I am a pawn in my father's hands, as every princess has been, and tomorrow it is my turn to be taken by the enemy. Our cities have played like this for millennia, trading back and forth in pretty virgins and fallible heroes, to create a fragile bond that stops us from tearing at each other's throats.
Except that I have no intention to let them take me.
“Your arms, please, Your Highness,” the maid says, the ceremonial shawl slung around her arms ready to strangle me. Or at least that's how it feels.
I raise my arms slowly, eyes fixed on the window, which allows me to watch the steady pouring in of wedding guests. They're strangers altogether, strangers who know me like one knows an animal at the roadshow, by watching it through the bars of its cage.
As Edda pulls the fabric taut around my body, twelve Ankurian men trot across the bridge and into the courtyard, their mechanical mounts throwing their metallic heads impatiently, as if the journey across the wastes was merely a warm-up. Their haughty faces make me clench my jaw. Not only have I never been to Ankura, but I have only heard the most abhorrent rumors about Arete, its queen. And yet here they are, looking to weasel their way into my groom’s favor.
“It’s alright to be nervous,” Edda says, misinterpreting the tense look on my face.
I want to say, I am not nervous because I won't be getting married, but I keep my mouth shut.
“When I was married, I cried for three days! Lucky you couldn't see my eyes through the veil.”
I look at her through the mirror as I sit to powder my face. She’s round and motherly, with a kindness to her that is wasted on people like me. Pity wells up in me like bile, pity that I'm neither entitled to nor that she deserves. I bite it back. “How long have you been married?”
She runs her thick, childlike fingers through my hair before brushing it. “Thirteen summers, Your Highness.”
The brush catches in my hair and yanks my head back a little, a strange kindness in a world where everyone treats me like fine porcelain.
“Any children?”
Seriously? I scold myself. There's nothing I want to think about less than having Lucius’s goddamned devil-spawn. The thought makes me want to fall to my knees, rip open my skin, and writhe away in disgust.
“Seven. The oldest will soon apprentice with the Machinists.”
The window is not even two feet away, golden sunlight dipping its gentle fingers into the make-up bottles and powder pots scattered before me. If I moved fast, Edda could not react before my body lay shattered and broken beneath my wedding guests, turned inside out by the wall’s palisade. “Delightful,” I say numbly.
Outside, behind the city's armor, colors flicker through the firmament. To my left, there seems to be some kind of desert in the sky, all red dunes and crumbly rocks, upside down to my view. It rifts in the center, the desert swallowed up by the black of space. Stars blink in and out of existence on that side.
Edda follows my view and marvels at the strange view for a moment. “The Goddess seems to be in good temper today.”
I'm not so sure that's true – it might not be raining alien monsters or asteroids today, but something is in the air. Or maybe that's just me.
When I'm all prettied up for the people of the city to look at, Edda guides me down the steps to the bottom of the tower. My father is already waiting, guard surrounding him, with his eyes fixed on the sky. He says nothing when I appear beside him and so we stand in silence as we wait, the wedding guests having cautiously cleared the landing pad.
The moment the clock in the corner of my eye hits twelve, a flash illuminates the crowd around me. Then, as if it had always been there, a spaceship hangs in the air above the tower. Compared to our own crude means of transportation, it is a stellar feat of engineering.
Faces light up in awe around me, fingers drawn towards the new arrival like moths to light. Even among those privileged enough to attend a royal wedding, a visit from across the waste is rare.
The ship descends at a glacial pace, slotting itself between the towers that make up my home until it comes close enough to descend its ramp into the courtyard. Under the ship's metal belly, it feels as though we're nothing but ants. With a groaning creak, the ship's hatch opens.
After a breathless moment of waiting, three figures step out of it. I recognize the woman at the front with a familiar cinch in my heart, some cruel concoction of jealousy and desire. She walks tall and proud, her waist-long braid of white hair swaying with her steps. Our eyes meet briefly as she crosses the ramp and my stomach sinks with a pathetic disappointment. Her eyes, once deep and black like the bottoms of two wells, are now a stinging, icy blue. Who knows what monster she's taken them from and what they allow her to see.
The two women behind her are vaguely familiar as well, revered warriors from the waste – but not as revered as her.
The crowd watches them descend in awe as if they don’t sing crude drinking songs about the Chimera when they’re not listening, as if they don’t turn their heads and snicker when the warrior women face away.
Before us she lowers herself to one knee, taking my father’s hand and bringing it to her lips. “I am honored to be here, Your Highness.”
Father has a pleased shine to him, the way he always does when someone kneels before him. “Welcome, Art.” After greeting her, he nods at the two kneeling behind her. “Leila, Selene, I'm so glad you could make the journey.”
Somehow, just in the few moments my father turns to introduce the Chimera warriors to the crowd, Art manages to shoot me a mischievous smile and gives a mocking little salute.
