There was something about him, the Duke, my father. It was the way he sat, tucking his wand back into its holster, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded, resting on his knees. Calm and collected. A man who knew he was powerful, someone to be feared. It was obvious he was used to adoration and deference. He looked at home in this room with its dark wooden furnishings and gold filigree.

  We were in his office. On the left side, near a firepce, there was a sitting area with a couch, two armchairs, and a low center table with a few travel books on top. I sat in one armchair, and the duke in the other.

  On the right side of the room were two small desks where his aids probably worked. Behind them were cabinets, and a slightly opened door through which you could see another desk and more papers. Behind those were tall windows overlooking the training hall—not the best view.

  Centered and to the back of the room was his desk, and behind it were two towering bookshelves framing a tall window with a view of the west garden. On his desk were stacks of paper, a communication orb, and several magic items I couldn’t identify. The ink well was still open, as though he’d been working until I came.

  It was funny—someone did those little details for me to see and appreciate, but I was too nervous to notice anything in my past life. I might have felt fttered that he took a moment out of his busy day to meet me if I didn’t know the truth. He always took afternoon meals with the family, and for an hour after, he spoke to each of the children about what they were doing and how their schooling was going. He would arrange more time if they needed to talk to him about something specific.

  I wasn’t a special person whom he took a moment out of his busy day to meet. The duke fitted me in as a business appointment. Which told me there was a hidden benefit to my marriage. Even at my silliest, I'd figured out he always acted with purpose.

  I picked at the hem of my dress, remembering being young and sitting outside the door waiting to be called in. When I came here at age seven, I thought they would invite me to join those family meetings if my manners got better, or when my magic manifested, or if my studies improved. I don’t know when I let go of that hope, just wanting him to pay attention to me, for anyone to pay attention.

  I needed to know why I existed—what I'd done wrong or ought to do better.

  That hadn’t changed, despite knowing this man didn’t care about me.

  I sat in front of him, sweaty palms, head down, not daring to look at his face, and it burned to realize I wasn’t acting. The shame and nervousness were the same, despite my age and everything I’d lived through.

  I was still worried about our father-daughter retionship, despite his callous indifference in the ter part of my life. I didn’t know what that meant, except I wanted his love, but would settle for approval or a little respect.

  I wouldn’t get it, but I couldn’t help what I wanted.

  I pyed with my fingers, wondering why it was like this.

  I hated him.

  I’d died hating him.

  Sitting here, I still hated him, but I also wanted to know why he didn’t like me.

  Hurry! Speak. Let's get this over with. I buried my head lower, my neck straining from the action. It doesn’t take much to create hate—a bit of negligence. A dash of fear here and a sprinkle of pain there. Lots of loneliness.

  I gnced through my bangs at the blurry outline of the man before me, wondering why death or time didn’t give me the gift of indifference.

  “Let’s talk,” he said, lifting a bell from the side table and ringing it. The bell didn’t sound, but a moment ter, a butler entered the room and pced a cup of tea on the table in front of the duke before leaving. The butler didn’t acknowledge my presence. “I’m sure you’re curious about why I called you here.” Our eyes didn't meet often, but when they did, I could see his disinterest—his irritation that I was breathing the same air as him.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. I very much felt like crying and crumbling to pieces.

  “That is a given. I have been too busy managing the affairs of the Duchy to spend too much time with you, but as your father, there are still things that I am responsible for.” His tone was noble and upright. He didn't fidget or not use conjectures—every word coming out of his mouth he believed to be the truth.

  I knew they were lies, but I believed them too.

  He paused, and I thought this was an appropriate time to nod. My head bobbed up and down, eyes still staring at my scuffed shoes. It wasn't anything I didn't know. The duchy came first, then his children, next was his wife, and there were a million things before me.

  As I sat there, feeling fourteen, I wondered how to get higher on his list. It was silly, odd, and heartbreaking. Everything in me wanted to escape, but I'd stay if this man asked me to.

  Thankfully, I wouldn't have to guard against that (I wasn't sure I could) our interactions were few and far between.

  “Good. I assure you that while I'm not the most expressive parent, I take the role seriously. As such, it's my duty to find you the most suitable match. After much deliberation, I believe I have found that person. Baron Smolt is a famed gentleman with an impeccable heritage and learning. He recently inherited his father's title, and in a year, when you turn sixteen, he will be twenty. For women, a four-year age gap is just right.” His tone was dry as he delivered the words, not bothering to fake the emotions it would take to convince me he cared.

  Why swap brides?

