Hello all! Sorry this chapter's a bit late, life happened :/ BUT Just to let you know, chapter 1.3 is going to feature Sholu and O'otani together for the first time alone, with extended dialogue, and lots of rage. It's gonna be great. I'm super excited to write it now that this set up chapter is over!

In the mean time, Heir of Beasts is competing in the @fantasci chosen one competition. If you like the book and want it to be read, please head on over to  https://www.wattpad.com/319384150-champions-and-heroes-the-chosen-one-competition and vote! It's about the title, cover, and blurb this week, so if any of those hooked you, please consider telling them why in a comment! It means a lot to me. (And Shira and O'otani, etc.)

- Swpoet

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When the door opens next Halima flies at me, all long limbs and grasping hands, her eyes so wide they could swallow me whole. A moment later she crashes into me, little arms wrapping tightly around my waist. Her face burrows into my breast, her tears wetting the gown's silken bodice.

"Zsavina be blessed!" she cries when she's collected herself enough to speak. "I- I thought I'd never see you again, miss, when they pulled me away- I thought I wouldn't see you until our wanderings on the Eternal Sands were done, and we came to the Citadel- but the goddess is good, miss! No- she is great!" She cries zealously, as animated as I've ever seen her. Fallen tears glisten on her lips like dew. "She- she heard my prayers, and she saw how wrong it was, and she answered them and delivered you from the mouth of death itself! She cut the noose from your neck!"
"Sholu Verlaina cut the noose from my neck, Halima." I reply coolly. "And he's no goddess, is he?"

"His hand was moved by the divine!" She insists, looking up at me with pooling golden eyes. "I know it was, miss. I know the Goddess walks beside you, you're one of her chosen!"

Chosen for what, I almost ask, but the sweet credulity painted across her face dries my words to dust. I'm torn between coveting her blind, foolish faith and being disgusted by it. For a second I have the urge to shove her away, as if she might burn me. Instead I draw her closer.

"If his hand was moved by the divine, he would've plunged that dagger into his own chest." I murmur. "The goddess had no part in it."

"But your survival is a miracle. You were beyond hope, and now you're pardoned. Surely that's a sign Zsavina has not forgotten you-"

"Everyone has forgotten me but you, little flower," I whisper, running my fingers through her rich curls. "All the rest remember only the traitor or the prisoner, and I will not own that. The Goddess is as blind to me as the rest of this city."

The joy flees her face, dampened by my apathetic fatalism. I force a smile and touch her cheek, willing the spark of life back into her eyes.
"You're wrong," she says after a moment, sounding suddenly solemn.

"Hmm?"

"You're wrong. The Goddess forgets no one, least of all her holy warrior. And the city- there are those in the city who remember."

"They remember I stood on a scaffold and was silent when accused of treason," I reply. "That is what the world will remember of me, Halima, there's no use denying it. Don't let your optimism bleed into ignorance."

I meant the last statement as a word of advice, but from the hurt look in her eye I can tell she heard an insult.

"If I thought like you did, I would curl up in the corner and wait for death," she tells me. The rawness in her voice grates at me. "If I believed the Goddess gone, and all honest legacies dust, and the city as numb and dumb as you do- I don't think I could walk for the heaviness. I- I might be naïve," she admits. "But I do see the horror. I see it as clearly as you, miss, I just choose not to let it blot out all the beauty with its shadow. Is that really so ignorant?"

"No," a third voice interjects. I turn towards the door, startled. I'd forgotten the guard stood there, watching us.

"It's smart, is what it is," he says, answering Halima's question, but looking straight into my eyes. "It keeps you going, one foot in front of the other, come what will."

"Yes," I reply, holding his gaze. "One foot in front of the other, step after step, right off the edge of the cliff. You'll look at the beauty, the blooming lilies, the crisp air, the birdcalls, right until the moment you snap your neck."

He chuckles. "At least it sounds like a nice way to die."

The ring of raw flesh encircling my neck grows hot. I wonder if he can see it glowing, burning bright like a brand. "There is no nice way to die," I spit, remembering Death's hot breath kissing the nape of my neck less than a day before.

The humor falls from his face. "I suppose not."

"It is all horrible," I add. My words sound almost mechanical. "Fear has a smell stronger than blood, and dying things saturate the air with it. Have you smelt that, Guard? Or were you too busy listening to the birdcalls?"

