Cold metal carved through the yielding membranes of the onion, a calming sensation. I repeated the motion until the onion was fully julienned. Then I began dicing it.

  Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

  The rhythmic thud of the kitchen knife hitting the cutting board reverberated up through my hands. It brought me reprieve from the thoughts that had tormented me after my sword form sheathed itself.

  Long was right.

  I know what is in my nature. The cold, dark void within me won’t change.

  If left alone, I would eventually destroy everything.

  But that was not what I wanted.

  I wanted to be selfish, to live a full life, and come to a peaceful, painless end.

  I wanted to savor the warmth of all those I held dear.

  And not to consume that warmth.

  “Can’t you understand that?” I whispered to myself, wiping tears from my eyes.

  Chef Borin rushed over to me. “My Lady, didn’t I tell you to slice quickly and breathe through your mouth?” He attempted to guide me away. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

  “It isn’t from the onions,” I assured him, as I scraped the diced onions and herbs into a skillet. Steam sizzled forth. “Please, look the other way. I like it here.”

  I poured the contents of the sizzling pan into the pot, and slowly stirred the bubbling soup.

  Chef Borin wiped his hand upon his apron. “You do make a damn good vegetable soup. The Duke kept sending me compliments on it. You sure you don’t want to tell him?” He gestured to my face. “Not much secret you’re here.”

  My distinctive blue hair was wrapped up in a headscarf, but that was more to keep it out of the work. The gash on my face was clearly visible.

  There was no point in disguising myself anymore.

  “I don’t want him knowing to taint the taste.”

  “It’ll make it taste even better to him. Trust me,” the large man assured me in his deep baritone voice.

  An older kitchen maid dropped off a pitcher of cream, and a saucer of butter on the counter. She paused mid-turn and swung back to me, shooting hesitantly glances back at Chef Borin.

  “Yes, Maude? Is there something you need?” I asked as I ladled the cream into the boiling pot.

  “My Lady…” She wrung the hem of her oil-stained sleeves. “I want to thank you for saving my Henry. He was one of the guards you gathered on your way to the courtyard. And you healed him with your song in the infirmary. He said you were an angel.”

  “That’s not really a song, Maude. But I’m glad he’s well.” I waved a hand over a red stone embedded in the oven, lowering the flames. After I placed a lid over the simmering soup, I turned to give her my full attention. “Give him my thanks for his service to our House, and my apologies for not arriving earlier.”

  She reached up to my face. The motion held no threat. And those gnarled and wrinkled fingers held such nostalgia for me that I leaned into her touch.

  “How dare they do this to our little mouse,” she bemoaned, her rough fingers feeling around the open wound.

  “Maude!” Chef Borin exclaimed.

  I shook my head at him, then I turned back to the old maid, speaking gently, “I’m used to it now, so there’s no need to be concerned.”

  “You couldn’t heal yourself?” She worried over me, her fingers still roaming over my cheek.

  “I cannot.”

  [The Voice of The Maiden] wasn’t for that, or else I wouldn’t have been as excited about [Drain Life]. I patted Maude’s arm, gently guiding her hand off my cheek.

  “And it isn’t that kind of wound.”

  She shook her head. “How could they ruin something so precious?”

  I was about to tell her that I wasn’t ruined, when another, squeakier voice piped up excitedly.

  “All of you should have seen her when The Duke brought her out of the burning building. The fire was raging, so we thought she was gone for sure. But then we saw her in his arms with embers in her hair. There was ash all over her, but when the wind blew…” The kitchen boy wheeled a cart over to the stove, apparently only catching the tail end of our conversation.

  My back was turned to him, so he droned on, blissfully unaware.

  His voice turned wistful. “It just swept right off. You could see her perfect, bare skin. All of it. Glowing white. Completely untouched by the fire.”

  “Jord!” Chef Borin cried out, even louder than before, shoving the young man away before he could say anything more.

  I was left standing there. My face burned at the thought of all those eyes staring at me as I was brought out of the flames.

  People saw Father carrying me out, and I was completely exposed?!

  I couldn’t lift my head to see what others in the kitchen thought. Luckily, Claire came to my rescue, retrieving me in preparation for dinner.

  “Jo, you can’t be seen working in the kitchen anymore,” She whispered to me as we walked down the hallway. “It would cause a scandal if people found out the object of both prince’s affection was forced to work in the kitchen.”

  “I’m not forced to work there.” My eyebrows knotted as I turned to her. “I just like being there, especially now that none of you would let me join in on your rounds anymore.”

