"It’s not the stab in the back that kills you! It’s when you turn around and see who’s holding the knife."
—Harley Quinn

I am the girl with the lion.

Everywhere I walked in public, people either gaped with their mouths open wide in disbelief or ran from me screaming in terror, holding on to their top hats and thrusting their decorative canes up in the air, or clutching their many ruffled skirts up past their knees (which only created a bigger scandal). I was known as The Girl With The Lion. It’s not the worst name to be called. I rather like knowing people fear me. It makes me feel protected. But it's a lonely life, not having friends or people who wish to be around you. But that's fine with me. I have Colby. My lion. My best friend. The best part about being a loner with a lion is that you don't have to buy food. Either we scavenge through baskets of unwanted discarded food behind the opera houses or behind the classy Lords and Ladies’ restaurants in the middle of town square, or Colby will go hunting and kill the unlucky birds and squirrels around our great property and among the trees of our deep forest. Then we take it back to our mansion on our overgrown estate, where I prepare it for our meals.

You see, my parents died when I was very young. They were eccentric people, always teaching me and my brother about nature, animals, plants, how to garden, and natural stuff like that. We lived in a grand mansion inherited by generations of family. Before meeting Mother, Father was originally a lion tamer for the scandalous circus but was forced to give it up when he asked Mother to marry him. It was her father’s condition to the marriage. So Father left the circus—but brought along a couple of lions. I was told that at my parents' wedding, the ring bearer and flower girl were the two lions. I was also told that Grandfather had a heart attack when he saw them walking down the aisle (a few days later, he died). Their wedding feast went well, though it only consisted of a few of Mother’s old friends (who were equally terrified of the “beasts”). And of course, Father invited his old circus friends because they were the only family he had ever known.

Soon after, Mother birthed my brother Thomas. Years passed before I was brought into their life. Thomas had already turned eight. Nonetheless, we got along fine. My brother was the only one who called me by my full name, Celyia Jade Mcarther. Never once did he just call me Celyia like my parents did. When Thomas was fifteen and I was still only seven, our parents died of fever, leaving me and Thomas to live out our lives on our own. And we did for a while. We had the money our parents left us and our house, so we made it out fine. We took care of the lions, who soon had their own child, who I named Colby. But soon Thomas grew up and got tired of the life we lived. All boys crave adventure, and that is what Thomas wanted: the adventure of society fun, the adventure of friends other than lions and a young sister. And not to forget the adventure of a wife and his own family. So when he was twenty-two and I was fourteen, he left to go seek what he wanted so badly. He would write to me often about the fun of society and the women he met. But I still felt the sting of betrayal. He left me, and that's all there is to it. But it was fine: I had my lions.

Until I didn't. Colby’s parents soon died after Thomas left, and so it was just me and Colby, both orphans, both abandoned.

We normally stuck to our own property, besides the times when I wanted bread to go with my soup or when I desired to see other human beings, which was a rare feeling. It normally comes after thinking about the fun my brother was having. He sent me a letter earlier that morning by post. We liked it when the postman came: it meant entertainment and fun. Colby would growl and jump all over, trying to make the postman scared silly, and it worked. I would laugh and cheer watching the show until finally, the postman would drop his delivery and run from us as fast as he could.

This morning, after retrieving my brother’s letter from the mossy ground, we read it. My brother told us of his adventures: parties, stuck-up noblemen, gossiping ladies, and two people of any real interest. The first was a gentleman named Corter. Thomas wrote much about him and about their many discussions. He told me they even struck some type of deal, though he didn’t elaborate on it. Thomas did, however, say that if the deal was kept, then he would be granted the opportunity of power and respect, of which he was excited. The second person of interest was a woman. He wrote very fondly of her, describing her with detailed love. At the end of his letter, he told me to come visit him. He said he missed me and that he wished to introduce me to his newly engaged fiancée. He gave me a date and a meeting place.

