I was running before he regained his balance. Every pore in my body was screaming stupid, stupid, stupid.

My bare feet slapped against the cold floor. The man thundered after me and I ran for all I was worth.

The only reason I even did throw a boot at him was because I couldn't let him get to the prince. Other than the fact that Lyon was my friend, he was also the heir to the throne. The people of Bellerophon needed a better king than Aaron and Lyon would treat them right. It also wouldn't do if the king found out his son was snooping around in underground tunnels he was probably not meant to find.

It wouldn't do for the king to find out I had been snooping around in underground tunnels as well, but out of the both of us, I figured Lyon had more to lose.

I could hear the man's heavy breathing follow me. His feet were long, and even though I enjoyed running, I wasn't sure I could outrun him forever. I prayed the passage led into an opening. Preferably somewhere I could hide.

A shriek of metal drew my thoughts back. I recognized the sound of course, having been surrounded by weapons for the most of my lifetime. That man had a sword and he was not going to hesitate to use it.

I cursed. Trust him to have a weapon. Up ahead, I could make out a door. In retrospect, my next move could have possibly used some thought, but it served the purpose.

I didn't stop my frantic pace and instead ploughed into the door with my shoulder.

The wood must have been very old and very thin because it cracked under my weight and came off its hinges. I fell hard on the wood, the impact jarring my teeth.

The room I had fallen into was painted completely gold, the numerous torches adding to the effect. The ceiling was tall and was held up by gold pillars. The walls were empty and glistened the same colour. The only dash of other colour was the maroon carpet that reached from the door to the other end of the room. At the head of the long room, standing proudly on a pedestal, was a statue of a Goddess. It was no Goddess I recognized. She was painted a shining gold as well. Two of her arms were held out in front, cupped together as if to accept an offering, while the other two held a spear and a conch shell respectively.

Her hair was long and flowed like water down her back. Her face was strict, her gaze narrowed. 

On the pedestal were placed a ceremonial sword, an elegant glass cup and a whip. My skin crawled.

This is a sacrificial altar.

Suddenly the maroon on the carpets didn't look like maroon anymore.

I turned around as a sword came down on me. I jumped at the last minute, jerking away from the weapon. I scrambled to my feet and made for the altar. I grabbed the sword and spun around. My sword clashed with his.

I pushed back and he stumbled. I stood straight, keeping my legs apart for balance. I held the sword with both hands as the man studied me.

He was tall and dark, with a clean shaven head and wore grey clothes. I could see his muscles straining against his shirt. His grip on his sword was so tight I was afraid he would dent it.

I recognized him vaguely from around the palace. If I was right, he was one of the king's personal servants. Great.

He lunged faster than I could think. I dodged and slashed, ducking and weaving between his blade. He was faster than I had given him credit for. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a door.

I parried as he backed me up against the statue. I kicked my leg out and he tripped, getting to his feet almost instantly. He slashed and I managed to intercept his blow. My arms were tired already. He used more force in his blows than agility, and there was only so much battering my arms could take. 

He struck again, but this time I didn't move fast enough. The sword caught my left arm and cut straight through my skin. I cried out. He brought his sword down hard on mine and the pressure made it clatter out of my hand.

I didn't miss a beat, though, as I grabbed the glass bowl behind me and smashed it on his skull. He stumbled back with a scream. I grabbed his head and brought it down hard on my knee.

"Ow," I cried, as the man slumped over. I rubbed my knee, sure there was going to be more bruising.

I turned the man over with my foot to make sure he was truly unconscious, before focusing on my wound. His face was marred with scratches that glistened with blood.

The cut on my arm pulsed to the rhythm of my heart, sending thrums of pain up my shoulder. I cut the sleeve off and it came away, blood sticking to my fingers. The wound was deep and I took a sharp breath through my teeth. This was bad. Blood still trickled down my arm. I tore the cut sleeve and tied it around the wound, hissing at the sting.

I had to get that tended to, but first I needed to find a way out of there. The door I had briefly glimpsed was behind the statue. That's why I hadn't seen it before.

I considered taking a sword, but decided against it. It's not like I could fight anymore, anyway. At least, not with such a heavy weapon and one arm out of order.

The door took a few shoves to open and more stairs piled up. The path was dusty and filled with cobwebs. I wasn't afraid of spiders, but I didn't really fancy any crawling around in my dress. I managed to wrench a torch from its bracket and ascended the stairs, burning any webs that came too close.

I reached the top after what felt like an eternity, holding my skirt up to my nose so the cluttered air in the path wouldn't choke me. 

A wooden trapdoor loomed at me from above. The wood was old, so it only took a few hits from the pommel of my dagger to do it in. Light streamed in from the small hole and relief settled so heavily on my shoulders I felt I would faint.

I reached out through the hole and unlocked the trapdoor from the outside. 

I stepped out, breathing in the fresh air. It felt good to be away from that claustrophobic place and the judging eyes of the Goddess. I put out the torch and tossed it back inside the staircase. It echoed as it fell.

