Fatefall - 11

Chapter 11 - Sage 

To be honest, I didn’t even make it through our first offensive without sustaining a life-threatening injury. Asa had been draining the life force from my body when a young woman rushed towards me and attacked the Fate head on. She carried me to her house where she nursed me back to health, and I knew then that I wanted to marry her. 

“Sage?” Poppy’s voice trembled and the thought of something---or someone---scaring an assassin made Sage want to curl up into a little ball. 

He could see her mind spinning, trying to come up with a reasonable lie as to what he had just witnessed. Poppy stepped into the light and … was that a bruise on her cheek? And blood on her shirt? His gaze dropped lower until he realized she wasn’t wearing much and he averted his gaze, cheeks flaming. 

“How much did you see?” Poppy asked, her voice a mix of fear and frustration. 

Sage hesitated, trying to formulate an answer. “I … I heard loud voices and crashing sounds … I came out here to look … the door was open …” 

Poppy shook her head, her eyes burning a hole in Sage’s chest. “How much did you see?” she repeated. 

“Only the end,” Sage admitted. He’d laid in bed for a few minutes, listening to Jett’s soft snores and debating whether or not it was worth it to get up and investigate the sounds. “You agreed to do something for that man. Who was he? And what did he want you to do?”

Poppy only looked relieved. “Go back to bed, Sage. It was nothing.” 

“Who was he?” Are we in danger? Maybe the man was one of Poppy’s assassin friends. Did assassins have friends? 

“No one.” 

Sage raised an eyebrow. “Your cheek says otherwise.” And your stomach. Wait, were those bruises on her neck too? 

Poppy raised a hand to her cheek, wincing when her fingers brushed the sensitive skin. “He was another assassin.”

“And what did he want?” Sage pressed. 

“Go back to bed, Sage,” Poppy sighed, crossing her arms. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“If it had something to do with the Tournament, then I beg to differ,” Sage said, trying to keep the fear from his voice. He’d already embarrassed himself enough by freaking out when he’d seen his father at the banquet. The last thing he needed was for Poppy to think he was a poor little noble boy who needed babysitting. 

Poppy rubbed her eyes and yawned, though the act looked forced. “We still have a few hours of sleep left. Why don’t you head back to bed--”

“Did you promise to kill us or something?” Sage asked. Harsh, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Why else would two assassins be meeting during the wee hours of the morning?

“He wanted to threaten me,” Poppy answered. Her voice sounded calm, but her body language said otherwise. “It doesn’t matter though, because I don’t plan on following through on my promises.”

So she didn’t care about keeping her word then. Sage made a mental note not to trust Poppy on pinky promises. 

“What did he threaten you about?”

Poppy shot him a look, like she was tired of his questions but answered anyway. “He told me to sabotage our team’s chances of winning.” She shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Oh, is that all?”
Poppy missed the sarcasm completely. “He threatened to frame me for regicide too, but I didn’t think that was worth mentioning.”

Sage wanted to scream. This was his teammate? Some girl who could casually reference regicide and not give a care in the world? 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Sage. I’m sorry I troubled you with my own problems, but trust me when I say I can handle them. You won’t have to worry about the other assassins.” Ah, yes, because that was reassuring. “Why don’t you go--

“If you finish that sentence, I will slap you,” Sage interrupted. He wasn’t some child that Poppy could order around as she wished. He wouldn’t let her look down on him. 

“Finally, some spine.” Poppy smirked before joining Sage in the kitchen. She took a handful of the chocolates from the open box on the counter and then tucked the candies back into a cabinet. “Well, it’s late and I should probably get some sleep before tomorrow’s training, so…”

“Actually,” Sage began, “I was wondering if you could answer a question for me?”

“Sure,” Poppy said, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “Go for it.” 

Sage took a deep breath, ignoring the warning bells ringing in his head. “You have the Grace of Life, right?”

Poppy raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth peeling upward. Heat rushed to Sage’s cheeks. “Yes,” she answered, obviously intrigued. 

“What … what does it feel like?”

Her smirk fell away to confusion and Sage wrung his fingers. Poppy seemed to struggle for an answer. “What does my Grace feel like? Are we doing show and tell or something?”

Sage dropped his gaze and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I just…” His voice trailed off as he realized that this was a huge mistake. Revealing his weakness to an assassin? Foolish. “Never mind.”

“Well now I’m curious. Why do you care what my Grace feels like?”

He wanted to tell her that this didn’t concern her and that she should just go back to bed. He wanted to run home and tell his father he’d made yet another mistake. He wanted to be Graced. 

“How did you know you were Graced?” he tried instead, fully aware that the subject change might arouse suspicion. 

Poppy blew out a breath. “I don’t know. I grew up in Aecheral, so I never used my Grace---at least, not in public.” Sage noted the way her fists clenched and her knuckles turned white. “I guess I just always knew, y’know? Like it was inside me from the very beginning.” She gave a casual shrug. “How did you find out you were Graced?”

Fates, he should have prepared for this. 

Sage couldn’t hide it forever, he knew. He’d imagined the scenario a million times and yet he’d never pictured it would be with Poppy, half-dressed, eating chocolate in the wee hours of the morning. 