  “That’s how they’ll perceive it. The rumors that you’ve been locked up and mistreated still haven’t died down yet.”

  “I don’t care what they say. I don’t care about the Princes either.”

  “But didn’t you promise the Second Prince that you’ll always be his?”

  My slippers clattered against each other; I stumbled, barely catching myself before I fell.

  She heard that?!

  “I… didn’t promise that… I only… assured him I was still his.” I stammered back at her as I quickened my pace. I needed to get out of the hallway as quickly as possible, in case anyone overheard us. “I’m betrothed to him after all.”

  “He was so happy when you said that. And the way he called you ‘the most beautiful’!” Claire somehow managed to clutch at her chest while keeping in lock step with me.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Claire, no. Not here.” I hissed over at her.

  “I think he was really worried about his brother. You should’ve seen the daggers he was staring at the Crown Prince when the two of you were talking. You two seemed awfully familiar with each other.”

  “That’s because he keeps forcing himself on me!”

  Claire pretended to gasp, covering her lips with one hand, though mischief danced in her eyes.

  “No, not in that way,” I groaned.

  That made Claire’s gaze sharpen into a hard edge. The mischief vanished. “How would you know what ‘that way’ even is? What did those boys tell you?”

  I was digging myself into an even deeper hole.

  We continued our conversation into my room, where Nelin and Miona awaited with a proper dress for dinner.

  Now that I was joining my family for dinners, both Beatrice and Mama insisted that I dress in clothing befitting of my status, usually something elaborate with a voluminous skirt.

  And usually something that took forever to put on as well.

  At least, I could talk with my girls during this.

  “If you really want to avoid princes, the offer to stay at my parents’ inns is still there,” Nellin said from behind me, pulling the laces tight on the back of my dress.

  It’d be nice if I could actually run away and hide.

  Then I’d gladly take Nellin’s offer if there was no danger to her, or even that dream of my little inn in the mountains.

  Alas, I can’t run from myself.

  “I just don’t think it’d be something that would work out in the future,” I murmured.

  “Remember that foreigner with Lady Leticia who approached Jo at the shop?” Miona casually commented as she twisted a ribbon around my hair.

  The others all answered affirmatively, while I went stiff. It felt like the fuse had been lit on a bomb.

  “I heard he’s actually a prince from The Dragon Realms. One that is in ‘The Line of Ascension’, they say.”

  Sharp inhales of breath came from all around me.

  “Jo has three princes after her?” Claire exclaimed to my dismay.

  Maybe the shopping trip was a big mistake.

  “I wish we could see the fireworks at the party you’re invited to,” Miona mused wistfully. “We have these nice dresses and nowhere to wear them to.”

  Fireworks? I don’t remember Leticia mentioning fireworks…

  “Why don’t we wear them to the Autumn Harvest Festival in our town? It isn’t as fancy, but I would rather be there.” The faces of the townspeople were certainly warmer than all the cold, masked crowds in the capital.

  “That’d be fun. But I get the feeling you’d steal all the attention, Jo,” Claire teased.

  —

  Like the dining room in our estate, the one in our capital residence had a similar-sized chandelier hanging over a long, dark-wood table. Both the yellow sheen of the crystal and the deep grain of the wood felt aged and timeless, just like back home.

  But the furnishings were different, leaning toward a modern, slick aesthetic. The chairs had glossy chrome finishes rather than carved oak, and the carpet featured complex geometric patterns instead of scenes of the hunt.

  My father sat at the head of the table with a carved bronze eagle perch over his high-back seat. He set down his spoon and waved for Chef Borin to come over. “Ah, this soup. I’m glad you brought it back, Chef. My compliments to you as usual.”

  The Chef approached Father’s seat, his large hands rubbing against each other. “I don’t deserve the compliment, Your Grace. I only had a small hand in its making.”

  “Of course, I’m sure you had help from the staff,” Father said, nodding absently as he reached for his wine.

  “No, My Lord. This soup was made by your daughter.”

  That jerked my attention toward them. I had totally forgotten about our conversation earlier.

  My father’s head drooped, his glasses were pointed down at the empty bowl before him. “Always?”

  The chef glanced at me apprehensively. “Yes, it’s always been her.”

  “I see.” He lifted his gaze to stare long and hard into my eyes. The weight of those wavering gray pupils behind his lenses hung heavy in the silence between us.

  Finally, he spoke, with his full attention still fixed on me. “Seconds please.”

