FORM
YOU
name: Willow Sasha Rosenberg
age: 19
height: 5’8"
romantic attachments: none
YOUR CHARACTER
name: Lisha (it’s Arabic for Ôthe darkness before midnight)
age: not younger than 15, but no older than 24
height: taller. Like Cordy is now.
preferred physical enhancements: I want to be strong like Buffy and glamorous like Cordy
romantic attachments: I would like to have someone to loveÉ
is there any role you would like to fill in the Game?: I want to be key to something. Not necessarily
a big-I do-a-bunch-of-cool-stuff role, but I want people to want me.
END FORM
-
Chapter Three:
"See previous answer. Whatever."
Willow, now clad in veil, circlet, various necklaces, rings on every finger and on both of her big
toes, bracelets (fourteen thin silver bangles on her left hand, a thick silver band from wrist to
elbow on her right) and a complicated, extremely thin belly chain looped around her waist, escaped
from her manor and went for her walk.
Was all of this glamour really necessary? She felt like a dummy in a jewelry store. She also felt like
pickings for any robber, thief rogue or highwaymanÑor womanÑwho would chance to come
along. She’d felt exposed enough without the jewelry, but now...
Maybe it had been stupid to refuse the escort Aira had suggested.
She left the paved road and took a path through the woods. It was quiet and sun filtered down
between the leaves of the trees. Her headache was rapidly lessening in its stubborn extremity, and
she was enveloped by a lovely feeling of tranquility.
This feeling, of course, was interrupted when the highwaypeople she’d been fearing swept down
from behind the trees, knocked her unconscious, and dragged her off.
* * *
The Krisha and Krish of Ayrkris entered their throne room together.
The audience, of course, applauded. They were both extremely beautifulÑthe King in his dark red
ensembles, gold thread embroidering the hems, his handsome face content and strong arm around
his wife’s bare waist; the Queen beaming, flush against her husband’s side, splendid in her gold
pants and red shirt that matched her husband’s tunic.
They sat and nodded to their devoted subjects, and then the King gestured for his Prime Minister to
make the introductions.
Unseen by the adoring people, as their attention was now on the Prime Minister Gregor, King
Jordan leaned over to Queen Brenna and said, "They love me!"
Also unseen by the people, the Queen responded, "They love me, too." They were nose-to-nose.
The King raised an eyebrow and smiled. "They love you because I love you." Then, of course, it
was inevitable that they kiss.
But by then, the Prime Minister had finished with his highly boring speech, and the attention of the
people were on their monarchs again.
There was a round of laughter and whistling as even the dark-skinned King blushed, and then the
day began.
* * *
Faith awoke in a tiny room. It was about five feet wide and eight feet longÑlong enough for a soft
sleeping-mat, a trunk with all of her possessions, and a door to open and leave.
What had woken her was the persistent knocking on the aforementioned door. Faith got up and
opened it, coming face-to-face withÑTara.
"Oh," Tara said. She shuffled her feet, and then nodded her head. "I’m Gili, Prince Karl’s
personal assistant. Karl and Aaron are breakfasting, and Aaron wanted me to call you."
"Aa-Aaron?" Faith asked, pulling at the sash of her short cotton robe.
"The Count," Tara explained. "Get dressed and then come out." Faith nodded mutely and then
closed the door.
She’d agreed to this Game because it had seemed like a good idea, but now she had no clue what
to do.
She’d been shoved in the face with one of the people she’d hurt directly, and now she was going
off to meet more people. She was scared and cold and lonely, and what was worse was that she
was well aware of how well she deserved it.
Was this why she’d gotten out of jail early?
With a sigh, she untied her robe, letting it drop to the floor, and then opened her trunk. There were
piles of leggings and long shirts, the kind of thing Tara had been wearing. They were all in
different colors, and Faith finally settled on a dark blue, long-sleeved tunic and black leggings. She
brushed her hair while looking in the tiny mirror on the wall above her sleeping-mat and slid her
feet into the soft brown slippers by the door.
As a last thought, she folded her sleeping-robe and made her bed by folding the blanket at the foot,
and then she gathered up all of her courage to leave her tiny haven.
Tara was still standing outside the door, but she was leaning against the wall of the corridor,
staring up at the ceiling. She looked over when Faith opened the door and gave her a shaky half-
smile. "So, Deirdre, shall we go meet their Graces?"
On their way down the corridor, Faith said, without looking up, "I’m sorry."
Tara nodded but didn’t say anything.
The door to the Count’s breakfast room was opened, and Faith was able to see inside from a while
away. The comforting figure of Angel made the Game a lot less foreboding, and the abandoned
look on her face melted away.
Tara entered first. "Majesty, your Grace?"
They turned and Angel’s usually calm countenance held an expression of surprise for just a
moment as he took in the sight of Faith, but he nodded and gestured for them to sit. "Choclatl?"
They each took the proffered cup and sat, Tara relaxed, Faith on the edge of her seat.
Spike looked from Tara to Faith to Angel to Faith to Tara, and then decided the tension between the
three of them wasn’t worth worrying about. "Right," he said loudly, breaking the silence. "So,
Aaron, you planning on visiting Ayrkris anytime soon?"
Angel looked into his cup of choclatl as if the answers would be found in the melted chocolate at
the bottom. "Brenna wants me to. She keeps writing, saying while she has to see you every
month, she hasn’t seen me in quite a while."
Spike looked amused. "She put it that way? While she has to see me every month?"
"She says she likes Gili and she likes the reunions she, Gili and Lisha have, but you’re a huge pain
in the butt and barely worth the gossip."
Spike looked mildly irritated. "I think I’m well worth her bloody gossip!" Then he grinned. "You
like her, don’t you?"
"What?" Angel asked, alarmed. Cordelia, as well as being married, was his half-sister. As many of
the girls he knew would say, major yuck-factor.
"Not Brenna," Spike said, rolling his eyes. "The redhead. Lashay, or whatever her name is."
"Lisha," Tara, Angel and Faith all corrected him. "And no," Angel continued curtly, "I don’t."
Spike looked surprised. "Why not? Don’t everybody?" At the others’ skeptical looks, he
shrugged. "I mean, she’s nice. And she’s cute as all hell, not too short, and available, right?" Tara
looked ready to punch him. "Calm down, Gili," he said. "I’m not lookin’ at your lil’ sister for
anything."
Tara nodded but continued to glare at him.
Faith raised a timid hand. "What do I do?" The others all looked at her. "I mean, I know it’s
against the rules and stuff, but I have no clue who my character is or what she does."
Angel nodded. "Okay. You’re my personal assistant, kind of like TaraÑGiliÑis to Spike, or
Karl. You’re quiet."
"You’re my friend," Tara added. "I think I recommended you to Angel."
"There’s really not much else," Spike said.
Faith smiled a little sadly. "Thanks." <I guess I won’t get my request after all.>

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