The arena lay in the centre of Havar not far from the local tavern. Limestone steps led down to an oval pit with a sandy floor shaded by the thick branches of an ancient chestnut tree. Open to the public, it was used to host a variety of contests but mostly it provided a location for drunken brawls. I drew several deep breaths and followed the steps down to the centre. In these clothes, I was Skylar, not Amelia. I had to remain calm and cool like ice. I started with a few of my usual warm ups to pull a crowd, beginning with my throwing knives. With a few expert throws, I sent all six of my knives hurtling toward the target, grinning as they struck the bullseye, part of me imagining it was Sir William. After a few rounds and the arrival of a handful of onlookers, I recovered my knives and sheathed them, retrieving the bow that hung from one of chestnut tree's lower branches. I knocked an arrow, my pent-up frustrations bubbling forth as I released it. The arrow fired with such power it ripped straight through a branch that already contained a few dozen arrows, most of which were mine.

As per usual, the townsfolk flocked to the arena once they knew I was there, eager to watch my demonstrations, many calling out greetings. I finished with a performance of difficult sword techniques and turned a few somersaults, ending my warmups by sprinting at the crowd who flinched and gasped when I stopped directly in front of them, my face only inches away from a young man's. I grinned at the astonished look on his face and bellowed,

"Who wants to fight? 100 gold to anyone who can make me yield!" Many of the townspeople were dishevelled, their clothing patched and fraying, a product of the terrible harvest and weather we'd recently had. By doubling the usual prize, I hoped to throw a few matches and help them out, but very few seemed like they had the energy or the ability to fight. Despite their circumstances, the crowd cheered the air buzzing with excitement as many sat down on the limestone steps to watch. A burly man who I recognised as an off-duty guard was the first to take up my offer. He put up a good fight but as one of the better fed and better-paid citizens of Havar I didn't hold back, knocking him to the ground with a few precise attacks. He got to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood in the sand, grinning despite his split lip. I dipped my head to him and he did the same, returning to the steps empty-handed.

"Who's up next?" I shouted, scanning the crowd for a possible opponent. Two young men came forward and challenged me at the same time; Silver Hawk mercenaries I realised, recognising the emblem stitched into their jerkins. They fought well, clearly accustomed to fighting together, but ultimately, they were defeated. Much too green. When it became apparent that none of the poor townsfolk were going to fight I considered ending the contest then and there. Until a flash of movement caught my attention. At the back, a young girl of about fifteen years was pushing her way through the crowd. She wore riding leathers and had a dagger strapped to her waist, not unlike my own. Our eyes met and I saw a younger version of myself. The quality of her clothing and the way she wrinkled her nose as she shouldered through the crowd was enough to tell me she wasn't cut from the same cloth as the dirty masses around her.

She drew closer and I took note of the intricate snake ring on her right hand, the symbol of the Marsh family. I raised my eyebrows and tried to recall whether Sir William had a younger sister who had not yet been presented at court. There was no denying that the Marsh family were handsome, with their sculpted features, black hair and startling green eyes; she was no exception. Slightly taller than me, with wavy black hair and eyes the colour of green sea glass she was a stunning image. Her eyes mixed with the sunlight creating dappled pools of colour; a stark contrast with the hard lines of her mouth and brow.

"I'll fight!" she announced. The crowd erupted into excited cheering, some already exchanging bets. My chest squeezed and I silently begged for her to withdraw her offer. These contests were the easiest way to help the townspeople outside of my uncle's estate, but injuring a noble would mean almost certain imprisonment or at the very least a lifelong ban from the arena.

"Are you certain?" I kept my voice low, trying to stay calm as I approached her.

"Of course, I am," she spat, moving forwards her hands clenched in tight fists.

"You don't want to fight me," I warned, hardening my gaze in the hope she would back down.

"Are you afraid?" she taunted, her contemptuous sneer warping her pretty features.

"Snot-nosed brat! How dare you say that to the great Skylar!" yelled someone from the back of the crowd. I raised my hand to silence the shouts of agreement that followed and said to the girl,

"What is your name?"

"Lady Elizabeth Marsh, daughter of Lord Richard Marsh!" Some members of the crowd jeered at the mention of her father but it quickly died down when she turned to glare at them. Cringing internally at the confirmation of her nobility, I lifted my chin and pulled back my cowl to reveal my face.

"I am Skylar."

