Of Blood and Fire

Chapter 17 - Sora

Margareta Hettler and Rosaline Willis – one a friend and one of no real importance to Sora – were gone ten days into the contest. Four days had passed since then.

Three gone. Five left. And only hours until the final three.

Zander, who had prepped Sora, was now giving lessons to Sora and the others on political science, history, and literature. He was a decent teacher, but Sora didn't think he was meant for the job. He tended to stutter and occasionally forgot what he was saying in the middle of a sentence. Even with such a small group, it was clear that his strength lay in a one-on-one conversation.

"Who's next, do you think?" Emmalee whispered to Sora that afternoon at tea. She and Sora had become close friends in a very short amount of time. It reminded her vaguely of Khani, although Emmalee was more down-to-earth and a bit less optimistic.

"Lamia," Sora muttered back. Nothing about the candidate from Ekaï, although she supposed the girl's face was pretty enough. "And probably Jemma. I'm surprised she wasn't gone with Margareta."

"What do you think Rosaline did?" Emmalee wondered.

Sora snorted. "Too forceful. Nobody ever got a word in edgewise with her around." And if my assumption is right, the king wants someone pliable enough to be ordered around, no questions asked. She rolled her eyes at herself. He's probably going to have a harder time taming his own son than whoever wins. We're all so happy to be here, we won't have a problem bending to his will.

They both laughed and Zander said, "Ladies Sora and Emmalee, be quiet while I teach!"

A companionable silence fell between them. I do have friends here. I thought I'd be all alone with girls lunging for my throat all the time, but a lot of us are really nice. Emmalee was likable in her funny, slightly sarcastic way. Jemma was sweeter than straight sugar, always apologizing or offering a compliment. And even Lamia was slowly coming out of her shell, showing more of an intuitive, empathetic lady than the cold and distant girl she'd began as.

Sora was pleased to find that as Zander pointed to a long word, she could read it, and knew what it meant. Demagogue, she saw. Deh-muh-gog. Demagogue. Zander was talking about how Corian had the only constitutional monarchy as opposed to the absolute monarchies of Arehlia, Rised, and Nerali, and how many corrupt legislators were plucking seams from the fabric of Corese government. He seemed certain that the other parts of their system would fall apart and leave the rather incompetent royal family to reign. He also hinted that, with the kingdom in chaos, it would be an excellent time to move in and take their territory, as one of you is the future queen and yes you will have some influence on major strategic movements.

Sora wasn't too thrilled with the whole war idea. So many children would be slaughtered for a scant few miles of land. But Pandora was nodding, and Sora disliked her even more intensely for it. She has never seen the effects of war on the lower class. On the begging class, even. She remembered seeing the black star on a family's door, hearing the sobs, feeling tempted to give the only food she'd come by in four days to them because that woman had just lost her husband and her two children had just lost a father. And how she'd knocked meekly at the door and a twelve-year-old's tear-streaked face had answered, and felt all over again the hungry fingers grasping desperately at the bits of apple and pork she'd scrounged up. She knew it was a bad idea – she knew she'd be starving for a while longer – but their situation was worse. How could a lone mother provide for two young children, children too young to work?