Page 89 of A Simple Truth

When I left camp, I told myself—no, Ipromisedmyself—that I wouldn’t write to Finnleah.

I had managed to live that truth for two days.

On day three, I had written a letter—more so a confession—though after hours of internal battle, I didn’t send it. Since then, every day for the last couple of weeks I had written her a note.

Now, piles of unsent letters glared at me from my tacky, wooden desk, here at East Hold. They ranged from blatant declarations to simple thoughts to utter nonsense, but they were all addressed to her.

I had written out line upon line of how much I had missed her. How my hand felt so damn empty without hers in it. How the sunshine felt cold, and the air felt stale without her near me. How I spent nights dreaming of her and days thinking of her…

But today, as my soul scrambled for any flicker of light in the darkness, I found myself sending only one sentence and praying to the gods that she’d reply.

54

FINNLEAH

If I thought Zora was strict with our training before, I was very naïve. Because in the past couple of weeks, now that the War Games had started, she wasbrutal. Bordering on cruel, really, considering the state of my swollen and sore joints.

My wrists ached, my feet hurt, and if I had to summon a heat shield one more time, I was going to undoubtedly puke.

Each day, my eyes stayed open just long enough to wake up, train all day, and walk from the dining area to my tent to collapse onto my cot into a dead sleep. Even my dreams became a rarity within the last few days—the only perk to this never-ending exhaustion.

I fought a loud yawn. Gods, even my jaw hurt somehow. My sore legs took me down the familiar path to the large tent that had become my home.

My lips stretched in a soft smile at the passing Destroyers. All of them were heading out to the post-dinner social hour, a daily War Game event, that was filled with this week’s games’ discussions, bets, and a ton of cards. I chuckled to myself, remembering the absurd thumb war games I got sucked into yesterday. I embarrassingly lost every round, yet the amount ofcheer and laughter and ultimately, terrible-terrible bets, made the time incredibly enjoyable.

The camp was so alive, unlike I had ever seen it before. The longer spring days brought a new level of energy to the soldiers, and War Games filled the air with a certain buzz and excitement.

Yet, none of it was enough to distract me from the fact thathewas gone. My eyes still scanned the crowds every morning, looking for his overwhelming presence. My heart skipped a beat each time I walked by his tent, foolishly expecting to see him emerge.

I had hoped that I would finally be able to focus on my goal, on my purpose here, considering my main source of distraction was gone. But each day that had gone by where I had not seen or heard from the General somehow turned into a sizzling wound. One I couldn’t heal, less he’d be near me.

The evening breeze ran through my hair before I stepped inside the dimmed tent.

“Liriya?” My forehead wrinkled with concern as I saw the large bird standing on my bed. I motioned to the oil lamps, lighting the tent with a warm, yellow light.

“What is it?” I grabbed the small paper she held, quickly opening the letter. My heart raced in my chest at terrible speeds as I read a very neatly written line by none other than Gideon Bellator.

Who is leading the games?was all he wrote. Not a word less, not a word more.

My eyes scanned the simple question a million times, but before I could give it another thought, I grabbed my small, sharpened pencil and keenly scribbled.

The Blueblood league. They are fighting against Bronstein tomorrow.

I folded the same paper in half, handing it off to Liriya. With a loud clap, the bird disappeared, leaving me in the flickeringlight all alone. My eyes scanned the empty space, anxiously waiting. The demon, entrapped in form of a messenger bird, came back a moment later with a new line added below mine.

That was quick. Not participating in the social hour? Why?he asked, and I could almost hear his voice saying the words in my mind.

Zora’s vigorous training. I’m too exhausted to even lift a spoon to eat, much less participate in social hour. And I’ve already lost an embarrassing amount in thumb wars,I replied. It wasn’t long after I handed the paper back to Liriya that she returned again with the General’s response.

Your Elvish nature for terrible gambling precedes you.I couldn’t resist a smile at his words, my heart purring like a cat as I scanned his meticulous handwriting.Too tired to eat and yet, not too tired to write to me? Careful there, Finnleah, or I might think you actually miss me.

A girly squeal escaped my mouth, and the large raven tilted her head, questioning me.

“Oh, Liriya, the audacity of this man…” I bit my lip in excitement, adjusting in my seat as I wrote.

You flatter yourself too much, General. I’ve barely missed you at all.It was a very adamant lie. Because as much as I wanted to pretend, I missed him from the moment he was gone, with each and every second. I missed him more than I would ever dare to admit to anyone.

The enormous raven flew away a second later, and I stared at the ceiling, awaiting her return. A minute had passed, then another. I nervously twisted the pencil in my fingers, adjusting my blankets on my bed, my heart beating unevenly as worry laced my breaths.

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