Page 6 of A Tribute of Fire

The only good thing about the Ilionians coming was that they would bring an extravagant feast with them to celebrate the selection. There would be all kinds of rich and delicious meats and vegetables, fruits and grains that no one in Locris had the opportunity to eat any other time of the year, savory, flaky fish, and such a variety of sweet desserts that last year I’d nearly wept when I saw them all.

We subsisted on so little here in our desert kingdom that it was difficult to remember that others routinely had access to so much more than we did.

And that the Ilionians were to blame for cutting off our trade access.

“Here,” Quynh said, reaching into her tunic pocket and pulling out a cloth that she had wrapped around—

“Pasteli!” I exclaimed as soon as I saw it. It was a thin bar made of honey and sesame. My mouth watered and I eagerly took the piece she offered to me. “Where did you get this?”

Had the Ilionians arrived early?

“Andronicus bought some this morning at the docks and gave it to me.”

Feeling guilty, I tried to hand it back to her. “You should keep it. He intended for you to have it.”

Half the men in the palace were in love with Quynh. Not only because she was beautiful physically, with her silky, black hair hangingto her waist, her unusual long and thin eyes, her high cheekbones that always seemed to be flushed pink, but because she was so beautiful inside, too. Kind and generous and selfless in a way that I could only aspire to.

I always felt gangly and awkward around Quynh, and wished I could be more like her. Not so short-tempered and judgmental or impatient. She had definitely been a good influence on me, something our mother noted often.

Quynh had joined the palace when we were six years old. Her ship had been destroyed and she had washed up on our beaches. Shipwrecks weren’t unusual—the strange and high reef formation along our shores to the south had ruined many vessels. Thanks to the Ilionian blockade, we had become a nation of traders and scavengers, taking whatever the ocean offered since the earth had been denied to us.

My older brother and I had been searching for seashells when we found her. I stayed with her while he ran back to get help. Everyone was surprised that she had survived. She spoke a fair amount of the common tongue—she had been able to tell us her name and that her family were merchants who had traveled from a land called Goguryeo, far in the east. They had been blown off course by a storm that had torn their ship apart.

I had felt an instant kinship to her, as if we had been meant to know one another. My soul recognized hers. Orphans were usually taken by a couple unable to have their own children, but I had begged my parents to let her come home with us.

They had permitted it and she had stayed.

Quynh was family. My sister.

And my best friend.

“Andronicus won’t mind if I share the pasteli with you,” she said, gently pushing my hand away.

“He meant it as a token of his affection,” I tried to insist, but somehow the pasteli made its way to my mouth. I tried not to moan when I took my first bite and the sweetness of the honey exploded across mytongue. It really had been a romantic gift—the honey was symbolic of love and passion, the sesame of fertility.

It was a treat often served at Locrian weddings. It spoke very clearly of Andronicus’s intentions once his military service ended.

We went into my room and she shut the door behind us. “He has shown me his affection in countless ways already. I’m sure he plans to show me his affection again later tonight.”

It was as if Quynh lived in a secret world that I’d never even glimpsed, let alone entered.

I went behind my dressing curtain and washed my body quickly with a sea sponge and cold water, changing into the tunic she had left waiting for me.

“Sit down,” she said when I emerged. My clothes always felt voluminous after training and it took me a bit to readapt to them. I sat in the chair at my dressing table, positioned in front of my polished obsidian mirror. I looked at our reflections and again felt inadequate. I knew I was not beautiful. Not like Quynh or our sister, Kallisto. Kallisto resembled our mother with her dark hair, short stature, and generous curves. I looked more like our father and brother—too tall for a woman, with lighter brown hair and eyes that couldn’t decide whether they wanted to be green or brown.

“You know that I can style my own hair,” I told her. I wouldn’t do it as well, but I was capable.

She ignored my offer. While Quynh was usually the type of person who would go along with what others wanted, when it came to things that were important to her, she was obstinate and immovable. She would perform this task for me whether I liked it or not.

“I’m going to have to put some scented powder in your hair,” she grumbled, more to herself. “You’ll have to wash it before the selection.”

I would. I couldn’t sail off to my death with dirty hair.

Especially since it was my one vanity. The color was plain, but it was thick and curled slightly at the ends. Like all Locrian women’s hair, it hung down past my waist.

Quynh had just started to comb through my hair when she came to a sudden stop and I felt a snag. “What is it?” I asked.

“My bracelet. My bracelet is caught.” I heard the strong emotion in her voice.

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