  I pushed my seat back, the legs scraping against the ground as I stood up. Then I moved over to the soup cart and took over from Jord, who was whiplashing in confusion between Father and me.

  My father waited for me to finish ladling the soup, watching me the whole time.

  He finished his second helping as I returned to my seat. “It is good, Daughter.”

  I exhaled, my muscles relaxing. “Thank you, Father.”

  Ben, who had come back from the Academy to dine with us, nearly shot up from his seat. “That’s it?! Can’t you at least say what you liked about it. Like you did every other dish you rave about so much!”

  I reached over and patted his arm. “It’s alright, Brother. He already did.”

  “What?” Ben glanced around the table. “I don’t understand.”

  Elise, sitting opposite us, laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Ben. Those two are exactly alike. Stingy with their words, and wearing nothing on their sleeves.”

  As we started on our main dish, Father turned back to me. “I had a meeting today with His Majesty. And he made a personal request for your help with something.”

  A personal request from the King? There’s only one thing I could think of.

  But why would Anthony go to him? Hadn’t he already threatened me with revealing the ring?

  Unless… this is from his mother. Long had said this was part of their plan.

  “Is this about the new corrupted dungeon?”

  Father pushed up his glasses, frowning. “How did you know?”

  “Prince Anthony asked it of me.”

  “No! Father, you can’t allow this! You saw what the last dungeon did to her!” Ben protested in alarm.

  “It’s a personal request from the King.” Father repeated sharply.

  Ben slumped down in his seat, looking dejected.

  Father’s voice softened. “He was impressed by your work at Bloomsil. And would like your help at this new dungeon as well. I asked for some time since you were wounded, and he allowed for a reprieve, but he insisted that it be done within four years.”

  “He also offered the services of the Crown Prince and the Twin Stars, along with the support of the Church of Lumus.”

  “Fat lot of good Lumus did last time. His paladin just ran away.” Ben grumbled, stabbing his fork into his meat.

  “Ben, she saved the other members of my party. Like I asked her to.”

  “I’m coming too. I’ll have finished some combat courses by then,” Ben insisted.

  “No, it’s too dangerous. I can’t risk you getting hurt, Brother.”

  “And we can risk you?! You’re only five! You'll be at most ten by then!”

  “Please, brother. You know I’m different. I can take care of myself.” I rubbed at my forehead. “But I can’t function fully down there if I know you’re at risk.”

  “No! I can’t let you throw yourself into danger again.”

  Elise interrupted our back and forth with a question. “Leopold, why is this dungeon so important to his majesty?”

  “It’s the Kandlehar dungeon,” he answered grimly.

  Both Elise and Ben fell silent. “Oh…” they murmured in unison.

  I shot Ben a questioning glance.

  He sighed. “It’s a rare imprint dungeon for high-level Academy students. You can gain new skills and even a new subclass there.”

  “So its corruption blocks students from advancing?”

  “Depending on their focus, yes. It’s vital for many combat classes.”

  “I’d requested to go in her place, but was denied,” my father uttered, shaking his head. “Apparently, a couple of high level groups had already been wiped out inside. And a dungeon break isn’t an option. Not for that one.”

  He looked me directly in the eyes. “The prince, however, insisted you could do it. I begged the King to wait until you at least entered the Academy, but he was adamant."

  Wait until I enter the Academy…

  No, it wasn’t me entering the Academy that they were concerned about.

  They needed the dungeon to be cleared of corruption for the heroine!

  This dungeon was probably important in the game as well. The Heroine most likely needed to clear it to acquire the specific subclass or skill required to defeat me.

  They were asking me to pave the way to my own destruction.

  And they were pulling every string to make me do it, including using the King.

  But I would’ve done it regardless.

  I was a danger to everyone here, at this table, and in the servants’ quarters. I couldn’t risk hurting, much less destroying them.

  The Queen, though, wanted to make sure.

  As always, it seems that the Twin Stars are her hidden executioners.

  Elise’s voice broke through the haze of my thoughts.

  “Jo, I heard you had quite the run-in with Lady Leticia’s retinue earlier.” She dabbed a napkin at the corner of her red lips. “It sounded like you handled yourself well. Several apology letters were sent our way. Though, there are some rumors of you debasing yourself with the common help, which I warned you of.”

  She paused as a servant refilled her glass.

  “An invitation also arrived for you. It seems the Crown Prince will be turning eleven soon, and you’re invited to his party.”