Back home in Detroit, I used to think I was someone that could be relied on.

I grew up with few friends, but most of them came to me when something happened. When they needed help, or if someone was being shit, or if they needed to get drunk.

I was useful.

My dad was usually at work, so I had to take care of myself more often than not.

I was convenient.

But I didn’t have anything. I didn’t really do anything. The only hobby I had for myself was the ice.

I lived on that ice.

I think that’s why when high school ended, everything went downhill.

My friends didn’t need me as much as I needed them to.

It was just me and my dad. He’d retired around then. So we just sat there in that house, rotting away.

I didn’t have a career path. I barely graduated to begin with. I didn’t have dreams, the only thing I really wanted was the ice.

That’s why, when he was gone, it was so easy. To close that door. To tear myself open. To lie there and disappear.

But that wasn’t the end. Now I’m here.

Tatiana seems to have passed out in that arena. But I’m here in this dark, alone.

‘Hello?’ my voice emanates from around me. Is this what it was like for her when I was in control?

The only response I get is the stat pane appearing in the dark before me.

I’m careful not to think about any of the categories too closely. Just a thought about strength sapped one of my points when we were fighting.

I didn’t really notice the difference, though. I wonder how many strength upgrades it would take to be noticeable. Should I dump points and find out?

But another part of me is hesitant. Some of these categories look iffy. What does intelligence mean in this context? Is agility not an application of strength?

What about charisma or intelligence? What would it mean to upgrade them? Would they affect her personality? The way she interacts with others? Would she develop hypnotism at some point?

Beyond that, each of the skills cap out at a hundred. But I had only thirty points available to use. Are those points the extent of her ‘potential?’ Or can we gain more?

I focus on Tatiana’s name.

The screen changes, then.

I struggle to process the words for a moment. It doesn’t feel right. Does Tatiana even know her age to that degree? Do they measure height and weight like that here? Feet and pounds. It’s all so American. As if the screen is being translated specifically for me.

She’s also older than I realized. She seemed so immature and whiny. But she had her toughness, I suppose. I hadn’t expected her to end that fight so decisively.

‘Um… back,’ I say carefully.

The screen changes again, returning to the original. But…

I stare at it. Where did agility go? All ten points that were in it have been added to the available points.

‘Huh?’ What does that mean? Has Tatiana just lost her legs or something?

I look the pane up and down as if the missing stat would just reappear. Was it because I questioned the point of the agility stat? Is someone or something actively controlling this?

A smaller pane appears under the first one.

‘Is that better?’

‘Hello?’

Nothing.

The second pane disappears after a moment.

‘If you’re listening to me,’ I say. ‘Are you responsible for this? For my being here?’

Silence.

‘Alright.’

‘If you’re listening,’ I say again. ‘And you don’t tell me…’ I glance around the darkness, as if some cosmic being would just jump out at me. ‘You’re a pussy.’

Nothing.

I’m glad no one is here to listen to my shit sense of humor. Well, something obviously is. Something responded to me. Something changed the screen.

‘Um… charisma is a bit arbitrary when intelligence is already there,’ I say, just to see what happens.

Nothing happens.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe the menu has less to do with translating Tatiana’s capabilities and more to do with my interpretation of them. I’d have to see what leveling these things actually does to her to test that, though.

On top of that, I don’t like the idea of changing them without at least talking to her about it.

I decide to leave it for now.

But a second pane appears again, and words slowly form.

‘I’ll consider it.’

“Um, thanks…” I say as the second pane fades. “God.”

I don’t like the ‘I’ll’ in that sentence. It feels more personal, as if I’m speaking to some customer service agent.

Tatiana’s eyes open, eventually. Sunlight paints stone walls, and black curtains billow in the corner of her eyes.

She’s lying in a surprisingly soft bed, the satin covers shifting beneath her. She’s still wearing all of her armor.

A man lingers nearby, his face grim. Behind him is Povenna, facing away. He has gray hair tied into a ponytail on his shoulder, and he’s got a thick unibrow.

A blue pane forms instantly on the air in front of him.

‘Harlan Bulois. A cleric of the Malvey Court. Not particularly fond of women.’

That’s an interesting note.

Tatiana groans, raising a hand to her chest.

