the prize for winning, staying in the room itself was motivation enough not to lose. 

If she could handle these people, of course. 

There was the delicate topic of her roommate’s dog, who they’d stopped to pick up on the journey to their new home. Moose was his name, and while he wasn’t huge, he’d already broken a vase full of flowers. Poppy wondered if he was housebroken. 

“Well, I’ll leave the five of you to introductions,” the sponsor announced loud enough that both rooms could hear. “You’re free to bring whatever belongings you please, just as you are welcome to stay at your real homes. All I ask is that you refrain from killing each other because carpet cleanings cost a lot more than I’m willing to pay. If you need anything else, just ask one of the kind ladies at the front desk to contact Koda.”

All of the competitors were to be housed in the same stone building that sat right next to the arena. Ten suites, each filled with five competitors thirsting for blood. Poppy pitied the staff working to accommodate them.

Koda departed soon after, but not before recommending that they “de-mask” and introduce themselves. You’ll be spending the next few weeks---if not months---of your lives with these people, Koda had said. You might as well get to know a little bit about them. 

Easy for him to say. Poppy couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy dressed as Cashus knew exactly who she was, and the thought unnerved her. 

Regardless, she found herself curled up in a chair a few minutes later, her mask still firmly on her face as the team sat in silence. No one wanted to give up their identity first, and for good reason. Who knew what traitors hid in their midst? 

One of the boys on the couch---the one dressed like Medea---finally broke the silence. “Look, if no one else is gonna talk, then I guess I’ll go first.”

He untied his mask and let it fall to the ground with a soft thud. 

Poppy’s heart stumbled in her chest. He looked so familiar with his warm eyes and tanned skin, and yet she couldn’t place where she knew him from. 

“My name is Jett,” he continued, earning no reaction. 

Jett. Jett. Jett. The name didn’t ring any bells at first…until an image of a younger boy flashed in Poppy’s mind. The trip from Aecheral to Xegalla. This was the boy whose family had taken her in for the journey across the ocean. 

“Jett,” she whispered, and gently untied her own mask. Her face felt naked and bare without it. 

Jett sucked in a sharp breath, his features twisting briefly from surprise to anger to indifference. “I know you … you were the girl we brought with us from Aecheral, aren’t you?”

She nodded once and Jett’s face softened at the edges. Poppy could see him searching his mind for her name. “Don’t tell me,” he mumbled, tapping his fingers against his lips. “Violet? Pansy? I know it was a flower.”

“Poppy,” she answered, curling deeper into herself. At least she knew one person she might be able to trust.

“As touching as this is, the rest of us have better things to do with our lives,” the Cashus boy interrupted from his perch on the armrest of one of the chairs. Poppy shot him a glare, but he didn’t drop his mask. 

Instead, the other girl loosened her’s. 

Poppy was instantly taken aback by the girl’s eyes, one gold and the other green. She was tall, too. Intimidatingly so. If it weren’t for the girl’s blush, Poppy might have fled at the sight of her. 

“I’m Nakoa,” the girl told them as she stroked Moose’s head. He was too big to sit on her lap, and yet he’d strewn himself across it anyway. “And my friend here is Moose. If you don’t like him, then tough luck.” Moose gave a bark of approval, wagging his tail vigorously. Poppy felt a smile sneak onto her face. 

“What about you, nobleman’s son?” Jett inquired, turning to the boy beside him. 

The boy dressed as Dusan dropped his hood and mask to reveal blonde curls (so he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he looked like his father) and a boyish face. He pulled a pair of round-rimmed glasses from his pocket and placed them precariously on his nose. “Sage.”

“Master at blackmail,” Jett said under his breath. “How old are you?”

Sage looked offended and Poppy stifled a laugh. “Old enough.” 

Poppy guessed he was probably about seventeen, the same as her. In fact, no one in this group could be much older than her. Maybe the Cashus boy, but she’d yet to see his face. She turned her attention to him, curiosity getting the better of her. “All right, Mister Champion. Show us the face the princess loves so dearly.”

The boy shook his head and crossed his house. “I don’t play the reveal game.”

“C’mon, we all dropped our masks,” protested Nakoa. 

“I didn’t ask you to,” the boy challenged, his voice frustratingly even. Poppy felt anger spark in her gut. “Look, as enlightening as this has been, I have places to be and people to see, so--”

He moved to stand and Poppy lashed out. She knew the futility of attempting to use her Grace against a Graced of Void, and yet she tried anyway. Unsurprisingly, her Grace slid off of him without leaving a mark and she received a smirk for her struggle. 

