《The Descendants》


 CHAPTER 1

    It was not an uncommon occurrence to find Ella deep in thought as of late. As she hurried along the dirt road leading to Bellmare, the largest town in Codshire, her features were screwed tightly, in remembrance of her dream the night before.


    See, it wasn''t uncommon for Ella to have strange dreams either. Most of the time, she could hardly remember them in detail, only being left with a vague impression of uncertainty, scraps of colours and blurry images. But in recent months, that had slowly started to change. The strange dreams became more and more frequent, and more vivid. Lately, she could even remember tangible details.


    Last night''s dream featured a collage of images: Burning castles, curling fire coming from colossal spires, the tangible scent of smoke and something putrid, so pungent that her eyes and nostrils stung. A chase through the woods, the feeling of someone hot on her heels, the slapping of branches on her legs and arms, cutting her as she ran, snapping twigs under her feet. Overwhelmingly, the permeating sense of fear.


    She''d woken sweat-drenched and shaking, with her heart leaping wildly beneath her ribs. What had not been a common occurrence were the lashes on her legs and arms¡ªjust like in her dream¡ªslashed by gnarled branches as she fled. But by the time she bathed and dressed, they had practically faded, so it was easy to tell herself that she had probably scratched herself while she tossed and turned in bed.


    Two male voices broke her from her reverie. Men clad in identical uniforms of blue-grey and brown, a burnt orange cap on their heads and heavy longswords at their hips.


    Guards.


    Ella resisted the urge to adjust the hood on her wool cloak, it was a gesture that might call their attention. Instead, she forced her posture into an unstructured stride, less poised than it actually was. She angled her face to the side, idly swinging a wicker basket on her arm with feigned casualness.


    To the common eye, she was a nameless woman wearing standard, non-flashy clothes and a basket full of parsnips. A villager woman like the rest, on her way to sell her produce at the weekly market fair. She tensed as the guards walked past her, but they didn''t acknowledge her. They never did. Although she''d never been caught, she was always invaded by the same adrenaline.


    It would be a good time to mention why she was sneaking about, hiding from the guards. These were guards that flanked the great ancestral home of House Blackwell, home of Lord Harrion, Duke of Codshire and ruler of the lands.


    And she was Ella Blackwell.


    According to Harrion Blackwell, a proper Lady had absolutely no business in town, unless she was required to attend an inauguration event¡ªperhaps the opening of a small library¡ªwhere she may wave a glove clad hand and smile wanly as they cut blue ribbons and the villagers clapped. But the rest of the time, a Lady must always remain in the Estate. She may stroll through the parklands with little pastel parasols and show visiting Ladies the beautiful and carefully tended rose gardens by the East wing; she might even enjoy a book by the artificial swan pond, bird watch or paint on the terrace. But there was no reason for her to leave the grounds, lest it was to travel to other courts. These were words ingrained into Ella since tender childhood by stern governesses, instructing her on proper high society etiquette.


    Said governess would have a fit if she knew what Ella was up to, what she did every day without fail. Old Miss Judith''s face with her pinched nose and her permanent look of haughty disapproval. She''d be scandalized into collapsing into a conveniently placed divan, dazedly calling for her smelling salts. The mere image made Ella snicker as Bellmare came into view, and she made her way into the hustle and bustle of town.


    Although it was early morning, the dirt streets were already beginning to fill. The weekly market was set up around the town''s square and the two main streets. Vendors were finishing up their stands, stocked with rabbit meats, in-season vegetables, some clothing, baubles and the odd little bags of common spices. Spices were a luxury not often purchased, even the most common ones, as most were imported and thus extremely costly.


    While Ella lived lavishly, she was not unaware that the people, her people, did not. That was evident in the dull, grey environment, the pot-holed dirt streets and the tatty clothes of most villagers. Duke Blackwell did not care about much other than the wealthy merchants, the bankers and the landed gentry. The rest were proverbial cash cows to be taxed to the high heavens and milked dry.


    Knowing the consequences it presented, and against all rational and sensible thought, she kept going back to Bellmare. She liked to drift through the crowd, to observe and listen to bits of conversation; mostly, she like being completely unnoticed, anonymous. It was refreshing to hear actual friendly, natural dialogue rather than the stilted exchanges between courtiers, with their thin-lipped smiles and stiff politeness.


    In Bellmare, old men complained about their lazy mules and the bad drizzle, squealing children played blind men''s bluff and adolescent girls tittered about the young men they liked and whether they''d be asked to dance at the autumn festivals. Certainly, it was a change of scene from hearing about the latest scandalous divorce or which viscount was rumoured to be secretly destitute and living above his means.


    Ella examined the stall full of fresh produce, racking her memory to see if she''d bought from the dark-haired woman behind the stand recently. Buying too often from the same vendors raised suspicion; as she made scant public appearances, it wasn''t likely anyone would recognize her from appearance alone, but she wasn''t a good enough actress to blend in with the villagers for long periods. Anyone with a moderate keen eye would realize rather quickly that she was a noblewoman, and it didn''t take a genius to tie two and two together. She shuddered to think of the punishment such disobedience would warrant for her. Pushing morose thoughts aside, she concentrated on the produce in front of her; she''d seen two young boys roaming about, all knobby knees and large, hungry eyes. The eldest was no older than her own younger sister.


    Her ruminations were interrupted by two heavy hands landing on her shoulders.


    "Miss, you can''t be here."


    With a barely contained squeal, she whirled around, coming face to face with a burly man clothed in a bluish-grey attire. Another guard.


    Instead of blanching or trying to bolt, Ella pointed an accusing finger into his shoulder. "Very funny," she jabbed her finger again. "You almost made me hit you!"


    "I''m positively shaking in my boots,'''' he said, making a show of holding his hands up. "That was the girliest shriek ever, Ella."


    "I am a girl."


    "I keep forgetting," he dodged her pinching fingers. "Come on, we''ve got practice. We have to work on your reflexes, you''re jumpier than a cat on hot bricks." This time, he did get pinched for his troubles.


    The man was no other than Cedric Hart, son of the Commander and her dear childhood friend with an unparalleled talent for annoying her. Her only friend, really, but those were details.


    With a high charge in the troops as second in command and a well-deserved reputation as a highly skilled soldier, Cedric was in line to eventually take his father''s place. As such, he''d received rigorous military training since he was no more than a child.


    Being the nosey and petulant girl she was, Ella had demanded¡ªwhined and huffed and stomped her foot¡ªthat he teach her as well, going as far as to bribe him with her plate of dessert for a month''s worth of grand parties and events. And because Cedric was a self-proclaimed magnanimousand generous friend, he''d accepted, only after enjoying her threats, bargaining and finally, grovelling. He was the only person who found her demanding attitude humorous rather than annoying or menacing; that was likely the reason they''d been best friends for the past twelve years, since she was seven and he was nine.


    Through a brutal training that mirrored the one he received from his own father, Cedric had thoroughly taught her the fine art of swordsmanship. He never once cared that Ella was a woman or a daughter of a ruler at that. He had no qualms about putting her through gruelling, hours-long practices and expecting high results. And high results she delivered. After many years of near-obsessive dedication, Ella had become just as sharp and dexterous as any soldier under Lord Hart''s command.


    That was the position they found themselves in at the moment, in the midst of a swording match. Cedric bore down on Ella with his sword raised. Ella circled and deftly sidestepped his movements, occasionally using her own sword to relocate his blows with seamless ease brought on by many matches perfecting that movement.


    "Keep up old fellow, you''re starting to go weak here!" she said between pants. Her lungs burned and her legs ached. This was her element.


    "Keep mouthing off, Blackwell, we''ll see where that gets you. Shoulders back!" he barked as he lunged again, making her retreat and almost lose balance.


    She managed to crouch and regain stance, using the opportunity to swipe at Cedric''s legs, lunge to the side and stand up. He jumped but couldn''t manage to avoid the blunt practice sword, losing his stance and a point against her. Seizing her opportunity, Ella sent him tumbling with a solid kick, she twisted her arms above her head and plunged, aiming towards his chest. Doing so, she exposed her abdomen and Cedric thrust the tip of his own sword towards her stomach.Stolen novel; please report.


    A tie, given that he''d scored a point on her earlier during the match. They stood there panting, with their swords still aimed at each other.


    "I told you to quit being so cocky, those big, fancy manoeuvres leave you exposed if you aren''t careful." He lifted himself off the ground with ease.


    "Oh, hush. You''re jealous because I manage to look graceful while you look like a sweaty swine," Ella said, stretching her sore calves. She plopped down on a nearby haystack with a groan.


    "I almost don''t want to compliment you, you big-headed moron. But nice parry. " Cedric lightly tossed her a flask, which she caught midair. "Though you should work on that horrible footwork of yours."


    A flat out lie, they both knew one of her best skill sets was her footwork, something he''d particularly trained her on, given the fact that it was his own area of expertise. In fact, it was not lost on either of them that often, she was a bit better at it than he was.


    During training, he was a strict instructor and a fiercely competitive sparring partner. Afterwards, he went back to being her obnoxious best friend.


    "Thank you, I learned from the best," said Ella with a teasing smile, between deep gulps of water that soothed her throat. Cedric gave her a light shove, and sprawled out next to her, pushing back his dark brown hair from his sweaty brow and tying it up into a small top bun. It was getting long. She made a note to tease him after she regained her breath.


    They were on the grounds of his farmhouse in the outskirts of town, laying on haystacks under the shade of a big apple tree. It had been their meeting spot for many years, as they could easily train and talk without gossiping ears.


    In their society, it would have been positively vulgar for an unmarried woman to be seen alone with a man. The rumour mill would have dissolved into a riot. No matter that they were friends since childhood, once Ella became older, they had to limit their public interactions to polite etiquette mandated distance and keep their actual meetings secret. Of course, everyone speculated, given how close they were, but if they''d been found together unaccompanied, it would have confirmed the rumours. A high society scandal, the Duke''s salacious daughter and the Commander''s rakehell of a son, one for the books no doubt.


