The Duke’s Reborn Daughter Sometimes Chooses Violence.

The invitation took the better part of an hour to write. I wished it was because the words were difficult. The words were simple, it was the framing that had to be perfect, and perfect framing took quite some patience.

Anias stood at the edge of my desk, her hands folded, watching me scratch out a third draft. She had that particular expression she wore when she wanted to say something and had decided not to. It was a familiar expression. I saw it often on her face, mostly around me. “Shall I use the formal seal, My Lady?” she asked, when I finally set down the pen.

“Yes.”

Anias picked up the letter and read it. Her eyes moved from top to bottom. One eyebrow rose by a fraction. It was the only commentary she offered.

The invitation requested the honor of Lady Cordelia Greenward’s presence for a continued discussion of shared interests pertaining to the welfare of the District’s youth. It referenced yesterday’s orphanage opening by name. It praised the spirit of cross District cooperation that Julian had himself used. It used the phrase “common good” twice and “in the interest of Aelheims future” once.

It was, in short, the kind of letter that could not be refused without the refusal itself becoming a statement. A public, documented charitable event had taken place and Lady Greenward had attended. Now Lady Veyne wished to continue the conversation. Any reasonable person would accept. Any person who refused would have to explain why cooperation with orphans was objectionable. “When should it arrive?” Anias asked.

“During the morning reception. Duke Greenward hosts a small gathering for his retainers every third day. He should have guests present when this letter arrives.”

Anias’s second eyebrow joined the first. She said nothing, sealed the letter with the Veyne crest, and left. I sat at my desk for a moment after she’d gone. The room was quiet. Sere’s notepad lay open on the corner of the desk. She had drawn a picture of me hunched over the letter, tongue sticking out in concentration.

I did not stick my tongue out when I concentrated. Probably.

Cordelia arrived at Veyne Manor midmorning. Four guards in Greenward livery came with her, as did the maid with the case. The carriage she arrived in was green and gold and polished to a shine that almost made it glow in the sun.

I met her in the foyer. She wore something slightly less formal than yesterday. A collared coat in dark green over a simpler dress, her hair pulled back rather than left in those elaborate waves. The pearl brooch was gone. In its place was a small emerald pin,. She had chosen carefully. Or whoever had chosen for her had. The clothing was chosen to say ’this trip means nothing’.

Violet leaned against the far wall, arms folded, warhammer propped beside her. She wore the same red coat as yesterday. Violet did not believe in variety. Sere was hidden somewhere here, I did not know why. I hadn’t asked her to use her Gift. I think she was just…shy?

“Lady Veyne.” Cordelia curtsied. “Your invitation was most gracious. I am eager to continue our discussion.”

“I’m glad you came,” I said. “I thought we could walk the District today. There are a few areas I’d value your perspective on, given what you noticed at the orphanage.”

Cordelia’s eyes held mine. “In the District? Of course. I would be happy to.”

“Excellent.” I turned toward the door. “I should mention this...it would send the wrong message to have Greenward guards walking through the Veyne District. People might read it as an escort rather than a visit. I’m sure you understand.”

I said it lightly. As if it were a minor logistical concern and nothing more. The head guard stepped forward. He was tall and square-jawed, with the bearing of a man who had thought himself more than he was. Ceric, I’d heard him called yesterday at some point. His armor was immaculate, and his expression was rigid. “My Lady,” he said to Cordelia, though his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “I must object! Our orders are clear. Your safety is our responsibility and we cannot allow-”

“You may wait here,” Cordelia said. Her voice was calm. “We will not be long.”

Ceric hesitated. I was surprised, and pleased. The guard’s hesitation was small, just a fraction of a second. A fraction longer than any guard should consider a direct order from his Lady. “My Lady, with respect, our standing orders come from the Duke himself. I cannot in good conscience allow this.”

Cordelia did not react in any way someone might have noticed. But…but something immaterial behind her eyes dimmed, ever so slightly.

“Your Lady is speaking to you,” I said. My voice was quiet. The mana was not. It came before I’d decided to release it. It was not nearly the full weight of what I could have done, but it was enough. It was enough that Ceric’s shoulders stiffened. Enough that the three guards behind him shifted on their feet even as their eyes went wide. Enough that the maid took one involuntary step backward.

