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As Summer gave way to autumn, I was on the training grounds.

I couldn't waste time.

The wooden dummy in front of me was riddled with cuts, frost gathering from the gaps like blood.

The chill of autumn lingered on like the leaves on the trees. It bit into my fingers like pins.

I wiped the sweat from my brow with the sleeve of my tunic, taking a moment to breathe in the cold air. My breath came out in puffs of white clouds.

I laid my sword against the wall of the tiny shed and brought my hands close to my mouth. My breath warmed my fingers, turning them red as blood rose to the surface.

I let my thoughts wander as my body cooled down.

This was the day where I would have to build myself into something impenetrable and sturdy.

No matter how much the people of the Duke's land cared for me, no matter how the knights bowed their heads to me, and no matter how Charles treated me with respect worthy of my position...I did not have the blood of the Sable's flowing through my vein.

I am not an imposter.

I'm something worse, an outsider who was given a golden cloak.

I knew it was silly but I couldn't help to think about how others would treat me once the second son the Sable family returned. Obviously, he'd be welcomed with a warm fire, sweet wine in his cup, and the finest things their coffers could offer.

He was a war hero and he had the favour of the emperor.

But what about me?

Would I be pushed to the side? Would I lose all the respect that I had gathered these past five years? Or would I simply be killed as Charles had said?

I groaned, pushing those useless thoughts out of my head.

It's been two weeks since that stupid letter arrived and I haven't known a proper night's sleep since.

I know family politics like I know the back of my hand, every clever trick and every cunning word is embedded in me. It was my greatest strength...and a thorn in my side.

Lord Stephan would be a formidable opponent. He's had years of experience on the battlefield and trained with the top generals of this nation. He was also good at using magic which just unsettled me more.

Not to mention, he's blood-related to the Duke.

It would only be a matter of time before our vassals swayed to his side based on that one fact alone as if all I'd done in the past five years meant nothing.

All the monster hunting, all the fighting, and all the well-needed finances meant nothing in the face of blood.

Nothing.

If I thought otherwise then I'd be naïve.

I picked up my necklace that was hanging on the post and slipped it over my head, tucking the blue stone underneath my sweaty shirt.

I felt better once I had it back on.

It was the only thing that I had been allowed to keep when I was on the island.

"My lady," Gwendol wrapped a blanket around me as I was lost in my thoughts. "Please go inside. I've prepared a hot bath."

"There's still time." I picked up my sword and tucked it underneath my arm. "There's lots of work to be done. I have to go and inspect the stables. The quartermaster said some of the horses need—"

"You may do that, Miss," she said. The stubborn maid started to push me towards the manor, her hands gripping my shoulders firmly. "After you've had a nice, hot bath. You must be—"

"—Dignified and noble," I finished. "An heir of House Sable must always be ready to present themselves."

She narrowed her brown eyes at me. "Do I hear snark in your tone, Miss?"

I snort, hiding my face away from her. "You know I'd never."

Gwendol was a full head shorter than me, her fingers smaller but nimble. She was a woman in her forties with brown eyes that had seen much in her lifetime.

Ever since I had come to Florentia Hall, she fussed over me regardless of how much I protested. It wasn't until much later that I learned that she had lost her daughter two winters ago and I stopped protesting, letting her dress me up as she pleased.

There was a time in my life that I used to love wearing fine dresses made of silk and taffeta. That was before the Great War...before I lost everything and everyone.

I still wear 'fine' things. My shirts are made of warm wool in the winter and soft cotton in the summer. My hair had ribbons although not as brightly coloured. My boots are of the finest leather but sturdy, able to be dirtied by mud and dust but never lose their shine. There was silver jewellery in my dresser, crafted by the mountain elves and adorned with tiny pink rubies.

I was the heir but not by blood. And despite all the wonderful things I was allowed to have, I felt as if I had stolen someone's skin and worn it like a comfortable winter coat.

Gwendol was right about one thing, I did need a hot bath. I closed my eyes and sank into the fragrant water.

She started to sneak lavender into my bath, especially on days when I work myself to the bone. There was no point stopping her. It was more for her satisfaction than it was for mine.

I left the tub once the water cooled, feeling a little refreshed.

At least I smelled better.

Today, I decided to wear a red tailored double-breasted red jacket with white pants and black riding boots made of dragon skin.

I had to play the part of the heir of Florentia with absolute perfection.

There could be no flaw in my appearance.

Gwendol picked out a pair of studded ruby earrings to wear.

"These?" She asked excitedly. "They'd look splendid on you."

"You have a good eye."

"Thank you, miss."

She pulled my ash-coloured hair back, showing off my cheekbones and my grey eyes.

The dark circles underneath my eyes persisted no matter how much I tried to sleep. I traced my finger over them, wondering if I should hide them or not.

I hated how pale I looked. It could be perceived that I wasn't well. My cheeks were devoid of colour no matter how many times I pinched them.

"Now don't you worry about the young master, my lady." She said picking up a pink ribbon and weaving through the thick braid. "He'll try to hurt you with words first but just let it pass. We'll make sure that he can't lay a finger on you."

"I don't blame him for the anger he will show me," I said, slipping on my soft kid gloves to cover up the scars on my right hand.

"Miss, you mustn't let him look down upon you." She said, holding my gloved hands. "Despite what the young master will say or do, you mustn't take it to heart. He doesn't know you as we do."

Her concern was touching but I still felt a tug of uncertainty in the pit of my stomach. I only knew how Lord Stephan looked as a child, now he was a man.

"I'm more worried about our Vassals."

She clicked her tongue. "If they choose His Lordship over you then they're a bunch of fools. If it wasn't because of you and His Grace, then they would be scraping dirt from their empty barrels."

Her words were supposed to be comforting but why did they feel like a bucket of ice water poured over my head?

When I came to Florentia, the people were starving and the villages were being raided by pirates on the coast and bandits from the forest.

I was very weak then, close to the brink of death. I was nothing more than skin and bones, wondering if I had made the right decision to follow Charles off that island.

Charles and I had spent days without sleep, gathering what little forces we had to fight back against them.

The villagers were the most vulnerable, starving and angry. They started to resent Charles.

It took us a whole two years till we drove back the pirates and bandits.

Then another year to establish a proper army and allow trade to flourish from our port towns.

With the help of our vassals, we were able to open the mines.

The ones who profited the most were the lords of Florentia who were more than happy to see their investments reimbursed. Now that their ships no longer sank and their fields no longer burned, what was there to complain about?

It turned out there was more than I thought. Now that we were no longer fighting pirates and bandits, they resorted to fighting each other.

It was clear to Charles and me what the Emperor was trying to do.  Florentia wasn't some mountainous backwater anymore.

Whoever had Florentia, had power in the north.

It was between Lord Stephan and me.

"Was he always like that?" I asked. "Maybe there's a good reason for him to turn out that way."

Our eyes met through the mirror and I could see how she was hesitant to answer. She let go of my hair, letting the braid fall over my shoulder.

I reached up, touching the ribbon.

"He used to be kind." She said softly.

"What happened?"

Gwendol patted my jacket down, making sure there were no wrinkles. Her deep brown eyes looked troubled and sad, I could see her getting lost in a sad memory.

"That's not my place to say." She finally said. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask His Grace for a proper answer."

I thought about the small boy in the painting with curious blue eyes. Those same blue eyes would be looking at me with hatred.

"I see," I got up. "Another secret to uncover."

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