CHAPTER THREE
The excitement in the Hall has reached a fever pitch. Rama joins his sisters and brother at their father’s side. I move farther into the crowd, trying to blend in.
Three servants carry a number of different items into the hall. I hear the crowd murmur, puzzled and interested. The servants set up the items, one at a time, and my heart beats faster as I begin to recognize the picture.
A large golden bowl of water set on the floor.
A mechanical fish, no bigger than a banana, suspended from the domed ceiling about thirty feet above the golden bowl.
A heavy, exquisite bow laid beside the golden bowl.
A quiver of dozens of identical, ordinary arrows. One arrow for each competitor, I imagine, and some spares in case of accidents.
My breath catches. I know the task.
A near-impossible task.
Alexi will probably find it easy.
The vast room goes quiet as King Darshan rises. “Welcome, dear friends,” he says. “Welcome to the competition.” He points at the window. “The prize: Titania.”
There are cheers. The crowds part at the other end of the hall and the doors open. The forty competitors enter, most with an escort of a few guards and advisers and even family members for support. Many are quite old, rulers and champions who have been established for decades, but a handful of competitors are around my age. They all look nervous and excited.
All, that is, except for Alexi. And his direct rival, the other prince of Kali. The jealous prince, the final piece on the board.
The cousins regard each other in stony silence. Max Rey, the thief prince of Kali, jealous and greedy, who helped his blind father Elvar steal the throne of the realm, who sent Alexi into exile. He’s about as tall as Alexi and a scant few years older. Pale, black-haired and dark-eyed, spare and very still. If he’s aware that the crowd hates him, that those assembled can’t wait to see him lose, it doesn’t show. He’s only interested in Alexi. He certainly doesn’t notice me, another figure in a crowd. He has no idea how much I wish the stone floor would open up and swallow him forever.
Alexi takes half a step forward. “Max.”
“Alex,” the older prince replies.
“I hope my aunt and uncle are well,” Alexi says.
Max’s teeth flash in something that isn’t a smile. “I doubt that.”
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Have you come as Elvar’s champion?”
“I’m here as the ruler of Kali. I rule with Father these days. Why are you here?”
“I’m also here as the ruler of Kali,” Alexi says through gritted teeth. “I assume King Darshan has decided not to take sides.”
They’re each here to fight for their cause. And so am I. I’m fixated on them, the cousins circling each other like wolves, and I wish I was there. Beside them. Involved. I’m tired of this lonely, dark space on the sidelines where I’ve been all my life. Where I stand right now. I’m tired of the invisibility and loneliness of the shadows.
All my dreams, all my hopes, they’re all here. Holding a breath. Waiting.
Not yet, Esmae. Just a little longer.
King Darshan clears his throat. The princes turn away from each other and face him. “If we are all ready,” says the king, “I will explain the rules of the competition.”
He approaches the golden bowl on the floor. At the far side of the hall, I can see a tech screen showing what everyone outside this room is seeing right now. Multiple videotechs record the competition from different angles; one of them follows the king.
“The task is not an easy one, but that seems only fair for a prize such as this. You will each receive a single arrow. You will lift this bow and string it, then you will fire the arrow directly above you at the mechanical fish.” A small smile flickers over his face. A videotech zooms closer to the fish’s eye and everyone can see the eye is about the size of a cherry. “I would like it if the winner skewers the fish through the eye, but I’ll settle for whoever gets closest.”
There’s some relieved laughter in the crowd and among the competitors, but the king isn’t finished.
“The fish will not be still,” he warns. He claps his hands and the fish whirs to life, spinning faster and faster until it is almost a blur.
The king waits a moment to let this new fact sink in before continuing. “You will not be allowed to look at the fish when you fire the arrow.” He points to the water in the golden bowl at his feet. “You may only look down, at its reflection in the water.”
The room is silent, and then a ripple of hushed whispers and anxious voices moves across the competitors.
I watch Alexi. I see his hand grip the strap of his own bow. I see the grace and assurance with which he moves, like he’s never doubted his place in the world for even an instant. I see his eyes grow wide as he realizes how easy this competition will be for him.
He looks left. I follow his gaze to a big, strong, stocky boy. My breath catches as I recognize him: Alexi’s brother. He’s sixteen years old, his hair short, flopping over his forehead, his nose crooked from having been broken twice. His real name is Abra, but he’s known to everyone as Bear because of the sheer force with which he fights.
A wordless glance passes between the brothers, and I see hope glimmer in their faces. Kali is so close that they can almost reach out and touch it. When they win Titania, they will surely, surely, win the war. And when they win the war, they can go home.
“Princess Shay.” King Darshan’s voice pulls my attention back. “As the youngest competitor, you may go first.”
The ruler of Skylark, just sixteen years old, looks like she would rather be in just about any other position, but she’s no coward, and she walks bravely to the heart of the room. She struggles to lift and string the bow, then readies the arrow, angles the bow up while craning her neck to look into the water, and fires.
The arrow misses the fish by just a few inches. The crowd cheers. Princess Shay returns to her place with a cheerful shrug and grin.
It’s a long competition and the guests divide their attention between the sport and the succulent refreshments laid out on a banquet table in the corner. Some of my favorite Wych specialties are on the table—skewers of roast lamb and plum pie and spiced wine—but my eyes never leave the competition.