“That’s the thing,” he whispered,”I don’t have a Grace.”

Poppy snickered. “You really don’t get out much, do you? Because if that’s your sense of humor--”

“It’s not a joke,” Sage protested. “I’m Ungraced, Poppy. In fact, I’d even venture as far as saying that I’m a disgrace.”

Her expression fell. Sage wished he would’ve stayed in bed. Would’ve kept his mouth shut. Anything would’ve been better than Poppy’s eyes burning a hole into his very soul. He couldn’t tell if she was confused or horrified or disgusted, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

“Sage,” Poppy said, “you’re telling me that you don’t have a Grace.”

He nodded once, swallowing his fear. It left an acrid taste on his tongue. 

“You lied to the people running the competition. You lied to Koda. You lied to us.”

His stomach churned but he forced himself to nod. If you can’t accept this guilt, imagine how it’ll be when you tell the others. Sage didn’t want to picture the hurt on Jett’s face. Fates, he’d forced Jett into this and he didn’t even have a Grace to back up his claim to win. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Poppy held up her hand, stopping him. “I don’t want your apologies, I want answers. How did you get past Qualifiers?”

“My opponent died.”

“They just died? Like, right before the competition?”

Sage shrugged. “I walked out to the circle and he never showed up. When they went to look for him, they found him dead.”

Poppy cursed under her breath. “Obviously someone wants you in this competition, so badly so that they murdered your opponent to pave your way past Qualifiers. Did you hire an assassin or anything?”
Sage wrinkled his nose, offended that she thought he would sink that low. “I didn’t tell anyone I was competing except for … for one of the men who works at my house.” Saying Peter was a butler would just make him seem more entitled. 

Poppy rubbed her temples. “Look, I’m too tired to deal with this right now. And I think I need to sleep on all of this.” 

“I’m sorry,” Sage repeated. Maybe his father was right. He was a fool, endangering random strangers on a whim. “Really, Poppy. If you want, I can turn myself in to the people in charge. They can find you a new Graced of Soul and you’ll actually have a shot at winning--”

“No,” Poppy cut him off, striding away carelessly. “We’re going to win, Sage. We’ll find a way without your Grace.” She shot him a look over her shoulder. “I don’t know you well, but you don’t seem like the kind of person to give up, Sage. Don’t start now.”

Sage took her words and tucked them away. Poppy had taken the news better than he’d expected, and Sage just had to hope the others would react in a similar manner. 

And if they didn’t … Sage hadn’t been joking when he’d offered to drop out of the competition. 

Sage’s humiliation ended up being postponed until midafternoon. 

Adrian didn’t show up for breakfast, though Koda arrived halfway through to announce that they wouldn’t be training until after lunch. He wanted to give everyone time to adjust and welcomed them to return home to gather belongings if necessary. 

At first, Sage debated avoiding his return home for as long as possible. He quickly dismissed that option because he didn’t really want to wear the same clothes for the next few weeks---or even months. He considered purchasing a whole new wardrobe, but his money was all at home, meaning he would have to go back to get it anyway. 

Luckily enough, his father was nowhere in sight and Peter was kind enough to answer the door so Sage didn’t have to scale the wall and slip through his bedroom window. He filled a large bag with a variety of outfits and a handful of books from the university. He made it to the door before his mother caught him, her pale brow creased with worry. Her dark eyes seemed haunted in a way that twisted Sage’s stomach with guilt. She had opened her mouth to call out to him, but Sage had hurried out the door before she could say anything. He told himself that it was easier that way. 

As for training… 

“All right, let’s get started,” Koda said, clapping his hands. Sage noticed the way Koda’s eyes grazed over the room, surveying the competitors gathered before him. They were allowed to wear masks for training, but no one did---not even Adrian, which surprised Sage. He’d put up such a fight when Poppy had tried to force him to reveal his identity, and yet the prince was fine with telling Koda. “I assume all of you have held a weapon before.”

Sage glanced at the others, but none of them said anything. 

He wondered what qualified something as a “weapon”. The training room sported an entire wall devoted to weapons racks. Sage didn’t know the names for half of the equipment, but it all looked deadly. A circle---similar to the one from the qualifying rounds of the Tournament---sat in the center of the floor. Wooden cutouts of people lined one wall. Sage noted the obvious lack of medical supplies, though he supposed that Poppy’s Grace of Life should make her practically a walking first-aid kit. 

“Great,” Koda continued, forcing a weak smile. Sage couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the sponsor. He, too, knew just how intimidating it was to face a room full of dangerous people who looked like they would kill you at any moment. “I know the Tournament is supposed to test your ability with your Grace, but we’ll work on that later. You’ve all had your Graces for long enough that I’m assuming you're relatively proficient in wielding them.”

Poppy elbowed Sage in the side and he stepped on her foot. Not now, he almost whispered to her. He would reveal his … his weakness when he wanted to. But not now. 

