There's a type of uncertain confusion that comes with becoming someone's protector. As her bodyguard, I know what I am supposed to do - stay by her side and defend her even at the cost of my life. But because she believes that my role in her life is inane, she orders me to do the things that I, as her established bodyguard, am not supposed to do.

"You don't have to be right next to me all the time. I'll be fine."

"I'm just going to the library. You don't need to come with me. Watching me read books is boring."

For someone like me, it's difficult to stay close to a person because of a sense of duty when I am trying to avoid connections with people. So I welcome the distance she gives me, but I know that if I continue to listen to her demands, I will make the Capital surmise that I am inept for my job. And so I find after a few attempts of disobeying her that I'm going to have to do it repeatedly. Because while she is an important yet unwanted figure in my life, her well being is far more significant than her opinion. Even if she hates me, I have to stay beside her, because that is what the Capital and the Nights want me to do; that is what I must do.

I feel her aversion with every second I devote to her. When I accompany her to her daily activities within the Capital, she always tries to evade me. When we lock eyes, she attempts to break me with a discontented glower. When something as simple as a knife falls from the table and I am there to catch it before it could possibly harm her, she huffs in irritation.

She isn't prissy. In fact, she's different from the Capital people in that she is modest. She doesn't mind if her dress does not match her shoes, or if her hair is tangled, or if her eating utensils are on the wrong side of the plate. While others might fire the Capital worker who set the table, she moves the utensils to the correct position before eating.

I’m privileged because I can see the sides of her many people do not see.

Today was my last day to learn about Capital etiquette, a lesson that took three mornings to complete. On the first day, I practiced how to behave within a dining environment. On the second, during parties. On the third, I learned about how to treat the various levels of management within the Capital, with the Capital leader receiving the highest respect. 

Since those lessons are over, my only break from being with Nari is during lunch, which is when I train with the Capital's own. It is my favorite part of the day because, to be truthful, being with Nari is dull. She hardly does anything outside of sleeping, eating, and reading books. Sometimes she'll go for a walk, but it's inconsistently once a week. 

Fighting with the Capital's own is invigorating. I'm learning more and more about wushu than I ever learned in Shin. For these past four years I have had to practice on my own. Now, I'm learning the techniques that I wasn't able to learn while I was with the Nights, and in addition to that, I'm practicing with the Capital's best fighters. 

Although they don't treat me as their own, they do understand that I am a fellow fighter. We all have the same agenda - to improve our skills. When I fight with one Capital fighter, he is friendly enough to correct my mistakes, and he welcomes my corrections, as well. I've never worked beneath such encouraging partners. In Shin, we aspired to be approved. With the Nights, we strived to be the best. In the Capital, we learn so we can teach. 

I'm not saying that I'm free to do as I wish whenever I'm away from Nari. Two of the Capital's own position themselves outside of her door as a warranty against me if I turn to be someone who was never meant to be trusted. By the end of this week, if I show that my fighting is consistent and my sense of protection is allowed, it will just be Nari and me. 

I won't have a witness to watch me when I'm right or when I'm wrong.

"Tao. Do you want water?"

I nod. My practice partner flings a water bottle to me. It falls short, so I use the rod I hold to briefly catch it and hurl it closer. It lands in my left hand. 

"Where did you learn to fight?" He asks me. 

I swallow three large gulps of water before smacking my lips and answering, "From my peers."

"I know that," he laughs. "What camp was it?"

"Haw."

He screws his own bottle closed. "Are they all as good as you?"

"I'm not the best."

"If not the best, then definitely one of them." He gives me a towel. I wipe the sweat from my face. "Your job. I don't want to say that it's unimportant, but it's certainly different from what you're used to. You trained all day. It's strange to suddenly only train an hour per day, and on the other hours, you live your life watching someone live theirs."

"It's uneventful, but I'm not here to be entertained."

"Your words sometimes reflect in your fighting."

I hang the towel on a rack beside me. "I hope that's good."

"Well, it's different. You don't talk a lot. In fighting, you don't make unnecessary movements. You know what you want to do. As for me, I question myself sometimes. Oh right. You're good at knives, aren't you, Tao? Where did you learn that?"

I place my bottle on the floor. "One of the people in Haw was self-taught."

"Amazing," he murmurs. "We rarely see people who are professionals with knives among the training camps. That must have been why you were chosen. Only the Nights are known to have mastered blades." He puts his bottle beside mine. "Do you think you could teach me?"

"There aren't knives here."

"I could ask for some."

I survey the practice grounds. "This place isn't made for it."