It took me a while to figure out where I was. The murky sunlight streaming in through frosted windows helped me identify the room I was in as a storeroom, which meant my room was on the floor below.

I had been here once, briefly. The third floor of the building was exclusively built for storerooms which contained innumerable crates. There was never anything interesting here. All the important things got put in the archives. Here was stored every useless gift the king had received and probably spoils of war.

I couldn't go out the door, because guards would be patrolling the floor. A girl coming out of a shady room, bleeding and covered with cobwebs and bruises was not something they would ignore. If they knew about the hidden room, then they would be double suspicious.

I wrenched open a window and was met with a blast of morning air as I undid the cape from around my face. The sky was a stark blue and I wondered how long I had been underground. My eyes drank in the colour hungrily. The warmth of the sun on my skin was heavenly after the dingy cold of the tunnels.

I peered down and spotted my balcony one balcony to the left. A foot-wide ledge ran under the windows, snaking around the palace. There were no balconies on this floor.

I groaned to myself. This part of the palace faced the woods, so guards rarely patrolled it. So if I fell and died, my body wouldn't be found for days. What a lovely thought.

I spent a few minutes trying to come up with another means of escape, but could think of none. It was either the window or the door, and since I couldn't really knock everyone out on this floor successfully, the window it was.

Hesitating, I sent a silent prayer to the gods. I swung my legs over the window sill and lowered myself onto the ledge, standing on my tip toes to balance my weight. I clutched onto the window for as long as I could, before moving away. I had left the cape in the room, not wanting to be bothered with it.

I inched slowly across the ledge, nails scraping uselessly on the wall that offered no grip. I pressed my body against the wall, moving as slowly as a snail. I didn't care if it took me all eternity to get across, but I would not fall.

Once I estimated I was close enough to my balcony, I shifted my weight as much as I dared to look down. I was standing right over my balcony. Now all I needed to do was jump.

I took a deep breath and steeled my nerves. You can do this, I told myself. It took me a few more breaths and mental preparation before I hopped back. For a useless second I wondered if I'd hopped too far and then the ground slammed into my feet with a force that made my spine arch.

I crumpled to the ground, biting my lip to keep from crying out loud. I curled up and nursed the balls of my feet, vision blurred with the pain.

After a considerable amount of time, I managed to limp into the room. Ella, thankfully, opened the balcony doors every morning, so I didn't have to wait there for someone to find me.

Once inside, I stripped off my clothes and tossed it into the fireplace, striking a match and watching the cloth burn. I waited until the entire thing was up in flames before I headed to the bathroom.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was Ella shaking me by the shoulder.

My eyes shot open and I jumped before realizing I was still in the bath. The hot water had cooled into something lukewarm.

"Dear gods, what happened?" cried Ella, looking at my arm. I hadn't submerged it in the tub for fear of the blood loss becoming extensive. I hadn't even removed the makeshift bandage.

I wiped the lingering water drops off my face. My hair was damp as well. My feet were feeling better, but my knees were sore.

"I was training," I said, shifting in the water, making the bubbles in the tub dance.

Ella gingerly undid the cloth and I grimaced as she peeled it off. "You should have called me!"

"I was asleep," I pointed out.

She tutted as she assessed the damage. The bleeding had thankfully stopped, but now I had the urge to scratch it. Blood was caked around the wound.

She washed the wound out with water, then applied some rubbing alcohol that made my eyes sting and my arm burn. She tied the wound with a clean bandage.

She helped me get dressed, since I did not have the strength for anything.

"Have you seen Lyon around?" I asked, only just remembering that he was stuck in there as well. I cursed to myself. I should have gone back for him!

"No, I have not. Anyway, Lord Roran requested your presence in the arena," she said as she tied my hair into a braid.

"Do I have to go?" I asked, only half listening. I hoped Lyon was alright.

"You were the one the king assigned to help them, so yes."

"Urgh, I should just let you take my place."

She smiled slightly, tying my hair. "There we are. Do not get into another fight, please."

"I'm going to the arena, Ella," I said, standing up. "Do you really think I'm not going to get into another fight?"

... 

The arena was a vast space behind the library. It was an open circular arena with seats focusing on the battle.

The arena was connected to the castle by the armory, which is where Ella led me. The armory was a pristine white room with all sorts of weapons hanging from holsters on the walls. It was half as wide as the library, but was as tall. The armory reached up two floors, with metal ladders leading to the next level. The next two floors contained weapons for the army, and so was not used for casual practice.

Lord Roran was already there with the Lady Sasha and Kirin. Kirin was leaning against the wall, engaged in conversation with a lady I recognized as the Lady Nicole.

I felt jealousy flare up at how he smiled while speaking to her. Nicole was two years older than me. She had long silky brown hair and had dark brown eyes. She was beautiful, with perfect lips and nose, and  she knew it. She was also one of the ladies I completely despised.

Kirin looked up as I entered and Nicole followed his line of sight. "Lady Arya," she cooed.

"Lady Nicole," I faked a smile. "I am surprised to find you here. It is not your usual haunt."

