“Do I look presentable?”, Daira asks.

They sit next to me in the carriage, decked out in fineries. The servants tried to make me presentable as well, but only partially succeeded. The wounds and bandages still show, even thru the least revealing clothes they could procure.

“You look wonderful, master”, I say.

“I am sorry for dragging you with me”

“Please do not apologize. I am glad to be of service” Liar.

“Hopefully I remember all the etiquette.”

“You worry too much. The people will love you.”

“It’s ridiculous. I’m more nervous about a ball than I was exploring crumbling ancient cities”

“Ancient cities? I was under the impression we live in the oldest there is”

“Oldest human city yes. But we are not the first to build them”

“You were not? Then who was?”

“Your people”

I look down, for once dumbstruck. Mom was right. All I can say is: “Oh”

“They are beautiful, mystical places: Doors that end in drops, hallways no larger than my fist. There was one carved within a mountain with waterfalls and fish stairs throughout the entire cities: It took my days to traverse.”

“It must have been a sight to behold”

They smile: “Yes. Yes, it was”

The carriage jolts to a halt. The doors are opened to reveal a scenery I know even the council can’t afford. As soon as we enter Daira is swarmed by people. More are gawking from afar. I’m glad their presence keeps the crowed around me small. More guests are announced as we’re dragged further in.

Tinted glass makes the last beams of sunlight bathe the rooms in a spectacle of color. Gold is dazzling from every corner as banners with embroidered suns hang from the ceiling. People stand in cycles, exchanging lies and pantomiming empathy. I’m next to Daira, arms linked, drifting from group to group. My mind escapes to somewhere else as I let the routine of a dozen other balls guide us.

The night has already set as a woman in her early seventies walks up to our group. She moves the way a snake does, calm and precise. Fuck. Her bodyguard is staring me down. People turn to bow, falling over themselves to compliment her. With one gesture she waves them quiet.

“You must be Niilan’s heir. Daira if I am not mistaken?”, she asks.

“You are not”, they bow, “whom do I have the pleasure of meeting? You must excuse me; this is my first attendance in quite some time”

“I am aware. I would be surprised if there are many who are not. I am Maryln, daughter of Ewald.”

“Your presence honors me. I have heard much about you from my father”

“I am sure you have. I have been told he was recently entrusted with overseeing silver regulation”

“So the good news have spread”

“I do wish him the best of luck. Especially after what befell the last overseer.”

“I will tell him. He …”

A girl, no older than eleven, rushes between the two: “Grandmother, you found her!”

“Do not be rude”, Maryln says.

The girl turns to look at Daira for the first time, curtsy’s and says: “Apologizes. I’m Ima. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Hello Ima. What brings you here?”

“No need to be shy”, her grandmother says.

“Can I talk to your shifter?”, the girl asks Daira.

“Of course”

Maryln pets Ima on the head; “Go on then. Let the adults talk”

Grinning from ear to ear, the girl grabs my hand and drags me away. Silently their bodyguard follows. Daira watches the scene dumbfounded.

“You look much less imposing close up”, the girl says.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“That's fine. It's better this way. I asked grandmother if I could have you. But he”, she points to the bodyguard, “said a wildling is too dangerous. But you look very tame”

“I would never hurt a master”

“I know! I told him you only hurt fighters”.

She touches the bandage on my shoulder.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

I suppress a flinch.

“That’s from the latest fight, right? I watched from the first row!”

“I am honored”

“The part where you grabbed that guy’s face was very cool. Show me it to me!”

“You would have to ask my master for permission”

“But…Grandmother does not like to be interrupted.”

“Perhaps it is better to postpone the demonstration”

“That’s not fair! What if you die before then?”

2 days left.

The bodyguard puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder: “Young master: That is no way to speak to a to somebody.”

“But it’s true!”

“And cruel. Young ladies should only say kind things”

“That’s not fair!”, the girl exclaims. She turns on her heel and storms off.

“That child is a handful”, the bodyguard says.

“You should not speak to a master this way”

“Is that so?”

“It will only cause you pain”

“Perhaps. But someone must teach her if her family will not”

I shrug.

“The girl you killed on the first day of the tournament was my sister you know.”

I don’t say anything. There’s nothing I could say.

“I don’t hate you for it.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t you decision, was it?”

“I guess not”

“Does not mean I like you. But for Ima’s sake I hope you make it”

“The girl will not get me either way.”

“She won’t?”

“Niilan does not share”

“You are allowed to call your master by his name?”

“No.”

He grins: “Sounds like both of us are walking on thin ice then”

I give him the semblance of a smile.

He wants to say something but is cut short by screeching. We turn to see Ima bickering with another child.

He starts walking towards the two: “Duty is calling. Good talk and best of luck”.

I’m alone for but a second before a mass of touching limbs swallows me up: “That is her!” “Crazy she’s here. Her master usually keeps her so exclusive.” “Why now?” “Prestige for the heir” “Noone cares about your politics”

With a suddenness I wasn’t prepared for, isolation washes over me.

Someone grabs my face: “You better win you hear me. I have a lot of money at stake” I don’t look up. “She’s 448?” “No that is the other one.” “Oh, so she’s the one who will lose?”

I’m drowning.

“Well, they have not fought yet.” “You know what I meant”

I don’t sense her approach. One moment the world seems miles away, the next fingernails dig into my shoulder. Theres an intent, a bloodthirst, behind the grip that catapults me into the arena.

Kill. My body spins around, claws transformed and outstretched before my mind registers touch. The crowed gasps.

There’s no blood on the floor. There’s no blood on my hands.

I look up.

“Not that I am not exited. But we really should wait until we are in the arena”, the woman holding my hand says. She looks at me like child caught stealing.

I rip my arm free: “Aisha”

“In the flesh. What a nice surprise to see you here.”

I stare at her. She returns my gaze.

Its only for a moment but the dark specks of her iris move. Only then I register the other micro transformations on her, drifting moles, twitching muscles, shrinking and expanding for but a second. And, as the memories of a language I haven’t seen since the death of my mother flow back into me, I understand: “Stope glaring so much. It doesn’t suit you”.

“How?”, I answer, my own transformation sluggish in comparison.

“Oh! Don’t tell me you understood that?”

“Yes. Answer”

“Use that pretty head of yours: You’re not the only one who had a life before all of this”

The crowd is watching our apparent staring contest with interest. I wish them all to be gone.

“Hello?”

I don’t reply.

“Well, aren’t you a chatty one? I was led two believe, you’re good company”

“If I was, why waste it on you?”

“Why not? Life’s short. Especially yours.”

2 days left.

“What? No snappy comeback?”, she grabs my shoulder again.

This time I freeze.

“You’re terrified. I can see it in your eyes. It’s pathetic!”

Mom.

“Answer! You’re supposed to be one of the best fighters in this tournament, not some ragdoll.”

Doll? No. “No” Please… I don’t want to be a doll. Being a doll hurts.

“No?”

“I’m not.”

“Then stop acting like one”.

Fuck you.

“You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”, I say out loud.

“Yes I am, no thanks to you.”, she says. And as if to prove a point she waves. A hundred hands wave back.

In our language she adds: “Before I kill you, I want you to listen to the people screaming your name, who worship the ground you tread on, realize you were loved by the thousands and know they’re mine now.”

“You can have them. That’s not love”

“How would you know?”

In human she adds: “I will see you in the arena. Let’s hope you become a bit more interesting by then”

Then Aisha’s gone, melted into the mass of smiles, waves, hugs and laugher.

I look around in a haze. Daira is still in a conversation with Maryln: They look like they need rescuing. Let them rot. I turn to wait in a corner.