by T. C. Edge
Frankly, the guy can go to hell. I didn't choose to be here. I didn't choose to be this. All of this is out of my Prime-damned control, and I've had enough of being looked at like I'm nothing by these people just because of the circumstances of my arrival here.
Screw him. Screw them all.
I manage to show all of that in my expression. And, to my delight, I find my target turning away.
About as soon as I do, the Overseer's voice lifts again.
"Twelve become five," he says, clapping his hands together. All eyes shift right back to him, as his gaze swerves up and down the line. "Pentecost, Elian, Hestia, Richter, and our newest resident, Amber. Well done to all of you on an exciting first full day. You have all shown yourself to be the finest five Fire-Bloods in Olympus."
He looks to the Fire-Blood assessors at that, raising a hand in apology. "At least, the finest of a suitable age for candidacy for the position of Chosen," he corrects himself with a charming smile. The two assessors bow their heads in thanks and respect at the remark. "Now," he goes on, turning back to us, "tomorrow is a day for rest after the rigours of the last twelve or so hours. You can choose to spend it as you please, so long as you stay within the rules. Sleep well tonight, all of you. I shall return with news of the next trial soon. It may be in a day, or more. Stay ready and prepared, I may arrive at any moment."
With that, he performs a small bow, and the remaining candidates do the same, bending low in response. I find myself, though I don't yet know the protocol - much as Marlow tries to educate me, some things just aren't sinking in - attempting to join in. With an almost automatic motion, I arch my back and bend low, a split second after the others. I find both Hestia and Richter staring at me odiously as I stand back up straight, likely thinking this is an attempt to ingratiate me with the Overseer.
It isn't. At least, I don't think it is. More a way of fitting in, I guess, in a place where I'm such an outcast.
Then again, I'm used to that. I was an outcast back home, and now I'm one here. My skin has grown thick against worrying too much about such things.
I eat that night within the temple. There's a large dining chamber, attended by a host of Worthies, with abundant supplies of food and drink. Though Marlow doesn't eat - he isn't permitted to do so, as I'm beginning to work out - he does accompany me, updating me on just what happened earlier after the mental test the Overseer played on me.
Apparently, I didn't pass out and wasn't put unconscious by the man, but continued to act as if I was fully awake. Marlow tells me he even spoke with me, sharing a few brief words, and though I appeared slightly spaced out, he didn't think too much of it. The fact that my next memory after standing there before the Overseer was sitting with him in the carriage is quite concerning. It suggests - no, more than suggests; it downright tells me - that he had me under his spell that entire time, and I only woke when he gave me the command to do so.
The entire idea is utterly repugnant to me. I make the decision right then and there to redouble my efforts in awakening and controlling my powers so that such mental intrusions are no longer possible.
It seems like fate, then, that Elian arrives to eat soon after my update from Marlow. I watch him enter, his High Worthy absent and likely dismissed for the night, cruising towards the many foods in the buffet and casually directing one of the attending Worthies to fill him a plate. He then wanders over to a table, trailed by the same Worthy, who places the plate down neatly along with appropriate cutlery. With a casual flick of the wrist, Elian orders for a jug of wine to be brought over. A cup is filled, the contents swished, and the wine tasted. It all happens with such an air of superiority as to have my blood boiling.
I look to Marlow, who dips his eyes as he follows my gaze in Elian's direction. It's an instinctive reaction, the sort a beaten dog would give towards an abusive owner. Whatever Elian says, I don't like how those deemed lesser than him feel when in his company.
"You must be starving, Marlow," I tell my High Worthy. "I don't like eating when you can't. Why don't you head off to your own accommodation for the night and get some food."
Marlow nods, performs his bow, and with a final glance at Elian, makes a hasty retreat.
A moment later, I'm alone with the young Fire-Blood. I set my eyes on him, and make my way over.
34
"How's the wine?" I ask, arriving at Elian's table.
He glances up at me with a grunt, offering no other answer.
