Page 12 of Between Smoke and Shadow
“You’re going to win. I know it,” Saskia says, smiling at Viana.
Saskia has lipstick on her teeth, but Viana doesn’t tell her. She only glares, as if her friend has somehow insulted her.
“Of course I am,” she snaps. Her words are sharper than any weapon here.
I dig my fingernails into my side. Aside from her potential selection as queen, I’ve heard only two things of Viana Llroy: she is stunningly beautiful and viciously cruel. After only an hour, I know both to be true. She has tanned skin, upturned eyes, full lips and white teeth. Her dark hair is healthy and shiny and twisted in a beautiful plait. I wonder if Caleah braided it.
As for cruelty…Viana is vicious to everyone, not only the servants. She has the unique ability to draw people in, even as she blatantly tears them apart.
Saskia is right. No one else stands a chance.
I’m still studying Viana when Sorace Awyr enters the room. He exits from what appears to be an office, located to the right of the arena. Before he shuts the door, I catch sight of a metal desk, a stack of parchments, and what appears to be a pinned series of blueprints. Maybe of the Tower? I resist looking at Caleah. Instead I make a mental note that this interior door doesn’t seem to have a separate lock.
Sorace moves to the front of the room. He’s directly between Saskia and Viana, looking almost as unimpressed by the elites as he was with me during my interrogation. He lifts his arms, flashing what I think is supposed to be a smile. He’s unbearably rigid, moving in tight gestures, as if the false enthusiasm physically pains him.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he calls. “Welcome to your exclusive viewing of this crowned training session!”
“The bag,” Viana hisses. “Get rid of it, Saskia! It’s hideous. We can’t?—”
Saskia twists and throws her clutch at me. There’s not enough time for me to react. Her clutch strikes my chin, and when I try to catch it, I drop the water stein. There’s a thud for the clutch. A clang for the stein. A slosh for the water across my threadbare flats.
A furious heat burns my cheeks as the entire room shifts to look at me.
“Pick it up, wench,” Saskia says. Her face is as scarlet as mine feels.
I sputter an apology before dipping to the floor. Caleah’s foot turns toward me, just slightly. I let myself believe it’s a signal, that it’s her way of showing compassion.
By the time I’m back to my feet, belongings in place, most of the ladies have turned away. Sorace’s glare lingers for another second before he returns to his overly-rehearsed spiel.
“Only those of the crown are permitted to utilize the training arena.” Sorace gestures stiffly behind him. “However, as a reward for making it this far into consideration for a place in the crowned family, your access codes will allow you entrance into this viewing room through the duration of the Flood Season.”
The elites glance amongst each other, whispering their excitement.
“Now, back to tonight’s main attraction,” Sorace continues. “The crowned siblings will demonstrate all things from physical combat to weapon control to magic casting. And as this will be an authentic experience, please prepare yourselves for great violence and potentially lethal bloodshed.”
The elites all suck in gasps, except for Viana, who turns toward Saskia with a bloodthirsty grin.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe here. The glass is magicked to ensure it.” Sorace nods behind him. “There are twenty-five guards in this arena. Their goal is to remain on their feet. Whichever sibling incapacitates the most guards wins.”
There’s a soft murmuring amongst the elites, but they fall silent as Sorace begins again.
“A final reminder to the servants: be mindful of your masters. They have worked their entire lives to reach this moment. You have not. You are here as shadows, not contenders. I advise you to remember your place.”
I chew on my tongue, forcing myself to nod, first to Sorace and then to Saskia, who has turned again to glare at me.
How have they worked for this?I want to ask.
Saskia is the one who hit me,I want to say.
I couldn’t forget my place if I tried, I want to scream.
Instead, I remain silent, motionless, as if I’m nothing but a brainless corpse. I focus on the squishing of my water-logged shoes until another horn sounds.
“Welcome Prince Harrick, Prince Malek, and Princess Tora!” Sorace calls. His plastic smile returns. “And please, enjoy the show!”
As the elites politely applaud, Sorace bows out of the room. We’re left to wait, the anticipation building in the air like thick poison. I shift my attention back to the arena. As much as I hate it, Iwantto see the crowned siblings. I’ve only ever seen them at executions, and even then, it’s from a distance.
I once saw Queen Elaria on her way to a celebration. She had passed by in a glass lift, wearing an elaborate red gown and an excess of golden jewelry. The sight of her should have made me sick. Her opulent clothing, the wasteful magic, the glittering jewelry that could have paid my father’s debt a hundred times over. Yes, I should have hated her.
