The Duke’s Reborn Daughter Sometimes Chooses Violence.

The east balcony overlooked the hall from a narrow gallery that ran along the upper floor. This place was not meant for guests. This was obvious at a casual glance. The railing was an almost rusted iron, the floor was made of bare stone, and there were no Magical Implements. The sun had long since set, and now the only light here came from below, rising through the gaps in the railing in thin, golden bars.

I stood at the railing and looked down at the hall. From here, everyone looked smaller. All of the pomp Julian had put on for an event he’d never attend himself. The noble children playing at politics I both barely understood and didn’t care for. Cordelia, who had seemed to recede in on herself the longer the day had gone on. No, I would not look at that. I turned away from the railing and leaned against the wall. The stone here was cold. I folded my arms. There was nothing to do but wait. Five minutes passed, then ten.

My mind played through every possibility, even the silly ones. She hadn’t felt the paper. She had felt it and couldn’t leave. She had felt it, read it, and decided that the girl who had gotten her punished once already was not worth the risk of being punished again. It was that last one my mind kept drifting towards.

Fifteen minutes passed. I was going to wait the full twenty I had said. I would wait longer than twenty. What else was I going to do, go back down and make conversation with the noble brats?

A door opened at the far end of the gallery and then closed. I heard slow footsteps on the stone. I watched, even as my chest squeezed. Cordelia stepped out of the shadows and into the thin bars of light. She had checked behind her before she’d stepped through. I had heard it, even without my Gift. It was a brief pause at the door after it had opened and taken some time to close again.

She stopped a few feet from me. Her hands were folded in front of her and her posture was flawless. The pearl brooch caught the light from below and shone in the otherwise dark. She looked like she had walked off the floor of the hall and onto this balcony without changing a single thing about herself at all.

We looked at each other for a moment. In the silence, the orchestra played something faint and distant beneath us. ”You came,” I said.

”It would have been rude not to.” Her voice was calm and pleasant. ”Your note was rather direct, Lady Veyne.”

”Esra.”

She paused. Her hand went to her ring, and it turned. Once. ”Esra,” she corrected, quietly. Her gaze went to my right, at the empty air. Her brow furrowed, just slightly. She did not ask, and so, I did not tell her.

It was hard to stay still. There was a part of me, a very large part, that wanted to say everything at once. To grab her by the shoulders and demand to know what Julian had done after our walk through the District. I would not demand something from her. I never would. I would ask, always. The promise wasn’t one I had spoken aloud or even realized I’d made, and yet it was no less firm for it.

So I waited. Cordelia moved to the railing. She rested her gloved hands on the iron and looked down at the hall. Alexander was visible from here. He was speaking to a cluster of young noble brats and bratesses.

Cordelia watched him for a few seconds and then looked away. ”I owe you an apology,” she finally said. ”For the letter I sent. My schedule was more demanding than I had anticipated, and I was not able to-”

”Cordelia.” She stopped. ”You don’t have to do that.” Her fingers tightened on the railing. I watched her closer than I had ever watched anyone, and I saw it. ”I don’t need an explanation for the letter either,” I said. ”I know why you sent it.” Cordelia’s composure held. It held beautifully but her knuckles were white on the iron railing. ”Did he hurt you?” I asked. ”After…after that day?” My voice came out quiet, even in the emptiness.

Cordelia’s hands went very still and the silence stretched between us, filled only by the distant music and the murmur of voices from below. It was the wrong question. I knew it was the wrong question. It was too direct. It was too personal. I asked it anyway, because I needed to know, and…because nobody else might ever ask.

”My father,” Cordelia said slowly, ”was displeased, yes. He felt that my conduct during my numerous visits reflected poorly on our House. We discussed it, and I agreed that a period of reduced social commitments would be prudent.”

Her voice came out warm and sincere enough, but nothing in her tone ever changed. The entire sequence was spoken evenly, with no thought at all. They were the kind of sentences that had been rehearsed until one could say them without trembling. I had heard sentences like those before. I had spoken sentences like those before. In another life, in another room, a girl had once said my mother is always right, and a good daughter always listens.

”That’s not what I asked,” I said softly.

Cordelia’s jaw tightened. For a moment, something flickered behind her eyes. There was fear there. Vaelin burned in my mind. The silence stretched again, for so long I feared she might simply turn around and leave. ”No,” she said softly. ”He did not hurt me…my father does not hurt me. Conduct like that is beneath a Greenward. He simply…reminds me of what is expected. That is all.”

Reminds. ”I’m sorry,” I said. ”This is my fault. The article was my fault. I lost my temper with your guard and it was stupid. Maybe if I hadn’t done that you’d still be-” I could not force the rest of the sentence out.

”It was foolish,” Cordelia agreed. ”And I had thought you would know better.”

”I was supposed to.”

Cordelia looked at me and her green eyes were steady. ”Then why did you do it?”

She had asked me this before, and so she knew my answer. Then this was her asking if my answer had changed. It had not. ”Because he didn’t look at you,” I said. ”And it made me angry, to the point where I didn’t care anymore.”

Cordelia stared at me. Her lips parted, and for a fraction of a second, no words came out at all. ”It was dangerous, what you did. You risked a political incident,” she said carefully, ”because a guard didn’t look at me.”

”Yes. I did.” I said evenly.

”That is the second foolish thing I have ever heard.” She said, ”Second only to the first time you said this.”

”I know.”

Cordelia turned back to the railing and she was quiet for a long time. Below us, couples danced and the music swelled and faded. ”You danced with him,” Cordelia said, eventually.

It was not a question. She had watched every second of it after all. ”I did.”

