Chapter 4 #2
The gold running down her skin in a translucent shine looks the same as dew.
She’s glowing in the sun. No. She’s shining like the sun.
She has a cape around her shoulders made of gold thread woven into a flurry of geometric designs.
It reaches her calves and outlines her body shape in shadow, making her seem larger and more solid.
Her tunic is covered in intricate embroidery.
I can’t make out the images as I try my best to look away, but I see that the bottom half is a light blue crossed with red and black geometric shapes, going just past her knees.
She has a heavy adornment atop her head.
It’s a pure gold flat hat, reaching forward inches past her face with golden bangles and a translucent golden veil at the end.
The golden lights caught my eyes first, but once I focus on her face, partially hidden by the thin gold veil, I feel like a fool.
How could I ever be blinded by gold when her skin is a beautiful dark brown, a deep molten color that can only be achieved by a connection to the sun, earth, and the Feline’s domain?
The veil hides some of her features, but it can’t hide the distinct beauty she emits.
How could I ever have noticed her youngest sister’s black hair when hers is the black of a canyon’s abyss?
A black found on this earth, but impossible to emulate.
She’s starting the Guardians’ Ceremony without a single streak of white in her hair.
According to the stories, she’s the only one who’s been able to sacrifice every strand and not only live, but regain her samay immediately.
She sacrifices it all again and again, knowing the Guardians will give her all the life energy she’s spent back, no temporary marks of insolence or permanent shortage of life.
She’s a strong mimic, one with the backing of the Guardians. That’s what the whispers say. What is normally sacrilegious, when done by her, is an act of prayer.
What does her hair look like when her samay is gone in those rare moments? Would it be so white that I wouldn’t be able to differentiate one strand from another? Will we see that huge a transformation today, or will she succeed with little effort?
Her bottom lip goes from her deep skin color to a light pink when she sinks her teeth in. As she bites, a sliver of her teeth breaks through, and I see one of the canines she’s so infamous for.
The princess is a Feline mimic. She is blessed by the spirit of the Kay Pacha, our physical earthly world.
Her mimicry is unique for another reason.
She can channel the Ave and the Serpent and their respective domains too, something so rare it’s still considered folklore.
Still, as a Feline mimic, the Kay Pacha and enhancing her physical body are where she thrives.
Now, the rumor is confirmed. Her canines have been sharpened into feline-like teeth.
They’re knife-sharp peaks, and I know in my gut that one bite will draw blood.
She is the closest being to the legendary Guardians I’ve ever seen on earth.
It hurts to keep my eyes fully away from the first exhibition. We stand to the side of the trials. It’s easy enough to see her from the corner of my vision, but my focus should solely be on the crowd.
The head diviner announces that the princess will show her agility through a series of physical feats.
When the drums signal the end and the entire palace holds its breath for the diviner’s approval, I take another look at her.
I don’t try to hide it anymore. I know that from the ground I must look the same as the rest of the unit, but I can’t shake the sense of difference and exclusion.
And when I can’t shake things off, I embrace it.
I’m not a part of my mother’s unit, and I’ll watch the princess even if all the Guardians manifest before us.
It’s my right.
Not a single drop of sweat dares to drip down the princess’s face. She’s standing as neutral as ever, but I can’t help but imagine a sense of smugness emanating from her.
As she should.
I dismiss the stray thoughts.
There is no signal from the diviners. The princess needs to continue.
The princess passes an archery test. I stare. She passes a stamina test. I stare. They release a wild puma onto the stage, and every muscle in my body tenses, but she takes it down within seconds. I can’t look away.
It’s noon when she moves on to the hand-to-hand combat test.
It’s nothing less than a behemoth that steps onto the stage.
My stance is as steady as ever, but even I feel the ground shake below me as he steps.
He blocks the princess from my view with his smooth muscles disrupted by bulging veins.
He’s been given ceremonial herbs to fulfill his sacred battle with her.
I translate that in my head as him being intoxicated by Ayahuasca and Coca.
I’m stockier than the princess, and I would be fighting for my life to take down a man like that.
She doesn’t even blink before she circles him and charges forward.
I can’t confirm it, not with the veil hiding her eyes, but I swear she looks bored.
He’s knocked forward from a hit to his back, and I am quickly reminded of how my mother knocked me back the moment I disobeyed her orders.
He doesn’t move to get up. I can tell he’s struggling to catch his breath.
It’s insane to me that I am the only one in the unit who’s sneaking looks at the fight.
It’s mesmerizing, seeing the princess bring a man to his knees with one hit.
She throws one of her two braids behind her shoulder and smiles.
The veil lifts for one second, and I see her cat-like eyes.
They’re accentuated by the pleased look on her face.
Maybe that’s why I notice it.
While the entire unit is staring forward, looking into the calmness of the crowd, I am obsessed with her. I see the moment her eyes widen, the moment her mouth drops open in shock, sensing something that no one else could.
I don’t need another indication. I recognize fear, and it’s wrong, no, it should be impossible, for an expression like that to mar the princess’s face.
I don’t think. I jump in front of her, my mace feeling weightless in my hand, as the distinct sound of an explosion goes off.