My eyes turn to the attending Worthy, currently acting waiter, who lingers in the background, ready to jump to any of Elian's demands. "Could I get a cup, please?" I ask, nice and politely.
The young man bows and shuffles off, speeding quickly back with a carved wooden container. He places it down, bows his head, and slips back off to the side.
I take the cup, dropping onto the bench across the table from Elian. I reach across and take the jug of wine, pouring myself a drink. Elian's nostrils flare in disapproval, like a petulant child not getting his way.
I take a sip of the drink, surprised by how well it tastes. I know nothing about wine, of course, and am used to grandma's home brew liquor. This is much sweeter and smoother than I'd anticipated, enough to have me enjoying a couple of long swigs before realising my cup is mostly empty. I look at Elian. "Mind if I have some more?" He offers a noncommittal shrug, and I complete my refill.
I then, nicely, refill his too.
Despite really not liking the guy, I'm keen to make friends. He can help me, and I know it. Yes, Herald Perses and the Overseer may have ordered him to do so, but he'll likely act half-heartedly if we're not getting along. It's in my best interests, so far as developing my powers is concerned, to be as cordial as possible with him. I'll just have to swallow my pride and take the hit.
Play nice, Amber, I tell myself. Play nice.
"So, nice wine, huh?" I say, trying to start something up.
Elian lifts his eyes briefly and performs that same shrug. That casual smugness of his seems to be gone, a sort of despondency set in. In fact, he looks pretty exhausted after a long day's work. He was probably looking for an opportunity to enjoy a quiet dinner and drink alone.
Ah well.
"Of course, I have no frame of reference," I continue, filling the silence in that spacious dining hall, the two of us occupying it alone. "Would you believe I've never tasted wine before?"
More silence. Another shrug. Then, thank the Prime, words.
"Sure," Elian says eventually, his usually smooth voice a little more frayed and weary. "Not much wine on the Fringe I'd imagine."
"Not much at all," I say brightly, managing to bring along a vibrant smile for company. For a split second, I think Elian's going to do the same, but in the end he just glances away. "I know some people produce wine, but it's mostly given for tribute. They keep some, but it's too expensive for us to trade."
"Us?" Elian asks. "Your family?"
"Yeah. My parents are fishermen. Well, father is anyway. Mother just takes care of the house mostly. And Lilly..."
I trail off at the mention of my sister. She's happy here, Amber, I assure myself. She's happier here than she was back home.
"She's your sister, right? Lilly?" I look up and find Elian staring at me, though his chin remains quite low. He looks far more, I don't know...vulnerable than before.
"Um, yeah," I say, surprised by Elian's general demeanour. "She was found Worthy. That's why I came here."
"Sure. I know about that. You must really...love her." He looks away, a memory passing over his eyes.
"More than anything," I whisper, regarding him closely.
"And that guy you came with?"
My attempts to remain light sink away briefly, suppressed by sudden thoughts of Jude. I sidestep anything deeper, refusing to picture him, dwell on the fact that I may never see him again. On the idea that he'll forget about me, move on. It's what I want for him, but still, it hurts...
I suck in a breath and manage a smile. "He'll be b
etter off not knowing me," I say, fighting off the growing urge to be alone all of a sudden, to march from this room and cry. "He...he's being escorted home. It's where he belongs."
I look away, but find Elian's eyes still on me, visible from the corner of my vision. Soon as I return my gaze, his own moves off, staring into the middle-distance.
"Do you...have any family?" I ask the question without thinking, and immediately regret it. I frown and shake my head. "Sorry," I say. "I forgot about...your father."
Elian manages a half smile. "It's OK," he says. "I barely knew him really. Not since he left."
"Left?"
"Well, was Chosen. He had a higher calling than being father to me and Nina. We were honoured to see him ascend to the side of the Prime. It elevated us. I, er, didn't see him much after that."
He smiles once more, weakly, reminiscing. Yet there's pain behind his eyes too, kept back by this facade he keeps up.
"Nina," I say softly. " She's your sister?"