He sighs. "That's true. And I guess we can't go out of the grounds, either. Perhaps I'll practice on my own like the person who taught you."

"Perhaps you should."         

I didn’t mean to, but I think I insulted him. This specific man has been nothing but friendly to me since I started training here, but I constantly push him away. However, I don’t regret my words. I know what I’m doing.

“It was nice practicing with you, Tao,” he says. We shake hands. The hour is over. Behind him, I see the two temporary bodyguards and Nari standing between them. “Good luck.”

I pull the shirt I’m wearing over my head and replace it with a silk black shirt the Capital gave me. Then, I approach Nari, who looks both impressed and miffed.

“Here,” the man next to her says and gives me food. I unwrap the packaging from the food and bite into the freshly made bread. We walk away from the practice grounds. I lead the way whilst the men stay in the rear. When I hear footsteps approaching, I move the food behind my back and bow.

“Hello Nari. Tao.”

 I lift my head. It’s the Capital leader accompanied with several of the Capital’s own. He smiles at me. “I haven’t seen you since the dinner. How are you?”

“I’m still learning. Sir.”

He laughs. “I know you were eating. You can go on. Nari has such a rigorous schedule, doesn’t she?” He’s joking, but I can’t laugh with him.

“He’s wasting his time,” Nari says. “I told you. I’m fine by myself. I don’t do anything.”

The Capital leader stiffens. “We already talked about this.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me – “

“Nari.”

I sense Nari step back. The Capital leader sighs, and then he walks around us. Once he’s gone, I take another bite of my food.

“I don’t need you,” Nari grumbles. Without replying, I direct us to her bedroom. The men stay in front of her door, while Nari and I enter her room. I finish my food, wrap the packaging in a ball, and move it to the waste bin in my room. Nari is in her bed reading when I return. Her short hair is splayed across the pillow, and her book rests on her stomach. She glances at me as I stand beside her door.

For an hour, I watch her read. The sound of paper pages flipping is the only movement within the room. My feet grow stiff, so I shift to one foot. Since I haven’t had access to knives, I’ve been unarmed while I’m with Nari. I assume the Capital will give me what I need after this week is over.

“You can sit down if you want.”

She doesn’t look at me, so it’s as if she never said anything. When more seconds tick by, I begin to speculate that the sentence was my imagination, but then she says it again.

“You can sit down. If you want to.”

“I can’t,” I answer.

“Why?”

“If something were to happen to you, I’d have to make the extra effort to stand. Sitting isn’t the ideal position when protecting someone. Every second matters.”

She closes her book and sets it aside. “It would matter if you were doing something, but I’m not in danger here. Have you seen this place? You can’t come in. You can’t get out. It’s impossible for me to get hurt by an outside source. The only danger is you.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“They don’t know that yet.”

“But they will.”

Nari closes her eyes briefly. “You’re worse than the other bodyguard. You talk a lot.”

Ironic, considering I try my best to be quiet.

“You’re younger too. We’re about the same age, aren’t we? I feel like you’re doing so much more with your life. All I do is walk around. And you, you’re a shield. You know how to fight. You’re everything.”

“You’re the Capital’s daughter. You can do whatever you want.”

She scoffs. “Actually, I can’t. The Capital leader is too strict.”

She didn’t call him dad. “He’s wise,” I say.

She purses her lips. “Why, because he picked you as a bodyguard?”

“Yes.”

She stands up and walks over to me. Stopping four feet away, she crosses her arms. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I would.”

“Would you be willing to get hurt? My past bodyguard broke a bone while protecting me.”

“I thought you said nothing happens here.”

“It doesn’t. That was an exception. There was a problem with the design in one of our newer rooms. A beam fell. Would you?”

“I would.”

She’s two feet closer now. In a tone of voice that is afraid to whisper, she inquires, “Would you die for me?”

Without pausing, I answer, “I would.”

She gazes up at me. Her rich brown eyes search my own, and I step back and hit the wall. She reminds me of Ada.

“If I killed you, would you die?” She raises her hand. “If I had a knife. Would you let me kill you?”

I grab her wrist. She yelps. Leaning down so that my lips brush her ear, I reply, “I’d die if it meant you’d live. But killing me wouldn’t be a form of living. It’s a form of dying.” My hand tightens around her wrist. She bites her lip to keep from shouting. “I’m not going to hurt you. But let me make this clear. I don’t plan on getting hurt, either.” I release her. She staggers back. My senses are filled with her scent. My head is overflowing with the nearness of her presence.

“Don’t bother me again,” I say.