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“What makes you think I’d want to do that?” she asks with slight derision.
“It’s not everyday you get to see grown Kiphians cry.” I take a certain pride in it, every time I'm able to make the corners of her lips turn up in a grin. I see the look and I know it. She doesn't want to smile, but she can't help herself.
“Is that so?” She smirks. “And you think you’re going to wipe the floor with them, huh?”
“Come and see for yourself.”
Walking away, I can't tell from her response if she’ll show or not, but I’m feeling confident as I walk up to the climbing arena either way. Whether it's the air of the competition or the win I already gained in making her smile, I feel good about today.
Practice for the other climbers is in full swing as spectators are just beginning to show. It’s too soon to think Mira would be here, not yet, so I head to the practice wall to try to get in a few runs before the competition begins.
Then a loud, very familiar cough hits my ears, stopping me dead in my tracks.
“Renxel.”
Turning on the spot, I see them. “Hello, Mother. Father.”
With her hands on her hips, my mother greets me with her usual sneer. Dutifully, I head towards her, pushing my cheek in her direction for the customary kiss.
“Well, are we getting a late start today or what?”
“I know. I just couldn't get up this morning.”
“Well, this must not be a very important tournament, I guess.”
“It is, Mother, I just overslept. That’s all.” I look to my father for aid, but I know I’m only wasting my time. He stares, blandly, at the icefalls.
“Well, if you’re not going to take it seriously, then I don't see why we came all the way here.” She huffs, looking over the competition. “Hanazon’s going to get it.”
“You let me worry about Hanazon.” My chest puffs with pride. I wonder why they came, too.
I don’t expect her to believe in me. It would be nice, but I’ve long learned to do without it. Instead, my mother’s sarcasm fuels the fire within me as it has since I was a boy.
“I’m off,” I tell them confidently, turning on my heel and heading towards the practice walls. Wrapping my hands withsome extra tape for good measure, my mother's words steel my resolve.
This is my competition. I’ll show them.
Walking away, I'm hit with a familiar dread where Mira is concerned. If she is my fated mate, which she isn’t, but if she were, how could I possibly subject her to this life?
My parents are fated mates, if it can be believed.
In the stories I was told as a boy, fated mates were supposed to have the kind of love that withstood the tests of time. ‘Truly paired and truly destined, two hearts together, loved and rested.’ Or at least that’s the nursery rhyme version I was brought up on.
What I saw was my father doting on my mother to the point of distraction. But being fated doesn't make a person kind, and Mother, well, she is who she is.
For better or worse, he stayed by her side. I saw a once proud Kiphian ground down to an empty shell of what he once was. If that’s love, then I want nothing to do with it. Shrugging the whole idea, I step back towards the practice areas.
The arena is too full of competitors for me to waste time trying to get in before the sounding gun. The Icefall is the only real practice here, and although Mother’s words echo in my ears as I strap in, I need to take the wall itself.
The icefalls of Muiwe are not for beginners. I’ve taken this climb before, and in a few hours, a dozen or more hopefuls will stand at its base as I do now.
Towering over my head, the frozen solid sheet of ice is all that stands between me and victory. Hanazon comes to my side, ready to take it with me, his ropes in hand and harness set. He gives me a knowing look. He’s easily the best climber here.
Except for me, of course.
He takes to the wall, pulling himself up with his brute strength. The claws on his feet dig into the sheet with ease.
“You coming, Garome?” he calls from a distance.
