‘Of all the pig-headed things to do! And you just expect me to accept your idiocy? Well, I won’t do that. I am furious with you, Rose. Furious!’ She is beginning to repeat herself after fifteen minutes of ranting but has yet to begin losing steam. She continues sharply, ‘No, furious is not enough. I don’t have words for how angry I am with you right now. I’m … I’m … argh!!!’ While her articulation is unusually sloppy, the manner in which she stamps her foot and glowers at me does a perfectly good job of expressing her feelings.
Her hands clench into fists and she brings them down on the wooden countertop of our table for the second time. Like everything in the slums, it’s made of laughably weak wood, and if she’s not careful, she’ll break it in two. I don’t point this out though, as I know I need to pick my battles wisely … which is why, of course, I signed up for the deadliest competition of my lifetime.
She rubs her hand and glares at me accusingly. ‘At least if you’d spoken to me about it first, that would have beensomething.’
‘If I’d spoken to you about it, you would have refused to let me enter,’ I say mildly. ‘Or done something even more stupid, like try to enter yourself just to make a point.’
Her glare is withering. ‘So,meentering would be stupid, but for you it’s a brilliant idea? Talk about hypocritical!’
‘It’s not hypocritical,’ I lie, fully aware that itabsolutely is. ‘You are just eighteen, meaning you’d be the youngest there. You were barely in your fighting furs when we were kicked out of the High Hold, so you have no idea what these people are like. I do.’
She scoffs. ‘You’re telling me that six years make such a difference, when the king’s knights can enter? People who have trained in war and fighting for their entire lives? Prince Kyor is in it, for crying out loud! No, you didn’t tell me what you were doing because you knew it was a terrible idea.’
‘It isn’t a terrible idea!’ I spit back, my own temper finally fraying. I take a calming breath and reach for her hands, looking her in the eye. ‘I’m not lying, Kay. I can win this. I can feel it in my bones. The Goddess heard my offering. She understood it and she chose me because of it. She will be on my side. She will guide me, keep me safe.’
‘Do you not realise that every person who’s been accepted also believes they are worthy of winning because the Goddess chose them? Surely you can see that?’
Fuck, when it’s worded like that, it’s hard to disagree. But whatever was in their tears of offering, whatever their pleas, I doubt they felt them as fervently as I did, nor are they as motivated. None of those spoiled, rich nobles know desperation like I do. I’m certain of it.
‘What about Kyor?’ Kay says wearily. ‘Have you thought about what he will do to you?’
I try to shrug nonchalantly, as if his name hasn’t even crossed my mind since it was called. ‘I doubt he will even recognise me,’ I remark. ‘It’s been fourteen years.’
She scoffs. ‘Are you telling me you don’t remember his face?’
‘I recall his brown eyes, but apart from that … I honestly doubt I’d recognise him now.’ I am lying. Of course I am.
I will never forget his youthful face as he begged my mother to save his mother. I will never forget the pain in his deep brown eyes when the queen chose her unborn child’s life over her own, a child who never even saw his first breath. Most of all, I remember the venom in those eyes as he told his father that it was my mother’s fault the queen was dead. That the queen had begged for her life, but my mother had chosen instead to deliver the frail babe, born with a cord around his neck and twisted limbs, rather than save the woman the king had grown to love.
I remember how the prince looked at me, unblinking, as he spewed his lies, condemning us all.
But would I recognise the man he has become? Maybe not.
I push the memories away and face my sister. ‘Kay, please.’ I lower my voice as I place my hands on her shoulders. ‘Let’s not do this. I’m going to the palace tomorrow and we have no idea how many moons these trials will last. I don’t want to spend our last hours arguing. It is done, and it cannot be undone. Please, sit with me. We can see what Dinah has given me.’
‘You went to see Dinah?’ she asks in surprise. The pair have always been close, and no doubt my solo visit is another black mark against me.
‘I did. And she gave me some things. Mostly clothes, but also this.’ I lift the satchel from where I placed it by the door, even more aware of its weight than I was when Dinah placed it on my shoulders.
Despite the angry facade she wants to keep in place, I can see Kay’s interest is piqued. It’s been a long time since we’ve had parcels or gifts… unless you include the rats that the stray cats sometimes leave outside.
‘What’s in there?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know. Shall we look?’
I’m desperately eager to gain back some favour with my little sister, and so I hand her the satchel and give her the chance to indulge her curiosity before I do.
She opens up the bag, slips a hand inside, and pulls out a small paper packet tied with twine.
‘It looks like seeds,’ she says, a frown marring her smooth skin.
My heart skips. ‘Seeds?’
She hands it to me, and the skip in my heart turns into a full-on lurch as I recognise the contents: rare and costly paparvy seeds, prized for their pain-relieving properties. I wince inwardly. Dinah clearly expects me to be in considerable pain over the coming weeks. Hardly encouraging. Still, it makes me wonder what other treasures the satchel holds. She was obviously lying when she claimed it contained only odd things left behind at the temple.
By the time I fold the top of the packet carefully, not wishing to lose a single seed, Kay has already got the next item out for me.
‘More seeds.’ She shrugs. ‘I don’t recognise these either.’