“The wound is closed… I think,” the man says, his hands emanating a faint glow.

“It certainly took you long enough,” Povenna says, turning towards him. “I ought to have done it myself.”

The man’s blue eyes narrow.

“It would’ve gone faster if you’d removed her armor. Or if I could at least touch her.”

“She doesn’t want some foul creature pawing at her body,” Povenna snaps. “Consider yourself, Harlan.”

“‘Pawing?’” the man sounds affronted. “If you would allow me to touch her wrist, I could assess the true state of her wound. Otherwise, there’s no way for me to—”

“Clearly, Castor considers your abilities far too highly,” Povenna says. “I could’ve done it just as well.”

“Your magic is far too—”

“Yes, yes, be off.” Povenna shoves past him, leaning close to Tatiana. Her gold eyes glimmer and her lips purse. “Tatiana, love, tell me how you feel.”

“I’m alright,” Tatiana mumbles.

“I wasn’t aware the princess was capable of magic,” Harlan says. “Have you managed to tutor her, Lady Povenna?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” a different voice pipes up. It sounds like a younger woman. “You said—”

“That’s correct,” Povenna cuts in. “I taught her magic. I didn’t want Castor to know. Be off.”

Tatiana sits up with a groan, her blonde hair falling into her face. She raises a hand and touches the bandages on the left side of her mouth.

I’m now aware of how frustrated Tatiana must’ve been earlier. I am here. I feel as though I should be able to move this body. But she’s in control. I can’t do anything.

And it had come out of nowhere for her, in the middle of a fight.

“Tatiana!” A bald girl pops up beside Povenna. She’s wearing a purple and black dress, and she all but climbs onto the bed.

‘Zaphenne Porish,’ her panel reads. ‘Retainer of Tatiana Malvey. A masked creature.’

A what? I’m not sure what any of that means. I wonder if these panels are pulled from Tatiana’s knowledge or even just her assumptions of these people.

“Give her space,” Povenna complains, pushing the girl back. “Foolish girl.”

“You won!” the girl cheers. “You did incredibly!”

“Did she?” The man asks. “Did we watch the same duel?”

“What do you know?” The girl snaps. “You’re stupid and old!”

The man turns up his nose.

“Zaphenne,” Povenna says, massaging her temple. “Control yourself. And, why are you still here Harlan?”

Harlan shrugs slightly.

Zaphenne folds her arms and tilts her head at Tatiana, seemingly expecting her to say something.

Tatiana says nothing.

“You’re still here,” she says under her breath. “Aren’t you?” I realize she’s speaking to me.

Zaphenne and Harlan both give her strange looks.

“Tatiana,” Povenna warns. “I’m right here. There’s certainly no one else you would be speaking to…” Povenna is nowhere near as subtle as she thinks she is.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I’m still here.’ Povenna could hear Tatiana when she was speaking from within. She’d claimed it was because Tatiana was her daughter. Can she hear me?

“Harlan, Zaphenne,” Povenna says, stepping closer. “I would like some privacy with my daughter. Would you leave?”

“Blunt as ever,” Harlan mumbles, standing and walking to a wooden door on the other side of the room.

Zaphenne lingers, watching as the man leaves.

“I can’t believe she stabbed you,” Zaphenne mumbles. “Lady Povenna, can’t you punish her?”

“They’re allowed to kill each other in that silly ceremony,” Povenna says, flicking Tatiana in the forehead.

Tatiana flinches back and glares up at her.

“That’s why I didn’t want you participating,” Povenna adds before turning to Zaphenne. “Now, away with you.”

Zaphenne fixes a stunned look at the woman, then glances at Tatiana. When Tatiana doesn’t say anything, she leaves as well.

“A lot of people are unhappy,” Povenna says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Especially Annandale’s fellow knights. They claim that your victory was fraudulent on account of you throwing away your weapon.”

‘Sorry,’ I mumble.

“Don’t apologize,” Tatiana says. “Whatever you are, I need more of what you did. More power. More of all of it.”

“Um…” I hesitate. How could I possibly explain the stat pane to her?

“I hope you’re happy,” Povenna says. “Next, you’ll be fighting… I forget her name.”

“Dedre,” Tatiana supplies. “But there are two fights before that. I’ve got days.”