    "Are you coming back to town with me?" She picked at the apple tree''s rough bark, considering if getting up to pick one from the heavy branches was worth leaving her comfortable spot in the sun.


    It was a mild day and though it was the first of September, a cool breeze ruffled their hot skin as the midday sun beat down brightly.


    "I''ll walk you back, but I can''t stay. We''ve got a meeting with the other Generals and seconds in command," he frowned, chewing on a piece of hay. "We''re supposed to meet in Pendergold borders, it''s the middle point for all of us."


    "Pendergold? Lord Barnabas is dining with us today. You remember, the party." It was difficult to keep the disappointment from her tone. This wasn''t going to be an easy day for her and she''d hoped he''d be there to help lighten her sour mood.


    "I''m sorry, Ella," he twisted his mouth to the side, his blue eyes guilt-filled. "They''ve called for the commanders and a good portion of the armies of all the lands to meet, it was an urgent, last moment notice so we didn''t really have time to¡ª"


    Searing pain in her palm made her yelp, cutting off his sentence. Hissing through her teeth, she snatched up her wounded hand. A sore marred her palm, caused by a black nail embedded into the tree, with its dark head poking out gruesomely.


    "What was that?" she said, frowning and staring at the ugly welt on her hand.


    "Rusty nails, I put them in recently. The tree wasn''t bearing apples and an old woman in town suggested putting in the nails, she said it helped trees grow fruit better," Cedric took her palm and examined the ugly blister already forming. "It must have heated up with the sun and burned you."


    "I thought you knew better than to buy into those old wive''s tales, Hart," she sniffed, despite the tree being heavy with fruit. Cedric had the decency to look sheepish.


    "Go on then," she impatiently motioned with her hands. "I want to hear about this meeting."


    A military reunion? That was interesting. What could possibly lead the entire Kingdom''s generals to meet up so hastily?


    Cedric shifted and leaned his back on the tree, careful to avoid any nails from his botanical experiment. His face scrunched up in apprehension and he scratched at the slight stubble on his chin. "There''s been talk about disruption in the forest line. There have been faerie sightings. More and more as of late." This made Ella perk up, eyes alert.


    Faerie sightings.


    Like all humans, she was endlessly curious about any tales involving the Fair Folk. The difference was that while almost everyone was afraid or disgusted, she was deeply fascinated. This wasn''t something she would have dared to say out loud. In the best of cases, she would have been regarded as one of those nutters besotted with tales of magic, willing to risk crossing the border for a taste of mythical treasures. More likely, Harrion would have had her head for showing even mild interest in the subject.


    Cedric continued, "There have also been farmers complaining of scorched crops, dead livestock and earth that stopped being fertile," he paused as if contemplating his words. "There''s been missing children as well. We don''t know if these events are all related, but they''re definitely strange occurrences worth discussing."


    Once upon a time, faeries, magical creatures and men lived side by side. Those had been dark ages, as men had little means to defend themselves other than iron and Rowan arrows, and often feared for their lives, having to ward off enormous creatures capable of destroying entire villages. It hadn''t been easy, but with bloody battle and tough negotiations, a treaty was forged with the High Faerie Kings, the rulers of the Fae Realm.


    The essence of the treaty was simple. To put a halt to the bloodshed, the human King and noblemen made negotiations with the High Faerie nobility that ensured each of their courts and the rest of the magical creatures would not harm men. In return, the land was divided into two; Fae Kingdoms and the magical creatures kept the northern half and the southern part of the continent had been given to the humans ¨CRhothomir¨C separated into eight smaller territories ruled by a single King. It was considerably smaller, but it was a small price to pay for security.


    Serving as a barrier between two lands, there was an expansive, dense forest. The Fae Kings were tasked with keeping their lands in check and assuring that the creatures didn''t invade Rhothomir, keeping guard at this border.


    There had been casualties, as there were cases of rogue fae and other creatures wandering in and killing livestock or people, and sometimes a foolish human would willingly venture too deep into the woodlands and met a bloody fate. But despite some minor hiccups over the centuries, the treaty had been smooth and simple, though men were still wary of magical creatures for the most part.


    Lately, that had started to change. Ella had heard rumours and snippets of conversation whispered by courtiers, speaking of the rising tension concerning the Fae. In the millennia since the peace negotiations, it was the first time there was a serious threat to the truce, enough to warrant this last moment reunion of the militia of the Kingdom.


    It was no wonder Cedric had been tense as of late. They all had, everyone was on edge, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.


    "Oh, alright," she said, deflating. "When you come back, I expect a good rundown of everything and excellent stories in exchange for missing the party."


    Cedric''s smile was half-amused, half concerned. He knew better than to express worry; it made her exceptionally sour to feel pitied. "It''ll be over soon enough. It''s just a stupid, boring party, like all of them. You can sneak out after midnight and come over, I''ll probably be here soon enough. We''ll play piquet and gossip and drink wine until we''re stupid. It''ll get your mind off things, we''ll have fun."


    It wasn''t just a stupid, boring party. Not for Ella at least. They both knew that, but there was no use in wallowing in despair and having long drawn out conversations about inevitable matters. Cedric offered distractions instead, knowing it was the only form of sympathy she''d accept.


    "Make it the good wine. That nice vintage you''ve got stuffed behind your bookshelf," she said, grinning at his fond eye roll. "And chocolate. Lots of chocolate."


    "Only the best for you, my lady." He stood and made a ridiculous little curtsy, pretending to hold out the sides of an invisible dress. She laughed and kicked his knee halfheartedly.


    "It''s a pity you''ll be missing out on this marvellous event," she deadpanned. "Woe is you, missing out on yet another round of drunk lords ranting about their racehorses, losing your chance to dance ten consecutive minuets and quadrilles. However shall you cope?"


    "I''ll make an effort, but I''m horribly upset," he said, touching his chest with a rueful expression. Then, "You''ll go, terrorize the well-to-do partygoers and come back here with loads of scathing comments on the stupid things they did all night. We''ll have fun mocking them, that always gets you in a good mood," he said, offering her a hand. She took it and stood, stretching like a cat. "And if you''re still feeling down..." he waggled his eyebrows and she slapped him on the back of the neck for his troubles, though they were both laughing.


    "Come on, Blackwell. I''ll walk you back." He slung an arm around her shoulders and tugged on her braid. "It''ll be over soon enough, you''re going to be alright," he said more gently. Ella nodded, though she wasn''t feeling all too positive.


    The only thing that cheered her was managing to buy the two bags of produce and leaving them nearby, where the two small boys were still milling about, kicking a rock. They''d been nervous at first, but they''d eventually caved in and taken the bags. Their looks of eagerness and relief were enough to chip away at her foul temper.


    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Notes:


    Courtiers are members of a royal court, prominent society figures. Usually, they''re nobles, but not always. In history, they''re the equivalent of politicians, since the more important they were, the more influence they had.


    Piquet is an old trick-taking card game.


    Minuet and quadrille are old dances from the 18th century.


    Blind man''s bluff is a historic children''s game, blindfolded tag.


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 CHAPTER 2

    Painstakingly bathed and primped by two ladies-in-waiting, Ella stared at her reflection in the ornate gilded mirror.


    Over a chemise, a corset cinched to diminutive perfection and a wide hoopskirt, she wore a voluminous brocade gown. Pearls and lace roses adorned the blush-pink skirts, fanning around her like frosting. Scalloped ruffles trimmed the bodice, the sleeves and the edges, all draped like piping on cake. Her frosty hair had been piled sky-high, looped with even more pearls and lace roses, and her ears and neck glistened with rubies. She felt like the worlds largest wedding cake, bedecked in pearls and all the lace of the Kingdom. Yet, the shining jewel of the attire was the monstrosity on her finger.


    It was a massive, gaudy thing, taking up her entire fourth knuckle. An eyeball-sized diamond surrounded by blood-red rubies in a thick, golden band.


    An engagement ring given to her weeks prior, to seal the contract.


    Tearing her eyes away from the heavy weight on her finger, she swung open the windows and braced her hands on the sill, enough that her knuckles turned white. From her room in the manor, crowning the top of a fortified hill, she could see the forest line. She breathed in the crisp air in greedy gulps, attempting to calm the stirring in her stomach.


    Codshire bordered the forest that divided Fae Realm from them. Just thick tree lines stretching far into the horizon, miles and miles, as far as the eye could see. It was the same forest most sensible people avoided going too deep into, for fear of what might be lurking. The same one bordering Cedric''s farmhouse, where they''d played as children, straying as far as they could before getting scolded. The one where they would play hide-and-seek, pick berries, mushrooms, flowers and the four-leaf clovers Ella was a champion at finding.


    Perhaps she had no common sense, but the woods fascinated her. There was something soothing about the darkness of the forest, the ever-present rustle of life, the lulling song of wind whistling through the leaves. In the midst of the towering trees, she had room to breathe.


    Her existence was always one of being constantly watched. The manor may have been grand and enormous, but it was suffocating. She rarely had a moment to herself, alone. From morning to nightfall, there was always a multitude of people breathing down her neck, courtiers watching her every move, maids fussing about her, a constant reminder of her duties. In the last months, as the pressure she was under piled on, the impulse to submerge herself in the thick tree line was almost unbearable at times, making her skin prickle and her stomach clench. She chalked it up to the fact that she was to be married soon, and even the dark forest was far better than the alternative.


    As Lord Blackwell''s eldest daughter, it was past time for Ella to do what women like her are born for: marrying well, securing an alliance, breeding the perfect little heirs to do the same, so on and so forth. That was the way Lord Blackwell saw it, the way all of the aristocrats did.