As I read his letter out loud to Colby, I became increasingly excited. In all the letters I had received from my brother, never once had he suggested a visit. In all the times I had gone into the bustling, stuck-up noble city of the Lords and Ladies, I never once had I run into my brother, though maybe that was because everyone we encountered seemed to run away from us. Except for the authorities, who were called to come kill the “raging beast of a lion” (a totally absurd description of Colby considering he never “raged” as they say and is quite content staying by my side). Still, though, we managed to escape the ruckus of police. We might’ve committed a few crimes but only in self-defense. And it was entirely that one policeman’s fault who was stupid enough to try and attack Colby’s muzzle. His sword had sliced into Colby’s snout, making him rear back and roar, opening his mouth wide to scream and then in anger clamping his jaws down on the officer.

Completely the stupid man’s fault. He should've known better. Though of course, society and the court didn't see it that way. So now we had to be EXTRA careful when going into the hustle and bustle. I had considered for a moment whether or not to bring Colby with me whenever I was to go into the thick of the city. But I quickly reminded myself as a young lady myself without a protector I would be as good as dead. And since Thomas had not discouraged me from bringing Colby along with me to visit him (in fact, he had hoped I would bring him), I would gladly do so. I thought it was a nice change of pace from Thomas’ past warnings in his other letters about how I SHOULDN'T bring a lion into the society world. He had made it clear to me that he thought lions should only be used in circuses and not as pets. Which had caused me great pain hearing that from him. Felt as if he betrayed me again…but maybe now he was trying to make up for it by specifically asking me to bring Colby to our meeting place on the day after the first of the month of April (tomorrow) at the city’s great tower clock at precisely 4 o’clock in the morning before all the gents and their ladies go to work or society fun.

I couldn’t wait.

~

I am the Gentleman with a sister who’s best friend is a lion.

The streets below me were filled with twirling ruffled dresses, top hats, and decorative canes. The world's amazing society bustled about in the streets as they made their way to the opera house. I was on my way to said opera but was running a tad behind schedule. First, I had forgotten where I last placed my gloves. Second, I needed to re-polish my shoes. Lastly, I still needed to meet the woman I am courting at her own apartment. Today was the day I was to ask her for her hand in marriage. I was a nervous wreck on the inside, but on the outside, I was calm and composed as I made my way out the door while buttoning up my decorative blue velvet vest. But the nervousness about the proposal was clouding my mind, making me forget tiny details.

I arrived at her door. Hoping my sweaty hands wouldn't be noticeable to her, I knocked on her apartment door after making my way up the narrow stairs. My love opened the door only two seconds later. Dressed in a peach gown rimmed at the seams with pearls all around the hem of the ball gown and all up the front of the corset. The white silk sleeves were off her shoulders, elegantly dressing herself in an angel-like manner. Brownish-red ringlets cascaded down her back, weaved together in an intricate braid.

My heart stopped just a few seconds at the sight of her.

“Ah, Thomas, are you ready to go?” “Yes, I am. But goodness, Isabell Fay, you're so stunningly gorgeous today!”

“Ah, Thomas, are you ready to go?”
“Yes, I am. But goodness, Isabell Fay, you're so stunningly gorgeous today!” I said, taking in a breath.

She laughed slightly and told me I looked fine myself as she looped her arm through mine. I felt underdressed at the sight of her and very much not “fine,” as she had said. I had groomed my black hair back in a swooping style, wore my favorite vest over my crisp white button-down shirt, and paired it with my best black pants and the jacket I now wore with a white lapel. I had even polished my shoes. Even though I would fit in nicely with the Opera House crowd, I still felt diminished compared to Isabel Fay.

It felt as if I were that 22-year-old kid just coming into society after spending all his life out of the world, cooped up with a little sister and a lion, wearing my father’s old wedding suit. I felt mildly childish and unhandsome, as well as uneducated. But thanks to a few kind people who took me under their wing, I was able to observe how the world worked and learn the ways of society. The key was power and respect—something I was rapidly gaining amongst the high places, though I wasn’t quite there yet. If I were honest with myself, it was because of my sister. Celyia Jade would occasionally make an appearance in town with Colby, her pet lion—who I once also considered a friend back when I lived with them—but now I see how childish that notion was. A lion is a beast, and beasts belong in the circus or dead in the ground. Since everyone had heard of the strange ways of my family, the McArthers, and knew that I belonged to that family, they all looked to me when my sister caused an uproar amongst the people.