"She...she was," he says, looking away again. "We lost her many years ago."
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Elian," I say, seeing the hurt in his eyes. I make to reach across the table, to maybe even squeeze his hand supportively, but quickly divert to take my wine as he draws his fingers away. His eyes go too, turning off once more.
"It was a long time ago," he says, voice stiffening. "But I...I understand how you must care for your sister. I understand why you came here."
He looks at me, and then away again. He takes a full swig of wine before placing it down, refilling his cup. For a few long moments, we sit in silence, lost to our own thoughts. For those moments, our pasts that divide us become irrelevant. I merely see a young man who's lost a great deal. Who has, perhaps, erected this front of his as a protective barrier.
I'm reminded again of Jude. His character has been shaped by his past, by the loss of his parents, forcing him to develop an easygoing side, never taking things too seriously, always ready with a quip. Maybe Elian is the same, the loss of his sister and the promotion of his father to the ranks of the Chosen forcing him to adopt this arrogant facade. Perhaps, deep down, he's really very different. Maybe it is just a show to hide the turmoil within.
I consider, as we sit there in silence, about asking him what happened to his father. The timing seems wrong, though, and I realise it's none of my business anyway. Instead, feeling a common ground being forged, I turn my attention to the following day, hoping to find him in more agreeable mood.
"The Overseer tells me you're going to help me practice," I say, rather blurting the words out, almost nervous to utter them. His eyes flick up to mine, and this time, they stay there. "It wasn't my choice," I go on, more controlled, an apologetic tone to my voice. "I didn't ask for it or anything. I..."
"I know," Elian says, cutting in. "Look, you don't have to explain." He shakes his head. "I'll do as I'm ordered to, because it's my duty. Am I happy about it? No, not really. Will I try to sabotage your efforts, or lead you down the wrong path?" He fixes my eyes. "Much as I might want to, I won't. I'm fairly certain that I can keep the Overseer out of my head, but I wouldn't want to take the risk. And if Herald Perses found out..." He shakes his head, looking distinctly unsettled by the concept of displeasing the great man. "And, well, that's not the worst of it."
"It...isn't?"
He runs his fingers through that wavy blond hair, drawing a breath. "It's one thing trying to get one over on the Overseer or even Herald Perses. But I've got every intention of meeting the Prime very soon, and frankly, I don't want to jeopardise that. If I tried to undermine you, I'd only mess up my own chances. One way or another, someone would find out. It's not worth it, Fringe girl. And, frankly, if I'm going to be selected as the Chosen, I want to do it properly. The Prime isn't going to be fooled by anyone or anything. I'm going to play this straight. You have my word on that."
"Thanks," I say, smiling genuinely. "That's good to know."
"But," he goes on, hardening up his expression. "Don't think I'm going to be there, practicing with you from dawn until dusk. I'll give you some pointers, help you understand your powers better. Other than that, you're on your own. Got it?"
I smile, more delighted than I should be by the course of the conversation. "Got it."
"And...don't smile so much," he says. "It's making me uncomfortable."
At that, he smiles himself, and then flicks his eyes away again as if it wasn't intended. The Worthy nearby straightens up, almost jumping in alarm as Elian's eyes wander vaguely in his direction. He makes to come shuffling over but Elian holds him off with a hand.
He looks back to me.
"I swear, sometimes you just glance in their direction and they come jumping to attention."
I flatten my eyes, my smile dropping. I don't like the way he talks about them.
He seems to realise. "I'm not belittling them if that's what you think," he says. "I can see you judging me. I told you before, you've got no right to judge me. You have no idea of how things work here. Sure, judge the entire place if you want, but not me. I'm just a product of my world, Amber. Like you are."
His explanation has me nodding, though I do so with some reluctance. It's clearly something that we're not really going to agree on. He'll always treat the Worthy with a natural contempt and dismissiveness. I'll always be as polite as I can to them. That's just the way it is.
"I guess if we're going to spend any sort of time together, I'm going to have to get used to your behaviour," I say.
