I crack open an eyelid and the room is spinning around me. Bad. I feel bad. What happened last night? I rub a hand over my face and sit up, clutching my head so it doesn’t explode.
So much drink. Too much. There was the second glass and then a few more. The alcohol had started to taste alright. My stomach lurches as I recall its smell. How did I get back to my room? Why is my memory gone? This can’t be normal. I groan and lower myself back onto the bed. Veni, what if I said something? Or revealed I was Solati? After a few more spins, I decide I’d have been thrown to the Watch by now if the others knew my secret. How did the night get so out of control? Not that I was given much of a choice and I had to admit the fighter’s acceptance felt good. Still, I could’ve said no.
My assembly friends at the castle call this a hangover. Whatever it is, it’s not worth it.
I’m never drinking again.
I enter the mess room and find Crystal and Alzona with their heads together at the table. They look up and snigger at my appearance. I reach a hand up and realize my hair is a disaster.
“First to bed and first to wake,” Alzona sings.
“So,” I say, breathing through the rising nausea. “What happened last night?” I reach up and braid my hair over one shoulder.
“What didn’t happen?” Crystal laughs. “I hope to never hear you sing again in my life. I would drink some water if I were you.”
I groan and rest my head on the table. It’s easier than holding it up. Maybe I’ll sleep here. I hear footsteps coming closer. The others have awoken.
“I hope you’re not falling asleep,” Alzona says. “You’re still expected to train.”
“What?” I hear Flurry ask. “Why?”
“Because you’ve been slacking and it’s going to change. You get one day off per week. That’s it. And you had yours, two days ago. Get boozed before your day off if you can’t handle the hangover,” she snaps.
“I only get half a day off.” I lift my head to give her an accusing stare.
Alzona looks at me and shrugs. “Should’ve bargained better.”
“You told me it’s all the fighters got!”
She ignores me and turns to the men, who are cramming meat and bread into their mouths. I shudder, how are they eating?
Alzona shoos them into the gym. “Go on. You’ve already started late.” She looks back at me and smiles. One of those smiles I don’t like. “You, too.”
“I didn’t get a half day off this week because I helped escort you to Tricks.” This is a stretch of what happened, but I feel so ill I don’t care. “I fought well yesterday and I’d like my half day tomorrow.”
She narrows her eyes and then surprises me by nodding - after a nudge from Crystal. The tiny victory gives me the colossal strength required to stand and walk into the gym.
I proceed to have the worst day of my life. I do something I regularly disapprove of - I don’t work hard enough to break a sweat. The only good part is the men are also hungover and can’t summon the effort to tease me about last night. They do have enough energy to reenact my singing. I renew my vow never to drink again every time they do. The only thing which gets me through is the reminder of searching for the arrow tomorrow.
I awoke the next morning, relieved to find the hangover gone. “Where are you going today?” Shard asks at breakfast.
I shrug. “Just around.” My words are honest, not a deferral. I have no idea where I’ll go.
“I’m taking my half day off this morning, as well. Do you want company on the walk in so you don’t get lost? We could meet up later, too.” He must originally be from the Middle or Inner rings, he’s too well-spoken.
I can’t keep the relief off my face. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Shard walks me into town and points to a…building? “I’ll be in The Slime. Come find me if you have any trouble.” Part of the roof has collapsed and someone has scratched the words “Ronah’s Slime” into the half-rotten wood above the door. My nose crinkles. Why would Shard willingly go in there? Surely any place with the word “slime” in its description should be avoided. He laughs at my expression and begins jostling away through the thick horde.
I’m alone in the Outer Rings for the second time.
I can’t help but remember what happened the first time. At least there’s daylight and I have some idea of how to get back to the barracks. Whispers trail after me as I wander. Ronah’s Slime starts to seem like an appealing place to be, but then I see people are stepping away, giving me a wide berth. Why would they be doing that? I straighten when I realize. They’ve heard about my fight in the pits.
I have a reputation. It’s better than worrying about plots to kill or sell me and I’ll take anything which makes it easier to get through the mob.
Somehow, I drift to the opening where the naked ladies dance in the windows. Five different paths converge to this one point. It’s as good a place as any to ask my questions.
