Fine. I don’t own the tree.
But I have so little time, and Kassia will join me later and we’ll sit up inthe highest branches of that wide, welcoming oak, and make plans for when we’re grown.
The tree is special. It has been here since long before I was born—the closest thing I have to permanence in a world that often shifts beneath my feet without warning. Every few days, Kas and I sit here and look down at the rooftops of the Thorn—the color and noise a world away from the silent majesty of our oak. From this tree, on this hill, we can even see the arena far in the distance, can peer at the spires of the emperor’s palace.
The boy rakes me with a dismissive look. His gaze drops to my worn boots, sweeping up my torn leggings and dirty shirt. By the time his eyes settle on my face, I’m bristling.
Hisclothes are perfect. His unstained, unripped shirt even matches the dazzling blue of his eyes. Rolled up over his elbows, it looks wondrously soft—almost like it could be silk. He’s flung a finely tailored jacket over the lowest branch, the velvet studded with gold buttons that could feed my mother and I for weeks.
His leather boots are stiff, polished to a gleam.
“Why did you come here?” I snap.
He raises one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a noble. You don’t belong here.”
The boy sneers at me. “I belong anywhere I please. You want this tree? Take it from me.”
I’m up the first few branches before I’m aware I’ve moved. His eyes widen, amusement and shock warring within them as I hurtle up the tree, my hands and feet automatically finding handholds I’ve used every day for years.
By the time I reach him, I’m out of breath. This close, I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
“You’re fast,” he acknowledges. “But I’m stronger.”
“Get out of my tree.”
“Do you always get what you want?”
The question is ludicrous. I live in the Thorn. I’ve never had anything I wanted. And what little Idohave could disappear any day. My expression must communicate the stupidity of his question, because the hint of a flush slips along his sharp cheekbones.
But I don’t go near the boy. I only climbed this high as a distraction from my true intent. Sweeping my hand down, I pluck his jacket from the branch. And then I jump.
My feet hit the ground and I roll to lessen the impact, the jacket clutched in my hand.
The boy bursts out laughing. It’s a shocked laugh, as if he can’t believe my audacity.
Later that day, I sell his jacket, and the money I receive fills both our aether stones and our pantry.
IREFUSE TOdie in this place.
I won’t leave my brothers alone. I’m all they have left.
The promise is my last thought before I close my eyes in my narrow bunk, and my first thought as I crack them open to the sound of snores.
Today I’ll train with gladians who have worked for this opportunity their whole lives. Gladians who want to join the emperor’s guard more than anything. Gladians who have sacrificed and sweat and bled … all so they can step out into the emperor’s arena.
I’ll train hard. I’ll do whatever it takes to survive the Sundering. And I won’t let myself think about what will come after that.
I’ve done this before. Trained for something I loathed. Something that terrified me. I can do it again.
My mother’s generation never had to fight in the Sands. Back then, it was voluntary. A way for sigilkeepers to mimic the emperor’s arena in their own territories.
And then the emperor began plucking the winners from obscurity and offering them positions in his guard.
Positions many people took.
Soon enough, the Sands became compulsory. It wasn’t enough for the emperor to create a guard filled with the most well-trained fighters in the kingdom.