Second to compete is proud King Ralf of Winter, who is missing an arm and refused long ago to be fitted with a prosthesis. He uses his teeth to pluck the bowstring, and he, too, misses the fish. Then comes a sharp-eyed woman who serves as champion to old Queen Miyo of Tamini. Her arrow hits the fish with a satisfying thunk, but a close-up from the videotech shows it only caught the very edge of the tail.
On and on it goes. Two of the competitors can’t string the bow, let alone fire the arrow, but King Darshan makes sure to applaud their efforts anyway. The most talented archers only just about hit the fish. No one comes close to the eye, never mind piercing it.
As the competition nears its close, only the two princes of Kali have yet to take their turns. This order was obviously not an accident.
Prince Max is asked to go first.
I watch him. His face is set, pale, utterly stony. There’s no emotion to be read there. I look harder, though, and see it in the set of his shoulders and the tiny twitch in his jaw.
Terror.
Dread.
He can see the end coming, and can do nothing to stop it.
He strings the bow with ease and lifts it without any trouble. He nocks the arrow.
“So you came,” a voice says quietly beside me.
I startle, then glance to my left. An ordinary old woman stands next to me. I’m sure she wasn’t there two minutes ago. Her eyes give her away—Amba, disguised in another form.
“You knew I’d come.”
“Yes,” she says, and then moves away. She slips across the crowd until she’s close to the front, watching intently.
That’s when I notice. Lots of them are here. Dotted around the crowd, hiding in plain sight, watching the competition with their giveaway eyes. Gods. Goddesses.
Prince Max sees them, too. I see his gaze flicker right, see him take in their different faces and recognize them for what they are. He has met gods, then, if he knows what to look for. I wonder if some of them are on his side.
He turns his gaze back to the water in the golden bowl, points the arrow up, and fires.
His arrow hits the tail of the fish.
I knew his odds of winning were slim, but there was always a chance he had unseen skill, and my heart lifts with relief to see that he doesn’t. He’s good, but you have to be more than good to win this competition.
Finally, it’s Alexi’s turn. He walks forward confidently and lifts and strings the bow without effort. His movements are quick, deft, almost beautiful. His skills at warfare have always been glorious to watch.
He looks into the water and aims the arrow. Considers his position. Readjusts. And fires.
The arrow hits the fish with a thunk.
Alexi frowns. A thunk means the arrow didn’t skewer the fish. I hold my breath.
As the mechanism slows and the fish goes still, the videotech zooms in to show that the arrow hit the fish right beside the eye, missing by a hair.
Alexi’s face lights up. The crowd bursts into cheers. Alexi gives them a quick, shy grin. He bows to King Darshan, who manages to restrain his obvious glee, and returns to his place with the other competitors. His brother whoops. General Saka’s eyes gleam with triumph.
There’s noise and joy all around me. A servant unstrings the bow and puts it back down beside the bowl of water. She starts to collect the arrows. The fish returns to its default setting and begins to spin again. King Darshan rises to his feet to officially end the competition and announce the clear winner.
This is it. This is my chance to do what I came here for.
I faltered once today. I cannot falter again.
The time has come to step out of the shadows.
Watch, I silently tell them all. Watch, and I’ll show you what I really am.
I cross the hall. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out every other sound. No one notices me. No one tries to stop me. No one cares about the girl in the servant’s dress.
A pawn.
Unimportant.
Irrelevant.
The bow is difficult to lift, but I force it onto its point and string it. I pick up a spare arrow.
Now they care. I can’t hear it, but I see it. The faces shift as they turn back, filling with confusion, surprise. There’s a ripple of laughter. I must look ridiculous.
I nock the arrow.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see King Darshan staring at me in confusion. He raises a hand to summon a servant, but I see Rama place his own hand on his father’s arm. Rama looks as stunned as anyone else, but he stops his father, making him give me a chance.
I see Alexi, caught in the middle of a celebration, his smile fading as he watches me. Our eyes meet for the first time in our lives. My throat closes up and I look away before I break down.
Years ago, Rickard flew to Wychstar on a short trip. On his third day here, a cold and bitter one, he went to the markets to look for a gift for his grandson. That was where I found him. I was nine years old. I asked if he would take me on as a student.
He told me once that he saw a small, shy, lonely child and deeply regretted that he had to disappoint her. “I’m sorry,” he said gently, “I can’t teach you.”
“Please. I need this. It’s the only way my family will ever take me back.”
“I once made a vow—”
“I know,” I said.
He frowned. I looked back at him. Hard, unflinching, determined to show him what I really was. And slowly, like the sun lamps brightening at dawn, understanding crept into his face.
“Your vow is the reason you can teach me,” I said.
And so he did.
Today, I look into the golden bowl and see the reflection of the spinning fish above me. Every movement is familiar, like an old friend. This was a favorite exercise of his, one we did together a hundred times. He demanded excellence and I delivered.
I look past the ripples, past the tiny movements that are reflection only, cutting all the way to the whirl of the fish itself. Searching for its eye.
I glance one last time into the crowd. At Amba. Her ancient eyes are full of untold catastrophes. Don’t do it, they say.
“Then stop me,” I whisper.
She doesn’t.
I leave the lonely dark of the shadows. I am in the light. Bow in hand. A pawn in a Warlords game.
Do you know what happens when a pawn gets all the way across the board?
She becomes a queen.
I point the arrow.
I fire.
And I skewer the fish right through the eye.