Chapter One - (title unknown)*

IZIMA

Be careful, Izima.

My mother's last words echo in my head, like the distant call of a songbird you can't quite place. Be careful. Thinking of her now, when I'm not wearing a ripped, tear-soaked black shawl for days on end, when strangers aren't trying to hug me in the streets, is almost amusing.

Because when have I ever been careful?

EM

Wavy lines of heat rise like warped ghosts from the packed dirt, and I can already taste the dust in my mouth, kicked up by the restless horses waiting in their stalls. And by me, I guess, cause I'm waiting with them. Everyone is waiting for the same thing: the moment of adrenaline when those doors in front of me, and the ones across the stadium, are unlocked.

When me and the princess charge out of them.

IZIMA

I barely register the cheering, screaming crowd outside of this flimsy wooden stable. They've morphed into a dull, pounding ache at the back of my head, where I've pushed them. I don't care anymore.

I don't care about anything anymore.

Nothing matters. I just have to win this match, like I always do. Win the match; meet some fans; politely deny a few desperate suitors; (not) eat supper; repeat.

This corset is killing me. Why do I have to wear a binding, choking corset at a match where I could literally get killed?

Right. Because I'm the princess. And if I ever want to be queen, I have to marry a prince.

And princes love girls with tiny fucking waists.

*Hey, so I hope you like the first chapter of my book! Sorry it's so short; this might be a full chapter or it might not. I literally just started writing this on a complete whim and a few names picked up from the darkest recesses of my brain. I don't know what to call it, so if you have any ideas, please tell me! Thanks!