Two paths

"Well, would you look at you? Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen you this clean, boy. You look… well, less like a street urchin."

I nodded slightly. "Thank you, sir. May I ask where we're going?" After a few years under Instructor Kushim's guidance, I figured he wouldn't mind a question or two.

"Oh, right—I forgot to mention." He gave a casual shrug. "The princess wants to see you. Speaking of which… do you know any courtly manners? If not, I'm sure it'll sort itself out somehow." He chuckled lightly.

I stopped in my tracks, blinking at him. "What?"

"Hmm. Thought I said it clearly, but maybe not. The princess wants to meet you. As for why… I have no idea. But I'm sure there's a reason—and if there isn't, consider it a net positive for you." He started walking again, forcing me to keep up.

"How so, sir? I don't see how meeting her could be a good thing. If I mess up, she could punish me—or, by extension, punish you, since you're my instructor."

He turned his head slightly, still walking. "I never really considered how it might affect me. As for you, you're a slave—nobody expects much in the way of formality from you. Any show of respect will just make you look that much better. But honestly, it's probably some noble who asked the princess to take a closer look at you. Happens all the time."

"Take a closer look at me? What do you mean, sir?" I asked, sensing his patience running thin.

"Use your brain, boy. I know you get it. Sure, it's more common with female slaves, but you're a gladiator now. Some noble brat probably got the hots for you, watching you get your skull dented in." He straightened his back and picked up the pace.

I understood the gist, but I didn't like it. I would've preferred to choose that sort of thing myself. Maybe it was childish to want a meaningful first time, but still… I hoped the instructor was wrong.

Lost in thought, I realized the atmosphere around us had changed. We were no longer trudging through bare tunnels. The halls here were far more lavish—fresh flowers adorned the windowsills, and framed portraits lined the walls, each featuring Lord Thorne in various victorious or commanding poses. The floor was made of a dark wood I couldn't name, streaked with shades of red and purple, while the ceiling seemed to be carved from white stone threaded with black veins.

Glancing outside, I saw the broad savannas beyond, dotted with odd, tower-like mounds of dirt. When I'd left the arena, it had been late afternoon; now the moon was beginning to rise. I faced forward again, deciding to stop dwelling on things I couldn't change.

*Princess Aliynn's POV*

As much as I liked putting on a confident smile in public, today felt like a test—one quite different from riding around with the walking lard pile. A nervousness clung to me that I simply couldn't shake. After all, I'd wasted my one choice on this unknown fighter, and I desperately hoped I hadn't made a mistake. I doubted Father would grant me a do-over if I had.

I paced back and forth in my temporary quarters, until a loud pounding came from the door.

"Come in," I said, my gut churning with anxiety.

At first, it was my guard, his frame encased in steel armor. He was a loaner from Thorne, so I didn't trust him much, though he'd done his job well enough so far. Then a middle-aged man stepped in behind him, bearing the telltale features of the locals here: warm brown skin, a shade lighter than Thorne's, and a muscular build that hinted at a life spent training under the sun. I caught only a glimpse before he moved closer—just enough to note a faint scar along his cheek.

Finally, the one I was waiting for appeared.

He stood taller than most boys his age—lean from years of poor meals, I'd imagine, but not lacking wiry strength. Despite this region's heat, his skin retained a golden undertone that suggested northern origins. His tousled brown hair, cut short, was kissed by the sun, framing a face that was, begrudgingly, far more handsome than I'd expected. But it was the vivid blue of his eyes—a rare sight in these parts—that held my attention most, as though they fought at the battered state of his body. A flicker of curiosity sparked inside me, but I kept my expression regal and reserved.

"Ah, my fighter has finally arrived."