HOW TO BE A QUEEN

TWO

Once most of the sentinels are out of sight, I slip out of the crowd and head towards our usual business spot; an alleyway beside a small clothing shop. It has been a business spot for years but since the sentinels are becoming more and more alert and better at catching crooks like me, we may have to rethink the location.

A man dressed entirely in black waits impatiently for me.

"You're late!" The undercurrent of anger sharpens his words into something that had become familiar to me. He doesn't acknowledge the bead of sweat on my brow from narrowly escaping the Sentinels.

"The sentinels are getting better at spotting smugglers, I had to make sure I wasn't followed" My voice sounds hoarse and passive aggressive but he takes no notice.

The man, who I have nicknamed Riot, shakes his head and flippantly disregards my comment "I don't care. Do you have my wings?"

Glaring hard at him, I present a small clear plastic bag containing translucent Faerie wings the size of a grown man's hand. They are beautiful, I've always wanted to see a Faerie up close but I never had the chance until now. They are the main ingredient used in many potions and without them, most potions wouldn't work. Riot's stupid attempt to snatch it from my grasp fails miserably, I'm a smuggler which means my hands are quick "Ah ah ah, where's the tail?"

Riot's obscure eyes rest on my face for a moment but he never likes to linger, his eyes always found something far more interesting to look at and I am definitely not interesting to look at. He gestures to the green sack around his pallid fingers. I flash him a glassy grin and hand him the wings at the same time as he hands me the sack.

"Pleasure doing business with you, you have no debts to pay but Cal will contact you with another proposal"

He works his jaw beneath his skin, a wave of unrivalled anger brews within him. It festers and bubbles but he doesn't explode. Swiftly, he whisks around and turns his back on me, storming in the opposite direction without saying thank you.

Cal has made enemies, he has a way of getting under people's skin and making people fear him. He makes his money by smuggling illegal goods from Queensland and selling them off to people who want them. I was twelve when I was dragged into his messy business, he witnessed me trying to pickpocket a woman on the street and scolded me there and then but said that if I came to his shop the next day, I could have a job; I showed up at his doorstep the next day.

I was twelve, desperate and naïve—I was a pawn in his little game. But I didn't complain, it paid good money and kept my family alive. He taught me everything I know about being discreet, getting caught was not an option.

I wait several minutes before leaving myself. Once I hide in the crowd again, I try to keep my eyes forward and away from the Sentinels who stand on the outskirts of the market's congestion. I always wonder what they think of us, do they pity our poverty? or do they relish in the fact that they are better than us—elite. Those who are from Queensland are stronger, healthier and wealthier. They built their homes on the land our people fought for 700 years ago and we didn't even get a piece of it.

From the corner of my right eye, I see a hand trying to reach out and grab the green bag clean from my grip, a pickpocket trying to steal from the best smuggler in the region. I almost laugh.

Almost

"You're getting harder to surprise"

a pair of stark almond eyes stare back at me.

"Or maybe you're just getting really bad at it," I chirp, venom laces my comment.

Caleb slurs around his words like he always does "Bethr"

I scoffed at the comment. His Velūsi is rough, he struggles to pronounce certain words therefore his origin is very obvious. He migrated from Crait when he was fifteen, the native language in Crait is Maandūki. Two completely different languages so he struggled to learn and communicate. He still struggles. He throws his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in close, humming as we walked—a soft lulling sound that rumbles in his throat. Caleb doesn't particularly approve of my job, he calls it messy and unprofessional but he received the long end of the stick and I did not. His family owns a butchery, a successful butchery for that matter so he didn't have to experience what I experienced.

Caleb is one head taller than me, he took great joy in ridiculing my height when we first became acquainted and I did not take it very well. When he ended up with a black eye, he knew not to cross me again. Mind you, our relationship is not as bitter as it may seem. He is my best friend and my only friend. I don't like making friends, they are unnecessary. Caleb knew this but pursued me and our friendship no matter how many times I pushed him away, he was persistent and that's probably why every girl in the village flakes over him and flocks into his corner. Caleb is like a ghost for the girls in our village, they all knew of him, very few get to see him and those who speak to him are unbelievably disappointed, they try but never succeed. Why? Because they aren't me.

"Are you working today?" I ask, shattering the silence.

He blinks the tiredness from his eyes, he speaks in a solemn voice but it fades quickly "I'm working overtime because mom and dad have been extra busy today. Everyone is preparing for the Reaping"

he gives me a doleful look but I don't reply, I don't want to think about it. It's been on my head since the new year and even more the past few days, I can't escape it. My birthday is tomorrow and ironically, the Reaping falls on the same day. My name will be put into the hat nineteen times, but the odds of me being picked are slim in comparison to the girls in our village who are twenty-five. I could be safe, my is my first time Reaping. "Sucks that it's on my birthday right" Maybe I can trick myself into believing everything will be okay.

Caleb's eyes narrow, creasing his eyebrows at the front "Marrying me may get you out of the reaping. They can't pick you if you have a fiancé"

I hear his words but keep my eyes forward, I bite the inner cheek of my mouth as my hands unconsciously toy with my earlobe. Caleb confessed his love for me a year ago and proposed but I said no, he's been persistent ever since. His parents offered my family a large sum of Deren for my dowry and my father, who was ill in his bed, nearly choked on himself when he heard what they were willing to pay for me. The money would have been able to buy a treatment for both my father's illness and my sister's illness, it would have refurbished the house and bought Goldie a new bed.

It would have solved the majority of our problems, that is if I agreed to marry him. But I don't love him and I don't want to marry him purely for the dowry, love is important to me but there is no love between us—in my eyes anyway, how he sees our relationship is completely different. He has a point though, realistically speaking, I can't be picked if I have a fiancé for the law states that only one hundred unwed virgin girls nineteen-twenty five are to be picked.

I always knew this day would come but I always considered myself lucky for avoiding it for all these years, I always thought that I would avoid it for the years to come but marrying someone, who I don't love, just to save myself from such a horrid law is cowardly In my eyes.

"Are you saying that because you want to help me or are you saying that because it will benefit you?" His gaze quickly falls towards the floor. "Do your parents know?" I ask.

"Hmm? About what?"

Don't act dumb.

I look into the distance and avoid his stare "About that night"

Oh, is all that slips from his mouth. Two months ago, we almost made the biggest mistake and all it took was a stupid night in his father's barn. We were foolish-I was foolish. It was in the heat of the moment, it felt electric- it felt good. But, I don't love him and I can't pretend to. If it happened- if we did it, I would have been disgraced in our village.

It's a disgrace to be an unwed woman and not be a virgin, a woman who remained a virgin with no s****l contact with a man until her wedding night is considered holy, a goddess of pure chastity. I don't think he thought of the implications it would have had on me if we went through with it, he was all desire and lust and had no sense of direction. We didn't talk for three weeks after that, mostly because I was embarrassed. Frankly, I think that was a catalyst, It made him even more determined to pursue a marriage with me.

Finally, he speaks with little hesitation "No they don't" he seems to silently add but they will at the end.

I slow down my pace once we reach a crossroad and untangle myself from under his arm "I need to give this to Cal, meet me by the river in about an hour and we'll go and collect our maintenance loan"

"Alright, I'll see you then. Don't get caught by any sentinels" he smirks.

"I wouldn't dream of it"

~*~

[ T R A N S L A T I O N S ]

Bethr-  Asshole (Velūsi)