    Harrion would have had Ella married far earlier if he''d had his way, but Ella''s mother had interceded in her favour, and Ella had kicked and fussed all she could to avoid marriage. At great cost, she had succeeded in postponing it for a year, but the time was up and there was no more putting it off. Today was the official engagement party, the day her marriage to Duke Jonas Pendergold would be announced to high society.


    Jonas Pendergold was the son of Duke Barnabas Pendergold, of the adjacent duchy, Hampton. Codshire was the largest terrain and Hampton the richest, it was an obvious and advantageous arrangement. From a ripe young age, Ella had known she was eventually going to be married off to the man. Even her introduction to society during her first debutante season had been merely a formality, as everyone knew she was eventually going to be wed to Lord Jonas. There had never even been a possibility for her to marry anyone else.


    Absentmindedly, she twirled the silver necklace on her throat and squeezed the ring looped at the end of the chain. An oval stone that shone grey-violet in the light. The silver ring was shaped like twisting vines and hawthorn leaves, with pinprick sized padparadscha stones in deep red, representing the tiny berries.


    It was delicate and finely made, given to her many years before by her mother. Nothing like the hideous, tacky thing she wore of her finger. She''d refused to take it off, even for the engagement party, instead she put it on a silver chain and discreetly tucked it inside her dress. A small, insignificant victory.


    She massaged her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Clenching her eyes shut and ignoring her churning stomach, she took a deep breath, steeled her spine and turned her back on the window, arming herself to face a more than unwanted engagement party.


    ----


    With a bit of time to waste before the Pendergolds, their entourage and the rest of the party-goers and courtiers arrived, she headed to one of the libraries in the west wing of the manor. Rarely used, it had become a quiet place to rest, away from the hectic estate life. Between the towering rows of old books and worn, comfortable sofas, Rosemary Blackwell could usually be found.


    Her sister sat in a two-seater in front of the fire with her nose deep in a book. Ella could only see the top of her curly, gingery locks.


    "Hello, Birdie." She patted Rosemary''s head and sat down next to her as her sister placed the book on her lap, using her fingers to mark the page. "I brought you something." Ella set down a tray, bearing watercress and ham sandwiches and a streaming cup of milky tea. Rosemary smiled gratefully and lifted the porcelain cup to her lips.


    "Thank you, I hadn''t realized I was hungry, I lost track of time." She smiled sheepishly as Ella tugged on a ginger ringlet in mock annoyance dozed with a good measure of fondness.


    "You know better," she said, handing her a sandwich. "You must eat before these parties, you''re old enough that by now, Miss Judith will rap your knuckles with her ruler if you go around gorging yourself on food in front of polite company." The urge to scoff at the pompous word was ever-present.


    "It''s ridiculous," Rosemary frowned but accepted the sandwich, taking a bite. "Why is it that suddenly I can''t eat at social events?"


    "Because," she said, lifting her nose and imitating Miss Judith''s snooty, plummy tone. "A proper, well brought up young woman must eat like a delicate bird, it is terribly gauche to stuff oneself like the peasants."


    Rosemary giggled and whispered that she shouldn''t say those things, as if they might be overheard. Ella rolled her eyes affectionately, bold as ever.


    "Besides," Ella said, thrusting another sandwich into her hand, "the food there is tiny, it''s best you eat here and get a proper meal in."


    "Aren''t you going to eat, Win?" A childish nickname their mother had given her when she was an infant. A play on her actualname, Elowen. The only ones to use it were Rosemary and Minna, their mother.


    "No, I already ate." She placed a linen napkin on her sister''s lap, to avoid crumbs from landing on her dress. It was a lie, she hadn''t eaten a single thing since that morning. Her stomach was entirely too queasy to hold anything.


    "Are you nervous? It''s such a big party and you''ll be the centre of attention," Rosemary said, genuine curiosity on her face and no small amount of apprehension. She was still young and innocent, she''d yet to learn the ways of the Court, how to guard her emotions and school her features into demure smiles. Her face was like an open book. More than anything, Ella wished she would never have to learn, that she could remain blissfully naive. Unfortunately, being vulnerable in a position like theirs was like wearing a collar of fresh meat in the midst of starving bears.


    "Of course not. It''s merely a business party, nothing to worry about." Another lie. She wanted to smooth the worry from her plump-cheeked face. As an older sister, it was her duty to look out for her, even with small white lies. Rosemary was a child and had no business worrying herself with adult problems that had no real solution.


    Rosemary bit her lip and nodded, twisting her fingers in her lap. "I loathe parties."


    Ella knew that if she could, she''d stay holed up in that library eternally. They shared an equal love for books, often spending hours curled up on opposite sides of the worn tartan sofa, each lost in their respective literary choice of the day.


    "I know. Come," she stretched out a hand to help her up. "We only have to be there for a couple of hours and then we''ll come back here. I''ll bring you to the adult''s table during dinner and you can sit next to me."


    She made a small gasp and her eyes lit up in childish enthusiasm. "Really? You mean it?"


    Ella nodded and adjusted the short, poofy sleeves on Rose''s teal gown and made sure her hair remained neatly tied back with its bow. Rose halfheartedly complained about her fussing but stood still. By now, she was well used to Ella''s mother-henning.


    At eleven years old, Rosemary was the youngest of the Blackwells. She still had to sit at the children''s table in the nursery, wear her hair down and wasn''t allowed to participate during the balls and events. Despite their different natures, they were extremely close. Ella had a particular soft spot for her sister, perhaps because of the large age difference or because of their contrasting personalities. Rosemary was soft and gentle, like the nickname they''d given her as a toddler. A little birdie.


    "Really," she said, smiling and leading her towards the ballroom.


    The great ballroom where Blackwell House held their famous and acclaimed parties was an immense salon with towering ceilings, wallpapered mint-green walls decorated with opulent tapestries, gilded mirrors, family crests and large windows that gave way to the well-groomed gardens of the property. Enormous crystal chandeliers twinkled high above and candles on wall sconces bathed everything in a waxy, yellow glow as musicians played animated tunes from high balconies and servers came and went with trays full of appetisers and glasses of drinks.


    The party was in full swing, anyone worth anything was in attendance at the biggest event of the year. Harrion Blackwell undoubtedly hosted the most lavish parties. The engagement of his daughter to Lord Barnabas Pendergold''s son, the richest man of Rhothomir, was the perfect opportunity to go all out.


    There she was, bedecked in her rose coloured gown and wan, pleasant smile. The epitome of blue blood. A gaggle of aristocratic women and well-to-do merchant''s daughters surrounded her, making dull small talk.


    "Oh, let us see your ring!" said Miss Margaret Chadwick. They all chorused their approval. Ella conceded and extended her hand in a manner that her palms weren''t visible. They were calloused from years of sword training, even with the ointments she used rigorously.


    They all took in the monstrosity on her finger and fawned over it, calling out compliments with barely concealed envy. Ella smiled, preening and pretending to be pleased.


    It was an awful ring, she didn''t even like orange gold, but silver wasn''t lavish enough and this was a ring meant for pageantry. A display of extravagant wealth and ownership. Everything about her tonight was meant to convey that she was the beautiful young woman betrothed to Jonas Pendergold, bedecked in her finest attire. A handsome gift wrapped up in lace and roses for the richest, most powerful man.


    "My word, it probably weighs more than she does. I''m surprised she can keep her hand up, such a titchy little thing she is. I only wish I was as thin, unfortunately, I''ve always been more well endowed. It''s wonderful that she''s confident." This comment was made by Cordelia Montgomery, in a whisper much too loud to be accidental. The titters that followed made Ella''s lips curl upwards in a crude smile.


    And so it begins.


    The glorious, brutal art of subtle insults and backhanded compliments.


    There were many ways to go about insulting someone, but in their world, one had to be crafty. It wouldn''t do to outright curse someone. No, it had to be calculated and underhanded, in such a way that the receiver couldn''t actually complain about the jab.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    See, it was more important to seem polite than to actually be polite. One could get away with murder if it was framed with the right sugary tone and proper niceties. If the other person became upset and called one out or outright lost their temper and hurled vulgar insults, they''d be socially shunned.


    Nasty comments and discreet mudslinging were the high-class equivalents of brawling, and Ella was a master.


    She fixed a sweet, cheery smile on her face. "Cordelia Montgomery, is that you? Oh, you look marvellous! I almost didn''t recognise you!"


    The pleasant tone softened the words. She''d foregone addressing her by her title and insulted her appearance in one single sentence. The small snickers announced that no one else passed up on this either.


    Cordelia was Lord Jonas'' second cousin. As the daughter of impoverished landed gentry, she''d been taken in by her much more wealthy family, something she hated to be reminded of. She wasn''t born a noblewoman and did not possess titles by birthright, but she still styled herself as a Lady and gave herself the airs of a born princess, sneering at anyone less fortunate.


    Ella, who didn''t give a damn about ranking and etiquette, wasn''t above using her own status to knock Cordelia down a couple of notches.


    Cordelia''s smile was sharp, barely more than a grimace. She sauntered forward in a magnificent gown of grass green taffeta, fashionably low cut. "Lady Elowen," she said, emphasising her first name, something she''d mocked Ella for since childhood, "I am so pleased to be here at your party. It''s superb. Lord Blackwell must truly be excited to see you off, what with how quick this is turning out. Rather sudden, but I''m sure you and my cousin have your reasons." Her knowing look was enough to have the women around them widening their eyes.


    That crafty witch, subtly implying it was a quick wedding because she might be with child.


    The women all peered at her, thirsting for a good performance. And Ella, ever the accommodating hostess, hated to disappoint her guests.


    Ella motioned for a server who was walking by, holding a silver tray full of small flutes of sparkling white wine. She encouraged the women to take a glass and took a sip of her own, enough to debunk whatever Cordelia might have implied. The other ladies took theirs as well, drinks for their front row seats to the show.


    "Aren''t you going to take one, Cordelia? They''re delightful. Fresh from the Eastern continent. Only the best for this party and my dear guests. We''ve been planning for months, I do hope the wedding in March is even lovelier."


