In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.
Be sure to tag #writeworld in your block!
http://writeworld.org/post/134329126010/do-you-have-something-you-want-to-tell-me-little
“Do you have something you want to
tell me, little girl?” The young crown prince strode through the room stripping
off his leather gloves as he walked. The child had ducked under the legs of his
guards and now stood in his path breathing heavily and glaring at him as if
looks could kill, or she hoped they could.
He stopped to look down at her and
made an abrupt gesture to stop his guard from touching her. He waited for her
to get her breath back and answer his question.
“I am going to kill you,” she hissed
at him.
“Ah,” he said. He tucked the gloves
in his belt, crouched down to her level and looked into her face. She looked
nervous but intense. “Okay,” he agreed. “I need to know your name, though.”
“Why?”
“To make sure that no one else kills
me in the meantime. It might take you some time to grow big enough to hurt me. Say,
ten or fifteen years.” She did not look more than seven or eight years old. He
was maybe eighteen.
A frown creased her brow.
“You wouldn’t want to waste your
chance,” he pointed out reasonably.
She thought about that and then gave
a serious nod. “Amira Ulhas.”
“Ulhas,” he repeated as if it was
familiar. “We need to swear it.”
He spat on his bare palm and held it
out to her. She solemnly did the same.
“I will stay alive for you, Amira
Ulhas.”
“I promise to kill you when I’m ready,
Prince Jago.”
They shook hands and one of the more
sensitive guards rubbed down his arm as goose bumps prickled his skin.
The prince released her hand, but
didn’t stand. She backed away; glaring at him the whole time until she turned
and darted off into the shadows.
One of the guards stepped in her
direction.
“Let her go. And leave her
unharmed.”
The guard glanced at him. “But my
Lord, why?”
The sensitive one answered, “Didn’t
you feel that? They made a deal.”
“Indeed. And it would be wrong of me
to break it.” He rubbed his hand down the leg of his trousers and looked
pensive. “Find out how she got this close to the door of my apartments.” They
hurried off to do his bidding.
He stood for a moment still rubbing
his palm with his fingers. “Such pretty eyes,” he murmured.
***
It seemed that Prince Jago was
unable to be killed. Dozens had tried and dozens had failed. Over the years,
combatants had seen him bleed but every time one was poised to deliver the
death strike, he evaded it in a freakish manner, or he healed from mortal
blows.
There was a whispered rumour about
some kind of magic deal he had made; sold his death to a demon, it was said.
***
He stood in his apartments and poured
two glasses of wine. He held one out to the darker shadow near the terrace
doors. “For you?”
She stepped out into the light and
shook her head. “No thank you.”
“Is it time, Amira?” He studied her.
She had grown into a beautiful woman; slim and graceful. Her long dark hair was
braided and hung over her shoulder. Her eyes were still her best feature; a
startling pale green in her tanned skin.
Her chin lifted. “You tricked me.”
“I gave you what you wanted.”
“Not yet; you’re still alive.”
He threw himself into a chair;
relaxed and casual. “As are you. I suspect you have been difficult to kill, as
well.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Hmm?”
She blinked at him. “I wanted to
die. I was alone on the streets. I couldn’t even starve to death.” She took a
shaky breath. “You knew. You knew
that was how the deal would work.”
“I recognised the name.”
“You took advantage of a child.”
“You’re not a child, now.” He took
another sip of the wine as she yanked a dagger from her belt. “There’s just one
thing you ought to know before you kill me.”
Silence.
“What?” she demanded.
“I didn’t murder your family.”
“What?” her voice was a breathless
whisper.
“There was no way you would have believed
me before. So I did what I could to protect you. Listen to me, now.” He sat
forward in the chair. “Ask me to swear it on whatever you like, I will do so. I
did not murder your family.”
“Swear… swear on your mother’s
life.”
He rolled his eyes. “Give me your
hand.” He rose to his feet and reached out to her.
Holding the dagger in one hand, she
reached out to take his hand with the other. He clasped it in both of his and
held it over his heart. “I swear on my mother’s life that I did not murder your
family.”
She shivered. There was a pause.
“It’s hard to tell if it worked.” He
cocked his head. “But I can’t hear any shouting from the queen’s quarters.”
She was looking shocked; blinking
quickly. He was still holding her hand.
“There is something I do need to
confess,” he added.
She waited.
“Hugh. He’s mine.”
Hugh was her trainer and her friend.
An older man who had found her on the streets years ago and taken her in. Everything
she knew about weapons she had learned from him.
She tried to jerk her hand away but
he held her tightly. “That’s how you knew I was here tonight,” she accused.
“Yes. I had to make sure you
survived. Hugh was insurance.”
She couldn’t speak. The betrayal hit
her hard. She was rewinding their history; looking at every event with clearer
eyes. “I wanted to come a year ago. Hugh wouldn’t let me.”
“I wasn’t actually here. If you had
exposed that deception, it would have had dire consequences.”
“I…” She sat suddenly in his vacated
chair. The dagger fell to the floor.
He knelt in front of her and passed
her the wine. She had taken a sip before she realised what she was doing and
put it back down. She kept shaking her head. Finally she asked, “Why?”
“Your family were magically powerful.
They were killed because of a prophecy that an Ulhas would make me immortal. It
was one of those badly worded things where it was so vague that no one could
really get what it was saying.” He waved a hand in the air. “I was young and
thought I was clever to send you away unharmed when you had promised to kill
me… but when you said your name, it all fell into place. I didn’t even know
that ‘an ulhas’ was a person.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sat on his haunches and tore his
shirt open. “Look. Stabbed in the heart.”
Her fingers brushed over the scar.
“You didn’t die?” She sounded astonished.
“That’s what my enemies were afraid
of. They worked it out first, and killed your family to try and stop the
prophecy.”
“But they made it happen,” she said.
“I would never have gone near you… except for…” Their eyes met. She believed
him.
“Look what we did together. We
cheated death, Amira. Do you know how rare that kind of power is?” He was
intense, desperate to convince her. “Only an Ulhas can kill me. Only you.”
“So I still can?”
“Yes. But I’d prefer you smothered
me with a pillow when I’m over a century old.”
She frowned at him. “What makes you
think I’ll still be around?”
“You could have stabbed me when I
first came into the room, you could have cut my throat while I was holding your
hand, or you could have poisoned my wine before I even opened the door.” He
smiled at her. “And you’re still rubbing my chest.”
She snatched her hand back.
He laughed. “Our lives are linked.
If you kill me, perhaps you will die as well.” He whispered in her ear, “I
don’t think you’re ready to go yet.”
She seemed to be thinking about it.
“I’ve spent eleven years obsessed with you.” Thinking about him day and night.
“You still tricked me.”
“I was not as smart as I thought I
was. I was very lucky you didn’t promise to kill me the next time we met, eh?”
“What did I say?”
“You don’t remember? You said ‘when
you were ready’.”
“Oh.”
“And I said: ‘I will stay alive for
you, Amira Ulhas.’ For you.” He stood
and held his hand out to her. “Come and meet Mother.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Are you worried
she’s dead?”
“Nope. I want her to meet the girl
I'm going to marry.”