A smirk. A smile. A dank cell. 

“You,” she hissed, lunging forward and throwing all of her weight at him. Her teammates’ cries of protest faded to background noise as she tackled the boy to the ground and locked her legs around his hips and pinned his arms with her feet. “I never thought a vigilante like yourself would attract the attention of the princess, but I suppose she has odd taste--”

“Don’t you dare insult the princess,” the boy snarled. 

Poppy’s fingers leapt for the boy’s mask, but he thrashed and she lost her grip on his face. “Oh, right, I forgot that you’re the royal family’s guard dog. Did you uncover who killed the prince yet, or are you still arresting innocents?”

The boy fought harder and Poppy tightened her grip on him. She could hear her teammates arguing behind her, debating whether to help her or the boy. 

“You are not innocent, Belladonna,” the boy bit out, confirming her suspicions. He knew exactly who she was, which meant that if he managed to escape without revealing his identity, Poppy would be as good as dead. 

She ignored him and reached for his mask again, her fingers finding purchase this time. She’d just wrapped her fingers around the string when strong hands grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her off of the boy. Poppy and the mask went sailing into Jett, who’d evidently been trying to rescue the boy. 

Poppy wheeled on Jett, ready to throw a few punches at him too, but she caught the look of shock on his face as he gaped at the boy on the floor. 

Poppy spun back to her interrogator from the prisoner and fell to her knees as realization struck her harder than a blow to the face. Fates help her now, she’d attacked a prince. 

“Prince Adrian,” Sage acknowledged, dropping to a bow. 

The boy on the floor let out a choked laugh. “Please, spare me. I don’t want your respect or your pity. Obviously you didn’t seem to care when you pinned me to the floor.” He shot a pointed look at Poppy, who clutched his ruined mask in her hands. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know--”

“Now you see why I wanted to keep this a secret,” he sighed, running a hand through his curls and sending his golden laurel askew. Poppy had the strangest urge to reach out and fix it. 

“I guess we were wrong about the way the princess thinks about you,” Jett mumbled. Poppy punched him in the leg. 

Prince Adrian shook his head. “If we could keep the royalty talk to a minimum, I’d really appreciate it. The less people who know that the prince is competing, the better. Just call me Adrian, don’t do any of that showy bowing stuff, and pretend like I’m a normal person.”

“Your parents don’t know you’re here, do they?” Poppy guessed.

“How astute of you,” Prince Adrian---no, just Adrian--- fired back. “Koda and Aida are the only two people besides you who know that I entered.”

“Koda, as in Koda our sponsor?” Nakoa butted in. “That same Koda?”

Adrian nodded, climbing to his feet. “He designed the punishment for the Tournament, so this was his reward I guess.”

“So you’re saying that when we lose our Graces, we have him to blame,” Poppy countered, fear worming its way into her stomach again. She couldn’t imagine life without her Grace, and she hated anyone who thought it was a good idea to take someone’s Grace. 

“I don’t plan on losing,” Adrian stated. “So we won’t lose our Graces and we won’t have to worry about that.”

Such arrogance was the sign of a fool. Poppy made a mental note to remember the prince’s cockiness. It could mean the difference between life and death in any of the Trials. 

“Well this was unexpected,” Sage said, falling back against the couch. 

“We can talk more tomorrow,” Poppy decided, returning to her chair. “I’m exhausted, I want to shower, and I assume we all have belongings to gather. Well, maybe not His Royal Highness.” So much for no titles. 

“I was planning on returning to the castle at night, if that’s what you’re referring to,” Adrian said. “I know that Poppy already knows, but my brother---Prince Asher---was killed not too long ago and I’d prefer if we kept that a secret. In light of his murder, Aida and I have already determined that I will be sleeping at the castle. It’s nothing against all of you, but we have to present a facade of normalcy and I also don’t feel like getting my throat slit in the middle of the night.”

“I see how it is,” Poppy sniffed, pretending to be offended. “You don’t trust us.”

“The others I trust,” Adrian said, offering a pointed smile. “It’s you I worry about, assassin.”

Way to go revealing it to everyone, Poppy almost spat, but decided better of it. Her skills with weapons would’ve earned her questions during training anyway. Better now when they were all being open with each other than later when they pondered why she could handle a knife so well. 

“I thought you have places to be,” Poppy said sweetly. 

Adrian pressed his lips into a thin line and snatched his broken mask out of her hands. “Thanks for the reminder.” And with that he turned tail and disappeared out the door. 

“Great job, Poppy,” Jett sighed. “You’ve alienated our best chance at outside support.”