  I couldn’t fake a blush, too much horror and dread coursing through my blood, so I buried my head lower and dug the toe of my shoe into the carpet. I should practice being bashful. It was also important to learn how to control the fear I felt every time I thought about my marriage and ex-husband.

  “I have also secured a match for your sister. It will be a blessed year for the Duchy. Two marriages, and one to the crown prince, no less.” The pitch of his voice changed, and I could hear his excitement.

  That raised more questions in my mind, and I had nowhere to turn for answers.

  Did he know what would happen?

  Had that always been the pn or circumstances changed ter?

  I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through my body, but I forced the memories away and swallowed the vomit that filled my mouth.

  How did I react to this st time?

  I’d been jealous.

  Who wouldn’t be? Even commoners could tell the difference between a baron and a crown prince.

  Ah, I remembered. At least the trembling that I couldn't stop would look like anger.

  Flying to my feet. “Why does she get to marry a prince, and I’m stuck with a baron?” Were my words too forced? No, I could feel long-forgotten anger bubbling to the surface. I grabbed a book from the table and threw it to the floor. “It’s not fair!” I wished I hadn't eaten as my stomach rolled, and standing made me dizzy with my bruised knees threatening to give out. I kept going, something inside making my mouth move. “There’s nothing special about her. Why do I always have to accept her scraps?” I asked, not having said this in the past, but it was how I felt now. "What did I do wrong?" I asked. The tears I held back fell as I looked to my father for answers.

  I was on the floor before I knew what happened.

  My hand cupped my cheek, a familiar burn spreading.

  I looked at his shoes and felt his presence towering over me. I buried my face in the silk rug, and my tears dried up, but ughter caused my shoulders to shake.

  So—that's how it was—the hit would have happened regardless of what I said. Good to know. The Duke would have found an excuse to hit me even if I stayed silent.

  At least the carpet was softer than the cave. The duke's hand hurt more than the metal gauntlet, though—his sp shook my heart and soul.

  I tasted the blood in my mouth. Something about this scene reminded me of what happened with Madeline earlier. It felt staged—nothing I said or did warranted this reaction.

  I thought about it more before getting the answer—carrot and stick. The words popped into my mind, and a picture started forming. After this, I would turn to Catherine for comfort, increasing my dependency on her. There was nothing more malleable than an ignorant, fearful child.

  Okay. The duke knew the pn from the start. It also meant that Madeline and Catherine were working for him.

  It was only a small piece of the puzzle, but I felt better as it started coming together. I was also relieved that I could hate without reservation. I didn't need to worry about any of them when I made my pns.

  Next, did the Baron know?

  The crown prince was ignorant and was just as shocked as I was when it happened.

  I bit my lip to stop from saying more. I didn’t need to collect any scars from running my mouth. Thinking about what happened in the past, if I spoke again, the Duke would throw the cup at me, shattering it, and a shard of gss would cut my neck.

  I'd have to be careful. He pnned the sp, and probably the gss toss, too.

  I pulled myself up, but stayed on my knees, watching his hands.

  The things that were blurry in my mind rushed back. I remembered how I was supposed to behave.

  An unruly child when I was alone.

  A dog when I was in front of my father.

  An ant when I was before my siblings.

  And shit clinging to the bottom of a shoe when I was in front of the Duchess.

  I, Jal, illegitimate daughter, was to provide amusement and stress relief for the whole family.

  I could do that. I had to.

  I grit my teeth, holding on to the knowledge that I could change the future—comforting myself. No one here cared about what was best for me, and I'd have to fight to ensure I didn't die a dog's death again.

  Something shifted inside me and running away wasn't the only thing I wanted to do.

  If this were my reality, I would make it a nightmare for everyone else. I took a deep breath, letting my anger and disappointment go. Letting anger affect and control me was punishing myself for other people’s sins.

  At that thought, I felt lighter, not just my mind, but my body. I hadn’t realized how strained I was until it disappeared.

  “You will get married to who I tell you to, and you will be happy about it. Your marriage is about more than you, and I have considered everything from your status; to your comportment; and your value. You can’t do better than a baron. I wish you could. It would have greater benefits, but you’re worth that. If Baron Smolt weren’t a noble of the duchy, and his family didn't owe us a favor, it wouldn’t be your turn to marry him." He threw the gss. I was gd I'd been watching his movements. I screamed and threw myself to the side, protecting my neck. "You can’t use magic. You have failed all your etiquette csses. And you’re a bastard who can’t give birth to a son. I had to pay him to take you.” He sat listing my faults in a bnd tone, my shoulders hunching at every word.

  The silver tip of his shoe tapping on the floor made me spiral into memories.