The empress is dressed in purple, shielded by the shade of a parasol, and fanned with ostrich feathers. We are orphaned, scarred and hardened veterans, and stand beneath the open sun.
It is the sun that warns me, as it shines from the dagger my brother draws from inside his armored sleeve. Without a thought I throw my net, and entangle his arm, and the blade clatters to the dust of the arena.
He looks at me with our mother’s eyes, filled with the shock of betrayal. “Why?” he asks.
I cannot speak, although I know the answer: A slave may hate their chains, yet fear to lose them.
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