The Final Strife - Page 240

First we traded stories for money to sustain us in hard times. Now we trade money for stories to sustain us in harder times.

—Words of the first griot, passed from griot to griot

Sylah had promised her they could stay at the winners’ banquet until the tidewind struck. They trained every night and day with the sword, and Anoor was glad for the respite, even though the combat trial was tomorrow. Anoor hoped it was enough, though she knew deep down she would never be as good as the competitors who had been training since they were babes.

Anoor brushed the worry aside and continued to get ready. She wanted to look beautiful for Sylah, but she was aware she’d gotten rid of all her pretty garments.

“Bland, bland, and bland.” She sighed as she looked around her stark dressing room. As she turned to leave, something caught her eye. A glint of green, a shimmer of turquoise. Anoor couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before.

Sticking out of the drawer in her dressing room was an outfit Anoor didn’t remember saving. It must have been left behind from the baskets of clothes she had given away. She pulled it out and gasped. It was perfect.

The bodice was a shimmering gold, overlaid with green lace. Running from the shoulder to the cinched waist was a large green bow, the tassels dripping to the floor. The full skirt created a wide circumference, made for twirling. The sleeves stopped at the elbow with smaller gold bows tying them in place.

Anoor had forgotten she’d commissioned it all those mooncycles ago. She’d been intending to wear it as a guest for one of the winners’ banquets, before she knew she’d be one of the four guests of honor, before she knew where her path would lead her.

I am one of the four competitors left in the Aktibar. Tomorrow, I could be the next disciple.

The thought, which was once a whim, fused with the identity she carved for herself. She would do better than any warden before her. She would make the ghosts of her family proud and manifest the changes they wanted in a world ruled by Embers.

I will be a Duster warden. A blue above the red.

Her shoulders straightened and she felt herself grow taller, not outwardly, but her spirit within.

“Gorn, will you help me dress?” she called to her chief of chambers. It had been a long time since Gorn had helped Anoor to get ready.

The buttons of the dress ran from her shoulder blades down to the back of her knees, and Gorn’s fingers closed each one, cinching in her waist. Anoor’s chest crowned above the heart-shaped neckline. Once she was dressed, Gorn helped her plait her curls into an intricate bun at the top of her head. With her hair slicked back her eyes looked wider, her cheekbones sharper.

Anoor looked in the mirror. She’d kept her makeup simple, two white dashes beneath each eye and a dot on either side. Her ears and chest were bare of gems, as she had given away all of her jewelry. She’d even forgone her inkwell, leaving her wrist bare.

“You look beautiful, Anoor,” Gorn said, and her mouth opened to speak again.

“Thank you…Was there something else?”

Gorn lurched forward and Anoor flinched, only to be clasped in Gorn’s stiff embrace.

“I’m so proud of who you are. And I’ll always be proud of what you do.”

The words brought tears to Anoor’s eyes.

“Thank you, Gorn.” She leaned into her embrace before pulling away. Their reflection in the mirror startled Anoor. Standing as they were, side by side, faces forward, with Gorn’s arm around her waist, they replicated the same stance between Yona and Uka in the portrait above her mother’s desk.

It was a satisfying sight.

“Where’s Sylah?” Gorn asked.

“She went to the market a while ago to get some verd leaf tea, but she should be back by now.”

“Why don’t you go down to the banquet? Meet some of the competitors from the other guilds? They could be your colleagues, you know.”

“But Sylah…”

“I’ll send her down. Besides, you’ll look even better under the lighting in the great veranda.” Gorn winked, actually winked.

But she was right. Anoor twirled to the left and right. The dress was really beautiful, Sylah was going to love it.


Anoor went down to the great veranda, officers nodding to her as she went. For the first time it wasn’t because of her family name, but because of something she had done. If only they knew about the reforms she would bring to their ranks once she won.

Tags: Saara El-Arifi Fantasy
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