The Starlight Heir

After the gladiatrix massacre, we were granted a day of blessed reprieve to recover. I don’t know if that’s because of the crown prince’s skewed notion of generosity or because something even more sinister is to come. Either way, I’m on tenterhooks, expecting the royal guards to arrive and demand the surrender of my dagger. But no one comes except Clem’s handmaiden, with the message that she’d started her monthly courses and was bedridden with cramps. I don’t envy her, but at least she can get some rest.

I have only one goal in my head: survive whatever is next.

Which is a celebration ball, or so my handmaidens say, and right in line with my expectations of this shit show. Both my handmaidens have become much friendlier after the combat trial, likely because I’d survived and consequently, they still have a job. I had not been a favorite to win, per the wagers that had been flying around the palace. The favorite had been Helena, the Regulus woman who had cornered me and tried to stab me on the sands. She’s said to be the main contender for the prince’s hand. She can have him, for all I care.

Some of the women had survived their wounds in the colosseum and had been sent home. Others had not. Parvi had made it, thankfully, though it probably would have served her better to go home to safety. I almost wish I had been injured, come to think of it. I just want to get out of here with Clem and return to Coban in one piece.