A flicker of horror darted across Elizabeth's face and I couldn't tell if it was because she recognised me or she was intimidated by the red paste on my face. Hoping it was the latter, I stepped towards her, unsheathing my larger dagger it's steel glinting in the midday sun. She stepped back, quickly drawing her own and assumed a natural defence position I had seen countless times before. I aimed a simple blow at her head that I knew she would be able to block, curious to see if her skill level matched her attitude. As I had predicted, she drew her dagger upwards to counter the blow, but my one-handed swing shook her whole body. This fight wouldn't last long.

Coming down from her parry she darted forward and aimed a slash at my face. I parried her dagger effortlessly and returned my own strikes, slashing at her face, body and legs, forcing her to back away. She was tiring rapidly and followed a distinct pattern of movement, always fleeing with her right leg and charging with her left. In other words, a poorly imitated version of her brother's swordplay and footwork that had never been corrected. It wasn't long before the exertion of keeping up with my strikes and attempting to return her own caught up with her. The crowd's excitement was contagious and I considered backing off to extend the fight, but then it was over, just as quickly as it had begun.

I executed a simple slashing attack on her leg that she had already blocked numerous times and watched in horror as she faltered. I attempted to pull the blow but my dagger bit deeply into her left thigh and she shrieked. Not allowing my surprise to affect my voice, I stood over her and announced, over the audience's cheering,

"Do you yield?" A lump rose in my throat when I noticed the tears welling in her eyes, as she clutched her bleeding leg; a pitiful sight. She looked up at and choked out,

"I yield, I yield!"

"Another victory for Skylar!" I boasted, hoping my feigned pride seemed realistic. The crowd burst into applause, some cheering and many others hurling insults at the injured girl. Elizabeth simply continued to sob as she stared at her thigh, blood oozing through her fingers onto the sand. Too much blood. Eyes wide, I quickly shouted,

"Sorry folks! That will be all for today!" Surprised by the abrupt end to their entertainment, the crowd voiced their complaints but eventually dispersed. I sighed and made a mental note to put on a more entertaining show next time. 

Kneeling beside her I grabbed her hands and forced her to keep pressure on the wound.

"Keep holding on for me, can you do that?" I asked, concerned by her worsening pallor. She nodded weakly, trembling as she watched me remove a small phial of swirling red and orange liquid from a leather pouch on my belt.

"W-what is that?" she stuttered, her eyes drowning in fear as I slowly tilted the phial, pouring two drops into her open wound. When the drops touched her flesh, she shrieked and began to thrash in the sand while it bubbled and hissed, steam rising from the wound. Gripping her leg firmly I pinned her down.

"Be still," I urged, "I'm trying to help you.

"It hurts!" she wailed through clenched teeth.

"I know, but you mustn't move," I soothed, grimacing as her bloodied hands gripped my arm tightly, digging her fingers into my flesh until her violent jerking subsided. She fixed her gaze on the deep laceration and her mouth fell open. Her flesh was rapidly knitting back together, layers of muscle, fat and skin restoring itself within moments, a thick white scar the only indication she had ever been hurt. She shuddered, succumbing to her exhaustion as she fainted in my arms. I picked her up as carefully as I could, struggling up the steps of the arena back to Charlie's forge.

"What happened?" demanded Charlie, as I stood in the doorway, clutching Elizabeth in my arms.

"She lost," I muttered, aware of the lingering animosity between us, as I placed her down on Charlie's lounge.

"She's not dead, is she?" he asked, gesturing to the blood staining her clothes.

"Of course not!" I protested, "I used the potion I won from that gipsy woman. Do you remember?"

"I'm not likely to forget the day we met" he teased, letting out a derisive snort. Seeing the playful gleam in his eyes, I couldn't help but roll my eyes and smile. I glanced down at Elizabeth's sleeping figure I let out a sigh.

"Can I leave her here with you? I need to prepare for the ball and I can't take her home with me."

"Why not?" asked Charlie, his brow furrowed.

"I'm not supposed to be in town in the first place, let alone fighting with other noblewomen."

"Good point. I guess she can stay here while she rests, but what should I do when she wakes or someone comes looking for her?"

"If one of the Marsh's or their servants comes to fetch her, say you found her injured and let them take her home. I've not seen her at court so it's unlikely she would have attended the ball tonight. In any case, don't fret, I'll come back for her tomorrow morning," I responded, planting a thankful kiss on his cheek, leaving him speechless. 

I rushed through the town and into the Queen's Wood as I returned to my den. Carefully washing away all traces of the berry paste, I let my hair down, checking my face and arms for any blood or dirt. Once clean, I changed back into my nightgown and hastened up to my bedroom to prepare for the ball.