CHAPTER FOUR
When I was six years old, Amba visited me for the very first time. I was on the steps outside the children’s sanctuary that day, nose in a book as always, scarcely even aware of the heat of the artificial sun beating down on me. Madam Li came out to find me, surprise and confusion all over her face. She was with a stern, beautiful woman.
“Esmae, this is the goddess Amba,” she said, looking like she couldn’t quite believe those words had come out of her own mouth. “She has asked to speak with you.”
Madam Li is not a tender woman. She has a good heart, but she’s also worn out and has no time for affection. In spite of this, I found myself grabbing hold of her skirts because I didn’t want to be left alone with the strange visitor.
Madam Li extracted herself and went back inside, assuring me that I had nothing to be afraid of. I’m not sure she believed that, but she hadn’t the nerve to question a goddess.
Amba eyed my book. It was a folktale, I remember that. A story about a queen who was cruelly betrayed and swore she would not wash her hair again until she could bathe it in her enemies’ blood. “A little grim for a child, don’t you think?” Amba had said.
I clutched the book closer. “This was the only book on Madam Li’s desk this week.”
“Do you like to read?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
This seemed a very foolish question. “Why not?”
Her mouth twitched ever so slightly. Then she said, “Your father is dead.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t have a father.”
“You did. He died today. It was quite unexpected and his death will have repercussions. I want to prepare you for your inevitable reunion with the rest of your family.”
“I have a family?” I said, amazed.
“Yes.” And she told me the story of how I ended up on Wychstar. The story of a cursed mother and a tragic sacrifice and how she, a goddess, brought me here herself to keep me safe.
After she finished her story, she held out her hand and opened it. On her palm lay a deep blue petal, as luminous and perfect as a star. It was so beautiful I could only stare.
“The petal of a blueflower,” Amba told me. “Your mother gave this to you when she handed you to me. I took it so that no one else would, but it’s time you had it back.”
She closed her hand and whispered a blessing under her breath, and when she opened it again, the petal was gone. In its place was a jewel, just as blue and luminous, shaped like the petal had been. The stern cast of her face softened into a small smile. She pinned the jewel in my hair.
“Keep it close,” she said. “As long as you do, no one can hurt you.”
“What does that mean?”
“As long as you possess the blueflower jewel, you will be invulnerable to harm. Any wound you receive will heal immediately. Consider it my gift to you, a small consolation for the sorrow you will know.”
I didn’t quite believe her until the day I slipped and fell flat on my face. By the time I got back to my feet, the pain had stopped. I noticed blood on the floor, but no trace of where it had come from. There wasn’t a scratch on me.
It was a wondrous gift, but Amba’s words made it as bitter as it was sweet. Small consolation for the sorrow you will know, she’d said, and she had spoken only the truth. It was consolation and it was small; her gift couldn’t keep me safe from the deeper wounds of sadness, fear, or loneliness. I kept the blueflower jewel close almost every moment of my life, but its power couldn’t make me feel invincible. I have never felt invincible.
Never.
Until now.
When the fish slows to a stop and the videotech focuses on the arrow skewering its eye, I feel like I cannot be touched, I cannot be torn down. I feel like nothing and no one in the whole wide galaxy will ever hurt me again.
In the uproar that follows, I seek out certain faces. Like statues, they seem frozen in the chaos: Rama, gobsmacked; Amba with her eyes made of calamity; the thief-prince, wide-eyed with wonder; King Darshan, utterly aghast, but trying valiantly to hide it.
And Alexi. Everything else fades into nothing as I look into his face and he looks into mine. He’s white as a sheet.
Then they all unfreeze, Amba and the other gods vanish into thin air, and the king opens his mouth to speak. “Let us have some order and decorum in the Hall,” he says, but his voice is almost lost in the mayhem. “I must ask for your patience while I look into this unexpected development.”
“Who is she?” someone shouts.
“She’s a servant!” someone else says. The word, itself, doesn’t bother me, but the sneering tone cuts deep.
“How dare a servant presume to compete against the likes of royals?”
“Silence!” roars the king, and the crowd goes quiet at last. “We will resolve this matter.” His eyes settle on me again, his gaze stern and impassive. “Esmae, follow Prince Rama.”
I quietly do as I’m told. Rama keeps making what-the-actual-hell-is-going-on-Esmae? faces at me, but two of the royal bodyguards have come with us and that makes him uncharacteristically circumspect. I reach out a hand to touch his, but one of the bodyguards shakes his head and I drop it back to my side. It’s their job to be careful, but it still hurts. Despite having been Rama’s friend, alone with him countless times over the past eleven years, they now think I could be a threat.
