Since dawn, countless warriors had arrived in the city and found their way to the hollow amphitheater of Illbyi. The Sumanar capital was bustling with activity and already decorated for the festivities of the upcoming tournament. When the warriors entered their names, they were assigned camping space on the border of the capital closest to the amphitheater. As dusk fell, the registration period for the tournament closed, and shortly after, the Evening Song banished magic from the city. Yet, visitors still arrived with their anticipation and their constant, nagging noise. 

Ceilsea Brijas, a resident of the royal palace, noted the noise with annoyance. While the stone walls surrounding her private courtyard blocked most of the racket, she could not help but be distracted by the chatter. She felt the occasional stray spell from the crowd. They should not have been casting after the Evening Song. She struggled to focus on her sculpting. As the noise continued, her thoughts wandered. Finally, she climbed down from her perch and stood back, examining her work to gauge if she had made any progress in the last five hours. 

The enormous slab of stone was only partially cut to size. The claws of what would eventually be a griffin were carved with satisfactory detail. They truly looked as if the sinew beneath the stone was flexing. The beak and the head were emerging, but she was struggling to find the details within her memory to bring them to life. Instead she chipped away at the rough outlines of the pose, wanting the creature to feel powerful as it lunged forward, terror blossoming from beauty. 

“Ready to be paraded around for the glory of Sumanar?” The voice coming from within her walls was still a distraction, but unlike the rest, it was welcome. As she turned to face her brother, Rivonae, he bowed in an exaggerated fashion, and finished, “The Pseudo-Princess must be seen, after all.”

Ceilsea, with her hands still full, put her hammer on one hip and her chisel on the other. She knew he was joking, but she hated that nickname. She sighed, “What do you think? I haven’t dared venture out of the castle all day. I’m hoping to avoid whispers and fake flattery for as long as possible. Not to mention the chaos of the crowds.”

Rivonae, or Vonae as those close to him called him, gave her one of his crooked smiles as he rose from his bow. She was surprised to see how well he was dressed. Usually this late in the day, he would be in his light training clothes. Instead he wore a tunic that fell well past his knees and billowing trousers that he would never fight in. At his waist, he also had a wide cloth sash with his scabbard buried in it on the left. It was empty. 

About a year ago, he had handed his blade to the king after a failed mission. Vonae had vowed he would not hold a steel weapon again until he redeemed himself. However, he still served the crown as a wizard and trained younger warriors, like their younger sister and brother. The outfit, including the scabbard, was a clear signal of his station as a soldier and royal wizard. Every one of his long dark hairs was in its place and his green eyes shone. Their father, the High Wizard, must have gathered all the wizards to prepare them for their roles participating in or facilitating the upcoming tournament. Vonae would be doing the latter.

“It isn’t that bad. ‘That chaos’ promises to be extraordinarily entertaining. At least to those of us that enjoy that sort of thing,” he commented walking towards her. Ceilsea made a face, in some instances she would have, but not this time. 

“You aren’t the great sculptor, the jewel of the kingdom, nun of the order of the cosmic honor. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. I’m just here to be gawked at and fawned over,” Ceilsea countered. Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she instilled each title with the absurdly excessive reverence it deserved. 

Vonae strummed his fingers through the air gently, and Ceilsea stiffened. She felt the cascade of magic all over her body as the dust and grime from the stone she had been working on evaporated from her skin and clothes. The uncomfortable residue of the spell lingered like dried glue on her skin. She held still so her brother couldn’t read her discomfort. He would not understand. She lamented that the Evening Song had already passed, the only thing that might rid her of the magic and the feeling.

“No one’s going to fawn over you if you look like a hyena fresh from a dust bath. You’re going to have to look presentable tomorrow if you don’t want to hear it from mother and father…and maybe the king,” Vonae added after a second thought.

“His majesty is aware that I do not always look like a summer deity of culture and art. He understands that I work for a living. I am not his actual princess.” Ceilsea turned from her brother and brushed loose strands of her dark wavy hair out of her face.

“We are all glad of that, but mother and father will want you to be perfect to maintain the family image,” Vonae reminded her gently. Ceilsea knew these critiques were not coming from him.

“Who brought attention to our family in the first place?” Ceilsea muttered. Her sculptures had been what bought her family into prominence. They were why her father was the head of the royal wizards; why her mother and brother became royal wizards almost automatically. Despite being the only non-magical child, Ceilsea was the most successful of her siblings. 

“Everything will be back to normal before you know it. Try to find a little fun in it all, rather than focus on all the unwanted attention,” Vonae suggested. 

Even though she still felt apprehensive, she gave him a playful smile. “What’s so fun about watching men beat each other bloody with swords and magic?”

Vonae bowed deeply again with an exaggerated flourish of his arm. “I’d love to explain it to you, but I actually came to ask if you would be so kind as to accompany me to the Champion’s Ball tomorrow.”

“Did father put you up to this? Is he making you my official wizard bodyguard?”

“Perhaps. Who knows what people will try to get to you. Father wants to make sure everything goes perfectly for his perfectly popular daughter.” Vonae teased. When he noted Ceilsea’s hesitation, he added more seriously, “You’ll get more freedom if you stick with me.”

“Then I gladly accept your escort.”

