She laughs and looks at her rash. “We’re quite the pair. If only the benefactor could see us now.”
My smile stiffens. I cannot tell her that Rajah Tarek is the benefactor. She is already sick with worry. Furthermore, his identity does not change our strategy for skill trials. But the immensity of his presence weighs me down. I cannot understand why the rajah wants to watch us duel before the Claiming. Skill trials are a rite of passage—proof of womanhood and the exercise of moral maturity, proof that we deserve our inherited birthright from Ki. A true sister warrior is well trained and physically strong, but she is also dedicated to practicing the five godly virtues—obedience, service, sisterhood, humility, and tolerance. The rajah wishes to view a test of our inner and outer strength, but for what purpose? All I am certain of is that Rajah Tarek has come to claim a girl, and, by midday, I will know what for.
3
A silhouette darkens the casement of the observatory at the top of the north tower. I try not to look up, or think of the rajah watching us, as I listen to Priestess Mita’s instructions.
“I appreciate your being on time, daughters. We hope to hurry these trials along and move you back inside, where it is warm.”
Jaya and I huddle against the frosty wind lashing at us. We wear training saris, the pleats passed between our knees and tucked into the waistline at the back, allowing free movement while covering our legs. The slippery ground beneath us has been cleared, the ice chipped away to reveal the circle that was hidden during practice yesterday. The dueling ring.
“Today’s skill trials will be run a bit differently. Our benefactor has made a request.” The priestess glances up, and our gazes follow. The rajah presses against the observatory casement in anticipation, his dark silhouette growing. My brittle nerves tighten. “The match will end when the winner draws first blood.”
I narrow my gaze in dissent. As a rule, the duel winner is whoever drives her opponent out of the circle first. We never battle until first blood.
Priestess Mita holds herself too still, her rigidness pronounced by her silent disapproval of the changed guidelines. “For leniency, injuries you acquire in the ring will not be taken into account during inspection.”
How considerate of them. Jaya and I exchange a look, our brows raised.
Healer Baka and our defense trainer, Sister Hetal, who has stepped aside to let the priestess mediate, wait on the sideline. The healer attends skill trials in case a girl is accidentally injured. A tassel of nausea hangs in my belly. Those defeated today will definitely need her care.
The priestess’s voice pervades the courtyard. “Step forward to draw lots!”
Jaya grabs my hand and pulls me to the front of the group. The priestess offers her fist of wooden lots to the daughter in front of her—me. I pull out a long lot, and Natesa draws next. Hers is a quarter the size of mine.
Natesa sucks her teeth. “Shame.”
I almost agree. I would like to see her skin run red, but the likelihood of my winning a duel against her is lower than the chance of escaping the Void.
Sarita draws a wooden lot and measures it against mine. We are a match. She grins, and I arrange my features into apathy. Our pairing is anything but fair. Sarita is the third-most-skilled fighter here, after Natesa and Jaya.
The other girls pluck their lots. They match fates, coupling off and wishing each other good luck. Priestess Mita hands Jaya the final one.
Natesa nails Jaya with a pointed smirk. “Looks like you are with me.”
Their match is even, but Jaya has to lose to Natesa, and I must lose to Sarita. The rajah must see us bleed.
Priestess Mita finishes our instructions. “Those with the shortest lots will go first, then the next shortest, and so on. Our first match is between”—she scans the pairs of girls—“Natesa and Jaya. Daughters, select your weapons!”
Natesa jogs to the weapons laid out near the iced-over meditation pond and chooses first. She sneers at Jaya on her way to the dueling ring with a khanda. As the biggest, scariest weapon, the long double-edged sword suits Natesa’s battle style. Intimidating. Abrasive. Hefty but powerful.
Jaya selects the haladie, a double-bladed knife. The weapon reflects her combat method. Versatile. Precise. Small yet quick. She could win with the haladie, but I do not know if she can lose.
The rest of us cluster around the outer perimeter of the circle. No one may enter the ring until the victor is declared. I drift to the back, refusing to look up at the rajah spying over us. I cannot stomach watching Jaya be defeated. Hives still blemish her arms and legs. I pray that Natesa will not do anything permanent to her.
Jaya and Natesa assume their stances: feet spread, knees bent, shoulders tense, weapons raised.
“On my mark.” The priestess lifts a hand drum, palm hovering over the stretched deerskin face. Tension sparks the air. Her hand thunders down on the drum.
Natesa lunges, swiping the blade at Jaya’s chest. Jaya spins like an arrow, and their shafts clash. Natesa’s khanda is slow to rebound, and Jaya retreats to the rim of the ring.
I scan my friend from head to toe and exhale slowly. No blood yet.
Natesa paces around Jaya, attacking with taunting smirks. She has won many matches by intimidating her opponent, but her efforts are wasted here today. Jaya is prepared to be beaten.
Jaya closes the gap and brings her blade down against Natesa’s. I cringe at the screeching metal. The challengers’ grunts reverberate off the outer walls. The onlookers are silent. We typically cheer on our favorites, but today this is less about skill trials and more about the Claiming. Apprehension hangs over us like a thunderhead. One of us will be taken from here today. Maybe more than one of us. And no one knows who.
Jaya thrusts with the short haladie blade, grazing Natesa’s sari. She pauses to see if she drew blood. She missed. Only I know that the miss was intentional. Natesa swoops in with the khanda, ramming Jaya back. Jaya falls and drops her blade. Natesa places the tip of the sword to Jaya’s torso. My friend stills. So does my breath. Natesa raises the sharp point to Jaya’s face and rips a slash across her cheek.
Fury hits me like a wall of flame. I do not realize that I am moving until I have shoved my way into the circle. Natesa shifts the sword to Jaya’s other cheek. She is going to cut her again.
I slam my whole body into Natesa’s side. She spins through the air, feebly lifting the sword to defend herself. I roll forward in a somersault and unfurl, kicking my feet into her legs. Natesa flings away and lands hard on her back, banging the khanda loose from her hand.
Snatching up the sword, I stoop over her. I lower the thick middle of the blade to her throat. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I know that I should stop. But I do not care about the plan. I do not care about the rajah. Natesa did not mark Jaya in a spot that could be hidden.
She scarred Jaya on purpose.