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Ramona and I chatting late into the night in our dormitory. She always said she wouldn’t make a habit of getting me bean brew, but she always showed up with a second mug every time.

Kick.

Leaf taking me to Torvi’s to find me a weapon. Align your wrist. Throw like this—good—and wow! Akemi, you’re a natural.

Rollo’s chest heaves mightily, as if he was the one nearly pummeled to death. “THROW HER IN THE CELL!”

6

Eleven Days

It takes eleven days for bruises to blossom and fade. A flower wilting along ribs in patterns of blue and purple, withering away until they disappear once more into the earth to spring anew.

Wake up.

Walk to the table.

Chains clank. Straps tighten.

Stare up at the singular dot of light high, high above.

Search for the star stone—the Cebalrai.

I can hear them, up there. Whispering their secrets amongst themselves, salivating as they watch their creations below. Weeping when their cherished fall ill. Cheering when evil is overcome. Shiny luminaries of fate watching as a human lives one last day before she’s wed to the wrong Underworld Lord, doing nothing to intervene.

In my most broken moments is when I can find them easiest, the stars and their conversations. Just an additional consciousness slipping into the web, standing at the edge of a large, raucous room. Observing and listening and remembering. A bird collecting twigs for its nest to one day use.

One day.

I just need to last one more day. Tomorrow, I’ll be allowed out of my cell to marry him. Out, out, out—I have to get out.

The stars tell me things. They really do.

I listen,

sometimes.

No matter how much he wants their stories.

Needs their information,

I will not budge.

I am the holder of truths.

Of history.

And I won’t,

let him br-

e

a

k

me.