Priscilla and Leandro got out of the carriage in front of the majestic amphitheater. The imposing and noisy structure was already vibrating with the energy of the crowd preparing for the show. They walked together towards the interior, where the voices and echoes of the arena filled the space with a constant hubbub.

  —Well, tell me all about yesterday, I'm still a bit confused. —said Leandro with a laugh as he adjusted his cape. —Don't worry, I'm not going to tell on you.

  Priscilla smiled back at him, somewhat relieved.

  —It's a relief to hear that. —she replied, relaxing a little. —Look, it's not well regarded here for a woman to practice fencing, but it always caught my attention. So I go secretly to practice with an old friend of mine's. He doesn't know I'm the princess; to him, I'm just 'Laurent'.

  Leandro raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the story.

  —Did he really never suspect anything? — he asked as they walked towards their seats.

  —No, never. I'm very careful. —Priscilla laughed slightly. —Coral, my maid, along with Lionel, the coachman, and Mitchell, one of the guards, help me keep everything under control. They are very loyal people; they understand why I do it.

  Leandro nodded, impressed.

  —That's good. But do you really think your grandmother would react so badly if she found out?

  Priscilla sighed, looking towards the horizon of the sand before answering.

  —I don't think she'd be angry, but she'd make me stop. She doesn't want any risks that might affect the family's image, and here, appearances are everything. —

  Leandro shook his head, sharing the sentiment. —It's a shame, but I understand her concern. In any case, you must be careful.

  —I know. — Priscilla admitted, with a grateful smile.

  They arrived at their seats in a section reserved for royalty, with a perfect view of the arena. In front of them, the amphitheater was beginning to come to life. The gladiators made their entrance to the cheers of the audience, and the drums resonated like a call to battle.

  —I hope you don't find this too sadistic. — Priscilla said as she settled into her seat, looking at the arena with some curiosity.

  —Let's see if I can stomach it. — Leandro replied, watching intently.

  Both immersed themselves in the experience, ready to witness what promised to be a spectacle full of excitement and adrenaline.

  The amphitheater vibrated with the bustle of the crowd as the gladiators made their entrance. The two contenders, both imposing and battle-hardened, advanced towards the center of the arena. One carried a heavy shield and a short sword, while the other wielded a spear and a trident. Their footsteps echoed across the arena, and the tension was palpable.

  Priscilla watched with fascination from her seat, resting her chin lightly on her hand. Although she was not a great admirer of violence, something about the skill of the gladiators held her captive. Leandro, sitting next to her, looked at her out of the corner of his eye, curious about her reaction.

  The combat began with a quick movement by the spear gladiator, who tried to catch his opponent with a frontal attack. The opponent skillfully blocked with his shield and counterattacked, managing to make his sword slightly cut the side of the spearman. The crowd roared with enthusiasm at the first accurate blow.

  —They are very agile. —Priscilla said in a low voice, more to herself than to Leandro.

  —And also very calculating. — he replied, watching how both combatants studied each other carefully before taking the next step.

  The combat intensified. Each strike, dodge, and block was executed with pinpoint accuracy, and the crowd responded with deafening cheers and applause. The gladiator with the trident managed to wound the other's arm, but his opponent, with a quick turn, disarmed the thrower, forcing him back.

  Finally, with a decisive thrust, the gladiator with the short sword managed to bring the other to his knees. The arena was filled with shouts of joy as the victor raised his sword in triumph. The loser, after a few moments of silence, bowed his head in surrender, and the battle came to an end.

  The winner, a man of imposing bearing and intense gaze, turned towards the royal box as the audience acclaimed his victory. With a confident step and without taking his eyes off the balcony, he advanced towards Priscilla. She watched him, bewildered, while Leandro frowned, wondering what his intention might be.

  When he reached them, the gladiator bowed respectfully, his eyes fixed on Priscilla's. He held out his hand to her. Priscilla, still surprised, hesitated for a moment, but finally placed her hand in his.

  With an unexpected elegance for someone who had just fought a battle, the gladiator brought Priscilla's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. The crowd, witnessing the gesture, broke out in cheers and laughter.

  —Thank you, my lady, for witnessing my victory. — he said in a deep but respectful voice before getting up and taking a few steps back.

  Priscilla, slightly blushing, could hardly reply as the gladiator walked away. Leandro watched the scene with amusement.

  —Well, sister. It seems you have admirers even among the gladiators.

  Priscilla could only smile, although her heart was beating fast at the unexpected encounter.

  —To be honest, in the kingdom men treat me like dirt, should I marry a gladiator? — Priscilla joked, as a mischievous smile played on her face.

  Leandro laughed out loud.

  —Don't rule it out so quickly, sister. It would be interesting to see your grandmother's face.