Povenna nods.

“I don’t understand why you’re so passionate about this,” she says. “You gain nothing from winning and risk your life and body.”

“It makes me that much more likely to be taken under the wing of a knight,” Tatiana says. “If I expect to rule this realm. I need to be someone the people can look to with respect. Becoming a knight is the first step of that.”

Povenna says nothing for a moment. Her lips tighten.

“I’m a fantastic queen,” she says stiffly. “I’m not a knight.”

“You’re the most powerful being in the realm,” Tatiana says flatly. “I am not.”

“I understand,” Povenna says. “Why don’t you get changed? I’ll have Harlan fill the bath for you.”

“Mother, don’t anger Harlan further. Please. Any of the servants can cast the spell.”

“He is the ‘great healer,’ is he not?” Povenna says airily. “I will only have the best for my daughter.”

With that, Povenna leaves.

I get a moment to watch Povenna’s retreating form before Tatiana looks down at herself.

“What’s your name?” Tatiana asks. It takes me a moment to realize I’ve been addressed.

‘I’m Alyssa,’ I say. Then, without thinking, I add: ‘You?’

“Tatiana.” She rolls out of bed.

The room is small and has a single curtained window. The floor and wall are plain stone. A single rug adorns the floor, red laced with purple.

The bed sits low to the ground, framed in dark wood. The sheets are pale linen. A wardrobe stands battered against the wall, a single chest pressed up against one side. A tall, cracked mirror leans next to it.

It’s barren.

‘Is this your room?’

She moves without hesitation, tugging at the leather straps of her armor. Piece by piece, she peels herself out of the layers of leather and fabric.

She says nothing. Her hands move to a stretch of leather across her chest, under her blouse. It’s absurdly tight.

The first tug makes me aware of the tension I hadn’t noticed before.

Tatiana exhales through her nose as she loosens the band. She peels the leather away with a groan, and her breasts drop loose.

The pain is slight but ever-present. Her ribs are sore. Bits of skin under her arms are rubbed raw.

Tatiana tosses the leather aside. She stands in only trousers and a thin blouse now, both wet with sweat.

‘What is that?’ I ask. ‘Why did you have it so tight?’

She continued to ignore me, crossing the small room and facing the mirror.

She’s thick in the waist and stomach, with broad shoulders and faint muscle along her arms.

Her face is round. Blonde hair frames dark, bagged eyes. Her mouth sits in a flat line, and her lips are raw. Her left cheek is covered with a bandage.

She lifts her blouse, revealing a jagged scar above her belly button. I wonder if it’s from being stabbed by Annandale, or if it’s older.

A pane appears against the mirror while Tatiana pokes at it.

‘Tatiana Malvey. Heir to the Fifth Throne.’

“Did you die?” Tatiana asks, dropping her blouse and picking at the bandage on her face. “Where you came from?”

‘Yeah,’ I say.

“How?” She peels the bandage off, finding a gash along her cheek.

I immediately know I don’t want to confess the truth. It’d probably just make her uncomfortable. And what good would trauma dumping do?

‘I was killed,’ I say. ‘By someone who couldn’t stand me. Someone who was sick of how I was.’

“I can imagine.” She gives a small smile. “You’re quite whiny.”

“Yup.” I don’t bother pointing out exactly how whiny she’d been for the entire time I’ve known her. In her defense, she had been body-jacked.

‘What sort of place is this, anyway?’ I ask.

Tatiana steps away from the mirror and crosses the room to the window.

She yanks the curtains back, revealing a cluster of houses and towers contained within a massive round wall. It looks like we’re seeing it from near the center. And from what I can tell, we’re at least three stories up.

Wagons roll through the bustling streets, some led by horses, and others pulled by people. In the distance, I spot a massive colosseum looking building.

There’s a light rain in the air, little more than mist.

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Where are we, exactly?’

“This is Romenthe,” Tatiana says, leaning out the window. “Capital City of the Fifth Realm.”

‘How many realms are there?’

“Ten.”

“And… you’re a princess?”

Tatiana clears her throat and extends a hand out the window. I can feel the faint cold of the mist brushing against it.

“I am Tatiana Malvey,” she says. “The sole remaining child of Castor Malvey and Povenna, and the heir to the Fifth throne.”

