a little, and she relied on that hesitation to ready herself for a fight; to move first. She made to slice at him with her sword, but he hit her with the full force of his body before she was ready. The larger man was suddenly on top of her and he gave her a few solid punches in the gut, as well as a few to her face. He knocked the sword clear from her hand. Grace squirmed underneath him and bit his knuckles as he tried to punch her face again. She was lucky the impact didn’t break any of her teeth, and for all the effort, she only managed to peel away some of the skin on his knuckles.
“You whelp!” he screamed and held Grace down. His hand reached down and produced a dagger. “Not so tough without your little sword are you?” He pinned her down and taunted her with the dagger. “How to start with ya...how to start...?”
Grace took a deep breath. With every bit of strength she had, she flung her head forward and made contact with the man’s nose. There was a loud crack, he squeaked once, and then fell on top of her heavily. Blood rushed from his nose into Grace’s face as she struggled to get him off of her. Her Uncle Leon once told her that if she was unarmed and in grave danger, the best thing to do was go for the nose. He stated often times it would end in a broken nose, but on rare occasions and with the right amount of force, it could end in death.
Grace’s hit forced the man’s nasal bones into his brain and he died instantly. Now she had no idea what to do. She sat by the body and shook over the gravity of what she had just done. There was a rush running through her body, but it wasn’t fear; it was something else. She had no idea how long she sat there, but finally Grace dragged herself to her feet and set off running for the castle. By the time she climbed back into her room, the adrenaline wore off and she crashed.
~*~*~
Cassandra entered Grace’s chambers early the next morning, when the sun barely began to show itself to the world. She was still in bed with the covers drawn over her face. “You complain about this heat and here you are, wrapped up in those blankets like it was about to start snowing. Now get up and let’s get you ready for the tournament. You do not want to miss Calvin in the sword competition today.”
“ I am not going,” Grace muttered from under the blankets. “Tell everyone I am ill.”
“ Of course you are going! Now get up.” Cassandra pulled the covers clear off Grace. She yelped a little and quickly clapped a hand over her own mouth.
Grace’s face was covered in dried blood, the entire right side of her face was one blue and purple bruise, and her right eye was swollen shut. Grace let out a pained whimper and lifted up her jerkin a bit. Her midsection was covered in the same kinds of bruises.
“All the blood—” Cassandra could hardly find the words. Her voice became nothing more than a raspy whisper.
“ It is not mine. The man…he pulled a dagger. I had to kill him. He just bled all over me and stared at me with these unseeing eyes.” The memory rushed back like a flood. Those eyes would always have the look of surprise in them.
Cassandra sat on the bed next to Grace and took her hand. “You? You killed him?”
Grace nodded and her servant looked aghast. How could she explain to her friend that there was barely any regret for killing a man who was going to harm an entire family? She felt remorse for ending another’s life, but not so much knowing she helped a family escape his wrath. Not to mention the fact that he intended to kill her. Cassandra would never understand, but then again, Grace barely understood it herself. After fleeing from the body, she vomited along the side of the road. She killed a man. Trying to justify all the reasons she felt guilty and all the reasons she didn’t caused her a headache. She shivered and Cassandra held her fast.
The maid stroked her hair. “He’d have killed you,” was all she said.
Grace didn’t want
“You whelp!” he screamed and held Grace down. His hand reached down and produced a dagger. “Not so tough without your little sword are you?” He pinned her down and taunted her with the dagger. “How to start with ya...how to start...?”
Grace took a deep breath. With every bit of strength she had, she flung her head forward and made contact with the man’s nose. There was a loud crack, he squeaked once, and then fell on top of her heavily. Blood rushed from his nose into Grace’s face as she struggled to get him off of her. Her Uncle Leon once told her that if she was unarmed and in grave danger, the best thing to do was go for the nose. He stated often times it would end in a broken nose, but on rare occasions and with the right amount of force, it could end in death.
Grace’s hit forced the man’s nasal bones into his brain and he died instantly. Now she had no idea what to do. She sat by the body and shook over the gravity of what she had just done. There was a rush running through her body, but it wasn’t fear; it was something else. She had no idea how long she sat there, but finally Grace dragged herself to her feet and set off running for the castle. By the time she climbed back into her room, the adrenaline wore off and she crashed.
~*~*~
Cassandra entered Grace’s chambers early the next morning, when the sun barely began to show itself to the world. She was still in bed with the covers drawn over her face. “You complain about this heat and here you are, wrapped up in those blankets like it was about to start snowing. Now get up and let’s get you ready for the tournament. You do not want to miss Calvin in the sword competition today.”
“ I am not going,” Grace muttered from under the blankets. “Tell everyone I am ill.”
“ Of course you are going! Now get up.” Cassandra pulled the covers clear off Grace. She yelped a little and quickly clapped a hand over her own mouth.
Grace’s face was covered in dried blood, the entire right side of her face was one blue and purple bruise, and her right eye was swollen shut. Grace let out a pained whimper and lifted up her jerkin a bit. Her midsection was covered in the same kinds of bruises.
“All the blood—” Cassandra could hardly find the words. Her voice became nothing more than a raspy whisper.
“ It is not mine. The man…he pulled a dagger. I had to kill him. He just bled all over me and stared at me with these unseeing eyes.” The memory rushed back like a flood. Those eyes would always have the look of surprise in them.
Cassandra sat on the bed next to Grace and took her hand. “You? You killed him?”
Grace nodded and her servant looked aghast. How could she explain to her friend that there was barely any regret for killing a man who was going to harm an entire family? She felt remorse for ending another’s life, but not so much knowing she helped a family escape his wrath. Not to mention the fact that he intended to kill her. Cassandra would never understand, but then again, Grace barely understood it herself. After fleeing from the body, she vomited along the side of the road. She killed a man. Trying to justify all the reasons she felt guilty and all the reasons she didn’t caused her a headache. She shivered and Cassandra held her fast.
The maid stroked her hair. “He’d have killed you,” was all she said.
Grace didn’t want
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