“We still have Sage and his rich daddy,” Poppy shot back. “Besides, Adrian will be back. He’s in this Tournament whether he wants to be or not.” 

“That doesn’t mean he can’t sabotage us,” Jett said. “You think the king would allow his son to lose his Grace?”

“He arrested me without proof of a crime!”

“So it’s true then,” Sage murmured, not meeting Poppy’s eyes. She noticed that Nakoa also refused to look in Poppy’s direction. “Do you really kill people for a living?”

Poppy’s mouth fell open as she struggled for an answer. Yes. Not entirely. She settled for, “Only the bad ones.” She only took jobs that involved corrupt people. That was her one condition for working for Griff. Poppy got to pick her victims.

“Who are you to judge?” Nakoa asked, her voice low. Poppy sensed the fear in the words, and could read the hidden message. How do we know you won’t kill us? 

“We all do things we aren’t proud of,” Jett answered for her. Poppy got the sense that he wasn’t talking about her. “What matters is that we’re a team now. Whoever you were before you set foot in that arena, you aren’t them anymore.” He gave Poppy a sympathetic glance. 

“Thanks,” she mouthed. If Nakoa and Sage really felt threatened by her, she would be willing to relinquish her knives at night so they could sleep soundly. Poppy was just glad that Adrian hadn’t stayed to witness that.

“We can finish this conversation tomorrow,” Jett continued. “Discuss some strategy. Decide on a team name.”

“We don’t need a team name,” Sage pointed out. 

Jett ignored him. “I also think we should get matching shirts.”

“Here’s something to think about: why don’t you shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” Sage grumbled. 

“So eager to kiss me, Goldilocks?” 

Sage flushed bright red and Poppy stifled a laugh, shooting a look at Nakoa, who appeared absolutely scandalized. 

“We should go before this gets any worse,” Poppy whispered to Nakoa, who nodded vigorously and called for Moose. They hurried toward their room and Poppy hoped that the door was soundproof. 

“Hey, don’t leave me alone with him!” Sage squeaked as Poppy and Nakoa slammed the door shut, giggling all the while. 

A shower and a few hours of sleep did wonders for Poppy’s mood. 

She woke up at about four in the morning, her stomach growling. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Poppy had avoided the food at the banquet and she’d been preoccupied with hiding her participation in the Qualifiers to find time to dine. That meant breakfast the previous day had been her last meal. 

Poppy was careful not to wake Nakoa as she climbed out of bed. She stepped over Moose, who stirred but didn’t open his eyes. The oversized shirt she used as a makeshift nightdress fell only to her thighs and she really hoped no one else was awake to judge her fashion choices.

With the other assassin’s Poppy dined when they did. Griff could only afford so much food, so if you wanted another meal, you bought it with your own money. Having access to a kitchen in the middle of the night excited her. 

Poppy crept into the living area and towards the kitchen. Koda had provided an ice box, several cabinets filled with other goodies, and a stove. Her stomach snarled again and she searched the cabinets until a box of candies caught her attention. Sweets were a luxury her parents had rarely been able to afford. 

She tore into the box, tossing a few chocolates into her mouth and savoring the flavor. If they managed to win the Tournament, Poppy would definitely be investing in some sweets. She could buy a whole bakery if she wanted to and have unlimited access to cakes and--

There was a knock at the door. Poppy immediately dropped to a crouch before she remembered that she couldn’t possibly be arrested or attacked. Once the Tournament officially began, none of the competitors could back out, meaning no one could be arrested for the crimes they committed during the Trials. 

Poppy tiptoed to the door, careful not to wake her teammates. Maybe it was Adrian or Koda. 

She opened the door to be greeted by thick hands wrapping around her throat. 

Poppy’s body crashed against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway, her attacker pinning her in place by her neck. Black spots floated in her vision as she thrashed wildly, her fingernails leaving bloody trails down her attacker’s arms. 

Someone cursed and the pressure on her windpipe fell away. Poppy collapsed to the ground, sucking in grateful breaths until hands under her armpits hoisted her to her feet. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” her captor hissed in her ear. 

Poppy didn’t bother with words, opting to slam her foot backwards and send her captor toppling. If she’d been wearing her boots, she could’ve done enough damage to keep her attackers at bay. Fates, she’d settle for just one of her knives but she’d left them beside her bed. 

Her Grace leapt at the prospect of a proper fight and Poppy obliged, sending both of her attackers’ heart rates plummeting. They slid into unconsciousness easily. 