I stepped closer to Ceric. Close enough that he had to look down at me, and in doing so, had to acknowledge the absurdity of what was happening. Him in his fancy armor, flinching before a girl half his size. “In the Veyne District,” I said softly, “guards who disobey their Lady tend to find their circumstances…diminished. I would rather not demonstrate what I mean by that. It would be unpleasant, and I am told I should be more pleasant. We will be safe, is that not enough?”

Ceric’s jaw worked. His hand twitched toward his sword. I almost wished he would draw. Give me the excuse, I dare you.

His hand stopped, and he looked at Cordelia. Actually looked at her this time, as if seeing her for the first time. Cordelia’s expression was perfectly composed. Her ring was turning. “Wait here,” she said to her guard.

He stepped back. The three guards followed. The maid pressed herself against the wall. I released the mana and the pressure lifted. The foyer felt larger again. I turned toward the door without looking at any of them and walked outside. Cordelia followed. Violet pushed off the wall, and fell into step behind us. The door closed.

I knew, with absolute certainty, that what I had just done was very stupid. Ceric would report every detail. Every word and every drop of mana. Julian Greenward would have the story before sundown, and he would shape it into whatever weapon served him best. I knew all of this. I didn’t care.

We walked in silence for the first few minutes. After we had worn our disguises, ones Anias had rather helpfully found for me. Cordelia had asked where the Veyne guards were. She had been rather perplexed when I had told here there would be none.

I was in the guise of Ellaine again. A cloak covering most of me, a black wig covering my white hair. There was nothing to be done about my eyes, unfortunately. Actually, were contacts a thing in this world? I did not know. All I could do was keep the hood pulled very low. Violet had worn a matching cloak, and Cordelia hadn’t grumbled once when I’d asked her to put one own too. We almost looked like three normal girls. Violet had kept her warhammer behind, after much grumbling.

It might have been foolish, but I was never unarmed. The news about me being a Hero was going to be out soon anyway. If need be, I’d use Vaelin. Would have used him to cut down that guard if he’d given m-

Vaelin thrummed faintly in my mind. Right. I need to take a deep breath.

Sere did not need any disguises, naturally.

The morning was cool. The Veyne District’s streets were waking up around us -merchants opening shutters, laborers hauling carts. The Magical Implements lining the road gave off their usual blue gloww, dim enough that the sunlight did most of the work.

Violet trailed a few paces behind. She hadn’t said anything since we’d left the Manor. I could feel her gaze on the back of my head. Cordelia stood beside me and she broke the silence first. “That was remarkably foolish.” Her voice was flat. This was a direct voice with no great performance behind it at all. It made me smile to hear it. “You just threatened Greenward guards in front of witnesses,” she continued, her eyes fixed ahead. “My guards will report every word.” She paused. “The unstable Veyne heir, perhaps. Intimidating servants and bullying a guest’s protection. It’ll be in every newspaper before the sun sets.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She turned to look at me. Her green eyes were sharp. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you acted without thinking at all.” She was angry. It was the first time I’d seen her angry, besides that incident with the cup.

I could have lied. I had a good lie available. I could have told her it was a calculated display of authority. The thought crossed my mind, before I banished it without a second glance. “I was angry,” I said.

Cordelia’s steps slowed. They almost stopped entirely. “You were angry.” She repeated the words as if they were in a different language. One she did not speak.

“He looked past you.” My voice was quieter now. “He didn’t even look at you when you gave him an order. He looked past you, for someone who wasn’t there.” I paused. “That made me angry. I’m sorry.”

Cordelia had stopped walking entirely. She stared at me. The ring was turning, but slowly now. “You were angry,” she said again. “On my behalf?”

I said nothing. It would have been too embarrassing to confirm or deny it. All I did was start walking again. After a few seconds, I heard her footsteps follow. Violet, still a few paces back and said nothing. That was, I was starting to learn, worse than if she’d just said something.

The Veyne District was not a perfect place. It had looked perfect to me, once. It had looked perfect the first time I’d come out into the city. Back then, all I had done was take in how interesting everything was. How high some of the buildings stretched, how happy some of the people looked. My eyes saw more now. They saw more than just what they wanted to see.

I saw the cracked cobblestones and faded shop signs. The Magical Implements that gave off a light so dim they surely weren’t serving much purpose.

Cordelia said nothing for the first few streets. She walked beside me with her hands clasped in front of her, her posture was perfect, and her expression was pleasant. I saw her eyes moving constantly though, every glance seemed to have a thought behind it. Some internal debate I was not privy too.

