“Congratulations!” Number forty-four said. “I’m Joy. I’ve never seen you before, what troupe do you dance with?” She looked at me puzzled. “Ceres.” I stuck out my hand. “I belong to Alpha Osiris’ house. I rarely have the chance to leave the estate.” Being a slave is a strange thing to tell other people. I don’t belong to anyone. I’m not a thing to be possessed. I am though. Even if it shouldn’t be the case it is. So I say I belong to the house to make it seem less degrading. “You dance beautifully. I danced in group one so I was able to watch most of the performers. I already know them from dance class and private parties though.” She shrugged. “But you. YOU I don’t know,” she giggled. “Where did you learn to dance?”I thought back to watching the dancers of every fair and festival held in the pack perched on my fathers knee, or when I was older proudly sat beside him. A front row to all the most talented dancers, singers, and instrumentalists in the pack playing and dancing their h

We quickly make our way to the wood craft tent. Barn owls have an angelic heart-shaped white face. The males are more ghostly with white bellies and white feathers streaking their wings falling from brown feathered epaulets. The females are more striking with white faces framed in a coppery red feather. Dappled brown and red body with a white belly splattered with copper red and brown feathers. The barn owl had more of a shriek than a hoot, raspy and cutting, swooping silently in the dead of night. Their white bodies gliding like spirits and ghouls, swallowing their prey whole. Some believe that these owls are demons that swallow your soul. Hearing the owl screeching is an omen of your death. I like to think of them as beautiful nighttime creatures. Graceful but strong. Elusive and solitary. “Ceres!” Dmitry exclaimed, running towards us. “Where have you been? I expected that you would have been here much earlier.” He asks while tightly embracing me, his little arms tightly claspin

The man who has invaded my daydreams has just appeared. Riding a trotting horse, with a perfectly manicured mane. Each step precisely on beat with the drums. Trotting triumphantly up the pathway. I squint. “Why would a guard be riding on a horse in the parade?” I ask myself as much as I ask Dmitry and Mari. “What? No, that’s Prince Edward. I saw him when he stayed at the estate.” Mari responded confused by my mistake. “Prince?” I couldn’t even speak from my shock. His eyes snapped to me and met mine. His eyes are a piercing jade, cold and hard. His blue suit had the star constellations stitched into it with moons in all phases, sparkling silver. The blue so deep, I imagined only the deepest parts of the sea could be such a dark blue, devoid of light swallowed by darkness. I wanted to get lost in that darkness with him. “Uh yeah. You know the Crown Prince’s eldest son and declared heir. The King’s grandson.” Mari answered sarcastically. “He’s stunning right?” I stood there stunne

“Top Three will be announced. Those three are to go to the wing on stage left and the Prince will be announcing the order and giving the medals.” The old woman explained. “The medals will be given to the head of the house that submitted the dress, not the model; unless you are both the submitter and model.” She recited as if she had the rule book in front of her. “The three models to stay are,” she spoke clearly and sharply. You could feel the collective breath taken by the room in anticipation of the names being called. We all had our own reasons for being here, whether by choice or as a slave, but we all wanted to win.“House of Chairman Zhadnost, House of Beta Vtoroy, and House of Alpha Osiris.” She took a short breath. “The rest of you are free to go, thank you for the lovely submissions. Please go enjoy the feast.” She said attempting to minimize any disappointment. An uncomfortable smile settling on her face. I smile to hide my disappointment. I’m happy that my work is one of

I dare not take another sip of alcohol. I feel flushed. I can’t eat the fish on the plate. Each course has its own wine category. Second course is lamb and fresh vegetables. The wine pairing is red wine. It looks like blood with an earthy smell. I don’t think I like wine. “One time is enough then?” The Prince asks casually. “You cannot expect a slave to understand refined tastes or choices, your highness.” Luna Osiris quips. It stings. It’s like a hornet's sting. First you are surprised but not hurt. Then comes the deep intensifying burn that will not subside. “I find this wine with crow insignia to be quite lovely.” Alpha Osiris says with an air of sophistication. “Woody with a touch of smoke and juniper berry.” He muses. “I’ve seen plenty of slaves enjoy wine, Luna Osiris; some even a tad too much.” The Prince haughtily responds. I can tell Alpha Osiris is mind linking her. She forces a smile. “Yes, of course your highness.” She responds quietly. I enjoy her being pu