“Excuse me,” I say to an old lady with a large hump on her back. Old ladies are nice.
“Get off ya,” she snarls. I jerk away from her rancid breathe. Solis, what was her problem?
I try again with the next person who looks my way, a young man. “Can you tell me–”
“Not int’rested love. Jus had a tumble,” he says. He pushes me roughly, staggering past. I close my mouth after a few moments, rubbing my chest where he elbowed me.
It’s the same over the next several hours. Obviously my reputation isn’t enough for the Bruma to listen to my questions, let alone answer them. These people are horrible. And I’m reluctant to threaten anyone for answers. I don’t know who these people are or what connections they might have. It’d be my luck to threaten the leader of some gang.
I sit on a discolored step and try not to think about what might be getting on my trousers. I watch whores wave and dance in the tall building opposite me. Most of them seem like they’re just going through the motions, like puppets, their eyes empty. Pity washes through me as I watch their sad routine. What a way to live. There are some, though, who appear to genuinely enjoy what they’re doing. One beautiful woman dances in the top triangle window. She draws the desiring eye of nearly every man passing through - and the jealous eye of nearly every woman. She disappears periodically, probably to do things I’d rather not think about.
Realizing my life could be a lot worse, I shove my way back to The Slime.
I wrench open the broken door. It bangs on the wall and bounces back. A bald giant glowers at me from where he’s pouring alcohol. I peer through the dusty clutter. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I feel the stares of people lurking in the building’s shadows. I spot Shard’s dark blond head and hurry to his table.
“Had a look around?” he asks as I sit opposite him.
I nod. I’m pleased to feel like a friendship is beginning between us, too. I doubt I can have too many of those out here. Perhaps he sees my morning has not gone as planned, because he gives me an amused look and gulps another mouthful. I don’t know how he can drink after yesterday.
I hesitate and decide to tell him part of what I’ve been doing. “People aren’t in the…answering mood today.”
Shard smiles as he swirls his drink. “You know the best thing about the Outer Rings?”
I shake my head as he tosses back the drink and slams the simple looking goblet on the table.
“People are usually in the ‘getting richer’ mood.”
I follow him to the compound. I’ve taken this path several times now. I’m fairly confident I’ll be able to find my way back to the whore’s courtyard by myself. Shard’s hint was loud and clear. I think of all the coin I stole from those men. Next time I’ll bring money with me. I’m smiling by the time we get back, determination renewed.
I’ve settled into an uneasy routine. Uneasy because I don’t get anywhere with my questioning. Shard was right about using the coin. It makes them listen, but it’s like there’s some kind of code against answering. Or maybe they can smell when someone isn’t from here. I can certainly smell when they are. I’m starting to get sick of everyone assuming I’m around “for a tumble”, as they so eloquently put it. I judge I have about half a day left until my moral code breaks and I begin using my fists to get results. I’m not on Osolis and I’m not in the castle. There’s a whole different set of rules in the Outer Rings and I’m going to start playing by them.
Then there’s the veil, though I’m not so worried about this. On Osolis, there are fabric shops in the villages. But there was a royal seamstress who made all of my robes. I’m sure she always hated me because of the dull colors I wore to blend in. Here, I haven’t seen anything to help me. No fabric, no clothing shops. Nothing. Maybe I’ll have to search the Middle Rings. The material had to be just right; thick enough to hide my features, but thin enough to allow some visibility in daylight. Malir once brought me a fur coat from a shop so I knew they existed.
Shard interrupts my thoughts.
“Wrath had you pinned last time and I know you got out in the end, but there’s an easier way.” He grunts as he goes through a defensive sequence I’ve just shown him. The last fight against one of Tricks’ men, Wrath, was the hardest I’d had. He wasn’t nasty and snide like the other fighters I usually faced. Afterward, he came to shake hands, much to the amusement of Hale’s bench. I actually enjoyed the round.
“You going to share your wisdom, or is it a secret?” I ask, pushing weights above my head. Training is becoming more intense as our success continues. Alzona can see the coin and is determined to get it. I suppose the boost in morale has made everyone automatically work a little harder. Except for Ice, who still doesn’t break a sweat. How he’s survived this long in the pits, I don’t know.
