The reaction that went through Marie-Fey almost took the wind out of her.

In an instant, she was back in that wretched village with its disgusting people who should have been wiped from the face of the goddamn earth.

She could feel the tear of her dress.

The fear and horror.

The strike of the whip along her back and the sound that was deafening as it tore through the air.

In a second, she thought she would lose every shred of reputation she'd built over the last couple of years as a panic attack rolled through her and her mind unhinged in fear.

Then Maanah was by her side, one hand at her back, looking at the whip in Zaafira's hand in confusion and the touch slammed Marie-Fey back to reality and shoved the past back where it belonged.

Her expression was schooled and devoid of interest by the time Zaafira's maids pointed her out.

Zaafira turned then gave Marie-Fey a dazzling smile.

"Oh good, you're here," she said.

"Well observed," Marie-Fey replied, gliding forwards without a care in the world, taking in the range with a bored gaze. "You've certainly been busy. Nothing better to amuse yourself with?"

"Oh, there's always something better than you," Zaafira said simply, examining the handle of her whip. "But I thought you and I might play a game."

She levelled a look in Marie-Fey's direction, and her smile turned nasty.

"I hear you have some talent with whips," she said.

Marie-Fey looked at her for a moment, then tilted her head to the side.

"Talent?" she copied, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, to be able to strike a man across the face takes some skill, I would assume?"

Marie-Fey just nodded at that.

It hadn't taken any skill.

It had taken a fear that was almost blinding and a lucky strike.

She didn't know how to wield a whip. Why on earth would she? She knew how to use a riding crop on horses and chose not to. That was is.

But more than that, only one person knew she'd struck a man with a whip.

She hadn't even told her ladies that story.

Her gaze slowly travelled over the faces in the crowd that was starting to build. She couldn't see Azeeza in the crowd at that moment but it didn't matter. She would deal with that later.

Right now she had to scramble for a way to avoid this competition.

If Zaafira was challenging her, there was a chance she actually knew how to control a whip. Marie-Fey couldn't guess why a palace girl – who'd been brought into the palace as a child – would ever have had cause to learn such a skill but that was irrelevant.

Marie-Fey would lose if she tried to compete.

She didn't trust her luck to hold this time around.

And she didn't want to hear the crack of a whip if she could avoid it.

So she levelled her blue gaze at Zaafira and smiled.

"Which little bird spread rumours about me?" she asked sweetly.

Zaafira smiled back. "Does it matter?"

"Colour me curious."

"I don't think it's relevant."

"I'm not interested in competing if I don't get something out of it. All you're asking me to do is destroy some lovely vases. All I want from you is the name."

Zaafira weighed that for a moment, then gestured to one of her maids.

The girl looked hesitant but clearly trusted Zaafira to protect her.

Marie-Fey smiled. "And who told you?"

"No one, My Lady," the girl replied with more haughtiness then Marie-Fey could forgive.

She glanced back at her ladies and Maanah raised an eyebrow at her – waiting for direction.

Marie-Fey looked back at the girl. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?" she asked again, her voice as soft and as kind as anyone had ever heard – and it sent a chill across the gardens like her anger never had.

"No one did," the girl repeated, though she didn't sound quite so confident.

Marie-Fey just nodded. "Alright, let's get on with this little competition. You – whatever your name is – go help Maanah collect the vases."

Maanah was by the girl's side in an instant, gripping her arm and dragging her onto the range.

"What are you doing?" Zaafira asked coolly.

"Just adapting things a little," Marie-Fey said simply, looking around, "Where's my whip?"

Someone appeared at her side with a golden handled whip and Marie-Fey felt a sickness wash over her.

She was almost surprised to see how steady her fingers were as she reached out and took the weapon.

She turned away and watched as Maanah collected one vase and the girl collected the other.

But when the girl started to make her way to back to Zaafira, Maanah caught her again and took the vase away, motioning for her to stay before stepping off the range with both vases in her arms.

Bless Maanah for being so in sync with Marie-Fey sometimes.

The girl, left in the middle of the range, started to lose colour in her already-pale skin and Zaafira turned sharply to Marie-Fey.

"What is this?" she snapped.

Marie-Fey was absently examining the handle of her whip to make sure all was well.

"Hmm?" she mused, then flicked a disinterested look at the girl. "Oh, she's going to be the target."

The girl started to openly panic and Maanah hissed at her to be quiet.

Zaafira looked at Marie-Fey. "Certainly not, she's my servant," she said, her voice low and cold.

"I think my orders outweigh yours here, Zaafira," Marie-Fey said, smiling, "This girl is spreading rumours and tales and yet, apparently, no one told her such things. If she's just making things up on her own, about someone so much more important than her, such action should be punished. You'd do the same should someone start talking about you."

"But... but I didn't!" the girl cried, drowning out whatever Zaafira had been intending to say, "I didn't start it!"

"No?" Marie-Fey said in mock surprise, "Then all you need do tell me who told you. I don't want to hurt you, dear. If you tell me the truth, you can walk off the range."

The girl scrambled forwards and Marie-Fey pointed the whip handle at her.

