Pain surged through her head, ribs, and back. She curled her toes and gritted her teeth, determined not to cry out in such a crowded place.

Shameful. Utterly shameful. If Torchbearer hadn’t stepped in… there’s no telling what would have happened.

She vomited empty bile onto the flagstones, leaving an acidic taste in the back of her throat. Cold sweat beaded her brow and collarbone. Her thin body shuddered.

Weak. I’m still too weak. What would Dad have to say about me?

Lying to a Hero had added an extra weight to her shoulders, but she’d had no other choice. She couldn’t spoil her father’s good name with her own weakness.

“Are you alright there, child? You look like the Unmaker put lice in your bed and nails in your shoes.”

Lace glanced up. An aged woman regarded her, dressed in faded clothing and hunched over a cane. Harsh existence had dug furrows into her face deeper than her age would have, but her eyes spoke of sincere concern.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Lace said, wiping tears she hadn’t known she had. She worked up a smile.

That’s what Heroes do. They smile, even through pain, so that others can find comfort in their very existence.

“No offense, girl, but you look horrid. What ever happened to you?”

“Bad shopping experience,” Lace said with a bitter twist of her lip.

“Why don’t you come back to mine, girl? I’ll cook you up something nice and see if I can’t help with that nasty swelling.”

“Thank you. That’s a lovely gesture, but it won’t be necessary.”

Lace struggled to stand as the old woman watched her, one eyebrow skeptically cocked.

I’ve still got work to do. Avon will not take it kindly if I’m late.

A distant bell rang out. Seven long, mournful tolls. The bell at Wiseman’s Temple, which kept track of every hour.

Damn. Looks like I’ll be late, after all. I Don’t think I can run all the way there in this state.

If she didn’t get this week’s wages from Avon, she wouldn’t be able to pay the fee for this year’s apprentice admittance tests.

That was worth the pain of struggling on.

I still haven’t lost, Dad. I won’t let you down. Not this time.

She started walking and her legs gradually became more solid. She left the old woman behind and melded into the crowd. No one hardly cast her a glance.

Run-down, three-and-four-story buildings surrounded her. The facades were all rotten wood, flaking paint and slapping shutters. The rest of Small Miracle unfolded similarly, largely left in neglect since that day.

Lace looked up over the crowds, their heads downturned as if they feared to look upon their existence. Her gaze settled on the Second Sun, Paragon’s splendid tower. The golden dome was dull, like an unlit torch. What had once provided hope and pride to the populace was now only a source of bitterness.

Paragon hardly left her castle anymore.

Not since that day.

To everyone else, the threat was over, at the very least. Paragon had won that day, hadn’t she? She’d killed Ender, hadn’t she? That was what Wiseman’s Temple and the Heroes’ Guild both reported.

Ender was dead. The Dark Eye was shattered. No one was to look any further into it.

All a lie.

Lace knew the truth. She knew that Ender was still alive, along with most if not all of his top players. She had seen them escape with her own eyes. Fade, Ripper, Forge, Red Mist, and the snake who led them.

Lace had seen the look in that man’s eyes. Not a rabid dog, like many of the criers and priests portrayed him. He had been cool, collected, calculated. And yet, those pale eyes had been filled to the brim with dark hatred.

As long as he remained alive, Aribel would never be safe.

No one would believe her, so there was only one option left to her.

She had to become a Hero and protect Aribel herself. When Ender did return, she would be ready.

But for that, she needed to pass the admittance tests. That hung like a dark cloud over her head as she walked up Renewal Street towards the Lion Gate.

In order to pass the tests, she needed to impress Counter, the Hero responsible for training the apprentices at the Lodge. Alternatively, one of the other Heroes who happened to be watching.

During her previous attempts, she had not been so lucky.

This time would be different, though. It had to be. She had been too young, back then. She’d had time to practice. She would do better this time.

She had no other options. This would be her last chance. You only got three tries at the tests. She had attempted it twice.

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She passed the gaping Lion Gate into the South Side district of the inner city where well-kept villas and shops were protected by regular patrols of guards and Heroes as lone sentries. Not far from the gate stood a stone monument, depicting Paragon with her arms outstretched towards the sky, towering almost three meters. The marble was kept immaculately clean, and coins lay upon the stone pedestal the statue rested on as good luck offerings.

A brass plaque was affixed to the pedestal.

My blood for the world, it read.

It had been erected as a symbol of Paragon’s victory over Ender and the Dark Eye. Lace stopped in the shadow of the statue and placed a hand on Paragon’s foot. The stone felt cold and dull.

She kept walking until she reached Sunpeak Square, the largest marketplace in all of Goldbrand, where over a hundred shops and stalls offered their services, syndicated under the Merchants’ Guild. She approached an inn at the south-east corner of the square, known as The Golden Lion.

The establishment was three stories tall with an attached stable. The building was painted yellow with a solid chimney and roof tiles as tight and even as a fish’s coat.

An older patron sat on the porch, puffing on a pipe and blowing smoke out his nostrils. A wooden sign swung over his head on hinges with a faint creak, depicting a stylized lion on its back legs, mid-roar.

The windows were real glass, clean and delicate. Through them, the morning’s bustle was already visible.

Lace slipped on her working mask as she approached. She entered the inn, closing the door behind her.