    To imply it was a fast wedding due to pregnancy, a laughable attempt at an insult. It was barely September, not nearly enough time to hide a pregnancy. More so, as if she''d willingly touch that man without a contract forcing her to do so.


    "I''m sure it''s delicious, but I''m not particularly thirsty," Cordelia said tightly.


    Oh? It was no secret that the woman tended to get a little lively during these events. She was rarely seen without a flute of wine or punch in her gloved hands. Noteworthy indeed. Ella filed away this interesting tidbit.


    "You''re taking care of your figure I see! That''s wonderful, the changes are already stunning." She smiled amiably, looking around at their circle of vultures who were nodding their heads and calling out equal compliments.


    It wasn''t an actual insult, Cordelia did look rather good, she was deservedly known as one of the most beautiful women in Rhotomir''s elite circles. Ella could admit to that privately. But the beauty of such a comment was that due to their lifetime rivalry, it was still interpreted as a catty jab.


    "Thank you, I''m glad it''s noticeable." The tightness in her mouth and the glimmer in her eyes said she was gearing up to strike brutally.


    "Where is Cedric? I haven''t seen him in ages, he''s usually right by your side! You two are so close, it''s a shame he didn''t come to your engagement party. I see Lord Theodore Gladstone, Archie Drummond, William Hereford, Edmund Wellington and all your other friends are here. I know Cedric is your dearest and favourite companion though, you must be most disappointed he isn''t here with the rest."


    The titters were barely contained. Lady Amelia Avesbury even let out a very unladylike snort.


    "She might have to arrange for an entire separate isle in the ceremony, just for her little friends to fill up," said Grace Ullswater, Cordelia''s best friend. They wore twin expressions of malicious glee as everyone else chortled and gasped behind fluttering fans.


    Credit had to be given where it was due, that was a good one. Bringing up her supposedly tainted good name and long list of past lovers¨Csome of which were true, but the rest greatly exaggerated.


    Not that many of the ladies present had anything to say, given that their track record was hardly pristine. It takes one to know one, and what have you. None of them had any proof, anyway, Ella had always been extremely discreet with her dalliances. Most of all, she wasn''t going to give any of them the satisfaction of cowering and blushing like a priest, Ella wasn''t ashamed.


    She raised a hand to her chest, the one with the gaudy ring, and painted on a rueful expression. "It''s simply a shame, I agree. Unfortunately, he''s away on official military business. But worry not, Cedric will be present at Lucinda''s wedding." She tilted her head to the side, a gesture of curiosity, though the glint in her eyes was anything but kind.


    "You must be most delighted that your younger sister is betrothed. Little Lucy is barely seventeen, isn''t she? Her first season out into society and she''s already to be married! They grow up so fast, don''t they? Don''t worry Delia, surely you''ll meet plenty of suitable men there. I''m sure we''ll all eventually be at your own engagement party... I suppose."


    A devastating blow.


    It was known that Cordelia had already been out into society for at least six seasons and had no suitors in sight. At least not the ones she wanted: extremely well off dukes, marquesses or earls. Not barons, viscounts¡ªor heaven forbid¡ªa lowly title-less merchant.


    Ella envied her, in all honesty.


    Cordelia was beautiful and well connected, but she lacked the pressure to marry into specific families to fulfil business contracts, she had much more freedom than Ella did. If she wasn''t so terribly picky, she could select an advantageous suitor and still find someone she liked.


    Ella, on the other hand, was being sold off to the highest bidder like a prized mare. Cordelia had choices, Ella had absolutely no say in the matter. It was hardly an accomplishment, but in their society, the clock was ticking and Cordelia was practically a spinster, while Ella had snagged the fattest prize. Frankly, it was ridiculous. Cordelia was hardly old, she was in the prime of her life, but those were the unspoken rules of their circle. Adding insult to the injury, her younger sister was getting married before her, something uncommon and positively gossip-worthy.


    Small gasps could be heard from the chorus around them. She didn''t have to turn to know they were all but salivating. The elite loved a good spectacle and she''d given them everything they expected, a grand show.


    Cordelia''s face puckered up like a prune. She was shaking so much that the peacock feather in her large updo practically vibrated. "If you''ll excuse me, I must use the lavatory." With that, she linked arms with her friend and they sped off, not before throwing barely concealed looks of fury at her.


    Ella grinned triumphantly, like the cat that ate the mouse.


    She''d won this round, though perhaps Cordelia would feel masochistic enough to come back for seconds later. They''d been rivals for their entire lives. The last social event culminated with Cordelia managing to accidentally trip her and spill tea on her dress after Ella fell on her knees in front of an entire tea party full of tittering women. She''d clearly won that underhanded squabble. All parties were a battleground for their vicious fights.


    Ella sauntered through the room, making courteous small talk about trivialities such as upcoming parties, summer homes and the latest fashions, while sipping on a flute of white wine she made sure to keep visible, lest anyone have the grand idea to make up more rumours.


    She took a small break to nibble at a tiny goat cheese pasty with the rehearsed disinterest of a child picking at a plate of vegetables. It tasted like ash in her mouth. She desperately wanted to shrug off the dress, corset and tight updo, put on something comfortable and curl up in bed with proper food, where she could actually eat without being scrutinized like a bug under a magnifying glass. Unfortunately, there was still dinner to attend to and a few hours of dancing before it was socially acceptable to retire.


    As she scanned the room full of dancing and mingling guests, her eyes narrowed, catching sight of Cordelia next to a familiar lanky, curly haired figure. She was throwing her head back and laughing, swatting at his arm with her fan as if he''d graced her with the wittiest comment she''d ever heard. Ella grit her teeth.


    Grayson Blackwell was Harrion''s second born. As a man, he was to inherit the duchy, the lands they were on and an immense amount of power. Raised like a Duke and rightful heir, the eighteen-year-old was already taking on a plethora of responsibilities and allotted a prominent role in their land''s politics. Power, wealth, vast amounts of influence, he had it all.


    This wasn''t lost on Cordelia, who made a sport out of social climbing.


    She would have loved nothing more than to sink her perfectly manicured claws into Grayson, the most eligible bachelor now that her own cousin was technically off the market. It was visible in the way she batted her long lashes, giggled and widened her cornflower blue eyes, feigning admiration at whatever her brother was saying. Using all her wiles to lure him, she was well-practised, like a hunter setting out snares. Ella knew exactly how Cordelia bled wealthy men dry. Cordelia, who belittled anyone beneath her and delighted in being cruel, just for the sake of entertainment.


    She would eat Grayson alive and pick her teeth with his bones.


    It would be a cold, cold day in hell the day Ella took up that gold-digging witch as a sister-in-law. If she wanted to go after her brother, she''d have to crawl through lit coals.


    In her wildest fantasies, Ella would simply walk up to Cordelia and throat punch her, sending her sprawling on the ballroom floor, pearls flying everywhere. But in their world, everything had to be done carefully and behind the scenes, like war tacticians.


    Gears turning in her head, she spotted Lady Caroline Hawthorne nearby and waved her over animatedly. "Lady Caro, how are you?" she said, exchanging air kisses with the ginger-haired woman. The same colour of hair her mother and sister had. She was the daughter of her uncle Brandon, Marquess of Woolmere, the court where her mother hailed from.


    They''d spent many summers together and Caroline was perhaps one of the only noblewomen not completely terrified or appalled by Ella. She wasn''t a friend per se, Ella had no friends here, but she actually liked Caroline. Caroline was popular amongst the nobles, given that she was sweet-natured and avoided taking sides in disputes. Most importantly, she was a neutral party; and as a neutral party, she had credibility.


    Whilst she listened to Caroline''s animated chatter about watercolour paintings, she began strategically pivoting them so that Cordelia was in plain line of sight.


    MarquessVincent, his sister Countess Millicent and their group of friends were nearby, perking up their ears to see what tasty information might slip. They were the biggest tongue waggers in all of Rhothomir.


    "¡ªI am simply enamoured by his line of work, simply marvellous to look at, such beauty," Caroline said, speaking about a painter she''d recently discovered and commissioned. "I should love to give you one of his works, perhaps as a wedding present!"


    That was the line of opening Ella had been waiting for.


    "I''d love that! I do hope Hampton Hall has enough space for me to put up your gift and all my other artwork collections. I can hardly believe I''ll be married in a few months!" That wasn''t a lie. She couldn''t quite believe she''d be losing whatever scraps of freedom she had in a few months. This horrible party made it all too real, too final.


    "I know, you must be elated! Hampton is beautiful!" Caroline chattered on about the many qualities of her future home, until her eyes caught sight of Cordelia, just like Ella had expected her to.


    "Oh, is that Lady Delia Montgomery with your brother? She looks so taken with him. How''s that, imagine if you were sisters-in-law!" Caroline chuckled good-naturedly and Ella forced herself to laugh along. She''d rather chew glass shards.


    "We''re already to share a home, it would be like switching families!" she said, letting out a cheery little laugh. "I''m glad she''s feeling better. The poor girl has been feeling rather awful all day." Caroline frowned and the people eavesdropping nearby craned their necks.


    Hook, line, and sinker.


    "What do you mean, cousin?"


    "Oh, I suppose she''s nervous! It''s a big event, after all, I know I''ve been a tad queasy all day, what with all the excitement. I noticed she didn''t eat much or drink at all." Ella waved a hand and let out a casual chuckle. "It''s probably just jitters!"


    Caroline''s brows creased delicately. "Now that you mention it, I haven''t seen her dancing much, eating or drinking anything either..." her eyes widened and she gasped. "Goodness! You don''t think...!"


    The busybodies nearby barely contained their gasps, likely coming to the same conclusion.


    Ella widened her eyes for effect as well, even going as far as to delicately lift a hand to her lips. "You''re not saying what I think you''re saying! Good grief!"