His eyes lift, semi-amused, semi annoyed by the comment. "My behaviour," he says. "You do realise that you're pretty condescending yourself, right? You come here and think you know it all. It's no wonder all the others hate you."
"Right. Thanks, Elian. What a way to treat the new girl in town. Make her feel right at home."
"Oh, so you're trying to make me feel bad now. Honestly, I should be given extra credit just for speaking with you. Has anyone else been so good to have even shared words with you yet? Other than those under orders to do so, of course."
My silence is answer in itself. The entire line of discussion isn't exactly making me feel great, to be honest.
"There, you see. At least I'm making some sort of effort. You take it how you want, but I don't have to be speaking with you at all."
I nod, eyes low. Still silent. Inside, I feel a deep well of loneliness and isolation rising to the surface. I feel the threat of tears coming too, stupid as that is. I clench my jaw to hold back the tide, steadying my breath, blinking a little too often to be considered normal.
Elian's voice continues for a moment, telling me how fortunate I am to have him engage with me, even if it's to tell me how I have no chance, and that the position of the Chosen is his. I glance up at him only, holding back this sudden barrage of emotion coursing through me. I just pray he's too dense to notice. The last thing I want is his sympathy.
I distract myself with the wine, not really thinking straight enough to realise that the alcohol might be contributing to this sudden emotional turn. I gulp down my cup and fill another. It helps, the warm liquid running down my throat and offering suitable distraction as Elian rambles on.
"Anyway," he finishes, "all I'm saying is watch out. Hestia really doesn't like you. I can't tell if it's a woman thing, or jealousy or...whatever. But she's not completely immune to the idea of, I don't know, sabotaging you somehow."
"She'd do that?" I ask, my emotions beginning to steady out again at the threat. "Risk being eliminated from the trials?"
"Sure. I don't think anyone here expects to become the Chosen. I'm really the only candidate."
I raise my eyes at his utter self-confidence. Is it hubris, or is he really the only viable choice?
"Oh, don't give me that look. Before you came along, I was pretty much nailed on to take my father's place."
"So you're saying I have a better chance than Hestia?"
He shrugs. "Well, you're an unknown quantity, so yeah, probably. We all know that I
'm superior to Hestia in most forms of fire control and manipulation, and have a better heritage too. If the Prime just wants a weapon, sure, she's not the worst option, I guess. But if they want something more, something...well, better, then I'm the guy for the job."
"Or me, apparently."
"Well, like I say, no one's quite sure what you can do." He sucks in a sharp breath. "And apparently you reached the highest temperature today, so there's that."
"Yeah, and passed out doing it, almost killing myself. I'm sure you could have gone higher if you'd lost control like I did."
"True, but still, that was impressive, Fringe girl. I'm not one to dish out unwarranted praise, so take the compliment."
"Thanks, I guess. But still, I'm not sure what Hestia is jealous of me for..."
What is this? Am I fishing for more compliments? Am I that insecure right now that I need this validation?
"Like I say, you're an unknown quantity. You showed high natural flair and impressive instincts. And the rare gift of fire-creation. Anyone who's been developing their power for years, trying to attain that skill, is going to be envious of that. And, let's be honest, Hestia's not the best looking woman. And you're...well, you're passable."
"Passable. That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," I say, faking a smile and fluttering my eyelids.
"Then you're better off without this Jude guy," says Elian. "What sort of boyfriend was he, anyway?"
"Well, technically he wasn't my boyfriend. And, I was kinda being sarcastic there, Eli."
"Er, I know. So was I."
"Sure you were. You lot don't seem to get sarcasm around here."
"I guess all your vast experience of the residents of this city has taught you that. When did you arrive here again? Four, five days ago. How many people have you actually spoken with in that time? As we just discussed, I'm hardly seeing you hitting it off with our fellow candidates."
"Low blow, Eli," I say, seeing the smirk lift on his face. "To be fair, they're not the most social bunch. Other than being Fire-Bloods, the only thing they seem to have in common is a mutual hatred for me."