  They both laughed for a moment, relaxed after the intensity of the combat. However, the atmosphere changed when the trumpets announced the next show.

  —Now it looks like there's going to be an exhibition of deformed humans. They call them 'the humans the gods forgot.' — Priscilla said more seriously, as she watched the audience settle down expectantly.

  —I saw something similar in France. It's very common over there. — replied Leandro, shrugging his shoulders.

  Priscilla looked at him with narrowed eyes.

  —I think it's something worth appreciating or understanding, but here people make fun of it. It's horrible.

  —In France, they sometimes throw tomatoes at them. —said Leandro with a hint of bitterness.

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  —What? People are so insensitive! — exclaimed Priscilla, with obvious indignation.

  —I know, but that's how shows are. They feed both the curiosity and the cruelty of those who witness them.

  Priscilla sighed as she looked towards the arena, where the first participants were beginning to be introduced to the audience. She felt a mixture of curiosity and pity.

  —You know what? Maybe in another life I'd like to change these things. Do something different.

  —Sister, perhaps you can do it in this life. — said Leandro, looking at her with a knowing smile.

  Priscilla smiled back at him, but couldn't help thinking about how many things would have to change for that to be possible. Priscilla sat there thinking, what would it be like to be queen? She didn't have a clear answer. She knew she didn't want to be a heartless tyrant who let her people starve. She wanted justice for everyone, but beyond that ideal, her path as sovereign was still an enigma.

  The show in the amphitheater began, presenting the so-called “forgotten.” One by one, the people with deformities were brought to the center of the arena and lined up in a row to make way for the next “curiosity.”

  The expressions on Priscilla and Leandro's faces remained serious, almost imperturbable, but clearly displeased. Meanwhile, the rest of the audience laughed out loud at each presentation. The presenter, who made a habit of ridiculing the “forgotten” with denigrating comments, noticed Priscilla's disapproving look. However, he continued with his show.

  —One more round of applause, gentlemen! — he said enthusiastically, trying to cheer up the spectators.

  Priscilla tilted her head slightly towards one of the guards nearby and whispered:

  —Ask him to come closer.

  The guard gestured for the presenter to approach. The presenter, somewhat nervous, obeyed, bowing in front of the princess.

  —Miss, are you enjoying my exhibition? —he asked in a trembling voice.

  —Do you see me enjoying it? — Priscilla replied in a firm tone that froze the man.

  —No, miss… — he murmured, apologetically.

  —Then listen to me carefully. Put some decent clothes on these people. They may be different, but in the end, they are humans, like you and me. If you call them monsters, you should know that the real monster is you for treating them this way.

  The amphitheater fell completely silent. Priscilla's voice, strong and determined, echoed in every corner, silencing even the murmurs of the audience.

  —Immediately, dress them with dignity. And for the next few months, I expect to see a talent show, not a humiliation. This is totally pathetic.

  —But… but there is no talent in them or anyone, miss, I swear to you… — The presenter apologized, stammering.

  —Then teach them something. Make them jump, make them do maneuvers. Is that so hard?

  —No, miss… — he replied, head bowed.

  —Good. Do it. And listen to me carefully: if I hear again that you denigrate these people, I will have your head cut off.

  With a firm gesture, she indicated that he should leave. The presenter bowed once more and hurriedly left, visibly upset.

  Priscilla stood up and, looking at the audience, raised her voice with authority:

  —Does anyone else want to laugh?

  The question, pronounced with an almost divine intensity, left everyone frozen. No one replied.

  —Well. —she added, returning to her seat with dignity. —Let's move on to the auction.

  She sat down and let out a long sigh, reaching for her glass to drink some water.

  —You'll be a great queen one day. — Leandro said proudly, admiring her as never before.

  Maximo was sitting at his desk, pen between his fingers, staring at the empty sheet of paper in front of him. He had a strict, self-imposed rule: he had to write a poem every week, without exception. However, that week he seemed to be suffering from a creative block that was preventing him from moving forward.

  His mind wandered between ideas that never quite gelled, jumping from one thought to another without reaching anything concrete. Frustrated, the young man looked around and noticed the crumpled papers accumulating on the floor. If he carried on like this, he would soon fill his office with the remains of his failed attempts.

  Suddenly, a spark ignited his imagination. Without stopping to think too much, he began to write fluently, letting the words flow freely:

  —Your brave heart, that's what you are.

  “The ruby of your eyes, that's what I want.

  Your heart, that's what I aspire to.

  Your walk, that's what I admire.

  Your sighs, that you take from me. Your being is unforgivable for making me miserable.”

  His pen stopped. He read the poem several times and felt a twinge in his chest. Although he hadn't planned it, the words spoke to him of someone in particular. Priscilla.

