10. Eleven Arthur

CHAPTER TEN

ELEVEN: ARTHUR

" W oah, easy! "

Sweat streaked Maeve's face, plastering her long pink fringe against her skin. She stepped back and swung the sword again, winding the heavy blade through her hands like it was made of cardboard. Metal clashed against metal, and it was all I could do to hold the cross while she forced her weight against my blade.

"Are you sure you don't need a break?" I gritted my teeth as her superior position forced my weapon aside. The tip of her practice sword slid dangerously close to my face.

We disengaged, stepping back and preparing to go again.

"Nope." Maeve raised the blade, her eyes blazing. "Again."

We've been drilling and fighting for two hours. Unlike our other sessions, Maeve had hardly spoken. I knew she was upset about Kelly leaving, but unlike Corbin I didn't have the conversation skills required to get her to open up. She knew that, which is why she'd come to me demanding a sword fighting lesson using metal reenactment swords (with blunted edges).

After all, I was the expert at fighting my way through my pain.

Our swords clashed. This time Maeve's arm spasmed, and my blade slid down hers, hitting her on the shoulder.

"Ow!" She dropped her sword and clutched her collarbone.

"Shit, Maeve. I'm so sorry." I tossed my weapon aside and ran to her. "Let me look."

"It hurts," she moaned. I prised her fingers away from the spot. Her pale skin was already starting to bruise. She winced when I pressed the spot, but it didn't look like anything was broken.

"I really am sorry. Come sit down." I scooped her into my arms and laid down against our favourite apple tree, wrapping my arms around her. She fought me for a few moments, but then she settled against me, resting her head against my chest. My heart beat beneath her, my chest inflating like a balloon.

"It's not your fault," she grumbled.

"Do you want to talk about?—"

"Nope." Maeve grabbed my arm. Before I could stop her she'd torn up my sleeve, revealing my cuts. "Tell me about these," she said.

"Don't change the subject," I croaked out, my heart hammering. I didn't want to talk about myself.

"You sound like Corbin. He's already made me talk the Kelly subject to death. I want to think about something else. Namely, why my favourite medieval knight is hurting himself."

"I told you, I cut myself sharpening my sword."

"Bullshit, Arthur."

I shrugged, shuffling away from her so she couldn't feel my heart pounding against my chest. "It's not a big deal."

"As your High Priestess, and your girlfriend who loves you, I'll be the judge of that. Spill it."

"You love me?" Slipped so casually into her scolding, the words threw me. Your girlfriend who loves you .

I never had one of those before. Never in my whole life did I imagine that someone like Maeve could feel that way about me.

"Of course I do, you fool. Which is why I want to know what's going on with you."

"You're going to make a big deal out of it, like Corbin does. He thinks it means I'm thinking like Keegan, but it's not that at all."

"What is it, then?" Maeve traced the cut across my skin, running her fingers over the layers of parallel scars.

She loves me. She loves me.

Maybe if she loves me she'll understand.

My chest fluttered with hope.

No, this is stupid. I stared down at my arm. The scars dominated my vision, moving in and out of focus. Looking at them in the light made my stomach squirm. I wanted to turn away, but I didn't want Maeve to think I was weak, that I was ashamed.

Maybe she'll understand. This is who I am. I'm not ashamed. This is a completely normal thing lots of people do.

"Sometimes when I get upset or angry, I'll make a little cut on my skin," I mumble. "The blood reminds me that I'm in control over myself and my body."

Maeve's fingers squeezed my skin. "Oh, Arthur."

"It's not a big deal. It's not a suicide attempt. They're just surface cuts. It's a little nick to remind me that I'm real."

It sounded so stupid when I said it out loud.

Maeve shook her head. "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."

"Why did you come out here today to swing your sword around? You don't feel in control of the situation with Kelly. So you came out here to assert some control. It's the same thing."

Maeve rubbed her neck. "Yeah, but when I got hurt, it wasn't fun anymore."

I looked up then, into her eyes. They widened into shimmering pools of mottled blue-green, shining with hope and desperation and love…A lump rose in my throat.

She's looking at me , right inside me. She sees me .

"Most of your scars are old." Her words came out in a whisper as she brushed her hand over my cuts again. "You haven't cut yourself in a long time. But those two cuts are recent. Why?"

"I did one when I found out about you and the other guys. I wanted to join in, but I couldn't. I did the other one after the church."

"Why?"

"Because all those people died, and I couldn't save them." I slid my arm out of her grip and rested my hand on the hilt of my sword. "I failed, and that failure was impacting my ability to protect you, to be what you needed. One small cut, and that feeling went away."

"So this is me?" Maeve's eyes swam with sadness. Her gaze make my stomach queasy. "I'm making you feel like this?"

"No." I clamped a hand around her arm. "That's not it at all. It's just a thing I do. It's really not a big deal. I've never hurt myself."

"Yet." Tears sprung in the corners of her eyes, all that emotion spilling down her cheeks.

I knew what was going on here. I'd been with her in Arizona when she had to sit with Kelly in the hospital after her suicide attempt. She was thinking exactly like Corbin did, that this was me crying out for help. She thought she needed to save me, when really it was the other way around.

"Hey, hey." I wiped the pink streak of hair off her forehead. My chest felt heavy, like some bastard was standing on it in heavy Docs. "Don't be upset. I'm not going to leave you. I'd never dream of leaving you. I just need this sometimes."

Maeve sniffed. "I don't like it, Arthur."

"It's okay. You don't have to. Maybe when this fae thing is over with, I'll go talk to a doctor about it." Unlikely, but if it made her feel better… "Now come on, let's go back to our drills and forget this whole conversation, aye?"

Maeve glanced over at her wooden sword lying in the grass. She shuddered. "I don't think I want to practice any more." She scrambled to her feet. "I think I'll just go back inside, see if Corbin's found anything in his books. Bye Arthur."

"Do you want?—"

But she was already running back toward the castle.

I slumped down beneath the tree, staring at the cuts on my wrist, hating myself for telling Maeve about the scars.

I scare her. The woman I love is afraid of me.

The rage inside me flared, the heat against my skin rising to an unbearable temperature. The worst kind of hatred – the kind that turned inward, at myself. I hurt Maeve.

My pulse pounded in my ears. I balled my hands into fists, fighting to contain the fire.

"Oh no, you don't," I growled, shoving my hand into my pocket and pulling out my pocket knife. I flipped open the blade. A fleck of sunlight peeking through the apple tree caught the stainless steel.

They don't understand. Warriors bleed. My blood makes me strong.

I placed the knife against my skin, slashing a deep cut over the scars. Red welts flashed into front of my eyes as my bloody trickled down my arm. The stinging pain hit the wall of heat inside me, and the fire fizzled out as my attention focused on the blood.

See? I'm stronger already.