"Ah ah, I did not say you could move," she said, "Step back or I will have you tied down.

"Inaya!" the girl screamed, "Inaya told me!"

A choked gasp of horror rose form the crowd and Marie-Fey smiled.

"Inayaaaaa," she sang lightly as the crowd parted to reveal a seventeen-year-old who looked part way between murder and terror. "Why don't you join us?"

"I didn't tell her!" Inaya shrieked.

"My, my, so someone's lying to me," Marie-Fey sighed, tapping the whip handle against her shoulder. Then she brightened. "I guess I'll just have to use both of you. That's a target each. Isn't that delightful, Zaafira?"

Zaafira was just watching her. She was trying to judge if Marie-Fey was bluffing.

"It was Majeeda!" Inaya cried, "She told me! She said she heard it from Saba!"

"My! Two in one, we're getting better ladies!" Marie-Fey cheered, clapping her hands. "And where is Saba?"

"It was Yumn!" Saba cried as she was shoved to the front of the crowd. "She told me!"

"What?" Yumn cried, her face going pale.

"Now, Saba," Marie-Fey with mock disappointment, "You're not friends with Yumn, you two can't stand talking to each other. Why would she tell you anything?"

Saba looked startled and Marie-Fey chuckled.

"You think because I don't associate with any of you second-hand excuses for women that I don't know every single group within that building?" Marie-Fey asked slowly, her smile cold as icy eyes swept the crowd, "I know every ally, every rival, every petty squabble and bought alliance. I know a lot more about the workings of this palace than most of you are smart enough to realise. I don't have to understand you to avoid ignorance. What I don't know, is who started spreading rumours about me. Saba. I will ask you again. Who told you? I am losing my patience now. Are you willing to risk scars to protect a friend?"

Saba didn't say anything. She was shaking.

Marie-Fey watched her, eyeing the war going on behind her eyes.

She didn't want to be hurt. Why would she? Saba screamed the palace down when she tore a nail, she wouldn't risk anything permanent.

Marie-Fey ran through the catalogue in her mind to bring forth the names and personalities of her friends.

She was one of a group of four girls.

Two of those girls were lesser in the ranks. Saba wasn't above throwing them under the carriage to protect herself. She could bully them back into submission.

Which left the leader of the group and Marie-Fey knew Saba was scared of that girl. If Saba gave up her name, the repercussions could be worse than the whip – at least in Saba's mind.

"Taroob," Marie-Fey said, smiling as she found the girl two people over.

Taroob stared at her, then turned a furious glare on Saba.

"I'd wipe that glare off your ugly face, Taroob," Marie-Fey said, "Saba didn't say anything, as everyone hear can attest to. If I hear you hurt her because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, I will have you left out in the desert for three days before anyone bothers to try and find you. Look at me, Taroob!"

Taroob jumped and looked back at Marie-Fey.

"That's another matter, of course. To the question at hand, who told you?"

"Rafa," Taroob muttered bitterly.

Maire-Fey let out a silent sigh as she waited for the crowd to shove Rafa forward. This had spread to so many people so damn fast.

She hated court gossip.

She was rarely the subject of it. That honour fell more often to Constantine and he thrived on making people whisper and question.

She did not.

Rafa was currently arguing with Maisa, their voices rising as Rafa demanded Maisa take responsibility and Maisa started crying.

"This is how I'm wasting my morning," she muttered, rolling her eyes to the blue skies, "When I could be wasting it avoiding people."

By now two more girls had been outed and Marie-Fey was debating on how much trouble it was worth punishing the lot of them when Janaan said something that caught her attention again.

"I read it in a letter."

Marie-Fey snapped her gaze down again, looking at her.

Janaan was the worst gossip in the palace and she held no particular loyalty to anyone, but she wasn't the malicious type. She also couldn't lie to save her life. If she said someone gave her a letter, someone gave her a letter.

Marie-Fey raised an eyebrow at her.

Janaan gave her such an earnest look, like it hadn't even occurred to her that she could be setting herself up to take the blame when there was no one left to pass the blame onto.

"A letter?" Marie-Fey repeated coolly.

"I still have it if you'd like to see it," Janaan said.

"I certainly would, bring it to one of my ladies by lunch."

Janaan nodded and Marie-Fey absently tapped the handle of her whip against her jaw for a moment before turning.

Her gaze flicked to her ladies, noted that Gharam had vanished, then looked at Zaafira.

She smiled brightly. "What chaos you've caused," she said, delightedly, "All the friendships and alliances you've disrupted because you listened to a silly little rumour."

"And you couldn't leave things be?" Zaafira asked coldly, "The rumour didn't say anything negative."

"A rumour is a rumour. Gossip is gossip," Marie-Fey said with a dismissive shrug. "I dislike lies being spread about me."

"The palace ladies gossip about you all the time."

"And what do they say? They say I'm cruel. They say I'm different. They say I'm arrogant. I'm not seeing the lie. So, we're done here."

"We haven't had our competition," Zaafira snapped.