    "Oh, we mustn''t say anything!" Caroline said, grasping her arm with her dainty pink gloves. "Let''s not mention it!" Caroline, ever the sweetheart.


    Guilt stirred inside her, for using Caroline in such a way. Her cousin was genuinely nice and well-meaning and her concern was honest, something extremely rare in their circles. Certainly, a quality Ella lacked altogether.


    "Of course not!" Ella shook her head vehemently. "I shall not breathe a word!"


    It wasn''t necessary. The gossipers were already furiously whispering, it was bound to spread like wildfire.


    Technically, Ella hadn''t started a rumour, she''d insinuated it and the silk-clad vultures had worked their magic. The rumour mill was savage, it had a mind of its own.


    Once, Cordelia and Grace had started a rumour that Ella''s white-blonde hair was actually a wig, then Grace had accidentally tangled a bracelet on her hair and yanked. It had pretty much proved that it wasn''t a wig, but the real treat for everyone had been watching Ella''s eyes water at the pain, the dishevelled hair, the utter humiliation. Somehow, the ridiculous piece of gossip still made its rounds at times.


    Everyone loved the drama, they lapped it up like greedy dogs; it didn''t matter if it was true or not, it didn''t matter who was on the other side.


    In this world, women had their reputations and honour torn to shreds for merely stepping on someone''s toes and men delighted in ruining business ventures and life opportunities simply on a whim. Entire lineages sabotaged into destruction, for getting on someone''s bad side.


    Ella learned very early on, from unfortunate personal experience, that if she was to survive, she had to be the meanest, most wicked person to walk into every room.


    Or at least act the part of it.


    Ella had little qualms about her behaviour because it was the only way to ensure safety. Survival of the fittest, you could either meekly bow your head and be trampled like a milksop, or you could grow a backbone and strike back. What she''d done to Cordelia was a reminder not to provoke her, or play with her own.


    -------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Notes:


    The nobility in my story is based on the English peerage system. (duke, Marquis, earl/count, viscount, baron, knights)


    Landed gentry weren''t nobles, but they were well off. Cordelia belonged to that rung of society before she was taken in by the Pendergold, who are at the top of the peerage, like Ella''s family.


    Debutantes/being out into society is when a young girl is introduced into society as eligible, ready to be married. The point was to be married as quickly as possible. The age depended, but it was usually 17/18, often 16.


    Before "becoming of age" (Like Rosemary) children had to sit at the nursery, they couldn''t really participate in adult events.

 CHAPTER 3

    TW: VIOLENCE, VERBAL ABUSE AND DEROGATORY LANGUAGE


    Harrion Blackwell liked to keep up appearances. This is why when he pulled Ella aside as the guests filed into the dining hall for dinner, for all intents and purposes, it looked like the great Duke was having a mild conversation with his soon-to-be-wed eldest daughter.


    Whether the guests noticed the way his fist coiled around Ella''s thin arm or the way his smile was too tight was anyone''s guess. No one batted an eye and Ella knew better than to draw attention to them, instead she kept her face carefully devoid of any emotion.


    "I hope you''ll remember to behave yourself." His voice was a harsh whisper, despite the polite smile never faltering. "I will not have you making a spectacle in front of our guests." His breath reeked of mead and whiskey. As usual.


    Ella plastered a tight smile on her face. "I wouldn''t dream of it, Harrion."


    The grip on her arm coiled further. She resisted a pained grimace. "Watch your mouth, child. I can make your lasts months here miserable, do not test me."


    A courtier from another court passed by and called a greeting, Harrion inclined his head beatifically in return. Ella''s mouth turned up automatically, practised and precise.


    He gave her a last sharp glance. "Go now, and do not even think of making a fool out of me. I''ll remind you how that ended the last time." He squeezed her arm for good measure and marched towards the dining hall.


    Ella had a split second to compose herself before she went right along into the dining hall, ignoring her mother''s concerned looks and discreetly clasping her hands together to stave off the slight tremors.


    How could she forget?


    The remainders from the last time she vexed Harrion enough to warrant his wrath were still there. Ella had to sleep on her stomach for over a week. A punishment for talking back and protesting the month before, when he''d signed her engagement contract and forced her to sign as well.


    The grand dining hall was already full of guests chattering about. Long, broad tables illuminated by golden candleholders spread throughout, laden with the finest linens, the richest foods, fruits and wines. Golden turkeys, stuffed chicken, baskets full of breads, spreads of cheese, the most exquisite meads and ales. Lord Harrion Blackwell delighted in any good opportunity to showcase his riches.


    Ella took her place at the main table, in the middle of the room. At the head stood Harrion, to his left Grayson, his advisor Lord Avesbury, Ella''s mother and Rosemary. The right side of the main table and the one next to that side had been set apart for the Pendergolds and their own guests. The rest filled the other broad tables dispersed throughout.


    "You, more wine," Jonas Pendergold called to a young server, without even looking at him.


    He was speaking to a dignitary from his own court, jostling the goblet and making it difficult for the poor boy to adequately serve the wine. It was obvious the server was already terrified of dealing with the Duke. With good reason, Jonas'' spasmodic movements caused the servant boy to spill a bit of the crimson liquid. Mercifully, it fell to the floor and missed his lavish garments.


    Still, that didn''t appease Jonas. "Stupid little fool, look what you''ve done!" The young boy whimpered and cowered. "You''ve spilled the wine and barely missed my robes!" He sneered and lifted a hand as if to backhand the boy.


    The boy covered his head and ducked, squeaking, "Please m''lord, it was a mistake! I beg of you!" He was shaking like a leaf.


    Jonas and the dignitary, as well as a couple of others, cackled. "Clean it up, little worm," he said simply, looking down at the boy as if he were a smear on the floor.


    "Terribly sorry, your Grace," Harrion said, sneering at the server who was on his knees, cleaning the spill frantically. "You know how these commoners are, absolutely no sense of manners. I''ll have him replaced immediately. It''s so difficult to find proper servants these days."


    They all laughed good-naturedly, as if abusing a poor boy for a mistake that wasn''t even his fault was adequate, relatable. Ella wanted to vomit. He was a child, she wondered if he even had a family to take him in once he was tossed out.


    Jonas Pendergold reminded her of Harrion, for obvious reasons. Sadly, this wasn''t the first time she''d seen the man do something similar, it wasn''t even the worst of his behaviour. Lord Jonas, with his contempt for life and love of excessive luxury. She discreetly clenched her fists to keep nausea at bay.


    Harrion clinked his glass, and everyone turned their attention to him, as he proceeded to start with his toast.  "A warm welcome to everyone, especially our guests of honour, Lord Barnabas and Lord Jonas Pendergold. We are most honoured that you could all come today to this party in celebration of the imminent union between Lord Jonas and my eldest daughter, Lady Ella. If we are fortunate and continue to be favoured by the Fates, our families and courts will soon be merged by the sacred act of marriage. A true blessing."


    "Blessed indeed," murmured Cordelia to Grace. They''d taken a seat directly in front of her. They both snickered while Ella clenched her knuckles, blank-faced.


    Harrion continued, unaware, "The Fates that guide and protect us have seen it fit to arrange this wonderful union."


    More like, Harrion and his pocket had seen fit to arrange this wonderful union.


    "We can only hope this couple is continued to be graced with great fortune and abundance. Without further ado, we may commence the feast, and celebrate the merging of two great dynasties!" He lifted his glass of mead and signalled that the guests could take seats.


    Fortune and monetary abundance were the only things that mattered in arranged marriages. Ella avoided looking at her betrothed, grateful that she hadn''t eaten anything, otherwise she would have feared emptying her stomach right on the fine linens.


    Peace was a fickle thing, and after five courses of meals filled with stilted, stuffy exchanges, the wine-addled conversation eventually turned to the latest news about the faerie sightings.


    "Another child has gone missing, a peasant boy from our biggest village. Those foul creatures are getting cockier by the second, advancing so much into our lands, thinking they could get so close to the King''s Castle, attacking us right under our noses," said Earl Gladstone of Haysworth, a duchy right next to Rhothomir''s capital and home of the King.


    Usually, they wouldn''t have dared speak of these issues in front of the women, as it was considered "Men''s talk", but most of the noblemen were already drunk enough to forgo rules.


    "We ought to teach those disgusting faerie beasts a lesson! It''s the peasants now, but what if they start to advance onto our own? I''m in favour of storming their miserable lands and slaying the last one of them," Harrion said loudly, wildly gesticulating with a thick finger in the air. This garnered the firm approval of the men around him, who nodded and quipped in with their own crude remarks concerning the fae.


    Ella held back a humourless laugh. It was not lost on her that the reason they were worried was that they might be attacked. As long as it was the peasants, it was fine.


    "I think we should focus on our borders," her brother Grayson supplied. "We should reunite every court''s forces here in the North, we''re the most exposed as we have direct contact with the forest. From here, we can protect the lands and advance if necessary."


    "How brave you are Lord Grayson, preparing to protect us!" Cordelia simpered, looking at Grayson like a besotted fool. "You are so clever, I don''t know how you think of half the things you do, I simply can''t wrap my head around it! We are so fortunate to have you leading us!"


    Ella and Rosemary shared twin looks of distaste at the sheer buffoonery Cordelia was willing to stoop to in order to flatter Grayson. Cordelia was anything but dumb, why she insisted on playing this over the top, air-headed character was inexplicable.


    Ella managed to contain herself to a slight condescending curl of lips. Unfortunately, Rosemary hadn''t been able to stifle the giggle that escaped her.


    Cordelia''s eyes flashed furiously, but she smiled sweetly and said, "Lady Rosemary, I didn''t quite hear you. Please, do tell us your opinion about the situation?"


    This effectively made quite a couple of guests turn and look at the young girl. It was hard for Ella to curve the impulse to bare her teeth.