Shard chuckles. “Guess I’ll show you. I pity you because you were so easy to beat last time.”
“Whatever. You barely won.” I say.
He stops his sequence and shrugs. “One thing always lets you down,” he says and waves at Blizzard and Flurry to come over.
“What? What is it?” I can’t think of anything obvious. I’ve entered the pit five more times in various sectors since my first fight, winning every match – though with my advantage of surprise gone, it wasn’t as easy as the round with Crush.
Shard taps his longer than average nose. His eyes twinkle as he looks down at me. It strikes me the expression in his eyes is too old for his age. I’ve assumed he’s in his late twenties. It’s obvious the twenty or so years haven’t been easy.
“Can’t tell you that. Then you might win.”
Shard shows me how to escape the hold. I practice on Blizzard first. Then Shard motions for Flurry to pin me so I can try it on a different body type. I look up at Flurry who has his forearm across my chest. Jovan pinned me like this twice. The first time to rip off my veil, the second while overreacting to my decision to learn the dog sleds.
Flurry’s cheeks are flushed and though we’re only a couple of finger widths from each other, he somehow avoids my gaze. He’s always hesitant around me, yet I’ve seen him act perfectly normal with the men, and other women. Maybe he’s just shy.
As soon as I get out of the hold, he jumps away and returns to the weights section. Blizzard laughs at his retreating back.
“What’s up with him?” I ask. Shard and Blizzard share a look and snigger. They turn away, ignoring my question and I remember Shard’s earlier comment.
“Wait, you didn’t tell me what I’m doing wrong,” I call out.
The fight next week is in Sector Six. I keep careful track of the lanes and occasional landmarks as we go. Once we escape the packed mass of low overhanging roofs, I’m startled to see how close we are to the Oscala. I never realized my position. The Bruma call it the Great Stairway. The floating rocky islands are the only means of access and communication between our two worlds.
We crunch and slip through settled snow in the shadows of tall brown and green trees until we come to the twisting lanes of the Sixth. Travelling by foot doubled the journey from one area to the next. It was much quicker to travel through the larger streets between each sector, or by a sled and team, but Shard says we travel this way to avoid alerting the Watch. I’m impressed by Outer Rings tactics. The people here are technically the least influential on Glacium, but they have numbers. If they want something badly enough they have the power to take it. Turns out the pits qualify as a good enough reason.
Like my world, Glacium is split into six sectors. Where Osolis is unimaginably hot and in constant danger of fire, Glacium is the extreme opposite - deathly cold. Both of our worlds depend on the other for a livable climate - ironic considering our mutual hate. The point where the worlds are closest, the First Sectors, have the mildest temperature. The Fourth Sectors - the furthest from the other world - are unlivable. This wouldn’t be so bad if the Fourth in each world could be avoided. But the two planets rotate, meaning every part of each world moves through the Fourth position. It’s impossible to stay in one spot for the entire three years it takes to complete a revolution. Instead, the Solati and Bruma migrate every one and a half years to avoid the fire and smoke, or blistering freeze. This necessitates there be two castles on Glacium, and two palaces on Osolis. And so, like the rest, Alzona has two barracks. A spare to use when the other was in the Fourth Sector. She doesn’t own a compound in the Sixth, so we’re staying with Tricks’ group. Tricks owns a compound in every sector. We stayed with him in Sector Two, as well. In the six weeks I’ve been here, his fighters have done almost as well as Hale’s group. I don’t know why he’s taken Alzona under his wing when her barracks are so far below his own. He seems genuinely nice, maybe this is reason enough.
Darkness is falling by the time we finally reach our destination. Our group sits at one table in the far corner of Tricks’ fancy mess hall. The other four tables are full of their fighters. If you closed your eyes you’d never know what these men did for a living. There is laughing and joking between the two groups. It’s a roomful of happy people. Of course, the illusion is dispelled after opening your eyes and seeing the corded muscles, ropey scars and broken teeth.
The steady volume around our table grinds to a halt as Alzona draws a strappy bit of leather out of her pack and holds it up. Everyone at our table peers at it. By the silence behind us, I guess some of the other tables are doing the same thing.
“What is it? A harness?” I ask, thinking of dog sleds.