She let out a tinkering, annoying laugh. "Oh, I did not come here to fight. Real women do not fight. No, I simply came to spectate."

Ella pinched my arm discreetly to keep me from throttling Nicole. "Yes, well, the purpose of a 'real woman' is not simply to keep beds warm, but you wouldn't know about that, would you?"

Nicole flushed a deep red, narrowing her eyes at me. Behind her, Kirin raised his eyebrows.

I smiled in triumph and turned to Lord Roran.

I could tell he was hiding a smile and the fact put my heart at ease. Beside him, Lady Sasha look down, biting her lip, but the dimple on her cheek gave her amusement away.

My smile grew more relaxed. At least there were a few people here who didn't hate me. I curtseyed. "Lord Roran, Lady Sasha."

Lord Roran inclined his head. "Lady Arya. I have heard some fascinating tales about your prowess with weapons. Perhaps I could encourage you to a duel?"

"Oh," I said. I hadn't expected I would be fighting with him. I thought I would be fighting Kirin. In all the years I had known him, Larkin, who was posing as the King Roran, had been the one person I could never defeat. He had been my trainer while we travelled and though I even defeated a few of my older associates once or twice, I had never been able to defeat him.

I glanced at Ella who was looking at me with wide eyes. "I am sorry, I did not realize I would be fighting you," I told Larkin. "I wounded my arm while training this morning, so my performance will not be up to par."

Larkin waved it off, just like he always would. I knew it didn't matter to him if I had an entire arm sawed off. If I could move and breathe enough, I could fight. It was a ruthless policy, but one that worked to our benefit in the end. "That is alright," he said, half a blue mask covering his face. "You pick your weapon and we shall spar. I will even go easy on you, if you want."

I let out a laugh. "There is no need to indulge me, my Lord. I only said I was wounded, not incapable."

I studied the walls, looking for a weapon I could fight with using only one arm.

I picked up a weapon and balanced it in my hand. It would do. I flashed a grin at Larkin.

Larkin looked intrigued. He picked up the twin weapon to the one I held. "Very well, let us battle."

A mace is a long weapon, usually made from wood, with a heavy head used to bludgeon people. They were good for both single and double-handed combat.

I rolled my shoulders, wondering if I should have worn pants. I had remembered to wear tights, though, and found a nice new pair of comfortable boots to replace the ones I had lost. I swung the mace around in my hand, enjoying the feel of a weighty weapon.

"Are you ready?" called Larkin from across the arena.

"When you are," I called back.

Sasha hit the bell on the side of the arena and both Larkin and I ran forward. I struck from above and he met my mace with a jar from his own. Instantly, I knew I wouldn't last this. 

I jumped back a step and gripped the mace with both hands. My wound stung already but I ignored it. I needed every bit of my energy to win this.

I lunged again and he parried. I struck over and over again, pounding with all the force I had. He retaliated with short, strong sweeps of his mace. I jumped and ducked, lurching backwards as his mace swung in front of my face. 

I swung upwards and he brought his mace down horizontally. For a moment, our maces fought against each other. Larkin kicked out, his leg meeting my stomach. The breath whooshed out of me and I doubled over, dropping the mace. Larkin raised his mace to strike but hesitated.

Taking advantage of it, I swept my leg out, kicking his feet from under him and he fell back, thudding heavily against the earth. I grabbed my mace and pressed it against his chest, snarling.

His one blue eye regarded me, his chest heaving against the mace. I didn't move, stunned that I had Larkin pinned down. My heart echoed in my head and my breathing was ragged. My stomach hurt and I felt like throwing up my nonexistent breakfast. My wound had opened, for I could feel blood trickling down my sleeve. If I bothered to look, I would have found my green dress stained with blood.

Then Larkin smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "You have improved," he said, loud enough so that only I would hear.

I lifted the mace off his chest and offered him my good arm to help him up. "You are growing soft, old man," I mocked.

He was still smiling when the others came to meet us. They had been watching from the seats and I realized I had heard them 'oohing' and 'aahing' while we were fighting.

I wiped a trickle of sweat from my forehead. Ella was by my side in an instant. "Now you have more wounds." she muttered, disapprovingly.

I grinned at her. "I will be fine," I said, though I felt far from it. This, coupled with the duel from the morning, had me exhausted.

She pulled up my sleeve and I hissed in pain. She rose an eyebrow at me, but continued her inspection.

"That was a good duel," a voice said. I looked up to find Kirin eyeing my wound, brows drawn together.

I cleared my throat. Ella didn't appear to have noticed. "Thank you," I said formally.

"You fought with that wound and you defeated La- my father," he continued, turning those green eyes to mine. "That is very impressive."

Nicole stood behind him, rolling her eyes and I felt instantly better. "When you work hard, anything is possible. Even fighting when wounded."

"I am sure," Nicole cut in. She turned her back to me, giving all her attention to Kirin. "Would you like to go have lunch now?" She placed a claw on his arm.

The mace was still in my hand, twitching invitingly.

"Arya!" someone shouted. Everyone looked up.

It was Lyon.