    It was one thing for Cordelia to feud with Ella, who could perfectly hold her own. But to blatantly target a young girl was crossing a line. It was Rosemary''s first time sitting with the adults, and she was already nervous, something Cordelia had clearly picked up on.


    Rosemary flushed brighter than her ginger hair, her gaze darting over all the guests looking at her. Her hands, folded on her lap, were gripped tight. Ella discreetly nudged her foot, a small gesture of reassurance.


    Rosemary took a deep breath and said, "I just think that perhaps we''re all being a bit rash? We have a treaty, wouldn''t it be better to call a meeting with the Faerie Kings? Maybe they aren''t aware of what''s been happening and there''s a way to go about this without violence and-- blood," she paused and reddened over the last word but continued, "I only think that maybe we should consider other alternatives first, before resorting to war is all..." she clasped her small hands and looked down at the table.


    Pride swelled inside Ella. Despite her low tone of voice and hesitation, Rosemary''s voice had been clear and she''d managed to express herself well, and so wisely at that. It was a sad day when an eleven-year-old with no political experience was wiser than the warmongering, hotheaded fools that were supposed to lead their nation. Had it been allowed, Ella would have clapped.


    She leaned in, ready to discreetly praise her when twin scoffs resonated, loud and clear. Jonas was rolling those lifeless blue eyes of his as if he''d heard the stupidest thing ever. Cordelia was smiling maliciously, exchanging a pitying look with her friends sitting beside her.


    "Lady Rosemary, with all due respect," Cordelia said, taking the tone of a kind sisterly figure imparting wisdom. "I might say that a Lady should never be so bold and imposing with her opinion. It is a man''s job to care for his lands and do what he deems best. One should never pretend to be able to understand such things. As women, we are here to give support to our brave men and our troops and stand by what they do."  She gave Grayson a simpering smile to punctuate her words.


    "It''s not our job to weigh in on such matters or aspire above our roles. Nonetheless, I understand that you are young and may not have understood this yet." The intent look she gave Ella told her that part was directed at her.


    "And that," Jonas said, waving his glass of ale, "is why women do not belong in the court. They speak out of turn and comment about matters they simply cannot understand. Women should stick to their needlework and child-rearing, uncomplicated things."This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    This earned a boisterous laugh from all the men around, especially Harrion. Rosemary''s cheeks stained with shameful ruddiness, her eyes going glassy. She quietly asked to be dismissed to go back with the other children, ignoring Ella''s gaze.


    "Indeed my Lord, but they are quite easy on the eye, don''t you agree? I would have gotten rid of this one long ago if she didn''t look so good on my arm," Harrion chimed in, dismissively pointing a thumb towards Ella''s mother without even looking her way, as if she was a pretty, decorative piece of furniture. No better than a fur coat.


    Minna, her mother, steadily looked at the plate in front of her, not even flinching at her husband''s crude comments or the other men''s laughs.


    After twenty years of marriage, she was used to it.


    The only one who didn''t laugh was Grayson, who simply grimaced. This was, after all, their mother. Still, he made no move to defend her or their sister. He never did, even if he didn''t actively participate.


    It wasn''t that Grayson was cruel, but he was Harrion''s puppet. It was difficult not to feel bitterness over his spinelessness, the way he always stood aside and let them run amok without stepping in. Today, it only served to further incense her.


    Icy rage filled her, flowing free like water gushing out of a punctured dam. She had the violent urge to claw their faces into bloody ribbons and scream herself hoarse with impotence. The women in court were cruel and backstabbing, but they acknowledged each other''s intelligence and wits. At least they gave each other proper credit. It was the men Ella hated most. Men like Harrion and Jonas. To them, Ella the belle of the ball. A beautiful, beautiful fool. A hot commodity to sell and buy, to drape on their arm like any other status symbol. Jewels, furs, fine cigars and beautiful women.


    The best course of action would have been to lower her head, like her mother, and avoid further trouble. But reigning in her ire was like catching dandelion fluff in the wind.


    Perhaps it was the exhaustion, the utter misery of her last days, the lack of food or proper sleep addling her mind, or more likely, years of pent up rage, but Ella cracked.


    With a buzzing in her ears and a sharp smile on her lips, she turned her stare towards Jonas. "Truly, my Lord, men are quite superior," she said through lowered lids. "They are simply designed to be leaders, with all their Fate''s given talents. In fact, they possess such intelligence and wit, that they never see the need to use even half of it."


    His face morphed from scrunched confusion, comprehension, and then, rage.


    It had taken the dung-brained idiot long enough to understand her words. Then he had the gall to say women were dumb. Cordelia may have been many things, but she was quick-witted and never missed the intricacy of insults. If she did, she had the decency to not look so unbecomingly gobsmacked.


    "How fortunate we are," she said, hand lifted to her chest, looking around briefly at the faces of the men around her. "To have such men leading us into battle. They are so intelligent and in tune with each other that it''s almost as if they all shared one single brain between the lot of them."


    This caused several guests to grow wide-eyed, a couple of women even snickered. Ella smiled even wider, fixing her predatory focus on Cordelia, who looked taken aback, slack-jawed in a way that she would definitely feel embarrassed about later.


    Harrion''s glare melting holes into the back of her skull was almost palpable. I should stop, she rationalized. This was going to cause the biggest punishment of her life. Maybe he''d burn all her books again, or worse, lock her in her room for a fortnight like he''d done a couple of times.


    Yet, Ella couldn''t find it in herself to care.


    "The Fates are generous," she said, sagely nodding. "Take Delia, who''s been blessed with bravery, modesty and loudness, so that she may scream to the world all the tremendous number of things she has to be modest about. I can see the resemblance," she said, looking from Jonas to Cordelia. "The fates are truly most magnanimous with some families."


    Jonas was crimson with rage, as was Harrion. Cordelia''s eyes spilled hot, furious tears as she shot up from her seat and bolted out of the great hall without even giving excuses.


    "Oh, she ran out! Do you think it has to do with the baby?" one of the ladies whispered.


    "Surely! The first trimester is always horrible, poor thing," another one answered. They all tittered.


    Any scrap of regret she had about slandering Cordelia had evaporated. Even knowing there would be hell to pay for this, she was deeply satisfied. She excused herself and walked out with a proud, lazy smile and a stride befitting a queen.


    Ella had made it out of the hallway when a meaty, forceful hand gripped her arm harshly, spinning her around. She was met with the choleric face of Harrion, his tiny, beady eyes alight with ire.


    "Why you snivelling, dimwitted little wench, do you have any idea of what you''ve just done?" Harrion shook her, his grip coiling further into her skin, burning.


    "Let me go!" she hissed, tugging her arm fruitlessly. It was a lost cause, the guards standing watch averted their eyes as Harrion forcefully hauled her into an empty room, hard enough that her knees clacked horribly when she fell. After all, they were used to this scene.


    "You are nothing but a burden and a waste of air! A pathetic and stupid, stupid, stupid child," he said, spittle flying everywhere as he thumped his thick pointer finger against the side of her skull. Ella sat on her aching knees, flinching with every single thump.


    "I should beat you with my crop, for bringing shame to House Blackwell. You don''t even deserve to get slapped, you deserve a lashing, like a common slave. You disgust me, always ruining everything!" Harrion squeezed tighter, Ella cried out in pain, angry tears falling at the throbbing in her arm.


    Shame and terror mixed together as Harrion took out the thick leather belt he wore, wrapping it around his red fist. Normally, this would have made her shut her mouth, lower her head and take his punishment silently. Today, rage was mixed in as well, drowning out all the other flavours, making her drunk with fury.


    She looked up at him, snarling and defiant, as she never dared before. Wrath buzzed inside her and blackened everything else.  "Do you think you need help bringing shame to the family name? You thick-skulled bastard, you do that all by yourself! You don''t even run this court! All you do is gamble and squander away the land''s money on whores and lavish parties just so you can give yourself airs, instead of protecting our people, you vain, arrogant fool!"


    Harrion roared, he viciously fisted her hair and reared back his free hand, aiming for her face. Ella shut her eyes as her body violently shook.


    The smack never came.


    Harrion cried out in pain, both hands leaving Ella immediately. He crumpled to the ground, as if he had been forcefully shoved. "You beast, what did you do?" His voice was laced with pain as he laid on the ground in a heap, cradling his hands to his chest.


    Ella''s eyes widened. Though she was dizzy, panting and aching, she wasted no time and bolted off, letting her feet lead her away, as if they had a mind of their own.


    ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª


    As she''d expected, Rose sat in front of the hearth, leaning against the sofa with her knees drawn up to her chest. The fire illuminated her contemplative face. Ella''s heart ached. Whatever fear, shame and anger she felt over her own woes melted away like snow in the sun.


    "Oh, birdie," Ella said softly as she sat next to Rosemary. She wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders, wincing. It still burned painfully where Harrion had gripped her and her knees still ached.


    "He hit you again," she whispered, finally turning to face her, her deep brown eyes red-rimmed. They were the colour of Harrion''s eyes; that''s where the similarities stopped.


    Ella sighed. She''d never once mentioned these punishments to Rose, but she was perceptive and old enough to have realized on her own by now.


    Rosemary wrung her hands and her chin wobbled. "It''s all my fault. I shouldn''t have laughed, I shouldn''t have said that, I shouldn''t have--"


    Ella stopped her babbling with a stern look. "Hush. I could have kept my temper in check and held my tongue, but I didn''t. I chose to behave the way I did, it''s my responsibility, not yours. I am in full control of my actions, I knew what I was doing," she said, furrowing her brows. "I don''t regret what I did. You are my sister and nobody will ever speak to you that way."


    Rosemary stayed silent for a moment, then let out a whisper of a smile. "I heard what you said to her and Jonas. It was brilliant."