Alzona laughs and chucks it at me. I catch it, moving my head back to avoid the flailing straps.
“No, it’s for you.” She bends over her food, apparently dismissing the subject.
I look at it, pulling bits of it up. “What for? Is it a weapon?” I press. Flurry chokes on a bit of food. Avalanche thrashes him on the back, throwing him into his plate.
Alzona doesn’t look up. “I suppose you could look at it that way. But it’s supposed to be worn.”
My eyes widen. “Worn?” I hold the straps up, but can’t see how they would form anything wearable.
“Where is the rest of it? Or does it go over something else?” I say. I look over to Tricks’ table. They are definitely listening.
“Oh, wait.” She holds up a finger. I sigh in relief, there’s more.
“Use this to lace up the sides.” My mouth drops open as she chucks me two thin lengths of leather and bows her head over her paperwork again.
I shake my head. “I’m not wearing this.” I toss it on the table.
Alzona lifts her head and gives me a hard stare across the table and I have a second to remember why I don’t argue with her.
“That will help you win,” she spits. “And it’s not up for discussion.”
I pick up the leather again and shake it at her. “This. Is not clothing! I might as well not wear anything!” There is only so much I will do to fit in. This goes far beyond that point.
“If you do wear it, I’ll fight you first!” the beautiful man called Sin shouts out. I ignore him, locked in a battle of wills with Alzona.
“Listen, you little bitch. You know the deal. You do what I say, when I say it, or you’re out on your pretty little arse. Or more likely on your back, because that is the only future for you outside my barracks,” Alzona says, her voice rising. Usually, I can understand her motives. She’s a woman in a world dominated by males, and in the most dangerous area I know. But now? Her words make me furious.
I keep my expression blank, mimicking King Jovan. “You’ll be making me into one anyway, if you force me to wear this.” I hold her gaze. I know my worth. She can’t afford to lose me.
She snorts. “You ain’t seen the half of it, girly,” she says in a hard voice, adopting Ice’s phrase. “You put that on, or you can get out.”
I stand and place the “garment” down on the table. It’s a shame it’s come to this. I truly don’t know where I’ll go. At least I have some street smarts now.
“I’m sorry you’ve wasted your coin on these, Alzona. I would also thank you for taking me in, though as you once said, you didn’t do it out of the kindness of your heart.” I look around at the others. “It was lovely to have met and to have fought with you all.”
“Where will you go?” Shard asks, brows furrowed.
I wink at him. “Best you don’t know. You can’t follow me there anyway.”
Shard raises an eyebrow. He probably knows this means I don’t know. Avalanche rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. I turn and hug him. I nod at Blizzard, punch Ice on the shoulder and smile inwardly as I give Flurry a quick kiss on the cheek. His face flames red. I finally figure out what his issue is.
“Do I get one of those?” I hear Sin call out. I pick up my pack, turn and stride out.
“Is she fucking serious?” I hear behind me.
“Yep, you screwed up big time, Alzona. You just lost your best fighter,” Shard says.
“No I haven’t. You’re my best fighter.”
“Maybe for another week. She’s gonna overtake me soon.”
“Why won’t she just bloody wear it?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? She’s gone now,” he says. And I nearly am. I even reach the outside gate.
“Wait!” a voice hollers behind me.
I turn, arms crossed against the chill of the Sixth. A strong wind picks up my braid and whips it around. I’m lucky we’re only on the edge of this sector or I wouldn’t have been able to leave at night. I would have survived the pits only to die of the cold.
“What?” I make my voice angrier than I am. I already know I’ve won. I don’t brag about it. It’s probably hard enough for her to chase after me. She won’t take attitude from me on top of our argument.
“You don’t have to wear the bloody clothes. But you’re making a mistake. You get the crowd on your side and you can win any fight. People cheer for Slay, because they hate him. They cheer for Shard because he’s honorable. And they love Sin because they lust after him. You should use your sex appeal.”
“You’ll never try to make me wear it again?” I ignore her continued attempts to convince me.
I can see her jaw clenching and her reply is grating. “No. But don’t think it means you can just do what you like. Nothing else is up for negotiation. You pull any more shit and I swear I’ll leave you at the closest whorehouse.”
“I love you too, Alzona,” I say and push past her.