Sunlight streamed through the windows and gave the spacious common room a pleasant morning glow. The other barmaid, Jen, was already at work cleaning the half-dozen tables. A pair of overnight visitors lingered near the bar, nursing hangovers, but it was relatively empty and quiet apart from the swish-swish of Jen’s rag.

The other barmaid looked up and wiped her hands on her dress when she saw Lace.

“Twin gods, what happened to you?” she asked.

“I just took a bad fall, that’s all,” Lace said, blushing deeply. She could not let anyone know of her embarrassing performance.

Jen put a hand on her shoulder. A line of worry creased her forehead. “Is it your mom again? Listen, you can…”

“No!” Lace blurted out. “No, it’s not that. Promise. She’s, uh, gotten better, I think.”

Jen still looked skeptical. “Hmm. Well, talk to Avon. You can’t be serving guests looking like someone beat you Unmaker’s black.”

Lace nodded. She went over to the bar and waited while the man behind the counter sorted his shelves of colored bottles, back turned.

“Sure you don’t want another drink, boys?” Avon asked. He turned around and started the second he laid eyes on Lace. He nearly dropped the bottle in his hands and caught it with a muttered curse.

“Creator’s corpse, you—”

“I look bad, I know,” Lace said. “I’ve been hearing it all morning.”

Avon was a tall man in his thirties, of average build, with combed, blond hair. He carried himself like a peacock, with his stomach drawn in and chest puffed. He wore a white vest over a grey shirt with polished brass buttons. He had been trying—and failing—to grow a mustache for the past few months. The result was a handful of bristly, pale hairs on his upper lip. He scrunched his nose every so often as if he hadn’t quite gotten used to it.

“That looks pretty nasty,” he said. “Maybe it’s better if you take a day. I could call in my niece…”

“No,” Lace said firmly. “I’m fine. I can work.”

Avon shrugged. “I’m sure you can. You look beat to Svarta and back, though. You’ll scare away patrons.”

“Please,” Lace said. “I need this pay. The full pay.”

She’d fallen behind in her savings lately as Mom’s condition worsened. Without this extra influx of coin, she wouldn’t have enough for the admittance fee. She would take ten coppers out of her pay instead of the usual five to put away, but she wouldn’t have enough to feed Mom and herself without a full week’s wage to work with.

“For that apprenticeship at the Lodge?” Avon sighed and shook his head. “You’re wasting your time, girl. Not to mention your money.” He seemed to contemplate something for a long moment, holding up the green bottle in his hand as he stared at its contents. He wiggled his nose. “Oh, very well. I’ll consider it the good deed of the day. Just don’t complain to me of any pain.”

“Yes, sir!” Lace said quickly. She couldn’t hold back a smile as her cheeks flushed. “I’ll go get changed right away.” She walked towards the back room.

“Be quick about it, now!” Avon called. “You were late as it is! There’s lots to be done today!”

Lace got out of her ruined tunic and hose in the back room behind the kitchen and into the dress Avon had provided her for work. It hugged her waist and flared out at her thighs, a little short for her liking. It sagged at her breasts, as she didn’t quite have the endowments to fill it out. The dress was dyed a pleasant yellow and green.

Once back in the common room she helped Jen set things ready while Avon chatted with the patrons that came down from their rooms. She served breakfast and stowed away platters and mugs afterward, then wiped the tables down.

A few people came in around midday to escape the heat. Most of them had a drink or two, a chat with their friends, then promptly left. It grew busier again around dinner when most of the tables were full up and Lace had to rush to get food and ale out to the guests.

Her head swam, swaying on a numbing cloud, but she gritted her teeth and soldiered on. Every time she bent down to serve a patron, her ribs and back lit up with pain.

I hope I don’t bleed through my dress, she thought. She certainly didn’t have the money for a replacement, and she doubted that Avon would be so kind a second time.

In the early evening, Avon settled into one of the chairs by the fireplace and strung up his lute. He fancied himself a bit of a troubadour—sadly, his fingers didn’t seem to agree. A few of the guests clapped politely when he retired for the night, all smiles and bows.

Once the common room emptied out for the night, Lace and Jen had a last pass over the tables and then changed back into their everyday clothing. Lace’s scraped-up tunic felt coarse in comparison to the dress.

“Hey,” Jen said, stopping Lace before they left the back room. “That thing at the Heroes’ Guild. It’s soon, right?”

“Two days,” Lace said. Acknowledging it sent butterflies through her stomach.

“You look like you’ve been practicing a lot,” Jen said. She nodded towards Lace’s body.

Lace looked down. She had shed most of her excess fat over the last year, which included a lot of her womanly curves. Thin lines of muscle definition ran along her arms and shoulders. She was just as slim as she had been a year ago, but her body had gotten denser with lean muscle mass.

Lace shrugged. “I need to make sure I get in. I’m running out of time.”

Jen frowned slightly. “Right… Well, good luck. Take care of yourself out there. And make sure you don’t forget about us if you become some big-shot Hero.” She winked and gave Lace a tight hug.

“Thanks,” Lace said. The kind words set her eyes stinging and tied up her throat. “I’ll hopefully still be around even if I do get accepted. Everyone needs coin.”

“Speaking of which…”

They went back into the common room and Avon paid them for the week. Lace could finally breathe easy as she put the stack of coins in her pocket.