The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, singed flesh, and sweet yeast from the sparkling wine. Members of the emperor’s court filled the room with polite laughter and snide comments. Their brightly coloured silk robes in stark contrast to the plain black cotton of the soon-to-be-initiated. Five years of training and the biggest gamble of Gwen’s life were about to play out. There was no way to know whether tonight would mark her final revenge, or a lifetime of abject slavery.
One by one, the black-robed initiates were allocated their fate—puppeteer or puppet. All sworn to dedicate themselves solely to the emperor’s entertainment. At last, only the two of them were left. Of course, it had come down to this. The whole city knew the story of Gwen’s family’s fall from grace. How it had been carefully orchestrated by the parents of Belle, who stood by her side dressed in the same black robes. No-one had been able to prove it, though. Until now.
The shame of that day years before had driven Gwen’s mother to take her own life. Gwen had been sold to the emperor’s private puppet theatre to cover the family’s debt. Not like Belle. Belle had volunteered for the honour. She had been certain that her family’s favour would see her initiated as a puppeteer; certain Gwen’s life as a puppet would be one more chance to twist the knife into her family’s back.
Gwen bowed low as the emperor approached. She searched his face for any sign that he had read the evidence she’d given him at their private audience last night; any sign that her machinations would see her through. He gave nothing away. His face so still that not one of his thirteen dangling earrings swayed.
In his hands, he held the puppet-master brand. The smell of singed skin was stronger now, and the brand only just hot enough for one last use. Puppets were marked in other ways. Gwen saw Belle look over at her and smirk. They both dropped to their knees in unison and shut their eyes to await their initiation as tradition dictated.
Gwen drew in a shaking breath, and then another. The gasp of the crowd sounded seconds before burning pain seared down her cheek. Her tearful eyes flew open as the brand drew away, leaving her face scarred from temple to chin. Her heart soared in grim vengeance. She had won. Belle’s ragged sob sounded from next to her as strong arms held her down.
“No! You can’t do this to me!”
Belle’s cries grew louder with each steel ring that pierced her arms and legs to hold the marionette strings. Her screams twisted with those of her watching mother in strange harmony as they dug the eyes from her skull and pressed in cold glass spheres. The gasps of the crowd turned to stunned silence as they processed what had happened.
Gwen looked down at Belle’s face. She could just make out the single green button suspended in each glass eyeball before her eyelids swelled closed over them.
“Why?” Belle’s father groaned from the spot where he had collapsed on the floor nearby.
The emperor smiled. “Their lives are mine alone to play with.”