She faced the mirror and let out a frustrated grunt. She was ready to start another beautiful day, with all the usual bullshit she told herself every single day as she woke up, but that morning in specific she was feeling specially... Like something inhabiting a body. Y'know the feel, she thought, I just work here.

She took the white powder from the drawer on the dressing table, and started to cover her face with it. She'd seen that on a book about the old world and found it formidable. It became her main mask. Only the lower lip painted black. The lines in her your lids made her seem more ethereal. Like the predator she didn't feel. The tunic she'd chosen for that day was a dark green adorned with golden, the colors of her house. She felt like rolling her eyes at that.

She showed no reaction when Ivayne basically broke into her room. She was used to her sister doing that. And in that morning, as she felt specially opaque, Ivayne was radiant.

"Have you heard it, have you?" She basically jumped all over her bed.

"What should I hear about?" She resumed painting her face.

"Oh, the Queenstrial, Friedrich! Father says I'm expected to participate! We'll be all in the Hall, along with all the other people. It's going to be the social event of the generation." She covered her mouth and giggled.

The Queenstrial. That insipid event in wich all the daughters of the able houses should show off in an arena for the king and queen. In that moment she almost thanked the luck of not needing to be a part of it. She made the last line on her face and turned dramatically to her sister.

"Do you really mean to dispose yourself as an object for no one less than Callum Samos? The inconsequential prince?"

"Fried, what girl wouldn't want to become queen? For ambition, love, or status? Imagine how much you could do being the queen's brother!" She took a feline stand. She was a little bit scared for Ivayne's contestants. Her sister would fight with teeth and claws for the chance.

I, I don't want to be queen, Fried thought to herself. Why'd I want to get as a reward for all my effort and excellence an acefalous husband?

"Seamus aspires the defeat of Minerva Merandus." Ivayne smiled. "He intends to take the engagement papers from his pocket the moment it's announced she's not the victor. Or so it seems. I don't understand why such a fuss. Minerva isn't all that. She doesn't have half of Roslyn's beauty.

"Roslyn's beauty comes along with foolishness and useless poison, and he knows so." Lucky him, she thought. At least Minerva is a wise woman.

"Don't be ridiculous, brother. Why would she need but beauty and power? Who's to run the house is he, she only needs to look pretty in public." She threw her hair over her shoulder, ignoring the argument.

Oh, gods, she thought to herself. If that's whay Ivayne thinks it's like to be a queen, then it's best fit she doesn't win.

{123}

Kallai Gliacon wasn't a merciful man. The staff was scared of him with reaskn, any excuse given was enough for execution. Working on the Greatwoods palace was like having a sword above one's head. For him, reds were infinitely replaceable, and if they weren't behaving like he wanted, they shouldn't be allowed to disappoint no one else. "It's how it works in this world", he said.

Elisa ate her lunch in silence. Their parents weren't there again, but it was nothing new under the sun. Tension could be cut with a knife. It was always like that when there was no one around to control Kallai. She knew that somewhere in the palace, her brother's five favorites also ate, privileged over the rest of the staff and always on the tightrope. He always got tired of them and replaced them as soon as they bored him. No one cared, they were reds, made to serve, and would serve in the way he saw fit. But they were his. For the time their servitude lasted, they were his. It was one of the reasons for her apprehension. For, for a few weeks, she'd been stealing the favorite. Not just one of them. The favorite.

"How are we today? Excited about the idea of the Queenstrial, I'm inclined to think." He took a sip from his glass, waiting for obediend and well trained answers.

"Surely, brother." Catrice answered.

"As I never were." Elisa swallowed. "With your permission, I'm excusing myself to run my errands."

"Granted." He shot her an icy glare, that she feared was the one of someone that new more than she wished him to.

She got up graciously, and walked without a flaw through the hallways. Scared of him or not, she was still a Gliacon, and needed to be the lady she had been so painfully trained to be.

Her duties consisted of small administration tasks. She had to learn to be useful. She usually did that from her own office, a room with windows from the floor to the roof, with good lighting and comfortable.

Charlotte, better known as Lotte within the household, was a short and curvy girl, olive skin, very dark hair, eyes just as dark. The favorite. Her brother's possessivity over her went to astounding levels. No one touched Lotte, and from a time on, no one spoke but the bare minimum to Lotte. And Lotte happened to be her personal maid. Kallai couldn't do anything if Elisa was seen talking to her or something. But she couldn't imagine what would he do if he found out about them. Maybe the unthinkable.

The woman brought her the tea she always drank after meals. Green, no sugar. Elisa got up, as if pretending to look for a book. She cared for the cameras to have an icy layer over the lenses. Only then she took her hand in hers and kissed her fingers, her gaze melancholic. Lotte caressed her face, her hair. Kissed her forehead, and then her lips. It lasted only for a moment. She needed to go.

And she went, with heavy eyes. After all, that was how the world worked, and she belonged to Kallai.