Free Daughters of Ruin by K. D. Castner Page B

Even if Cadis was wearing Meridan colors, even if she bowed and pledged a thousand times, she would never win them over. Iren was right. And she was smart enough to let Cadis come to the realization herself. They made a perfect pair in that regard. Cadis, eager to win back the Meridan people, their affection, their esteem for the Findish. Iren, always present, helping her remember the prizes that were simply too lofty. At best Meridan would give her begrudging respect. For Cadis—who wished desperately for everyone to love her as she loved them—this was a painfully difficult fact to remember.
    Cadis reached up and unclasped her crimson and gold breastplate and let it fall to the ground beside her platform. Underneath was a light leather jerkin, unarmored, but at least unmarked by the sigil of Meridan. She would present herself—herself. She felt a wave of gratitude for Iren.
    Their platforms began to rise. The dull roar of the crowd and a light rain of sand from the arena floor wafted down the open shafts.
    â€œAll right. You win,” said Cadis. “I won’t go easy.”
    She could see Iren’s lips quiver, holding back a smirk. “You never have before.”
    â€œHave too,” said Cadis, playful and petulant. “You don’t even know how much.”
    Iren finally let the smile escape, like a bird from its cage. “Have not,” she said.
    The proxy sisters shared a moment of connection, beaming at each other with true affection, until the arena floor severed their eyeline and the platforms brought them out once again, onto the sunbright stage, where they would battle as hardened foes. “Did you see my arrows before?” said Cadis.
    They bowed to each other.
    â€œOf course,” said Iren. “They were spectacular. But you look better now. Red and gold don’t suit you.”
    A shinhound, seated somewhere near the king’s balcony, saw Iren and barked. Iren drew her double rapiers and set position. Cadis waved her cutlass in a figure eight to loosen her wrist.
    Without warning, she sprang forward and in one charging motion swung the heavy blade down toward Iren’s head.

CHAPTER THREE
Suki
    One came carried from Tasan’s Imperium
    A sister dead, in a black dress clad
    Spoiled and twisted by a rank delirium
    Slowly and surely she . . . went . . . mad.
    â€”Children’s nursery rhyme
    S uki stood in the saddle of her horse (Helio (which was hers, even though Declan had named it)) to see Cadis and Iren sparring on the other side of a giant hedge (on the closer side to the king’s box) while she warmed up for her ride (which was next) when she caught sight of Rhea (goodiegoodie queen witch) and Endrit (gods, he was beautiful) watching from the conductor’s trench, standing extra close to each other (though that might have just been the angle of her view (because Endrit would have to be a wild pig idiot to want that mangy nag (and he wasn’t (because he had a dozen options (like Cadis for one (and he could maybe even choose Suki (hopefully))))))).
    â€œStay straight,” she (Suki) said to herself, as Marta had taught her. Stay straight. A kind of double meaning (old soldiers loved that sort of thing (training advice that doubled as life advice)). Suki kept the reins of Helio straight as he trotted along the wall of the arena. Some spectators said something (Suki ignored them). And she tried to keep her thoughts straight (not twisted in a thousand directions at once (but seeing Rhea (after what she said the night before) made it impossible)).
    The night before.
    The night before, when Endrit had whispered to her in the corner, “What would I do without you, Susu?” (after she’d patched up the sloppy cut from Rhea). He’d leaned forward to whisper it. Suki had craned her neck up. Almost a kiss. And she’d said, “I dunno, bleed I guess,” (which was very clever for its double meaning (his