We passed a row of shops along the main road. Most were open, though “open” was a generous description for some of them. There was a cobbler with a cracked window, a baker whose sign loosely hung from a single bracket, a tailor who had pinned samples to the outside of his door presumably because the inside was too dark to see them properly. Cordelia’s gaze lingered on each one.

“What do you see?” I asked finally.

She looked at me and hesitated. Anyone would couch their words in a situation like this. It was the smart thing to do. Cordelia, instead, told me the truth. “The cobbler and the tailor…their stores are in the wrong positions,” she said. “The foot traffic moves east in the morning. You can see it in the wear patterns on the stones. The baker catches it because he’s on the eastern corner. The cobbler and tailor are less fortunate. Most people have already turned off by the time they reach them.”

She pointed, her gloved finger tracing an invisible line down the street. “If you moved the tailor to that empty storefront near the baker, he’d vastly improve his walk in rate. The cobbler could take the tailor’s current space. His customers, I imagine, come looking for him specifically, so placement matters less.”

I stared at her. My own brain was struggling just to keep up. Cordelia wasn’t even finished. She paused, and she only paused for breath. Her cheeks had the faintest red to them now. “There’s a natural gathering point for people at the intersection. Do you see it there? A lot of people gather there already. You can tell from all the scuff marks. If you put a market there, even a small one, maybe just a few stalls…it would be quite successful. It might become a rather favorable taxation point, one that does not detract from those around it. I don’t see why there isn’t one already.”

I did not say anything. Cordelia blinked and looked at me. The color in her cheeks deepened. “I -my apologies. I was…I didn’t mean to-”

“If you apologize for being useful one more time,” I said, “I am going to be angry again and we have just established that I do stupid things when I’m angry.” Cordelia’s mouth opened and closed. Her ring turned once and then stopped. “Thank you, truly. I would never have noticed any of that.”

Her shock broke through her mask. It lasted only a moment. She collected herself, smoothed a wrinkle that wasn’t there, and nodded once. “Very well,” she said, and there was the faintest tremor in her voice. “I will try.”

It was so little. Yet, it was enough. For now, it had to be.

We turned onto a narrower street. The buildings here were older, their walls darkened with age and stained with things I wished not to think about. A merchant was shouting at a boy who had apparently knocked over a crate of something that rolled and scattered across the ground. The boy was scrambling to pick it up while the merchant swore at him with a creativity that was, I had to admit, rather impressive.

Violet watched the scene with open approval. Her arms were folded, and she let out a small huff. “Now that’s some bloody character! Bet you don’t have any of that in that District where every other bastard is wearing lace and going ‘My Lord’ and ‘My Lady’ everywhere. What do you have to say to that, Princess?” Violet said this loudly.

I braced myself. Cordelia’s looked around, her gaze slowly sweeping over the street. “The Veyne District does have a certain character,” Cordelia said. Her voice was pleasant and entirely conversational. Then, very quietly, she added, “Rather like a stray dog. Endearing from a distance perhaps but wholly inadvisable to touch.”

Violet’s head snapped toward her. Cordelia’s expression was serene. She examined the nearest shop window with polite interest, as if she hadn’t said anything at all. Violet stared at her, and for a moment, her jaw worked without sound. Then, she snorted. It was involuntary. She clapped a hand over her mouth, turned it into a cough, and failed utterly to disguise that she had just laughed. “Did you just-” Violet started, her face reddening. “You can’t just-”

Cordelia’s face was smooth, but I saw the corners of her mouth twitch into an almost smile. Violet was staring at her with an expression I had never seen before. It was somewhere between outrage and respect, and it looked like it was giving her a headache.

“She’s got a mouth on her,” Violet muttered to me, low enough that it was probably meant to be private. It was not private. “You didn’t warn me she’d have a bloody mouth on her.”

“A creative one too,” I said.

Being rude to a future Duchess made little sense, and yet she had done it anyway. Very sweetly, and very pointedly and yet…there hadn’t been any actual heat to the words at all. This was someone, I suspected, Cordelia herself hadn’t known existed.

The three of us stood there for a moment, in the middle of a narrow Veyne street. I looked at Cordelia. She was already composing herself. I reached out and took her wrist. “Come on,” I said, and pulled her toward a side street.

“Where are we-”

“You’ll see.” I didn’t let go. Cordelia didn’t pull away. Behind us, Violet followed.