The lush, airy suite Rama takes me to is in the king’s public quarters, the place where he holds private meetings with staff and guests. There’s a long table and several chairs by the window.
“Feel free to sit,” Rama says to all three of us, the first words he’s said out loud since the competition ended.
The bodyguards decline, taking up positions in opposite corners. I sit reluctantly in a chair halfway down one side of the table. Rama sits next to me. He reaches under the table and squeezes my hand. I squeeze back as hard as I can.
“How?” he asks quietly.
Before I can answer, the door opens again. Rama and I rise as King Darshan enters accompanied by his daughter Radha. I assume he left Crown Prince Rodi to soothe the crowds while he deals with me. Alexi, Bear, General Saka, and Max Rey come in after him.
“Why is he here?” Rama asks in his usual lazy drawl, pointing at Prince Max. There’s an undercurrent of scorn in his voice. No one likes the thief prince.
“Prince Max is here because he insisted,” King Darshan says curtly.
Of course he insisted. He knows his kingdom is at stake. I’m glad he’s here. I had hoped he would be.
The king takes his place at the head of the table and gestures for the rest of us to be seated. Princess Radha is on my other side; she gives me a sweet, reassuring smile. We were both very shy children and never had a chance to become real friends, but we’ve known each other most of our lives and I’m glad to have a friendly face beside me.
Alexi and Bear take seats opposite us. Bear doesn’t even try to conceal his shock and resentment, but Alexi won’t look at me at all. I give Bear a small smile, earning a scowl in return. I can’t really blame him.
I dare a look at General Saka. She sits straight and dangerously still beside them. She meets my eyes, her own hard and cold as glass.
Prince Max considers each side of the table before wisely realizing he isn’t welcome on either, and settles at the foot, opposite the king. I can feel him watching me, but he’s much less obvious about it than the others. I can’t tell what’s behind the quiet surface of his dark eyes.
“There is no need to stand on ceremony in this room,” says King Darshan. “In the interest of keeping this quick, you may all speak freely.”
“Thank you—” Alexi starts.
“What this girl has done means nothing,” General Saka cuts in, swift as a blade. She gives Alexi an apologetic glance for interrupting him, but continues. “Prince Alexi won the competition and won Titania. She was not on the list of competitors, she is neither royal nor a champion, and the competition had ended by the time she stepped onto the stage. Her attempt at the fish must, therefore, be automatically disqualified.”
“Her successful attempt at the fish,” says Prince Max with the faintest glimmer of a smile. I’m sure he’s petty enough to be delighted that the world witnessed Alexi Rey lose. It’s infuriating, but Max’s delight is also exactly what I want.
General Saka glares at him but doesn’t respond. She turns instead to King Darshan. “Who is she?” she demands. It’s a bold tone to take with a king, but by all accounts, Leila Saka fears nothing and nobody. “You called her by a name in the hall. Do you know her? Is she one of your servants?”
“She’s right here,” says Rama. “If you want to know who she is, why don’t you ask her yourself?”
General Saka raises an eyebrow at me. “Well?”
I consider my words, weighing how much to say. “My name is Esmae. I grew up in a children’s sanctuary here on Wychstar. I work as a servant in the palace sometimes.”
“And she’s my friend,” says Rama firmly.
“Your friend?” General Saka repeats. “And how did she come to be friends with a royal prince?”
“The goddess Amba asked a favor of me when Esmae was a child,” says King Darshan. “She asked me to educate her in my royal schoolroom. She has shared lessons with Prince Rama since she was six years old.”
Alexi’s gaze finally snaps to meet mine. I watch his fists, clenching and unclenching on top of the table. I’m not sure he knows he’s doing it. “Why you?” he asks.
“What?”
“Why you? You’re no one. I’m sorry, I know that’s rude, but it’s the truth. Why did a goddess want you educated alongside royals?”
Max is incredulous. “You can’t just say someone is no one.”
“Stay out of it, Max,” Bear growls at him. “Why are you even here? Is it not enough that you stole everything from us? You’re lucky I haven’t cut your throat!”
“On a foreign king’s territory?” Max replies. “That would be foolish, even by your standards.”
Bear lunges, but Alexi grabs hold of his brother’s arm and yanks him back into his seat. The bodyguards in the corners reach for their weapons.
Max doesn’t even flinch.
“That’s enough,” says King Darshan. His voice is sharper than before. “You can all behave yourselves or leave the room immediately.”
Bear’s broad shoulders hunch like a chastised schoolboy, and I feel for him. I’d want to cut the throat of the person who stole everything from me, too.