I ball my hands into fists and look away. Nobody but her would have the audacity but what am I supposed to do? Without the Chimera, we would have no one to defend us from the things that lurk outside of the stable reality of our city. I can hardly have the most famous monster slayer of all time hanged for being an audacious bitch.
Once the official welcoming of our beloved heroes is complete, father leads us back into the castle. Behind us, the wedding guests wait for the servants to direct them toward the great hall, where I’ll spend one more evening being put on display as the princess before I finally fulfill my destiny and get married off.
Father heads into the hall to welcome them, while I’m off to lead our guests to their rooms. For a moment, I consider leading them the long way around the castle, so I can drop Art off first and am spared her company, but Edda appears by my side to help with the difficult task of navigating my own home. I grind my teeth – somehow, I hate being treated like a child just that much more when Art is around.
Both Leila and Selene share Art’s confidently aloof air, though their tattoos are not nearly as elaborate and plentiful, outing them as lesser Chimera. I can feel them glancing at each other behind my back as I lead the way up the endless halls of our home. When we reach the first guest room, polished to a shine by Edda and the other maids, I turn with a smile so wide it feels like my face will slip off my skull. “Leila of Tauren,” I gesture into the room. “We will have one of the staff collect your luggage from your ship.”
Art watches me with an amused smirk.
I repeat the painful farce for Selene. Once the Chimera is inside and I try to march on with as much dignity as I can muster, Edda’s steps slow.
“Your Highness?”
When I turn, I just see Art stepping back from the woman. I narrow my eyes suspiciously.
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Edda wrings her hands, looking clearly distressed. “Lady Art has just reminded me that I forgot to send the boys after the luggage. I’m afraid if I don’t go now, the Chimera might not have time to get ready before the feast.”
Shooting an irritated glance at Art, I lie, “I’m happy to take Art to her room, Edda. You go ahead.”
She lowers her head. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Her steps echo in the hallway as she scurries away deceptively fast for her figure. Suppressing an eye roll, I turn and continue my walk to the next guest room, steeling myself for Art to be the worst possible guest.
I can feel her presence close behind me, the hairs sticking up on my neck. She pokes her head over my shoulder. “Are you excited for your wedding, princess?”
“I can’t wait,” I lie with a carefully neutral tone.
She chuckles and moves ahead of me, cutting me off and spinning to face me. Somehow, she seems to use all that hard-earned strength and agility only to get under my skin. “Prince Lucius and Princess Ekko,” she announces to an invisible crowd, “One is a menace, two are a calamity.”
“What happened to your eyes?” I try to steer the conversation away from tomorrow, attempting to move past her and up the hallway.
“They’re from this big icy-type thing that attacked Thindra, do you like them?” She tilts her head forward and gives me her most seductive smile.
Frustrated, I shove her aside and keep walking.
“That’s not the only new addition,” she says excitedly, circling around me with all the energy of a new puppy.
She leans against the wall with her arm out in front of her, cutting me off again and pinning me between her and it. I raise my eyes to hers, biting my lip and squashing down the rising tension in my chest. Stop it, you stupid child, I want to say. Chimera, of course, never have to get married. She thinks this is all some kind of fun game.
“Watch.” She opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue. I notice the symmetrical pattern etched into it, dark and vivid blue like it's fresh.
“Your tongue? Seriously?”
For a moment, she closes her mouth again. The next time it opens, her tongue unfurls unnaturally long, below her chin, the muscle thick and black and split at the tip. For a moment, I’m speechless.
She grins and lulls, “What do you think, princess?”
My anger grows like it wants to burst out from beneath my skin. Few women survive the trials to become a Chimera, even fewer make it through the grafting process. Every time you absorb another part of a monster is a risk. “Is there anything that isn’t a joke to you?”
She shrugs.
I throw a glance up the hall, suddenly feeling watched, but there is nobody there. Frustrated, I shove her away again. “Stop it, before someone sees us.”
Of course, she doesn’t care whether I’m getting married or not. What did I expect?
Before she can come up with more shenanigans, I reach the door of her guest room, the most elaborate and beautiful the castle offers, and throw it open. “Here you go.”
She tugs at my wrist as she enters. “Stay for a bit?”
I snatch my hand away. “They’re waiting for me downstairs.”
She leans in close, looking ever more impish for a woman strong enough to move mountains. “I can be quick.” Her tongue – the strange monster one – glides over her lips.
“Stop!” I don't know what to do with my hands but I don't want to keep shoving her, so I just set them desperately on her shoulders. Behind my eyes, the pressure of tears is building. “Can you just stop it? I'm not in the mood.”
Finally, her expression loses some of its amusement. “I take it you're not looking forward to tomorrow, then?”
A scoff escapes my lips, one that hints at the fact that ‘not looking forward to’ doesn't even begin to cover it. Glancing over my shoulder to make sure we're still alone, I slip into the room and close the door behind us, only because I can no longer hold back the tears.