He kissed her hand, even though it still held a chisel. He rose and kissed her cheek as well.  “Goodnight, Ceilsea. I hope you go to bed rather than ruin my spellwork. You need to make it to breakfast in a timely fashion tomorrow morning. Mother and father will want to speak to you before the festivities begin.”

Ceilsea snorted as her brother left. Though the din of the visitors could still be heard over the courtyard wall, she was alone again. The light was fading quickly and though she had sculpted by candlelight before, perhaps her brother was right. Still, she felt the urge to stall tomorrow’s arrival. 

The pressure and the performance were the worst parts of her success. If it was just the art, she would be content, but she had to support her family and appease her patron, the King of Sumanar. She had never liked the capital. Since she was sixteen, all she’d known was artificial emotions, intangible constraints, and the palace walls. Illybi had too many people and too much magic. Nothing ever changed. The stagnation of her life showed in her sculptures, which had steadily felt hollower and stiffer over the years. She knew the longer she was trapped, the worse it would get. 

She looked up at the unfinished griffin again. If she could leave the palace and its politics, she could actually watch a griffin and make the stone spark with life. If she could see the world and be inspired, she would be able to focus no matter what kinds of crowds bustled around her. She could improve her techniques past what even she or her old masters could have imagined. That was exactly why she had been planning her escape for months.

Even though they were close, she could not confide in Rivonae. He would try to stop her. She had to leave when everyone was distracted with the tournament. It was the only time she could slip away and people would assume she was avoiding the attention. Her family believed she was dreading this week. They wouldn’t look for her if they thought she was hiding. By the time they noticed she was gone, it would be too late to stop her. 

She felt guilty, taking advantage of the king’s kindness. For the past few weeks, she had been conveniently ‘‘losing’’ her tools so he would replace them. She had stashed the old tools under a bush in the courtyard. When she left, she would have a full set to continue her work while leaving no evidence she was gone. She had collected clothes and food that would not spoil. Now it was a matter of finding the perfect time to slip away. She would miss Vonae and the king, but it had to be done for her art and her happiness. 

Suddenly, there was a thud behind her, quickly followed by the sour notes of a wronged instrument. There was a rustle of clothes as someone moved. She would have ignored it, but it came from within her courtyard. Why couldn’t the tournament goers be content turning the amphitheater into a zoo? Did they have to invade her private courtyard as well? She turned.

“Damnit. Nothing had better be broken or I swear…” a stranger muttered, but not quiet enough to keep Ceilsea from hearing. As they stumbled to their feet from their knees, she realized the stranger did not know she was there.

Even though it was dark, she could see the general outline of the figure. They were small, no bigger than her own stout stature.  The cloth around their chest was sinched by a band, a sign that she should not assume their gender. Their silhouette was made bigger by a large bag and a collection of large objects hanging from their belt. Ceilsea saw the outline of a sword, a xylophone sash, and a violin bow. The unseen violin had been what had made the noise when they fell. The stranger was a wayzard, the musical rival to wizard warriors like her brother.

“Did you just climb over my wall?” Ceilsea straightened to appear more confident. With the towering statue of the griffin behind her, she was sure this stranger would know who she was.

“The door was locked, and I wrongly assumed no one would be in here,” the stranger replied curtly, unfazed by her presence. They took their bag and rifled through it.

“This is the royal palace. You are entering without invitation…” Ceilsea continued waiting for them to recognize her.

“Isn’t the king the one putting on the tournament? That’s kind of an invitation,” the stranger muttered, still paying more attention to checking their bag than to her.

“There’s a designated area for the tournament contestants to camp. Shall I get someone to guide you there?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“It’s too crowded and…open. I couldn’t sleep there." Still intent on digging through their bag, they tried to bargain with her, "Look, just don’t tell anyone you saw me. I promise I’ll be out before dawn.”

Even though the light was fading, once they raised their head Ceilsea could tell they were a foreigner. Their shadowy black eyes and dark, thick, wiry hair was not Samanarian. Their skin was darker than most of the golden hues that patterned the streets of Illbyi. They looked Xerisian. As she studied them, the stranger’s expression remained neutral, and their eyes blank, showing no recognition.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” Ceilsea guessed, with a little bit of amusement. 

“No. Should I? I’ll sleep under the bushes. I promise no one else will see me,” the stranger continued without pausing.

“Fine.” Ceilsea relented. It would be more trouble to assert her power than it was worth. “As long as you avoid that corner.” She pointed to where her stash was hidden. “And tell me your name.”

“Do I have to?” 

Their lack of propriety made Ceilsea smile, “You may not care who I am, but I am letting you sleep here out of the goodness of my heart so if you don’t want me to alert anyone--”

“It’s Shaelis. Shaelis Child.”

“Master, Mistress, Mestren?”

“Mestren. Do you feel any more informed than you did before?” They asked, hoisting their bag back on their back.

“It’s not about the usefulness of the information, but how much it amuses me,” Ceilsea responded, aware that Vonae had said something similar earlier. It was proof her and Vonae had the same playful streak. Even she couldn’t tell whether they mirrored each other innately or because they spent too much time together. 

“Alright…” the stranger seemed put off by that remark. “If that satisfies you, I’m grateful because I can’t offer you anything else. Well, except this.”

The stranger whistled a short string of notes. Ceilsea immediately felt the tight, tacky layer of her brother’s magic dissipate from her skin. How had they known she had magic on her? There was only one explanation.

Shaelis turned towards the bushes.