Marie-Fey let out a trill of laughter. "Of course we have," she said, as she held out her whip. "You don't care about what the competition is. You just want me to stand lower than you before an audience. We were competing to best each other."

Her grin turned cold and arrogant.

"And I just bested you," she said, dropping the whip to the ground and spinning away, her gown flaring around her legs as she walked away, reaching for her fan she knew Maanah was carrying.

The sound of a whip splitting the air in two almost tore a scream of Marie-Fey's throat. Her hand flashed out and grabbed Maanah's wrist, holding it in a death grip to ground her as she felt the blood drain from her face.

Maanah stared at her, shocked but Marie-Fey didn't see it.

She was breathing too hard. Her heart was thundering.

She was forcing her feet to stay still.

She couldn't run away this time.

She wasn't in danger.

Zaafira hadn't struck her. She had just released her anger by striking the whip.

She hadn't hurt her.

No one was going to hurt her.

Not in public.

That man wasn't here.

No man was going to hurt her here.

She could feel tears blurring her vision as she stared at Maanah without seeing her.

Maanah gently overlaid Marie-Fey's death grip with her free hand.

"I'm here," she said softly and Marie-Fey wrenched her hand free, straightening her shoulders, her tears drying.

"Face?" she hissed at Maanah.

"Clear," Maanah replied and Marie-Fey turned on Zaafira.

Zaafira tensed.

"Did you dare just strike that whip in my direction?" Marie-Fey spat.

"You should play along," Zaafira hissed back.

"I should have dealt with you a long time ago," Marie-Fey shot back, striding towards her, pushing up the sleeve of her gown, "You still don't seem to know your place. If words haven't got through to you all this time, maybe I should just beat the defiance out of you."

"You wouldn't dare," Zaafira snarled, storming forward to meet her, wrenching her whip back towards her, twisting her wrist.

She was going to aim for Marie-Fey this time and Marie-Fey wasn't sure what she was going to do.

She could practically hear her elder sister's voice in her head screaming at her to not rise a fist. Ladies did not strike out.

She could also hear Constantine placing bets with their brothers on how many hits it would take to bring Zaafira to her knees.

Zaafira's whip cracked against her dress and Marie-Fey stopped dead.

She slowly looked down.

The edge of her skirt was torn.

Zaafira had hit her.

She had torn her dress.

She slowly looked back up.

Zaafira's face had gone pale.

Either she hadn't meant to hit her, or she had panicked enough that she had aimed without thinking.

But Marie-Fey wasn't seeing that.

She just stood frozen and she was trembling.

It was taking everything to keep herself standing.

She should have walked away the second she'd seen the whip.

She wasn't ready for this.

She wasn't better.

It didn't matter that she'd put thousands of miles between her and her past.

She wasn't better.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Zaafira jolted back, dropping the whip like it had set on fire as her eyes snapped to the side.

Zaydan's voice was confused and startled as he walked towards the range.

Everyone but Marie-Fey dropped into a curtsy, avoiding his gaze.

"Lady Fey?" Zaydan said, his footstep heading straight for her.

She forced herself to turn.

It was like toppling a statue.

Doable but with more effort than she should be forced to exert.

Zaydan stopped dead when he saw her expression.

She had no idea what her expression was.

And she didn't have the presence of mind to compose it.

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned his eyes on Zaafira.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"It was... we were just hosting a little competition," Zaafira said, her voice subdued but still defiant as she straightened.

Zaydan's eyes darted between the audience, the plinths, the dropped whips, Marie-Fey's torn gown.

"What did you do?" he asked, his voice a breath, his eyes returning to Zaafira. "Did you... did you attack the wife of your master? Your mistress?"

"I... she was going to—"

"Zaafira!" he cried, his eyes wide and she stopped.

He then looked at Marie-Fey.

"Lady Marie-Fey," he said and Marie-Fey blinked.

He approached her, his hands up, either to calm her or possibly to protect himself, Marie-Fey wasn't sure but she didn't let him say anything else.

She bodily shoved him out of her space and stormed away.

Gharam had appeared by Maanah's side, holding her arm tightly but reached for Marie-Fey as she neared but Maanah pulled them both out of Marie-Fey's path.

"We're going," she spat at them, before stopping.

Her fear was gone.

Her tears hadn't fallen.

She no longer felt like she was going to crumple to the floor and cry.

She now only felt rage.

Rage that she had been force to endure her past again.

She wanted to hurt someone.

Anyone.

She wanted to rip someone's skin from their face to hear them scream and beg forgiveness and leave them scarred so they'd always remember how low they'd been bought by her hands.

She wanted to gouge someone's eyes from the skull or drive her heels into someone's gut to hear them choke.

She spun back to the crowd and pointed directly at Zaafira, and whatever everyone saw in her eyes made everyone recoil as one.

"You discipline that girl," she seethed, directing her words at Zaydan without looking at him, "Or I will kill her myself. I have tolerated these insignificant imbeciles snapping at my heels for two years. I have been patient with them. The next person who rises my temper will not last the night. I do not make empty threats. I dare any one of you to test me."

And with that, she spun away and left, her ladies following, everyone else left to face Zaydan who was staring after her.