Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

28.2 Spoils

The Academy looms up before us and Nancy splits our column down the centre to wait before the portico steps. Macie and Penny end up on the other side. Behind us is a mass of Huntsmen in twos and threes; preening, glittering, smug.

"Ra, Ra," I yell half-heartedly. The Huntsmen boys in front of us cheer more believably.

Of the Huntsmen in the parade, the women shine the brightest. They're in jewel-toned dresses and extravagant jewellery. But the men, and there's many more of them, don't exactly blend into the background either. They wear soft felt or velvet jackets in darker shades of those jewel colours. Beneath every jacket is a loose, pale shirt which has a silky sheen, but not a single tie. They're also adorned, though its subtler; a large ring, a jewelled hilt, bulky cufflinks.

A maroon jacketed Huntsmen leads a young woman in a ruby dress and her matching red ribbon hangs from her wrist to brush the dirt. Amusement bubbles up inside me, all the couples match, but I don't even match myself.

The crowd at the steps grows and I realise the main body of Huntsmen have looped around the portico to stand behind us, adding to the cheering crowd for the rest of the parade. There's a gap now, and two wardens holding giant flags with the Warrior Mage's symbol on them precede the council. Percival's withered form is wrapped in green with a pink rosette and Finley's father Josef is in startling deep blue.

Then comes two huge black flags.

"These are the 'war heroes' getting trophies tonight," Amy whispers, derisive.

"More like war criminals," I hiss back.

Boys run out to give their parents flowers. Petals are thrown. It becomes a colourful mess of celebration for a time. Of course Finley's in this crowd, half hidden behind a giant bouquet of purple flowers. Finally, the 'heroes' make their way into the hall and the rest of us shuffle in behind.

It's packed, Huntsmen sandwiched on every side. I try to find the other girls but it's impossible to move. Amy and I end up shoved against the back wall, fidgeting throughout the ceremony as the afternoon turns to night. My mind lies strangely dull inside my skull, protecting itself from Huntsmen speeches on valour.

I work out that they're presenting the awards from a high stage at the head of the hall, framed by deep green curtains. Finley gets presented with a strange silver crown made of ornate ovals.

"To my son on his first posting. I'm so proud." His father preens.

There's something strange about the array of objects Josef is handing out. There's no pattern or reason. The last person got golden statue of a chicken. Then I realise: they're spoils.

Stolen treasures. Not just the prizes, either, but all of the jewellery the Huntsmen wear. It's not to show how rich or beautiful they are but to show how strong they are. How good at fighting, stealing, killing. I choke, thinking of how many deaths are represented by the accessories in this room. The Huntsmen can't even have a party without being the worst.

The Huntsmen spill out of the hall after the ceremony, like sand from a balloon that's been cut. The courtyard and the academy's wide portico fill with groups of chattering Huntsmen, softly lit by lanterns. Plates of food and glasses appear as if by magic in people's hands.

I raise my eyebrows, noticing that Finley continues to wear the crown. Probably another stupid tradition. It bothers me more than I'd like. It looks like he's playing king.

Ostentatious jewellery seems to be the theme of the evening, however. Trying to move through the crowd, I goggle at the array of strange diadems, tiaras, even feathered headdresses. Sometimes there are multiple extravagant pieces on the same person. Amy points out Mildrith, gruff warden Mildrith, wearing three tiers of tiaras in an extraordinary amount of hair. I point out the replica feyflies adorning another Huntswoman's wrist.

We make it to the food tables before Finley catches us. There's enough food to feed ten times as many people as are here, but only these dainty little plates of china to eat off. The glass that I take gulping sips out of is cut crystal. Where could this sort of opulence have been hiding amongst the Huntsmen's usual amenity?

I drift for a while, taking everything in, trying every dish along the long lines of trestle tables. Finley greets me with a glance at the pearls. He wears the same formal wear as the other Huntsmen, but in black.

"Have you seen any of the performances?" Finley edges us into conversation.

"Performances?" There is music here too I notice, hard to catch over the bubbling of conversation.

Finley nods to the front doors, "Duels, sparring, you know. They get quite clever with some of the formations." I squint out into the gathering night, intrigued. We weave across the room, easier said than done as Finley gets stopped by every man and his dog to congratulate him on his first mission. I make sour smiles in front of my gritted teeth, as he introduces me to each of them. After maybe five of these I remember the garden party; if the night continues like this I'll lose my cool before its time to slip away.

So instead of running I actually reach for Finley's hand. I push ahead of him, shielding him from further well-wishers and weave like a needle through cloth towards the doors. The first few people to try and slow us get apologetic smiles and murmurs from Finley, but I gain momentum. I pull him past the last one without even an apology.

Macie, leaning against the door to the portico, curtsies to us. I make a rude gesture with one hand, low amongst my skirts, but I soldier on. I guess we can't help playing the same facetious games we played in Seven.