Poppy gingerly brushed a finger against her neck, wincing at the pain that bloomed under her touch. Definitely bruised. She’d have to cover it with make-up if she wanted to hide it. Too bad her Grace didn’t work on herself. 

The light from the living quarters spilled into the otherwise dark hallway, illuminating the faces of her attackers. Both male based on form. She crouched beside one man, recognizing him as one of Griff’s other assassins. A swear tumbled from her lips. Griff must have been onto her--

The punch came from nowhere and fire jumped to life on the side of her face. 

Poppy’s head hit the ground hard enough that stars danced in her vision. Her thoughts blurred into a mess of pain and the instinct to flee. Dizziness made it nearly impossible to balance as she was hauled to her feet. 

“I wondered if we might find you here.” Poppy knew that voice. Hunter. No one knew if that was his real name or purely his assassin alias, but Poppy suspected he deserved the name either way. 

He flung her against the wall again, one arm braced against her throat. Poppy raised her hands, prepared to use her Grace but a sharp blade at her stomach made her think again.

“That’s what I thought,” Hunter said. “You’ve already taken out both of my friends, Bella. We both know what you’re capable of, but I trust you know about the knife ready to gut you at any moment. So what do you say to a little one-on-one chat?”

“I say you didn’t give me much of a choice.” What was his Grace again? She knew he’d signed up to compete, but her throbbing head sent any reasonable thoughts scattering. 

“Then I won’t keep you long. Let’s get right to the point: you’re not supposed to be here, are you?” 

Poppy didn’t answer, and Hunter laughed. His hooded form towered over her in the dim light. Escape by strength alone would be impossible and her Grace was out of the question. Even if she could drop him right away, he knew where she slept and Poppy doubted her teammates would be able to---or even be willing to---protect her. 

“I see. So does the boss know you’ve gone against his wishes?”

No, but Poppy knew he probably assumed. Griff had eyes everywhere, and she had no doubt that at least one of his spies had tattled on her already. 

“What are you, his new secret police?” 

“Not exactly, but imagine what reward I might get for some … information that I’ve gathered regarding his little healer.” She could sense the smirk in his voice, and knew he wasn’t bluffing. 

“Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”

“Imagine how wounded he’ll be to hear that not only did his healer betray his wishes and compete in the Tournament against his will, but she also broke the most important rule of the Faction.”

Fear slammed into her chest like a hammer. “You’re wrong. I may have joined the Tournament, but I didn’t kill the prince.” Fates, had Hunter even known that the prince was dead? Had she just exposed a political secret? Adrian would have her head--

“You’re right, of course,” his voice sent shivers down her spine. “You killed both princes.”

Poppy’s breathing felt rushed. Was Hunter a Graced of Life too? Her nails dug into her palms, the pain keeping her centered. “The princes are still alive. You’re making up stories and we both know it.”

Hunter offered a nonchalant shrug. “The younger prince is dead, Bella. I am many things, but a fool is not one of them. As for the older prince…” He shot a look over his shoulder, into Poppy’s living quarters. “Do you think that regicide would warrant an arrest mid-Tournament?” 

“I won’t kill the prince.”

“No, but which assassin has the closest contact to him?” He left the threat dangling in the air. Poppy wriggled in a futile attempt to escape, but Hunter’s grip was relentless. “You will make sure your team loses this Tournament, Bella. Or you won’t like the consequences.” 

She scoffed. “I could just as easily hold this conversation against you.”

It would never turn in her favor, Poppy knew. And Hunter knew too. It was why he hadn’t bothered with leaving her unharmed. She was too close to Adrian for her own good, and it would be her downfall. 

“I don’t care how you do it,” Hunter continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Run away. Kill someone. Sabotage. But your team does not win. Do you understand me?”

Poppy nodded once, pressing her lips into a thin line. 

The knife tip dug into the flesh of her stomach. “I need your word, little healer. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she bit out. 

Hunter took a step back, apparently satisfied until he struck Poppy in the stomach. She sank to the floor, watching through blurred tears as he lifted the other two assassins over his shoulder like sacks of flour and disappeared down the hallway. 

Poppy climbed to her feet, stumbling weakly back into the living quarter and locking the door behind her. The pain was nothing that a few pieces of chocolate couldn’t fix. 

She turned to the kitchen, wincing with each step until she caught Sage staring at her open-mouthed from behind the counter. Understanding hit her hard enough to chase the breath from her lungs. 

He’d seen everything.

Author's Note

Sorry for the longer chapter - I had a lot of scenes that I needed to fit into Poppy's POV. It's difficult to maintain the distinct voices of all of the characters, so let me know if someone says something that you think is out of character. Thanks!