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My brows furrowed.
“¡La princesa ha llegado!”
There was that word again, princess.
“Smile, Carmen,” Antonio hissed at my side.
I followed along and twisted my features into something… less horrible than the answers threatening to slip out.
The shouting didn’t stop, so I waved at the adoring crowd.
My mind flooded with dozens of scenarios, dozens of “prices” that could be paid in the form of friends. Ice mixed with fire in my blood, and I kept a smile on my face while holding my chin high amidst the flashes. I could sense Javier and Manuel hanging back.
My ubiquitous shadows.
They stationed themselves on either side of the door while Antonio and I walked inside. The lobby directly inside of the training center was not large, but everything about it diverged from what one might consider a sports centre. It was immaculate and sterile, instead of sweaty and humid, like the dance rooms back in Maestra Cecelia’s Theatre. Even more mystifying, none of the people I had seen walking in moments before were here.
However, as soon as the door closed, all the forceful shouts and clicks diffused into silence. I savored the quiet while looking around. The decor was a strange mix of red, beige tones, and technology. Everything had obviously been created and designed specifically for this small space.
A receptionist smiled at us from behind the desk with blindingly white teeth. Her outfit might have been more suited to a night out than her current position. Even still, she didn’t exactly seem out of place.
This place was entirely unlike the creaky wood floors and leaking faucets of Bendiciones. It bore no resemblance to the time-worn theater. The screen the woman tapped on while she logged our appointment was bigger than the television we had used to watch the Blood Tournament broadcast.
“Would either of you be interested in a tour?” the woman said brightly.
My young mentor shook his head. “No, but thank you. I remember well enough from before.” He grinned, and the sinking feeling in my stomach grew worse. “Follow me, Renata,” Antonio said. He held out his arm and gestured for me to follow.
I did without hesitation, noting the appreciative glance the older woman gave him as he turned around. The corners of my light smile turned down.
We walked through double doors with metal handles and landed in an enormous room filled with machines larger than me. I spied rows of weights, bicycles, rowing simulators, and more doors leading to smaller practice rooms. There were tall windows lining one wall, which were paired with the bright artificial lights overhead that cast out any trace of shadow. They covered the furthermost wall with stones from floor to ceiling.
I stopped dead in my tracks when I found a rack filled with knives and bows.
After taking a shaky breath, I rubbed my clammy palms together. Images from past tournaments flooded my mind, along with the business-like narration from Joaquín detailing how one might die while competing.
To this point, I hadn’t allowed myself to fully consider my opponents. I had been foolish in thinking that my lack of shared history with my peers meant they would leave me alone. Jealousy could do more to encourage hatred than past transgressions. Though we weren’t directly at odds with each other, if someone else was going to kill me, I would need to take care of them first.
The way before me looked so uphill. An impossible task for a heroine in some mythical text.
Not me. I was a mess.
Barely surviving.
A heavy weight settled on my chest.
“The weapons are only meant for survival,” Antonio said as he walked up alongside me. He followed my gaze to the wall where facility Trabajadores had displayed the weapons arsenal—dangerous and stagnant. “The way they film tournaments isn’t the best representation of what it’s actually like to compete.”
I looked up at him, painfully aware of how small my voice sounded in such a small room. “So, I won’t be sent out in the middle of winter to survive on a belt of active volcanoes while my peers all try to sabotage my attempts to win?”
Antonio turned to face me, and he was incredibly serious as he said, “I mean, they don’t show how slow it all can be. You’ll be surprised at how monotonous part of it is.”
I bit my lip as spicy tears stung the waterlines of my eyes. “I don’t know how to survive in the wild. I am just a dancer.” Embarrassment flushed my cheeks when I heard how pathetic I sounded—how scared.
Sucking in a deep breath, I reminded myself that it was good; I was strong, and I still had time to prepare.
Antonio studied my face for a second. He didn’t deny what I had said, nor did he offer words of encouragement. “There is an indoor track in the lower level. I thought it would be best if you warmed up with a run.”
I pressed my lips together. “Very well.”
