I took a breath as the memory faded. I steadied myself in front of the door I’d run out of all those years ago. This time I wouldn’t run away. I’d have to face whatever came.

I squared my shoulders and pushed into the room.

My father was standing in the same spot he’d been when I’d come there as a child, a finger’s width from where the tigers’ claws could reach.

“You dishonored me today.” He didn’t turn to look at me as I entered. He had his hands clasped behind his back.

“My apologies.” I lowered my head even though he wouldn’t see. I’d learned a long time ago that the only apology he accepted was one of complete and utter kowtowing.

“It’s not only the fight you should apologize for. I’ve gotten word the Desert Boys attacked, threw you into a well, and escaped.”

“They didn’t throw me into a well,” I countered, but he cut me off before I could go on.

“You didn’t end up in a well?” my father asked, turning to look at me and eyeing my still-damp hair.

“I did, but—”

“No. There are no excuses.” The vein in his temple throbbed as he stared me down. “How do you expect people to believe you qualified to rule when you cannot best a street urchin? He depleted a good portion of the well. We must show the people we are capable of protecting them, providing for them. If they do not look to us, they will look to someone else. Don’t let them look away.”

That was another favorite saying of my father’s when he was training me. He wanted my skills to be so great that no one would be able to look away when I fought. But it always felt like more than that, like it was also his way of training me to be queen, of passing his knowledge down to me so I knew how to rule.

“I understand,” I said, clenching my fists.

The closest tiger pulled at its chains. The other clawed the bars.

“I will do better. I will make you proud.”

“Will you?” His eyes drilled into me.

I moved closer to him, closer to the tigers. “I will win the last fight and prove I am strong enough to be your heir. The desert will choose me.”

“Are you so certain it will?”

I stepped back, mouth agape.

“If your rule is weak,” he continued, “that will negate mine. All history will remember is your weakness.”

I’d always known my strength reflected his, but I’d done everything he’d ever asked to prove I was worthy. I’d practiced every day since my mother died. I’d pricked myself with cacti spines to keep myself awake countless nights so that the Desert Boys wouldn’t catch me sleeping when they attacked again. I’d trained until my feet were blistered from the sand and my scalp burned in the noonday sun.

“If you do not have the strength to lead these people, I must provide them with someone who will.”