    "It was quite amusing," Ella said, allowing herself to smile faintly. "Cordelia was terribly red and splotchy. Jonas was so angry he looked like his veins were about to pop, he looked like a big toad, with his eyes all bulging like that." Ella made a hideously bloated, bug-eyed face for emphasis and Rosemary giggled brightly. At least she''d managed to take away that stricken, guilty look from her face.


    "I''d like to have the courage to speak my mind that way," Rose said a moment later. "You always stand up for me. I can barely manage to speak up, I clam up and embarrass myself. I''ll be all alone once you leave..." Her voice was barely a whisper as she hugged her knees to her chest again.


    Ella made a noise of disapproval pointing at her with a stern face. "First of all, you speak up as well. You did so well when you were asked your opinion, I''m so proud of you! No matter all those dense idiots, you shut them right up. You were wise, eloquent and spoke clearly!"


    Rose looked down and smiled timidly. "You really think so?"


    "I know so," Ella said firmly. "You''re just as brave Rosie, don''t ever doubt yourself. You have it in you to do whatever you want, forget what everyone else says. Your opinion matters. Don''t you ever allow anyone to tell you it doesn''t. And most importantly," she said, bitterly thinking of Jonas'' words of women and their child-rearing and needlework. "Never let anyone tell you what you can or can''t do. It''s important is that you know your worth, yes?"


    Then, much softer, "I don''t know a more intelligent, sensible and capable young lady than you. You can do wonderful things, Rosie. I have faith in you, you''d be wise to do the same."


    Rosemary nodded, giving her such a hopeful, grateful smile that her heart ached a little.


    "I will always have your back, always. I''m your big sister, you can''t get rid of me that easily," she said, grabbing her sister''s nose between her fingers, making the younger girl squeal with laughter and swat at her.


    Ella always thought that perhaps if she was mean enough, her reputation might shield her siblings as well. Being awful meant few people dared to bother them, for fear of facing Ella. Her boldness also made her a bigger target than her siblings, certainly, whatever mischief they caused usually went unnoticed by Harrion in face of her own behaviour. Through the years, she''d learned to take the brunt of most things.


    "Maybe he won''t want to marry you after this," Rose said, hope taking over her entire face.


    "Maybe," Ella lied through the knot in her throat, smoothing her skirts and letting Rose lay her head on Ella''s shoulder.


    They sat there by the fire in companionable silence until a while later, a tall, slender figure stalked in.


    "What were you thinking, Ella? Let me guess, you weren''t thinking, as usual," Grayson said, his green eyes hard and his mouth pursed into a rigid line.


    Ella stood up and stalked over to her brother, crossing her arms. "I was thinking that some people needed to be put into place."


    "You cannot insult our guests in such a way, we have rules!" Grayson gesticulated wildly, pacing in front of the fire. "Would it kill you to be more responsible and not run off your mouth constantly?"


    "Am I to entertain guests who sit at our table and openly insult our family?" Ella retorted, scoffing.


    "What respect do I owe them, when they show not even the slightest modicum of decency. Forgive me if I have little hospitality for them. Lord Jonas, making a laughing stock out of our sister and mother, ridiculing them in front of everyone. And Cordelia," Ella let out a humourless laugh, shaking her head. "I''ll drop pretences with you and spare you the subtle warnings; Cordelia is a nasty, gold-digging cow, she only wants to sink her claws into you so she can secure your fortune and title. You can do far better, Grayson."


    Grayson said nothing, looking at her intently with his mouth in a thin line and jaw ticking. He tugged his thick, dark curls through his hand and sighed.


    "She also seems to be incredibly rude to my sisters, and frankly, a bit of an airhead," he said after a moment, softly. "And Lord Jonas is always insulting our staff and causing scenes. Not to mention, the way he mocks everyone. It''s terribly rude and crass," he admitted, shifting on his feet.


    Ella''s head snapped up at that. Grayson''s fire-lit features were sincere with apology.


    "You''re right. I should have stood up to them. I don''t enjoy the crude jokes, you know. I hate seeing father treat mum so cruelly, humiliating her in front of everyone. But I can never bring myself to say anything," He sighed, eyes shuttering.


    "You''re always so domineering, sometimes I get so angry at your boldness¡ª" He threw his hands up and massaged his forehead. Then, his features softened. "But then, I also admire how you stand up for us, how you''re always looking out for us. I know you take care of us," he said, looking at her with his wide, guilty eyes. "I couldn''t manage to say half of what you do. So I''m sorry. I''m sorry Rosie, sorry for not saying anything. And I''m sorry, Ella, for being so absent at times."


    Ella threw her arms around his waist and embraced him. Grayson stood there, shocked for a second, but eventually squeezing her against him. She pulled back and looked up at his face. "Thank you," she said quietly, through the knot it her throat.


    It was nice to feel like Grayson was on her side for once, instead of always against her, like the rest of them. She couldn''t help but be touched by this extremely uncharacteristic apology and admission.


    It wasn''t that she didn''t love him. She did, tremendously. But they were most often at odds. She was much too opinionated and harsh, too rebellious and insensitive at times. He was stern and much too concerned with proper behaviour and lordly duties. She could count the number of times they were on the same side on one hand.


    For Grayson to open up and admit to something like this, it soothed the horrible knot in her stomach and made her feel like there was some silver lining to the whole awful day. All she wanted most of the time, was for him to be on her side.


    Grayson smiled sheepishly and took a seat on the floor, on Rose''s other side. Rose was smiling fondly at her siblings, visibly content to be with them, happy they weren''t fighting for a change.


    "What were you doing before I came in?" Grayson asked, stretching his long legs in front of him, getting comfortable.


    Ella''s eyebrows raised in surprise. The party was far from over, but he was seemingly preferring to stay there with them. "Rosie was about to read us Tales of Magic Children," she said, instead of pointing out his behaviour, one that she was glad for. They never spent time together lately.


    "I haven''t heard that in ages! Not since we were little," Grayson reminisced with a warm smile. He grabbed a small pillow between his arms and rested his chin on top, listening as Rosemary began to read.


    The three siblings sat there, Rosemary sandwiched in the middle, reading out loud, imitating voices for the characters, making Ella and Grayson laugh.


    Despite popular belief, Ella was not heartless.


    It could never be said that the two by her side weren''t the most important people in her life or that she wasn''t willing to go to great lengths for them. Perhaps they''d never truly understand her either, but they loved her just like she did them, and that was enough for her.

 CHAPTER 4

    It was well into the night when Ella wandered into her room. She wasn''t surprised to find her mother sitting on the armchair by the bed, her stern expression lit by the almost nonexistent candles left on her night table and vanity.


    Ella spared her a glance and headed to her vanity table. Wordlessly, she smoothed her skirts and sat, meticulously taking down the handfuls of pins and combs holding up her hair. Grim, Minna stood and walked over to her.


    Observing their reflections in the mirror, it was easy to see why out of all her children, Ella was the one that most resembled her mother.


    The differences were there, particularly in Minna''s flaming crimson hair and green eyes, compared to Ella''s own pale curls and features, but other than colouring, they were strikingly similar. The same small frame, the heart-shaped face, the upturned nose, the long-lashed doe eyes.


    It was arresting beauty, the type of beauty that Ella had learned to resent and to exploit at the same time. In Minna, it was charming, coupled with her grace and lovely softness. In Ella, it was almost harsh.


    Often, it was said that Ella was much too cold and her features too sharp for her beauty to be properly appreciated. She had a certain severity that made her difficult to look at sometimes; made it difficult to hold her gaze.


    She had elegance and beauty, but she lacked her mother''s warmth. The high arch of her brows made her look petulant; the upturned tilt of her nose came off as arrogant; her lips, despite being soft and full, looked cruel when she smiled. There was something slightly unsettling about her, and no amount of etiquette lessons and ingrained aristocratic manners could paint over that.


    "Come here to chide me? You''re a bit late, Harrion took care of it already," she said, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "Whatever you have to say will pale in comparison to his speech, spare yourself the trouble."


    "You''re upset," she said, like stating a fact. "There''s no need to be rude." Ella''s stomach churned with guilt, because she was right, as always. She was angry and lashed out, childishly.


    "I didn''t come to chide you for the spectacle," she said, pressing her hands together. "I don''t care for that, Elowen." Her green gaze searched for Ella''s in the reflection of the mirror, trouble flickering in them. "Harrion had an incident. Do you have any idea how that might have happened?"


    Her tone was not accusing, but Ella whirled around abruptly, baring her teeth just the same. "Did I have anything to do with that? Is that what you''re asking? He shook the life out of me and made sure to call me every name under the sun and you''re here asking for his well being?"


    Minna''s face plummeted, as it did every time Ella was punished. Minna was impotent to help, Ella was all too aware that her mother wasn''t exempt from Harrion''s wrath either.


    She still hated to look of pity.


    Minna surged forward, "Oh, sweetheart. I''ll bring the poultice and bandages, we''ll get you cleaned up--"


    "He didn''t get around to beating me with his belt," Ella cut her off. The flinch her mother made had her stomach twisting uncomfortably. "I had nothing to do with it, he only suddenly stopped trying to beat me and I left. Perhaps he''s finally succumbing to an ailment, I only hope it''s serious."


    Minna''s eyes flashed with something she couldn''t recognize. It was a look she''d only seen a couple of times in her life, a strange sort of fear. "This is serious, it''s not a joking matter, Elowen. I need you to understand--"


    "Yes, I insulted Jonas and Cordelia. Yes, I''ve made the family lose face and tarnished our good name," she said, fisting her skirts. "Don''t worry, Jonas will still marry me, no matter how horrid I am. I haven''t ruined that. I''ll be out of here soon enough."


    "You don''t understand." Minna''s features had taken an urgent quality. "There are larger matters at stake here, Elowen."


    She looked more troubled and agitated than Ella had ever seen her, but Ella was too far gone to care. Desperation bubbled to the surface, clawing up her throat.