‘Oh.’ How many times has she said this?

I wonder if Povenna doesn’t have a last name, or if something else is happening there. The pane hadn’t offered a last name for her, either.

“I was born to die,” she adds. “Upon my birth, a seer prophesied that I would die before I matured. Thus, I…” she lowers her arm.

I don’t speak.

“I wasn’t trained like my siblings were,” she says, talking faster now. “Because, as I said, I wasn’t supposed to live this long.” She rests her head against the wall.

‘But you did,’ I start uncertainly. ‘That’s good.’

“Certainly.” She drops the curtain. “All of my siblings were trained, and they died. Look at Azalia. She was nearly as powerful a mage as mother. Dead.” She sounds more annoyed by this than grief-stricken.

‘How did she die?’

“Bandits. And then Halliel. She was a knight. She trained under Harlan and my father. She could cut someone open and heal the wound before they died.”

That gives me pause.

‘Why would she… what’s the point of that?’

“Torture. She was trampled by my horse. Well, it was her horse at the time.”

I hesitate to speak.

Tatiana crosses the room and drops onto her bed.

“Kann,” she spits. “My younger brother. He was going to be a knight, too. He was under the wing of Gideon. The youngest to participate in the Stonewall Ceremony. He bested several knights in swordplay. He was talent in the flesh.”

I say nothing.

“Dysentery.”

‘So—’

“They all died. And I’m still here. And mother doesn’t want to have anymore kids. So now, I’m all that’s left and…”

She wipes her face, and I realize she’s crying.

Oh.

‘I’m sorry,” I say carefully. ‘That’s terrible.’

“I didn’t like them much,” Tatiana says. “Nail, my horse, I’ve spent more time with her than any of my siblings. But I know a lot of them hated me. Because Povenna always preferred me.”

I say nothing as she returns to the bed.

She produces a brush from under her pillow and starts brushing her hair.

I’m still deciding what to say when a red blur whizzes through the curtains. It slams into the wall and pops like a firework.

Tatiana drops her brush.

“Shit,” she mumbles. “She’s here.”

“Tatiana Malvey!” a female voice calls from the window. “If I fall to my death waiting for you, it’ll be your head! I saw you in the window. I know you’re in there!”

Tatiana scrambles off the bed and throws the curtains open.

A woman stands on a massive leaf that seems to have grown from the wall. Her brown hair sits in a braid along her scalp and her hands are folded over her chest.

“That was a sloppy duel,” the woman says. “What’s with that?”

A pane appears in front of her.

‘Maya O’Hagan. Favored daughter of Garnavelle O’Hagan. Not supposed to be here.’

Oh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this pane doesn’t like her.

“Maya!” Tatiana hisses, all but throwing herself out the window and grabbing at the woman. “Get in here!” She catches the woman’s arm and yanks her bodily off the leaf and into the window.

They land in a heap on the floor.

Who is this? How was she standing on a leaf?

“You’re lucky Brevard wasn’t here to watch,” Maya says, sitting up and catching Tatiana by the hair.

The leaf dissolves in the window.

“If he saw what Annandale did to you,” Maya says, yanking Tatiana up. Tatiana seems to let it happen, though, she doesn’t fight back. “He’d be out for blood.”

“He’d have to learn to contain himself,” Tatiana shoots back, glaring up at her. “I am not his belonging.”

“Why’d you drop your sword?” Maya asks, thumbing the gash on Tatiana’s face. “Did you lose your mind out there?”

There’s a sizzle where her hand touches.

“I got…” Tatiana trails off as Maya withdraws her hand. “Just..”

The faint pain in Tatiana’s cheek is gone.

“Just… what?”

“Give me a moment.” Tatiana shoves the woman away. “I’m thinking.”

In the mirror, I glimpse Tatiana’s face. The wound on her face is healed. In its place, a small pink flower has bloomed from Tatiana’s skin.

Maya stares at her, her big green eyes narrowing.

“Tatiana is thinking,” she drawls. “That means Tatiana is lying.”

Tatiana’s face heats up. I can feel it happening. She’s a shit liar.

“You’re hiding something,” Maya says, sitting up and getting in Tatiana’s face. “Aren’t you?”