Another bead of sweat trickled down her forehead as she pounded the hammer against the iron, her arms aching with exertion.

Muttered curses from passersby outside made her pause and watch as men and women clutched tightly at their thin cloaks, ushering their children inside doors to escape the frigid air. A harsh wind blew into her stall and she turned her face into the biting cold-a soothing relief from the blazing fire at her back-before gazing down at what her hours of arduous labor yielded.

The blade was long and sharp, the metal gleaming in the rising moonlight that filtered into her stall. Her fingers danced across the surface of the sword and she hissed when her skin caught the edge of the blade. Glancing around quickly to ensure that no one was near, she inspected the small droplet of blood from the cut, startled for a moment at the iridescent liquid that practically glowed in the setting sun.

She sometimes forgot the color of her own blood.

The sound of nearing footsteps made her startle and she immediately reached for her gloves and slid them on, wincing slightly as the rough material rubbed against the wound. She watched as two men approached, their heads turned towards each other and whispering fiercely. The conversation seemed serious as their hands gestured wildly about, but she couldn't make out a hushed word that was exchanged between the pair.

They passed without paying her any attention and she released a breath before returning to the sword that still lay upon the table. It did not yet have the pommel and hilt, but she would have to do that tomorrow, as the night was fast approaching and she would not dare to be caught outside after curfew. Palace guards were never in the lower ring, but she didn't want to take any chances.

Reaching for the meager coins laying on the counter, her calloused fingers counted the amount carefully before pocketing them safely in her coverall. With a resigned sigh, she locked her stall and stepped out into the bitter night.

The street lights flickered as she walked down the deserted paths, her boots treading cautiously over the cracked marble. She pulled her hood up, pretending not to notice the muffled grunts and harsh whispers that sounded as she passed by dark alleyways.

More than a few questionable things happened outside the pristine marble walls of the upper ring, and it was best not to get involved. Palace guards did not venture this deep into the dirt and decay. No one cared what the Impure did to each other, so long as they remained on the outskirts of the kingdom with the rest of the filth.

A biting wind whipped at the strands of hair peaking out from her hood just as she reached the house, its crumbling marble and withering vines a welcome sight after a seemingly long trek through the icy cold.

She pushed the door open, the rusted hinges squeaking loudly and announcing her entrance to the entire house. She fully intended to collapse onto her rickety bed, burrow herself underneath a pile of blankets, and fall into a dreamless sleep. But it seemed as though her step sister had other plans.

"Ebony," Poppy shrieked, dashing into the room while she was taking off her boots.

Her step sister grabbed her arm, tugging her close, and Ebony was caught off guard by the urgency in her movements.

"What's wrong," she asked quickly, scanning Poppy for any injuries, but there were none that could be seen.

"Mom just bought me a new dress from the market," Poppy squealed, and Ebony felt the tension drain from her body. "You have to see it. Come on!"

Before Ebony could protest, she was being dragged to Poppy's room where her step sister then proceeded to rummage through her closet in search of the aforementioned dress. Ebony sat lightly on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft, faded quilts and the feather pillows with mild fascination, having never owned items of this quality before in her life. Her step mother would never allow it.

"Found it," Poppy exclaimed, holding a tattered cardboard box in her hands. She plopped down onto the bed beside Ebony and opened the box, pulling out a simple, dark green dress and a black ribbon to tie around the waist.

"What do you think? Isn't it amazing," Poppy asked with a bright smile as she held the dress against her chest, hugging the fabric tightly. "Mom bought it for me today at the market."

"It's beautiful," Ebony agreed, watching her step sister giggle in delight. "But why did Millicent buy you a new dress? Don't you already have one?"

Poppy crinkled her nose. "That old thing? I sold it ages ago. It was too big and always made me look like an elf."

Ebony chuckled. "You didn't look that short."

"Yes, I did," Poppy insisted. "My legs looked too small for my body!"

They both laughed for a moment and Poppy wiped tears from her eyes before saying, "Anyways, Mom and I got this new one for tomorrow."

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"What's tomorrow?"

"Haven't you heard? Everyone's been talking about it. Mom spoke with Mrs. Darcy up the street and found out that palace guards are coming to the lower ring tomorrow," Poppy said excitedly, her brown eyes sparkling with joy. "They must be here to select the new servants."

The smile Ebony was wearing vanished and she watched in dismay as Poppy ran her fingers reverently over the cotton dress. "Do you think they might pick me," she asked hopefully. "I'm finally old enough."

"...I don't know. Maybe." Ebony cleared her throat, biting her lip anxiously.

"Of course I would miss you," Poppy said, flashing a bright smile at Ebony. "And mom, too. But I would write to both of you all the time and-"

Poppy suddenly gasped. "What if we both got picked? That would be incredible!"

Ebony opened her mouth to speak, but her step sister carried on. "You'll love it, Ebony! I've heard that the palace is made of gold and the chandeliers sparkle like a million fireflies and the food tastes-"

Ebony grabbed her step sister's hand, cutting her off from her excited ramblings. "Poppy," she said gently. "You know I won't be picked. I didn't fill out an application."