”And?”

I thought about how to answer. I thought about those disgusting hands, that infuriating smile and the word exotic breathed against my temple. ”He’s repulsive,” I said.

Cordelia stood there, looked down at the hall, and said, ”He was on his best behavior tonight.” The words came out flat.

They pulled something inside me, so hard it felt like I might snap. What I had endured for the length of a single dance had been Alexander Bulwark exercising restraint. I had to close my eyes. ”Cordelia I-”

”It is not personal,” she said. Her voice was calm. ”It is never personal in matters like this. He is what he is and there is no point in being angry about it.” She sounded almost wistful. ”The world is what it is.”

I opened my eyes and followed her gaze. She stared up at a thousand stars glaring back down at her. They looked ugly now, at this moment. ”How long?” I asked. My voice came out quiet.

”Since he arrived actually.” She paused.”It was worse at first. He has…settled, since then. He understands that certain behaviour is expected in public. In private, he is less concerned with expectations. It has…not gone as far as you might be fearing. There are expectations around a Lady’s wedding night, you understand.”

I thought about the sentences over and over and my hands were fists at my sides and I did not trust myself to speak for several seconds. Vaelin burned in the back of my mind. The blade was angry on my behalf. Even Vaelin’s anger was a small thing compared to the fire inside me.

Cordelia was looking down at the hall now. Her expression had not changed. That was what destroyed me, not just what she’d said, but how little it had cost her to say it. ”He said you were chosen well,” I said. ”During the dance I mean. He said it as if you were a horse he’d purchased.”

Cordelia’s lips pressed into a line. The first real reaction I’d seen from her since she’d stepped onto this balcony. ”I’m not surprised,” she said quietly. ”People do say I am beautiful.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to pull Vaelin from my mind and march downstairs and slay Alexander then and there. I wanted to march to Julian’s estate and do the same to him. I wanted to keep doing it, until this world was the color of my blade.

Instead, I stood next to her and said nothing, because for once, silence was all I had that wouldn’t make things worse. Below us, the orchestra began something new. I saw Alexander dancing with another girl now. It was some Lady from a minor house.

Cordelia watched for a moment and then turned away from the railing. ”My mother returns to Aelheim soon,” she said. ”Perhaps things might change slightly then.”

I went very still. I will see that your mother disciplines you properly when she returns from the Capital. They were words spoken almost a month ago, and yet I remembered them as if they’d been said ten minutes past.

Cordelia noticed the change. Of course she did. ”Is something wrong?” she asked.

”No,” I said. ”What is your mother like?”

The deflection was clumsy. Cordelia’s green eyes narrowed just a fraction. She studied me for a moment. ”My mother is…thorough,” Cordelia said. ”She handles aspects of my education that my father does not have the patience or experience for. Deportment, etiquette and presentation.”

Discipline.

”Once she returns, my schedule will be…considerably more structured.” Cordelia’s voice was even. ”Outings like the ones we shared will not be possible. Not for some time. I say this so that you do not send more letters. I do not wish to give you the same answer again and again.” She said softly.

”Soon,” I repeated.

”Soon.”

I stared out over the railing. The hall was bright and warm below us. Up here, the air was cold. ”Cordelia, I can’t fix any of this.” She looked at me and I kept my gaze on the hall. ”I don’t know how. I can’t stop the betrothal. I can’t stop your father. I can’t stop your mother from coming back.” I exhaled slowly. ”I don’t have the power to do any of those things.”

Not without killing every single person involved. Not without turning this entire Kingdom red. I would do that, if she asked. I would try. I knew Cordelia well enough not to ask. I took a very deep breath. ”All I can do is make sure you don’t have to…act, in front of one person at least,” I said. ”I have no interest in Cordelia Greenward. My only interest is in Cordelia.

I looked at her. Cordelia’s face was still. She did not speak for a very long time after that. The orchestra played and the hall murmured below us. The stars shone above. All I could do was hope, and pray.

Golden light rose through the iron railing beneath and fell across us in thin bars, and we stood in it like two girls in a cage made of light.

Cordelia was the one who moved first. She stepped back from the railing with her hands folded in front of her. She was gathering herself. Whatever tiny part of her armor I might have chipped away needed to be put back. I watched it happen. I hated it. ”I should go back down,” she said. ”He will notice.”

”I know.”

She took a step toward the door and stopped. ”There is a bookshop,” she said. ”In the merchant quarter, near the border between our two Districts. It is called Harlow’s. The owner is an old woman. The bookshop has a private reading room on the second floor.”

She said this absently. As if she were describing the weather. ”My father permits me to visit once a week. It is a…reward, of sorts. For my good conduct.” She stopped. ”I will go tomorrow. There are always two guards at the entrance and they see everyone who enters, but they do not follow me inside.” She still did not turn around. ”The reading room has a window that faces the alley. A window that does not lock well. I have mentioned this to the owner several times, but she is forgetful.”

My heart was beating so loudly I was sure she could hear it. Cordelia’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper. ”If someone were to visit through that window, the guards would not know. And I would happen to be there.” She smoothed an invisible wrinkle on her gown. ”Of course, I am not inviting anyone. I am simply describing my routine, because you asked, and I am being polite.”

”Cordelia,” I said. ”Wai-”

She stepped through the door. It closed behind her without a sound. I stood on the balcony alone. I thought of a girl in another life who had hidden a novel between textbooks. She had failed to hide the only gift she’d ever gotten. It wasn’t the same and yet it was close enough.

”Sere,” My voice came out cold. ”We’re leaving.” I turned from the railing and walked toward the stairs.