    "Yes, the family honour. That''s what''s at stake, isn''t it?" she said, "I suppose I should be grateful to be wrapped in silk and roses and sold off to a cruel Lord that I hate. I should be happy to hang on to his arm and look sweet and meek. What an honour, to bear his golden-haired heirs until I die," Ella said, suffocating on bitterness. The hairpins were stabbing into her palms, but she didn''t even care.


    "I have nothing," she said with shaking fists. "I have no friends, I have no one. I''m not even allowed to walk outside. All I do is sit here and practice stupid little speeches, knit and tolerate everyone, even when they humiliate me. I''m expected to shut my mouth and take it."


    I''m tired," she choked on the words. "I''m exhausted and suffocating." She was trembling and raw, but she held onto the rage. Rage was good. If she let go of the rage, she''d crumple up and sob and never get up.


    Minna''s face contorted as tears welled up in her eyes. "Do you think that''s what I want for my daughter?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Do you think that''s what I wanted for myself? I would love nothing more than for you to be free, I have tried my best all these years to give you the most liberty you could have. Do you think I don''t know that you sneak off into the village? About your secret meetings with Cedric or the sword training?"


    Ella reared, bracing her hand on the edge of the vanity. It wasn''t often that something startled her into silence, but she was at loss for words now.


    "I have done everything so you could have freedom, even a morsel. It was never a coincidence that the guards weren''t watching the doors when you escaped or that no one found out. I don''t care for any of that," she said, shaking her head. "I wish you could be free, I wished the same for myself long ago as well. I don''t care for family honour or anything you think I might. There are far more important matters at stake, things I need to explain to you."


    "Explain to me then," Ella said. "Tell me why you married Harrion. Tell me why you need me to leave this house even if it means following the same path you did. Tell me what''s so important." She pinched the inside of her arm, to keep the knot in her throat from evolving into a miserable sort of meltdown.


    "I can''t," she rasped. "Not yet." She gripped Ella''s hand. Her hands were soft and warm. Comforting. "But you must understand, you aren''t safe here anymore, Elowen."


    "Then leave. I want to be alone. I thought that you''d trust me enough to tell me." She was being childish and knew as much. Though she understood her mother was saying something important, she simply didn''t have the capacity to be rational.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Win, sweetheart, please." Minna brought her other hand up and smoothed down her crumpled curls, a gesture that always made Ella calm down. She looked at her as if she was a wounded animal that might need to be put down. Ella coiled into herself.


    "I want to be alone. I''m tired and I don''t want to talk about this," she said finally. It was an oversimplified statement that didn''t cover even half of what she was feeling.


    Minna soothed a hand over her temple one last time before dropping her hand with a small, sad smile. "I love you, more than anything. You may not understand why I do the things I do, but it''s all for you. It always has been."


    Ella watched her walk out of the room and covered her face with her hands, feeling a horrible, gaping hole in her chest. She wanted to call out, to have her mother fold her into her arms, kiss her temple and reassure her while Ella latched onto her, perhaps bring her a cup of milky tea with lots of honey, like she always did.


    Of course, Ella couldn''t bring herself to ask for this.


    ******************************************


    She''d been tossing and turning in bed for what felt like hours, not managing to even drift off. The buzzing in her mind was relentless, seeming to have spread down to her body. It was as if ants crawled beneath her skin, running amok under the layers of her arms and legs. Even the thin hairs on her nape were raised as if she had hackles.


    Sleep was out of the question, that was certain. She remembered Cedric''s offer, and the prospect of feeling the cool air on her clammy skin was hard to pass up.


    With a resigned sigh, Ella discarded her white nightgown and dressed in one of the few simple dresses she had, thick stockings and leather boots; she never bothered with corsets or hoops when she snuck out.


    Usually, two guards kept watch over the wing, where she and Rosemary had their bedrooms. As she finished strapping her boots, Ella''s mind was already thinking up excuses so they wouldn''t ask too many questions. Perhaps she could convince them she''d forgotten something in the library.


    These excuses ended up being useless, as when she peeked into the hall, it was completely deserted. Upon further inspection, it was obvious there were absolutely no guards nearby. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered this as unusual. But a dominating portion chalked it up to a delayed rotation of guards, urging her to seize the opportunity to leave without being noticed.


    Never look a gift horse in the mouth, they say.


    The wind was cold and biting on her face and she inhaled greedy lungfuls, grateful to have it clearing her clouded mind. In the further most back of the parklands, there was a dense thicket of hickories and bushes bordering the fortified walls around the manor. A small forest of sorts, where she used to play as a child. More importantly, it was completely out of sight. There was a small hole there, hidden behind the underbrush. It had been her way of sneaking out of the Manor for many, many years. Out of habit, she looked around before sticking her hand into the hollow of a hickory tree, pulling out a wool cloak she kept stashed there. The wool cloak she used when sneaking about town.


    She gave a last glance at the manor, the balconies and window illuminated by the party inside, the silhouettes of dancing couples. Music swelled, bright and lively, as well as laughs; the party would last well into the morning, never mind that none of the hosts, other than Harrion, remained present. Tearing her eyes away and adjusting her cloak, she wriggled through the cranny in the wall.


    Once she got out and began walking towards town, she couldn''t help but notice how dark it was. It was slightly concerning. Usually, there were torches lighting up the estate at different intervals and above the guarding towers but now, it was pitch black. She couldn''t even distinguish any of the guards flanking the building. It niggled at her mind, but she shrugged it off, more intent on leaving.


    She had intentions to walk towards Cedric''s house. She really did. But soon, Ella found herself detouring straight towards the forest as if her feet had a mind of their own. The wind howled, caressing her ears, urging her forward, urging her towards the woods. The prickling under her skin was almost unbearable.


    In front of her, the forest stretched far, far away. A riot of brambles, elms, pines, hickories and shrubs.


    It usually calmed her. At times when she was upset, she would sneak out and head to Cedric''s house, where they''d lay on the damp grass for hours, talking well into the night. It comforted her, the scent of moss, loam and the tickling of grass on her bare feet.


    But tonight something felt strange. At the edge of the forest, she stopped in her tracks. Beyond the dark, thick foliage, there was silence. Absolute silence. There were no chirping crickets, no wolves howling, not even the rustle of owls hunting mice. The forest was absolutely quiet. It was almost eerie.


    Almost blindly, she staggered into the woodland, advancing into the backwoods. Like a bolt to the head, Ella was struck by the terrible idea that she could simply run away.


    It was completely insane and twenty types of stupid, but it would be so easy.


    She was still wearing that hideous ring. The ruby and diamond earrings and necklace she''d given to the servant boy, hours earlier. She''d gone to look for him before he was tossed out and more or less forced him to accept them, as a way to make sure he would be well sustained. But the ring. She still had that Pendergold token. She could sell it and have enough money to live comfortably, it was extravagant enough that she could live off the money for some time.


    The thought of how freeing it would be threatened to overwhelm her. She could live in a little cottage and pick apples and read by the fire and maybe even work as a schoolmistress or an apprentice. She may not have had many real-world abilities, but Ella knew she was intelligent and well-read, there were jobs she might obtain with that.


    She stumbled deeper into the forest, narrowly avoiding roots and rocks as her heart raced with the thought of the endless possibilities. She could live in another country, maybe even another continent. Surely she could buy a boat ticket with the gold earned selling the ring. She could travel and explore and meet new people and... and...


    And she couldn''t leave. Not really.


    Deflating, Ella slumped against the rough bark of an elm tree and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. How could she leave? What of her family? What would Harrion do to her mother if Ella ran away? Minna would take the thick of his wrath. And what if he waited a few years and married Rosemary off to Jonas? Ella clenched her teeth. She would rather shackle herself to that monster than have him anywhere near her sister. She didn''t put it past Harrion to marry Rosemary off as soon as she turned sixteen if it meant securing him a good alliance.


    No, that''s why she could never leave. She could never shirk her responsibilities. Perhaps that''s why her mother stayed, out of a sense of duty. A shackling sense of duty.


    From inside the dark fringes of the forest, she could make out the hill on where the estate stood, monstrous and imposing, surrounded by four massive round towers that guarded the building, flanked by thick stone walls. The manor itself stood proudly with its five storeys, high windows and blood orange shingled roof. Just the sight of it suffocated her, like thick smoke in her lungs.


    Her morose train of thought was cut off by the appearance of dozens of red lights surrounding the castle.


    Fires, she realized with a horrifying shock.


    Blazing, scorching fire. There seemed to be hundreds of torches, more by the second. Abruptly, she could see fire inside the manor, curling smoke coming from the balconies. It was under attack. The sight was like a hot poker to her body, making her bolt upright, her legs tensing in anticipation and her mind buzzing with panic.


    Her line of action was cut short by a strong hand clamping on her mouth to stop her screams and another one on her waist, pulling her abruptly into the deep, dark forest.


    Ella thrashed wildly, her heart beating violently in her chest, about to burst out. Cold fear gripped her as she flailed, attempting to escape the strong hands that held her captive. It was futile, her captor had the strength of a stone pillar. No matter how much she squirmed, there wasn''t even the slightest of shifts in the arms holding her. Just as abruptly as she''d been hauled into the forest, she was set down. Before she could even consider running off, she was turned around by the shoulders and presented with a man.


    Not a man, she realized.


    In the dark, his features were almost indistinguishable, but there was something uncanny about him. He was enormous and strong like an ox, furthermore, there was an air of eerie thrumming around him. She realized with a start that this was a Faerie. Ella could feel it in her bones, in her very essence. The crackling of preternatural power around him gave it away, making her skin prickle.


    Raw magic.


    "Quiet," he hissed.


    Ella tried to speak but he waved a hand in front of her mouth. A slight shiver passed over her body and she realized that she couldn''t utter a word. He''d used whatever magic he had to force her into silence. He gripped her shoulder, forcing her to pivot again, and pointed out the silhouettes nearby, filing in.