  He stared at the paper, expressionless, but his mind was full of thoughts revolving around her. Finally, he made a decision: he carefully folded the paper, put it in a special place inside his desk, and on the outside, he wrote in delicate letters:

  Not knowing if he would ever dare to show it to her, he closed the drawer with a sigh, while his heart was still beating faster than he would have liked.

  Maximo put his pen down on the desk, satisfied. He had written his weekly poem, and this one in particular had made him especially happy. He decided to go down to the main hall, where he knew he would find his family.

  As he entered, he saw his siblings going about their usual activities. Oliver and another of his brothers were concentrating on their game of chess, while Rosette, one of his older sisters, was playing a soft melody on the piano.

  —Maximo, darling. —His mother greeted him with a warm smile from a corner where she was reviewing papers.

  —Mother, what are you doing? —He asked, approaching.

  —I'm trying to schedule an appointment with the seamstress for tomorrow. The real talents are in a month, and everyone needs new costumes. Besides, we need to decide which two talents each of us will exhibit.

  —Oh, I'd completely forgotten.

  —What are you going to do, brother? — asked Oliver, looking up from the chessboard.

  —I have no idea, it's taken me by surprise. What about you?

  —Chess and math. — Oliver replied calmly.

  —And the rest of you? I suppose you'll do the same as last year.

  —Mm-hm! —They all replied in unison, confirming their suspicions.

  Max rolled his eyes with amusement.

  —Well, Oliver, this year we'll do something different.

  —How boring they are. —His younger brother muttered from the chessboard.

  —I prefer a few well-honed talents to many half-baked ones. — Rosette commented from the piano, without stopping playing.

  —Mimimi. — Maximo teased, imitating his sister's solemn tone.

  —Maximo! —His mother reprimanded him with a frown, although she couldn't help smiling.

  The room was filled with laughter, the atmosphere light and familiar. It was one of those simple moments, where the weight of responsibilities was cast aside and only the warmth of being together remained.

  Priscilla and Leandro left the amphitheater. Once in the carriage, as they made their way through the cobbled streets, the conversation flowed naturally.

  —What was my father like with yours as a couple? —Priscilla asked, breaking the silence.

  —They loved each other very much. — Leandro replied with a nostalgic smile. — I always saw them looking at each other tenderly, as if the rest of the world didn't exist. They were excellent parents and a very close couple. — What about my father with your mother?

  Priscilla shrugged slightly, looking out of the window.

  —I don't remember much. —She admitted. —In fact, I hardly ever saw them together. My mother once told me that they were best friends, but I never understood why they got married.

  —That sounds complicated. — Leandro said, frowning.

  —I guess it was. — Priscilla sighed, resting her chin on her hand. — I always thought there was something else, something they never told me.

  Leandro nodded thoughtfully.

  —It's strange how the decisions of our elders affect us so much without us even knowing why they made them.

  The carriage advanced slowly along the cobbled streets, while the murmur of the people and the clattering of the wheels filled the silences between words.

  —That sounds strange. —Priscilla said, resting her chin on her hand, lost in thought. —Do you think they really loved each other?

  —I don't know. — Leandro replied, looking out the carriage window. — My mother never spoke of him fondly, but she didn't speak of him with resentment either. It was as if… they had simply fulfilled a duty.

  —Maybe that's why, because of a duty. —Said Priscilla, reflecting out loud. — Sometimes the decisions of kings are not about love, but about alliances.

  —And that, little sister, is what scares me about your future. —Said Leandro with a slightly worried tone, looking at her sideways. — What will you do if you are forced to marry someone you don't love?

  Priscilla was silent for a few seconds, looking at her hands.

  —I don't know, although I still have time. . . —She finally admitted.

  —I think I would do what I had to do for the kingdom, but. . . —She paused, searching for the words. —I don't want to end up like them. If I have to marry without love, at least I want to find some happiness in life, even if it's outside of marriage.

  Leandro nodded slowly, understanding the weight of those words.

  —You're stronger than you think. — he said with a small smile. — But I hope they don't take away your choice. You deserve that.

  Priscilla smiled back at him, although there was a shadow of sadness in her eyes.

  —Thank you, Leo. And you deserve to be happy too. Sometimes I feel like we've been put in lives we didn't ask for, but we're doing the best we can, aren't we?

  —Yes, that's what we're doing. — he replied, settling back into his seat in the carriage. — And even if we don't have all the answers now, I'm sure we'll find a way to make it all work out.

  The carriage shook slightly as it took a turn, but both remained silent for a moment, sharing a mutual understanding. In the end, beyond blood and differences, they were united by something stronger: the desire to find their own path in a world full of expectations.

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