Scorned by Family, Crowned by Decree

When we staged plays as children at Hemsworth Hall, my sister was always the noble heiress everyone rushed to rescue.

My brother played the sword-bearing guard who would die for her, while the young marquess became the heroic commander who fought through every obstacle.

I was always cast as the wicked enchantress everyone despised.

Apparently, nothing changed when we grew up.

Since no one cared whom I married, I would accept the King's decree and become the wife of the man who would one day rule the kingdom.

When I remained silent, my childhood friend, Edmund Ashford, urged me to answer.

"You're no longer young, and you have no reputation to recommend you.

"Any respectable man without a title who agrees to marry you is already doing so out of respect for the Hemsworth name.

"Choose one quickly and stop delaying."

I bit my lip in humiliation, my heart aching with injustice.

Under the laws of Alderwyn, the woman who placed first in the Royal Women's Service Examination could, if she wished, receive a marriage charter from the King appointing her Crown Princess.

During last month's examination, I finally stopped concealing my abilities and took first place.

The result was written plainly beneath the royal seal and posted by the Ministry of State.

Yet not one person at Hemsworth Hall had looked at the list.

The moment Lydia Hemsworth left the examination hall, she dissolved into beautiful, trembling tears.

"I feel as though my essay was terrible..."

Our parents said the examination did not matter and promised they could pay respected patrons to praise her accomplishments.

My brother waved the matter away.

"What are you worried about? My salary can support you for the rest of your life."

Edmund comforted her softly.

"Lydia, even at your worst, you still performed better than Rose."

But I had learned to read at three and could recite poetry by five.

I could memorize the same essay after reading it three times.

Lydia still stumbled through it after studying for two weeks.

"Why does Rosalind learn everything so quickly while I can't learn anything? Am I stupid?"

She cried so desperately that she refused food and water for the entire day.

Mother held her and soothed her for half the night before turning on me with a cold rebuke.

"Lydia's already miserable because she can't understand the lesson!

"Must you flaunt how much better you are? Are you trying to drive her to despair?"

Father scolded me with an equally dark expression.

"The tallest tree is always the first struck by lightning. There's no need for you to stand out so much."

My brother went further and took away my schoolwork.

"Once the tutor finishes the lesson, go outside. Stop hovering where Lydia can see you. You're irritating."

At six years old, I learned that intelligence could also be a crime.

From then on, I pretended to be slow.

When the tutor questioned me, I deliberately gave the wrong answer.

During written examinations, I deliberately worked too slowly.

At poetry salons and formal dinners, I remained silent in the farthest corner.

Whenever I did, my parents nodded with satisfaction.

"Rosalind is quiet and undemanding. At least she causes us no trouble."

As we grew older, society knew only that the younger Hemsworth daughter was dazzling, graceful, and brilliantly accomplished.

The sons of noble houses nearly wore a path through our gates seeking Lydia's hand.

I was the elder Hemsworth daughter, yet no one came for me.