BEATRICEIt’s strange how victory can taste sweet one moment… and bitter the next.The training session ends just after sunrise, and the kids scatter toward the academy with sore limbs and sweat-slicked foreheads. A few call out “Thanks, Miss Beatrice!” as they go, and I try to smile, but the exhaustion cuts deeper today. Maybe it’s because I pushed harder. Maybe it’s because I’m thinking too much.Or maybe it’s the weight of something I can’t name that’s been sitting in my chest since yesterday.I change quickly in the locker room, pull my hair into a bun, and make my way across the village toward the bakery. The morning smells of warm bread and burnt sugar reach me before I even round the corner. My feet already ache just thinking about the hours ahead. Flour. Fire. Fake smiles. The usual.But there’s an end in sight.I push the door open and grab my apron from the hook, moving on muscle memory as I step behind the counter and tie it in place.Today, I’m going to tell him.After the
BEATRICEI’ve fought for my life more times than I can count—but standing in front of a class of teenagers with practice swords feels like the scariest battlefield I’ve ever walked into.“Alright,” I say, loud enough to carry across the field. “Everyone line up.”They don’t move right away.Some of them glance at each other. A few shift their feet, clearly unsure. Only a handful—the ones I used to help as an assistant—step into position without hesitation. The rest?They’re waiting to see if I’ll crack.Aria stands off to the side, arms folded, face unreadable. She told me she’d let me lead on my own, just observing for the first few sessions unless something goes off the rails. I appreciated it earlier. Now I’m starting to wonder if I should’ve begged her to bark the first orders instead.I clear my throat. “I said, line up. Right. Now.”There’s something in my tone—steady, clipped—that finally gets them moving. Begrudgingly.“Good,” I say. “Today, we’re going back to basics. Footwork
MAXWELLThe last person I expect to see standing at the gates of Silverfang is my younger sister—smirking like she never left.“Hello, stranger,” she says, arms crossed, wind tugging at her dark curls. “You gonna let me in, or should I just climb over the wall like the old days?”For a moment, I just stare at her. I almost think she’s a ghost—some memory conjured by a sleepless night. But then she’s stepping forward, wrapping her arms around me, and the weight of years falls off my shoulders like dust.“Dalia,” I mutter into her hair. “You came early.”She pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. “I heard the Dragon Princess and her whole royal circus are coming. Figured I’d come early to watch you squirm.”Of course she did.I shake my head and lead her through the gates, my guards stepping aside with wary glances. They know who she is—how could they not? There was a time when Dalia was as feared and admired as I am now. Until she left everything behind.It’s been years since I’v
BEATRICEIt’s the way he looks at her—the softness in his eyes, the ease in his posture—that hits me harder than I want to admit.Maxwell’s shoulders are relaxed, his head tilted slightly as the woman speaks. He’s smiling—really smiling—not that cold, reserved smirk he gives in public, but something genuine and warm. Something rare.And it’s not for me.I know I have no right to feel this way. We’re not together. We never were. He never promised anything. But somewhere between him showing up at my hospital bedside and handing me my training badge, I let myself believe... maybe.Maybe he saw me.Maybe he felt something.But looking at him now—easing that woman out of the car, his fingers brushing hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world—I feel like the stupid girl I swore I’d never be again.“Mom?”Bailey’s voice snaps me back.“Hmm?”“You’re squeezing my hand too tight.”I blink, loosening my grip. “Sorry, sweetheart.”Bailey tilts her head. “You’re staring.”I force a smile.
BEATRICENo matter how hard I try, it always feels like I’m making up for something I can never quite repay.Bailey’s hand is warm in mine as we walk home, her fingers swinging gently like nothing in the world could ever knock her off balance. And maybe nothing can. She’s tougher than I’ll ever be, braver than I deserve. But even now—after the fight, after the truth came out—I still feel the guilt creeping in.She was defending me. Again.“You okay?” I ask, glancing down at her.She nods. “Yeah.”But I still see it—that flicker of doubt in her eyes, the kind she always tries to hide from me. I know that look. I’ve worn it a hundred times, back when I was just a girl hoping someone would see the truth behind the things people whispered.“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I tell her softly. “You stood up for yourself. For someone else. That takes guts.”“I know,” she says. “It just sucks. Everyone always acts like we’re bad, but we’re not.”My chest tightens.“No, we’re not,” I say firmly.
BEATRICEWhen I get the call from the school, my heart drops so fast I nearly forget how to breathe.“Your daughter was involved in a fight,” the teacher says over the mind-link, her voice calm but clipped. “You need to come. Immediately.”I don’t even ask for details. I’m out the door before she finishes the sentence.Bailey. My sweet, stubborn, fire-hearted little girl. If someone pushed her hard enough to throw a punch, I already know they deserved it.Still, my pulse won’t settle as I race down the path toward the academy grounds. When I arrive, the front lawn is filled with murmurs and tension. A few mothers are already there—draped in silk shawls and outrage, acting like their perfect little angels could never possibly do anything wrong.“She’s just aggressive,” one woman says, her voice cutting. “That child has always been too wild.”“She probably learned it from her mother,” another one sniffs. “Isn’t she the rogue Luna who ran off and seduced King Maxwell?”I stop walking.Bec