The Kingdom of Belmar

Chapter 10

"Congratulations My Lady!" Charlotte showers me in flower petals and confetti that she purchased at one of the merchant booths out front. Everyone who passed the first trial received a small pin to fix somewhere on their clothes. Sitting just outside of the arena in a waiting area designated just for knight candidates, I stare at the pin in my hands. The cool piece of metal turns between my fingers, and I can't help but think about how this almost wasn't mine. My mind kept justifying that I only had to finish with the top 50 candidates, but part of me hopes that I could perform better than I had.

Charlotte rushed me into the changing room to discard of my mud stained garments, clean the dirt from my face, and readjust my hair for the band that kept it in place had shifted. Looking in the mirror, for the first time since arriving in this world, I didn't see a Duke's daughter. I caught a glimpse of who I used to be. The girl who climbed trees, fought boys on the playground, the less-than-perfect Caroline. I allow myself this moment of nostalgia,

The duels will begin in only an hour, and considering my placement, I should be one of the last to fight. The first trial continues to play in my head. Maybe if I had gotten up sooner when the man in the gray tunic kicked me down. Maybe if I placed my foot better on that one log. Maybe if I hadn't been so distracted by the Imperial family during the third obstacle. Maybe... My mind was so filled with disappointments and "maybe's" that it almost felt like I didn't pass, at least not in the way I wanted to deep down.

I splash cool water in my face, rubbing off the dirt, sweat, and grime to wake me from my daze. My callused hands scrub at my pail skin so hard that the blood rose to my face, making my complexion rosier than the scars on my hands. I notice that my calluses have reopened, possibly from gripping the scalding iron bars on the last structure. The cold water runs along my wounds and I allow the refreshing stream soak in.

Charlotte laid out a new outfit for me which I simply stared at for a minute. There was no need to change my trousers. I would much rather prefer to display my mud stained pants as a sign of my success and capability than a flimsy metal pin. The blouse on the other hand, with the missing button exposing my brassiere if I were to bend too low, that needed to go.

Sticking to me with dirt and sweat, I peel the fabric from my skin and slip on the new shirt, tying a ribbon around my collarbone to ensure it stays in place. Charlotte approaches me, eager to fix my hair, but I stop her before she has the chance. I simply tighten the knot and look back at my reflection.

My fiery red curls hang from my face loosely, around the green eyes that have looked back at me so often this month. This natural appearance of imperfection, I prefer it to any fancy dresses, yards of fabric, pounds of makeup, and stiff hairstyles that I've been forced to don as Lady Amalie. This adrenaline, uncertainty, and motivation is what I've missed since coming to this world. If I have to live my life as Amalie Ewell, I want it to be this version.

I'm lost in thought when the door to the dressing room swings open. This is the female's room so I expected it to be empty, but then a ponytail sashays in with a flowy blouse amd similar mud stained trousers to my own. She must be the other female candidate that finished the first trial. I watch as she makes her way to the sink and splashes water into her face.

She must notice my staring because she turns to me and holds out a hand, "You must be the other female candidate. Hi, I'm Grace." I look down at her hand and wonder if it would be proper for me to shake it while I'm still living as Amalie.

Realizing there's no reporters or prying eyes nearby, I throw etiquette aside and welcome her open hand with a firm shake. "I'm Amy." I decided not to use my title as I don't want her to stop acting so casually around me. "I have to say," I start, "I'm glad to see that I'm not the only girl who managed the course."