"I'll bring you some desert lilies then, miss," Halima says awkwardly, her smile too bright to be real. "So you'll smell only them. They're blooming so brightly this week, a bunch of them would brighten this room!"

"She doesn't want lilies," the guard says. I frown, turn to glare at him.

"How would you know what I want?" I snap.

He shrugs. "Am I wrong?"

"Yes," I lie. "I would love some lilies, Halima."

I want nothing to do with flowers, with anything pretty and ephemeral. I want to remember this room is a prison every moment I'm in it. Somehow the soft things make reality even more unbearable.

And anyways, lilies remind me of Shira.

He shrugs. "Fine, have the whole garden. But it's almost nine thirty, and you're wanted at breakfast."

I stiffen. "Give me five minutes with the girl."

He frowns. "You've seen her. You said you'd go willingly."

"I will," I promise. "But I need five minutes."

He watches me for a moment, then nods swiftly. "Five minutes is it, then. Not a second more. Then you come with me."

"Yes."

He nods, then retreats to the hall, leaving me alone with Halima.

"Do you know who he is?" I ask her, unsettled by the guard's deviance from the norm of brutish cruelty. He doesn't behave like the rest of Sholu's men and I want to know why.

She shakes her head. "Not really, Miss. I've only seen him twice. I think his name is Kaza."

"He's different from the rest," I think out loud. "At least the few I've met- they were so common- but never mind. He's not important." I clear all thoughts of the guard from my mind and focus on the small girl in front of me. Her face is sallow and she looks thinner than I remember.

"Has anyone hurt you?" I ask, pulling up the sleeve of her tunic to inspect the skin for signs of rough handling. "Did they feed you?"

"I'm fine," she reassures me, but she holds still and lets me inspect her all the same. "No one hurt me. I've been eating."

"You look pale and thin," I say bluntly.

"I was worried for you, so I didn't sleep much, and no one's been eating very well here. The food supply was disrupted by the fighting and there's nothing much fresh. But I'm fine."

There's a shadow in her eyes that speaks of a lie.

"What is it?" I press. "What happened?"

"I really am fine," she insists nervously. "It's nothing."

"No one can hear you," I tell her. She winces. So someone's told her to keep quiet.

"I met with the Deme last night," she tells me quietly, leaning in close. "It was nothing, I think- he didn't hurt me, he was civil, but after I could not sleep."

I freeze, my eyes locking onto hers. We're riveted together. "Halima, what were you doing meeting with that man?"

She shakes her head slowly. "I don't know, miss. He summoned me, and then I had to come."

"What happened after he summoned you?"

"I met him in his study, and he ignored me for a while, then looked at me so closely I couldn't stop fidgeting. I felt like he was dissecting me with his eyes." She shudders, pressing closer to me. "And then he said all he could get from his guards was that you were a wild, dangerous animal, or possessed by some spirit, and he asked me if that was true.

"I said no, of course, only that you were violent when you grieve." She pauses, collecting her words. "Then he asked me some trivial questions about how you had lived this past month, and I answered as best I could, but I was nervous, his gaze is so strange, I stuttered a lot- that upset him- he- he said I was so weak he could barely look at me, but he understood why you would love me.

"He asked me if I loved you, next" she continues. "And when I said I did, he said that was good. He said that as long as I did as I was told, I would be allowed to wait on you, and I would be well fed and kept, and safe. But that if I ever act against him, or the guards, I will be cast out." She looks so frightened at the thought I squeeze her hand in reassurance. "He said the streets of Arzsa are no place for someone like me."

"They aren't," I agree. "The types of people who live out there- they would eat you alive. So do what he says and keep yourself safe, alright?"

She nods.

"I don't know what he wants with either of us yet, but I'm going to find out," I think aloud. "But it's been five minutes. I have to go, Halima." She hugs me tightly, then moves to fix my crumpled dress. When she's done the pleats lie perfectly even and the bodice is centered and smooth.

"Be careful," I beg her, touching her cheek gently.

"You too, miss," she murmurs.

Then the door opens, and our time is spoiled by the guard offering me his arm.

"If I could walk myself to the gallows, I can walk myself to breakfast," I tell him coldly.

"You should be fine," he replies with a smirk. "Just don't listen to too many birdcalls. You never know when the path might end."

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OK- question time. What does everyone predict happening at this breakfast? What's going on here?