Her step sister looked down at their intertwined hands, her smile fading. "You never know," she whispered. "They might choose you."

Ebony squeezed Poppy's hand tighter in response, before letting go and standing.

"I should probably go," she said, flashing a tense grin. "You need to get some sleep. It sounds like you have a big day tomorrow."

Poppy gave a small smile and Ebony left, closing the door behind her. She let out a heavy sigh when she was in the hallway. She had felt claustrophobic in that room, despite it being nearly twice the size of her own bedroom. Her heart squeezed painfully inside her chest at the thought of Poppy becoming a servant.

Ever since her step sister was little, all Poppy wanted was to go inside the white marble wall. It was the job that every Impure wanted. Living in the palace, eating three meals a day, owning clean clothes, and earning a substantial salary-it sounded like a dream compared to what they had now. But palace guards only ventured into the lower ring once a year in order to select the new servants, and they only picked two or three at a time. The chance that Poppy would be chosen was slim, but still...

Ebony hated the idea of her step sister being sent into the upper ring to serve the Pure. It was no better than sending a lamb into a lion's den. The people of the upper ring were corrupt and cruel, having no respect for lives they deemed lesser than their own. She had heard rumors of more than a few mysterious things that have happened within the golden walls of the palace, and she had suspicions as to why new servants were needed every year. If anything were to happen to Poppy, she would never forgive herself.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Ebony inwardly groaned at the shrill voice that interrupted her anxious thoughts. Gritting her teeth, she turned to find her step mother standing before her with her hands on her hips and her foot tapping impatiently on the stained shaggy carpeting that covered the floors.

"I think I am standing here," Ebony answered, trying and failing to keep the derision from her voice.

"Do not take that tone with me," Millicent snapped. "I have been raising you out of the kindness of my heart for the past 11 years and this is the thanks I get?"

Ebony could not contain the laugh that escaped her lips and she quickly covered it as a cough.

Her step mother was a stout woman, with limp hair and baggy eyes who insisted upon wearing jewelry and cosmetics on a daily basis, despite their poverty status. Where Poppy was kind and generous, Millicent was cruel and greedy, and Ebony sometimes questioned whether the two were actually related.

"You have chores that need to be done," her step mother said, pointing a plump finger in her face. "And don't forget to fix that spot on the ceiling. It's leaking again."

Ebony rolled her eyes and swatted Millicent's finger away. "I know. I'll get it done."

She made to leave, but her step mother gasped and grabbed her wrist, yanking her arm back. "What is this," Millicent demanded, pointing to the small cut on Ebony's hand.

There was dried blood on her skin.

Ebony snatched the offending hand away, shoving it deep into her pocket to hide the wound.

"What were you thinking," Millicent shouted. "Did anyone see you?"

"No, I was careful."

Her step mother scoffed. "Do you realize what you could have done? If anyone finds out, I would be killed!"

I wish, a small voice inside Ebony whispered.

But as much as she despised her step mother, she needed the woman just as much as Millicent needed her. Ebony provided the coin they needed to survive, while Millicent provided the protection Ebony needed to survive. Their relationship was strictly business, one they both benefited from.

"Listen here, girl," Millicent spat in her face, her teeth bared like a savage beast. "Tomorrow is my chance at a new life. Poppy will become a servant and you will not ruin this for me. Don't go near the market place and stay away from the palace guards. Otherwise, I will make sure that you spend the rest of your life in hell. Understood?"

"...Yes."

"Good," Millicent said, backing away and straightening her wrinkled skirt. She eyed Ebony up and down before saying, "Take care of that filthy hair before going to work tomorrow."

Ebony clenched her fists within her pockets and escaped to her room before she did something incredibly stupid, such as strangling her step mother.

Slamming the door behind her, she sighed and went over to her broken mirror. Examining her hair in the shattered reflection, she could see that blonde hair was beginning to show at the roots and she muttered a curse. Hopefully no one noticed the discoloration while she was working today.

Ebony grabbed the small tin that was laying on her nightstand and brought it over to the mirror. Dipping her fingers inside, she scooped up some of the sticky substance and began to rub it into her hair, darkening the color until it was a dark, muddy brown.

Once satisfied that no blonde hair was showing, she collapsed onto the bed, the springs digging into her back. She stared up at the stained ceiling of her tiny room, her thoughts wandering to Poppy, as they so often did.

It was unlikely that her step sister would be picked tomorrow. There were hundreds of young men and women in the lower ring who would be vying for one of the positions as servants. Surely Poppy wouldn't be chosen...

Ebony groaned in frustration and turned onto her side, throwing a pillow over her head in an attempt to block out her troubling thoughts. Everything would be fine.

She repeated that sentence over and over, letting it lull her into a restless sleep. Everything would be fine.

Poppy wouldn't be chosen.

Everything would be fine.