I watched with a silent, sharp gaze as the men filed out of the office at a single gesture of my father's hand. I often wondered how much blood he had to spill to achieve such a domain—a power so absolute that not even the King dared to cross him.
He was a Swordmaster without equal, a man of iron and edge. And yet, he knew nothing of his own family.
What a pity.
"Pati," he said.
The name felt like a weight on my chest. I hated the way he shortened it, his voice dropping into a soft tone that felt like a mockery.
He knew no warmth, and neither did I, yet he spoke as if there were an intimacy between us that had died years ago.
"Yes, my lord?" I replied, my voice as brittle as thin ice. To me, these people were not family; they were merely ties of blood and title that kept me shackled.
His jaw twitched for a fraction of a second. Good. I wanted him annoyed. I wanted him to feel the friction of the 'family' he had created.
"Pati, there is something I wish you to know," he said, his voice a low rumble of distant thunder. He was a handsome man, I had to admit—ageless and striking. I used to enjoy showing him off to the other nobles, watching their priceless reactions to the Great Duke Ellington. Now, looking at him only made my skin crawl.
"And what might that be, my lord?" I kept my face a mask. In this house, showing emotion was a surrender.
"I have arranged your engagement."
My fingers tightened into the fabric of my dress, my knuckles turning white. Before I could find the breath to protest, he continued.
"To the First Prince."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The First Prince. A man known for being a ruthless shadow, a monster who killed without remorse, sparing neither woman nor child. My father wasn't just marrying me off; he was tying me to a beast.
How much did he have to hate me to do this? My eyes burned with the threat of tears, but I refused to let them fall. I swallowed the lump in my throat and bowed my head.
"As you wish, my lord."
I turned to leave, but the door swung open before I could reach it. In walked a vision of blonde hair and blue eyes, her fragile body draped in silk. Isabella. My "step-sister."
The world believed she was the result of my father's scandalous affair, but the truth was more pathetic. She was the daughter of my father's brother—a useless, forgotten man who had died alongside his wife shortly after her birth. My father had adopted her and let the rumors swirl, never bothering to explain her true common blood.
"Father! I heard the news!" she cried out, her voice dripping with a sweetness that made me want to gag. "You've arranged my engagement to the Crown Prince!"
I froze. My eyes snapped to my father.
The Crown Prince? The future King? I was the true-blooded daughter of Ellington, the eldest, the rightful heir to such a title. And yet, he had given the throne to her while throwing me to the First Prince's wolves?
"Father, what is the meaning of this?" My voice betrayed me then, trembling with the sheer force of my fury.
Isabella looked at me as if I were a common criminal for interrupting her "moment." I didn't care. "Why is Lady Isabella engaged to the Crown Prince? As the eldest daughter, should that position not be mine? Does my lord not see the injustice?"
He looked at me as if I were a fool who couldn't grasp the simplest lesson. He didn't respond. He never did. To the Duke, a command was absolute; explanations were for the weak.
"Fine," I whispered, my heart turning to stone. "If this is what you want, I shall be exactly what you desire. My apologies for questioning my lord's will."
I turned on my heel, the rhythmic click-clack of my boots echoing like a death knell in the hallway. The servants bowed as I passed, their eyes lowered in fear. Some peeked at me like hungry wolves, waiting for the "Villainess" to finally break.
I just needed Maria. I needed the sanctuary of my room, to fall into her arms and let the mask shatter. I wanted to cry until there was nothing left.