I shuddered when I remembered the news article about Colby eating a police officer who had bravely tried to put down the beast. I feared for my sister. Would she one day be eaten? I wrote to her many times, trying to persuade her to stop bringing her beast into society, and after the incident, I pleaded with her to turn Colby over to the authorities at once. She never listened. Her actual response to my pleas was to visit the hustle and bustle of the city streets with Colby. Every time the lords and ladies read about it in the paper, heard it from friends, or even witnessed the scandal themselves, they would come running to me, telling me I needed to control my sister and take matters into my own hands. I thought many times of doing this but hoped Celyia Jade would see for herself what she needed to do and what was best. I was getting the feeling she wouldn’t and that sooner or later, I would have to step in.

After a quick walk, we were soon inside the amazing theater and seated on the second-floor balcony overlooking the proceedings of the opera. Isabel Fay and I were merely watching the singers and actors below and chatting lightly to each other when a gentleman came and sat down in the plush seat next to me. He tipped his hat toward Isabel Fay and looked at me intently.

“Fine show?” he asked.
“Yes, it has been quite pleasant,” I replied, turning to say something about the man singing on stage to Isabel Fay when the man claimed my attention again.

“I’m sorry, my name is Corter. I belong to a group inside the government that keeps the chaos of gossip under control,” he said, with a slight hesitation and a deliberate grin. I got the feeling this was a nice way of describing his group—and maybe not the full reason. I nodded to suggest he should continue and that I understood.

“Now, I have heard the gossip that hangs around your family name like a thunderstorm. You, Mr. McArther, must feel the effects of this, yes?” I nodded once more, aware that Isabel Fay was now intently watching us. The man continued.

“Of course, you have felt the damage of gossip to the McArther name. A young gentleman like yourself, I’m sure, is in the mindset of gaining power amongst the people, to gain respect in society. But this all must be hard for you—especially with all the problems your sister has caused. The government wants to put her with the people now that she is of age. She needs to forgo her childish ways, dispel that beast, and get married into a proper household that will be able to take care of her and show her the ways of the world. I have been told, though, that you stand against reigning in your sister, but what a foolish notion that must be for someone looking for power and respect. You must know letting your sister run rampant with a lion who makes a habit of eating people will not get you to the top of society, don’t you?”

This man was judging, but he was also right. Part of me wanted to defend Celyia Jade and Colby—after all, it was only one man that was killed. But I saw the man’s intelligent eyes, so full of wisdom. He demanded respect, and that was something I wished for. This man could help me achieve the power I wanted and the respect of the world I so desired. My heart and head stopped fighting at once. I knew what I had to do. I nodded at the gentleman, Corter.

“I agree, sir. My sister must be raised properly now and make up for lost years of education. She will soon learn that the people of the world can offer her a much better life than some wild beast.”

The man smiled in approval at my conviction.

“But my sister will not give up her beloved pet, and she will not come quietly with me. She enjoys her freedom too much.”

“That is why I have a plan, young McArther. And if you succeed and fulfill all expectations, then the world will have no choice but to think of you as a young genius hero. And from then, I can help you build your reputation higher, bringing you to the top of the food chain, seated nicely amongst the rich and respected. Power at your fingertips.”

His offer had me sitting up straighter in my seat. I looked at Isabel Fay intently, asking her silently if I should follow this man into his deal. I so badly wanted to, no matter what it took, but I wanted to know how my beloved felt about it first. She was, after all, going to be my wife…well, hopefully. Which reminded me—the opera would be over soon, and it would be time to go down on one knee. Isabel Fay, her eyes thoughtful and soaking up the information she had heard, nodded at me, smiling, and squeezed my hand reassuringly. She knew of my desire for power and respect and shared the same desires. She was with me on this. I turned my attention back to the man.

“What must be done?”

~

The opera went well, and to my relief, the engagement proposal afterwards did too. I was so excited and joyful at her exuberant response that I could hardly breathe. But now I have to be serious. It was a day after the opera, and I now sat in the study of the gentleman who offered me my wishes and a plan to straighten out my sister, Celyia Jade. Mr. Corter was showing me something of great interest, which I was sworn to secrecy about. What I looked at now was something magical: a glimmering sword, beautifully decorated. And when I said magical, I really meant it. This sword showed a few seconds into the future! You could peer into the flat, metallic side, and it would show your opponent's next move, giving you the knowledge to easily deflect or counteract it, ensuring the advantage in any battle.