After a tense, silent moment, Bear recovers himself and says, “Royal schoolroom or not, I know you don’t have instructors here on Wychstar who can teach what she just accomplished. How can she possibly have such skill with a bow and arrow?”
“She can’t,” says General Saka as though the answer has suddenly become obvious. She springs to her feet. “She must have cheated!”
“That is a ridiculous accusation,” says Rama.
“I did not cheat,” I tell the general coldly. I expected the accusation sooner or later. The truth—that I’ve spent years working and studying—is more implausible than the convenience of a trick. “How would I have even done so?”
“You could have called on the gods to guide the arrow. You could have slipped a magnet onto the arrow’s tip while no one was looking. You could even be an illusion yourself, a con engineered by the thief prince, while the real orphan girl Esmae is dead or locked up in a cell.”
All possible, I suppose. Max frowns but doesn’t defend himself or answer for me.
I stand to face her, looking straight in her eye, my chin raised. “None of those things are true. I skewered that fish because I’m the finest archer in this room.”
Alexi cocks his head at me curiously. “Better than me?” It would sound arrogant coming from anyone else, but we all know the stories. I’ve seen the videos. He has good reason to believe his skill is almost unmatched.
“Better than you.”
Leila Saka lets out a sharp burst of laughter. “She really thinks she’s a better archer than Alexi Rey!”
“Why not?” Max asks. “You just saw her prove as much.”
“I saw her fire one shot.” General Saka sneers at him. “One shot proves nothing. I’ve given you three different ways she could have pulled that shot off.”
“That one shot is proof enough for me,” Max replies.
“You would say that. You’d say anything if it meant that Alexi doesn’t win Titania.”
“I’m sure he’s already won Titania,” Max snaps back. “It doesn’t seem likely Esmae is going to get her, does it? You’re all so bloody determined to disqualify her on the grounds that she’s a servant.”
I dig my fingernails into my palms, unclench them, tighten them again. Why is he, of all the people, the one treating me with respect and courtesy? I can’t trust it. I know what he’s capable of. I can’t trust a word out of his mouth.
Max’s expression shifts. He’s looking at my hands. At my fists—clenching and unclenching. He glances at Alexi and I know what he’s seeing. That fist on the table. Clenching, unclenching.
Behind me, I hear General Saka arguing with Rama and King Darshan about the competition. Rama is uncharacteristically energetic, refusing to back down from defending my victory. King Darshan wants desperately to agree with General Saka’s opposition—he’s set this whole thing up so that Alexi can have Titania, after all—but he also wants to be seen as fair.
As they argue, Max stands. I tense, but don’t move, allowing him to approach. I let him not just because I want him to see the truth, but because I’ve never, ever been seen as clearly as I know he’s seeing me now. He’s cutting past it all, the servant’s dress and lemony tang of cheap soap and the messy, tousled hair. I watch his eyes flicker from my hair to my nose to my eyes. Putting together all the little things he hadn’t noticed before.
“Oh,” he says quietly.
“So you see,” I reply.
“I think I do.”
I turn back to the table. “General Saka, you keep saying I don’t have any right to Titania because I’m a nobody. King Darshan, you have always been courteous to me, and I will always be grateful to you for everything you’ve done for me, but I’m sure you agree with the general. Would you let me have the prize I won if I wasn’t just nobody? If I was someone who mattered in your eyes?”
“I don’t understand what you mean, Esmae,” says the king.
Here it is. The beginning of the end of this Warlords game. One last play. The moment I’ve waited so many years for.
“I can lay to rest any question of my skill. I could, of course, spend a week showing you every sword trick I know, every battle strategy, every skill I have with a bow, but there’s a quicker way. I don’t think there’s anyone in this room who doesn’t trust the word of Sebastian Rickard. Ask him what kind of warrior I am.”
A fragment of a moment, their faces frozen in shock. Even Rama, who knows me better than anyone, is caught off guard. Even he didn’t look at Alexi and me in the same room and see the obvious.
“Rickard?” Bear repeats in bewilderment. “What does Rickard have to do with it? He can’t be your teacher. He swore a long time ago that he would only teach my father’s heirs.”
“Yes, he did,” I say.
Alexi and I have been in the same room for several minutes now, but no one has seen what should have been obvious. They see a prince and a servant. They don’t see that both have copper in their brown hair. Or that they have the same eyes. From the moment they walked in here, they saw only what they expected and missed the truth.
They saw the pawn.
And missed the queen.
“I am one of your father’s heirs,” I say at last. “My name is Esmae, but I was born Alexa Rey. I’m your sister.” I look at Alexi, into his ashen face and wide eyes. “Your twin.”