I look away, trying to rein in the outburst that is rising in me. This is not the kind of relationship Art and I have. We’re strangers – strangers who have seen each other naked, but strangers nonetheless. Don't you cry now, I tell myself.
But it's too late. Art raises her fingers to my cheek and one little hint of tenderness is enough to make me start sobbing. Trying to keep my makeup intact, I dab at the corners of my eyes with the fabric of my shawl, biting my lip to keep quiet.
“You’re really not looking forward to it, huh?”
I raise my eyes to her stupid handsome face, feeling my expression crumple up pathetically. “I can't do it. I can't marry him, I can't…” My words die in my throat.
Her smirk returns, though a little softer this time. “We could run away? I'd like to see King Magnus try to track us down in the waste.”
The idea makes my heart flutter a little, though I can see in her face that she doesn't mean it. And I don't even want it – I just don't want to go through with this. “You don't mean that.” I shake my head, the tears now freely running down my cheeks.
Art shrugs. “So you’ll get to live in a nice castle in Tauren surrounded by all that oil money. It’s not that bad.” She tilts her head with a twinkle in her eye. “And I’ll visit, to make sure you have at least some fun.”
“Ugh!” I walk across the room and slap my hands on the desk facing the large, arched windows. While I don't say it, the true hours I'm watching tick away are those to my wedding night. “Maybe I will run away. Just head out into the waste and get some beast to rip my head off.”
From this side of the castle, you can see the tiered city, emanating its own silver-blue glow since we haven't seen the sun in decades. You wouldn't know now, but Art grew up right here, too.
“Oh come one, Ekko. Don't be dramatic.”
“Easy for you to say.”
I stare out the window at the split sky, waiting for her reply. When none comes, I turn to find her with her arms crossed, for the first time looking just a little irritated. Her expression only stokes my fire. There's something satisfying about wiping that smug smile off her face.
“You just come and go whenever you please, nobody to be accountable to, no obligations–”
Her sharp laughter cuts me off. “Only sticking my neck out for the likes of you every day.”
“I’m just saying, you have no idea what it’s like to be stuck here.”
She rolls her eyes and takes a few steps toward me, her hands raised. “You’re right, you’re right. All those spoiled years of being a homeless orphan made me forget how awfully difficult life is for princesses. I mean look what they make you wear!” She slips her fingers under the fabric wrapped around my waist and tugs me towards herself playfully. “So tight! It must be unbearable.”
I suppress the childish urge to stomp my foot. Why am I even bothering to talk to her? “I’m happy to trade with you,” I press through my teeth. “Maybe you’ll enjoy breeding a bunch of nasty little princes and princesses with that stuck-up pig of a man.”
My victory is infuriatingly short-lived, the smile already creeping back onto her face. “You wouldn't last a day in my life.”
“I would take a day of your life over a lifetime of mine.”
“You read too much dramatic poetry,” she chuckles. When I slap her hand away from my waist, she uses it instead to prod at the muscle – or lack thereof –in my arms. “You wouldn’t even pass the Challenge.”
I clench my jaw. Art and I were fourteen when she was paraded around the city by my father, the youngest girl to ever complete the Goddess’s Challenge and become a Chimera, right from our own humble streets. Most grown women didn’t survive the Challenge, let alone girls. She’d trained to become one of the warriors from the moment she could walk, while I learned to dance and put on a pretty smile. While Art was slaying monsters, Lucius snuck to my room with bottles of Ankurian wine and hollow compliments.
And when Lucius was trying to impress me with stories of valiant knights and powerful priests, all I could think about was that I wanted to be valiant and powerful, I wanted to be the youngest girl to become Chimera – I wanted to be anyone else than who I was.
“You’re right,” I respond, my voice hollow and flat. “I would die.”
Before she can say anything else, I slip around her and leave. I don’t bother wiping the tears from my face or fixing my smudged make-up, avoiding the grasp of bewildered maids and nobles as I make my way to the great hall. Edda tries to stop me just before the gigantic double doors, calling out that she would be happy to straighten my dress before going in. I ignore her.
The hall is bustling with guests from every state or kingdom that still manages to cling to reality while the wastes relentlessly try to claim more and more land. Even the colossal people of [place] look like ants beneath the tall ceiling, the murals of knights and Chimera painted upon it large as gods. Everybody seems to have been waiting for me. At my unceremonial entrance, they freeze, uncertain how to react to my disheveled appearance or my stride. Some make awkward attempts at greeting me while I pass, stumbling over their words when I ignore them.
My steps echo through the hall, the cheerful music dying down as the bards notice my entrance. I don’t stop until I stand before the great table at the head of the room, where both Lucius and my father are already sitting and drinking ale. He raises his eyes to mine, anger simmering beneath his patient expression where only I can see it. This is not how princesses behave.
The disgusting self-satisfaction on Lucius’s face fades when he sees me, as if he can tell that something is about to not go his way.
“I claim my right to take the Challenge.” I try to raise my voice enough that it carries through the hall, echoing in the large space. I want everyone to hear.