Corter explained that a few magic swords were created and that all of them were kept under secure watch by society’s top Power Lords, all of whom were part of Corter’s government group. Corter walked me through his plan to still the gossip clouding the Mcarther name—my name, my sister’s name. This was his job and soon to be mine, if I got this bargain right and fulfilled it. Yes, that is correct: I, Thomas John Mcarther, son of a retired, now-deceased circus lion tamer, would be part of High Society, armed with the knowledge of secret weapons and the power to call upon them in times of need.

This was the plan for my sister: I was to write a letter to my sister, imploring her to visit me precisely at 4 o’clock beneath the great clock tower, before the hustle and bustle of Lords and their Ladies began. I would tell her to bring along Colby and that I missed both of them. I would be there waiting for her—and her beast—with my magic sword, whose formal title was Gifter. I would offer Celyia Jade a chance to come live with me. If she refused (which was to be expected), then I would insist that she at least come with me to my apartment for the day. As we began our stroll back to my residence, I would attack Colby—the beast—and kill it with Gifter.

Of course, Celyia Jade would be distraught and furious with me, which was why other members of Corter’s gossip-controlling group would quickly dispose of the lion and bring a carriage around to make it easier to take Celyia Jade back home with me to teach her the ways of society. Then, and only then, would the gossip cease, and praise would return to the Mcarther name, labeling me as a respectable gentleman. It would be worth it.

~

My brother’s reunion with me seemed a bit off. We met precisely at the time and place arranged, only to find him already waiting for us. In the two years he’d been gone, he had certainly grown and changed a lot. He certainly looked like a fine gentleman—his hair combed, his shoes polished, his vest and suit neatly worn. And there, at his hip, was what must have been a decorative sword for show. The air around it seemed to shimmer.

Thomas and I embraced, and he told me he wanted me to meet his fiancée, Isabel Fay. I agreed, and we made our way down the dark streets. Thomas seemed sweaty and stressed, his fingers constantly fidgeting with the hilt of his glittery sword. He spoke to me and asked questions, one of which was, “Would you like to stay in the city with me?” I declined politely, lifting my skirts as I stepped around a suspicious-looking puddle. He seemed truly saddened by my response. He then told me to walk a bit farther to where a carriage was parked, which we were going to take the rest of the way. I did so, thinking Colby was following me.

Suddenly, I heard a sword being drawn and a roar from behind me. I turned around, and to my horror, Thomas had cut deeply into Colby’s hide. Colby lashed out, trying to swipe at Thomas, but somehow my brother anticipated it. Instead of Colby landing his attack, Thomas—tears brimming in his eyes—took the opportunity to stab the exposed underside of my lion with his sword. Blood gushed onto the street. Colby’s eyes went dark, and I knew his life had drained from him, along with his blood.

I screamed and yelled, running to my lion and hugging him tightly. I peered up through tearful eyes at my brother, who was trembling and trying to hide his own tears as he dropped his weapon of death.

“What have you done, Thomas?!” I cried. It felt as if he had stabbed that sword into me.
“I... I’m so sorry, Celyia Jade. I... thought this was right. It must be…” he trailed off as seven other men emerged from the shadows.

They pried Colby’s corpse from my bloody hands. I tried to fight them, but they were far too strong. A wooden cart pulled up, attached to a clopping chestnut horse. The men quickly heaved Colby’s body into it, and within moments, it was retreating down the road. A few men stayed behind to clean up the mess. One of them retrieved the abandoned murder weapon from the ground and left, patting Thomas on the shoulder.

I stood, indignant and still crying, and threw myself at my brother, screaming and punching him. I don’t know how, but he managed to suppress whatever sadness and guilt he felt to pick me up and put me into the carriage. I tried to protest, kicking and yelling. My brother tried to calm me down, whispering comforting words as he cried silently next to me with his arm around my shoulder, telling me it was “for the best.” But all I felt was the weight of a murderer’s arm on me.

I felt cold. I felt anger and sadness. And I felt betrayed.

Thomas, my brother, had killed my lion—my best friend. It hit me: I am no longer the girl with the lion. I am simply Celyia Jade Mcarther, the girl who does not belong.