“Generally each team should have a variety of ‘skills’,” Koda explained, trying to sound confident. When he was met with silence, he gave a sigh. “Look, guys, I’m just trying to help you out. I don’t have to run the training if you don’t want me to--”

“I fight with daggers,” Poppy interrupted. “But I can use a sword and a bow and I can kill a man without moving a muscle.” She said it all with a straight face and Sage felt the familiar sensation of fear tingling at the base of his spine. 

Koda blinked once, glancing at Adrian. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“A sword,” Adrian offered. Of course the prince would know how to wield a sword. Sage wondered---perhaps with a hint of envy---what kind of lessons royalty recieved when it came to fighting. “I might be a bit rusty.” He gave a lopsided grin. 

Some of the tension in the room dissolved. Koda seemed relieved, and Sage couldn’t help but agree. 

As it turned out, Nakoa hadn’t seen a fight before the qualifiers. She claimed she could use a knife or a sword, but she didn’t seem sure of it. Jett also wielded knives, which didn’t surprise Sage in the slightest. Street thieves couldn’t exactly walk around with swords strapped to their backs. 

Sage’s training for the Golden Guard had left him with mediocre skill with a sword. He’d never excelled at fighting due to a leg injury that left him with a slight limp when his muscles grew tired. 

He told his teammates as much and tried to ignore the way Poppy not-so-subtly kept hitting him in the side. 

“There’s something else Sage would like to share with the group,” Poppy added, flashing a knowing smirk. Sage glowered at her, but he knew he probably just looked like an angry chipmunk. A self-conscious flush painted his cheeks pink. 

At least Poppy is wearing pants this time, he told himself, and then cursed himself for having his mind in a gutter. 

When he hesitated, she gave him another nudge on the shoulder. “Something about a particular issue that he neglected to mention last night.”

Sage gave a nervous chuckle, wishing he could shut Poppy up for good. “I don’t think now is a good time--”

“Fine,” Poppy said. “I’ll say it: Sage doesn’t have a Grace.” 

Sage hoped that Poppy had a spot reserved for her in the fiery pits of--

“When were you going to mention this?” Adrian asked, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Were you planning on waiting until the middle of a Trial?”

Sage winced, especially once he caught Jett spitting out a whole slew of curses. “Sorry--” 

“I don’t want your apologies,” Adrian said. 

“That’s what I said,” Poppy chimed in with exasperation. 

“You stay out of this,” Sage shot back at her. “It was my secret to tell on my terms--”

Jett cut him off. “Well, your secrets are our secrets now. You don’t get to hide things from us when it involves our lives!”

“Hey,” Nakoa interjected. “We can’t start fighting already--”

“Oh, can’t we?” Adrian span, his attention never lifting from Sage. “Any other life-threatening secrets you’d like to keep from the group?”

Sage’s stomach boiled with frustration. “Says the boy who refused to reveal his identity until Poppy tackled him to the floor!”

“I’m the prince!” Adrian shouted, grimacing. Yeah, Sage thought with sick pleasure. Scream it to everyone out there. Tell them who you are. 

“The only thing that means is that you're entitled,” Jett argued, spinning back to Sage. His eyes flashed with anger that made Sage’s eyes prickle with tears. “Is there anything else you want to keep from us?”

“Another assassin threatened to frame Poppy for regicide if she doesn’t sabotage the Tournament,” Sage said, shooting a dirty look Poppy’s way. She leapt towards him, but Nakoa grabbed her shoulders and held her back. 

“You can’t just go around exposing people!” Poppy yelled. 

“You did it to me!” Sage challenged. Okay, maybe it was a little petty but he wanted to see how Poppy liked being the object of everyone’s anger. She deserved it, after all. 

“Shut up!”

The voice cut through the air, sharper than any blade. Sage turned to see Koda, standing on a table his arms crossed in front of his chest. When he realized that everyone’s attention was now on him, he seemed to shrink back. 

“Listen,” Koda pleaded. “I know I’m not a great sponsor and I realize that you all have your little problems with each other, but guess what. I. Don’t. Care. Get over yourselves! You’re squabbling like toddlers. The only thing that matters now is the Tournament. So if you have anything else you’d like to get off your chests, I’d suggest you do it now.”

It took Sage a moment to realize that his chest was heaving. Fates. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten so worked about something. 

“I’m half blind,” Nakoa said, her voice soft. She met Sage’s gaze, as if daring him to challenge her. He wondered what “half blind” truly meant, but her grim expression made him too afraid to ask. 

Koda looked satisfied, if slightly pale. “I’m not saying you have to spill your deepest, darkest secrets to each other. Just…please try to get along. You can go back to hating each other after you win the Tournament.”

Bold of him to assume we’ll win, Sage thought bitterly. 

His teammates looked like they were thinking the same thing. Sage had to admit that they were an unimpressive bunch, a mismatched group of inexperienced teenagers playing a game that they didn’t quite understand. The son of a nobleman? A prince? An assassin and a thief? A priestess, for Fatesake? What chance did they stand against trained warriors? 

“If we want even a chance at winning, what better place to start than training,” Nakoa said. Sage caught the eagerness in her voice and couldn’t help but share the feeling. 

“Great,” Poppy mumbled. “Just tell me what to stab and let’s get started."