Gaslight Trials | The Wattys2023 Shortlister ✔️

6 | A Peacock in a Solarium

A dead fish casts a yellow, reproachful glance at me from the white porcelain plate. Its pale steely scales shine is akin to the most delicate armor plating. My gaze wanders, taking in the pinkness of the belly and the stillness of the eye. I imagine it zig-zagging through the icy spring waters: a dart of silver, yet fast, glimmering in the early morning sun. Just livin' out its best days.

Until someone hooked it and took away its life.

"If this particular meal is not to your liking..." Sophie says, "a second dish is prepared for you to sample. Beef steak and chunks of garlic cooked in a creamy bechamel sauce."

I shake my head.

"It's laid on a fine bed of steamed carrots and cauliflower with grated cheese. And for dessert, I was thinking... a chocolate avocado pudding?" She adds, after a pause.

I wonder what in the blazes avoc-cado is, but don't speak up.

Sophie uses the most powerful weapon in her arsenal. "Or I can order the kitchens to roast potatoes in cream?"

When she gets no reaction from me, Sophie says: "Madame Igglesden..." She wrings her metallic hands and the grating screech does a number on my ears. "For the past five days, you've barely eaten or slept. You refuse to come out of your room. And it is such a lovely afternoon."

"That's none of yer business now, is it?" I croak.

"No. No, it is not." Sophie gulps, yet continues her speech, her voice firm, more determined. "It's just... your semifinal match is this evening and I thought you could use some food to regain strength. And I know how taxing the battle can be, because my..." She stops speaking.

The touchy-feels tone does not sit well with me. Who does she think she is, my Ma? I harrumph.

"Apologies for overstepping my boundaries," Sophie says dryly. The head maid bows, leaves my bedchamber, and closes the door behind her.

The bleak room sinks its teeth into me, reminding me of the awful thoughts I've had in here for the past week. I need to just go somewhere. Anywhere. Far away from this shitty place. Far away from the fish's judgy eye. Far away from who I have become.

Across the bedchamber, my wardrobe gapes like an open wound. I kneel before it, digging for a pair of clean breeches and a simple shirt. After putting on my leather boots, I fumble around with the bedsheets to create a makeshift rope, and descend through the window.

Proud of myself for having slipped away unnoticed, I head through the town on foot in no particular direction. I breathe in gulps of fresh air, and am surprised at absolute silence.

Lighthaven streets usually are a marriage of sounds, from carriage wheels to an incessant chattering. Not today. The city is luminous and quiet, hidden under a blanket of daylight.

After a quart hour, I find meself before a polished brass plaque, its letters vibrant in the summer sun.

"SOLARIUM"

The stupid, fancy outdoor park, innit? Welp, I couldn't care less fer their...

My mind interrupts itself mid-thought.

No. Feckin'. Way.

In the very center of Solarium stands a — tree. It's only one, yet it's a real, live tree.

All the cities of the Empire get their oxygen through use of algae tanks, steam powered through the heavens. It's just that Lighthaven, of course, has more of 'em than Fumedge.

The tree's branches spread heaven-bound, and I can barely see the verdant foliage, but there's no doubt. Holy shite onna stick, it looks even better than in my school books.