The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains, painting pale stripes across the floor of my room.
My morning routine had become a ritual of silence. I washed my face with cold water, the chill biting into my skin, waking up the parts of me that wanted to stay buried in sleep.
"My Lady," Adel said, tightening the laces of my dress. Her voice was calm. She didn't ask what the plan was. She already knew. She had packed the daggers wrapped in velvet the night before.
I sat at my desk, intending to review the supply lists.
CLANG.
The sharp, ringing sound of steel striking steel cut through the silence.
I paused. It was close. Right below my balcony.
I stood up and walked to the glass doors, staying behind the sheer drapes. Below, the morning mist was still clinging to the cobblestones, but three figures were cutting through it with vibrant energy.
Aurelio. Felix. Alecia.
My brother was in the center, holding a training longsword, sweat soaking his shirt. Opposite him, Alecia—the Red Ribbon triplet—wielded a blunted training axe.
"Too stiff!" Alecia shouted. "You're fighting like a statue, Aurelio! Move your feet!"
"I am moving!" Aurelio yelled back. He lunged, a textbook strike.
Alecia didn't respect the textbook. She stepped inside his guard, used her shoulder to check him, and swept his leg with the handle of her axe. Aurelio hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Felix, perched on a planter while peeling an apple, called out, "She's right. Just hit her."
"Easy for you to say!" Aurelio groaned, but as he took Alecia's hand to stand up, he was grinning.
I watched them for a long moment. They looked like a painting of a childhood I never had. Aurelio wasn't the "Heir" down there. He was just a boy.
"My Lady," Adel's voice came from the door.
I turned away. Adel stood stiffly by the entrance.
"What is it?"
"Your mother has summoned you to the Main Dining Hall," Adel said.
I frowned. "Is there any matter for summoning me?"
"She has summoned Cassius and Valerie. They are already being escorted there. From that, you can guess it, My Lady."
My blood ran cold. Mother was conducting a final inspection.
...
The Main Dining Hall felt massive when it was empty. The long table was bare.
Cassius stood near the window, eyes analyzing exits. Valerie stood in the center, looking smaller than I had ever seen her. She wore her leather armor, but in this grand hall, she looked like a wild animal trapped in a cage.
Sitting at the head of the table, sipping tea from a single porcelain cup, was my mother. My father stood behind her, leaning against the unlit fireplace.
"You are late, Aurelia," Mother said without looking up.
"I was fascinated by Aurelio's training; my apology," I replied, taking my seat.
Mother set the cup down. The sound echoed like a gavel. She turned to Valerie.
"So. This is the girl who intends to steal a Duchy."
Valerie stiffened. "I have no interest in stealing anything, Your Grace."
"No?" Mother laughed softly. "My daughter claims we are marching into the snow to put you on the claim. And yet, you say you don't want it?"
"I don't," Valerie said bluntly. "The claim is a cage."
"Then why are you here?" Mother snapped, eyes flashing red. "Why should I risk my family's resources on a reluctant heir?"
Valerie took a deep breath. She looked at me, then back at the Duchess.
"Because Katerina is going to kill Elara," Valerie said, her voice low.
"My third sister wants the seat. She has already thanked the Royal Family for their support." Her grey eyes suddenly went towards mine. "Your daughter, My Lady, who paid me, confronted me to take the claim. In that time, I refused her invitation. I thought I could stay on the run forever and become a mercenary. I thought I could keep my hands clean." Her eyes flickered toward Cassius. "But last night, my guard made me realize that 'enough thinking' is a luxury I no longer have. If I don't take the claim, my sister becomes the lamb Katerina slaughters to celebrate her ascension.
She stepped forward, her hand tightening into a fist at her side.
"I don't want the claim for the power, Your Grace. I want it because it is the only weapon large enough to stop my third sister, Katerina. I am here because I have realized that being a 'reluctant heir' is just another way of being a corpse."
If I don't go back... she will purge the family. I don't want the title, Duchess. But I will not let Katerina destroy my pack."
Silence stretched.
"Good," Mother whispered, a predator's smile forming. "She has teeth."
Father nodded. "A wolf protecting its cub is more dangerous than a wolf hunting for sport."
Mother stood up and walked to the side table where a map of the Kingdom was unrolled. "Come here."
We gathered around. Mother pointed to the North.
"We cannot send an army. The Iron Maiden has the border locked down. And with the Southern Tournament beginning in two weeks, the entire Kingdom is looking South. If we march North without a reason, it will look like rebellion."
"We do not need an army to hide a knife," I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence of the hall. "An army screams for attention. We need silence."
"The Grand Tournament," I said. "The entire Kingdom will be watching the Southern Duchy. The Queen wants a spectacle."
I looked up at my parents.
"So give it to her. You, Father. You, Mother. And Aurelio. You must go South. You must take the Vanguard, the banners, and enough gold to blind the court. You must be so loud, so arrogant, and so undeniably present that no one thinks to look anywhere else."
Father frowned, his gaze shifting between me and the map. "You are suggesting a feint. We draw the Royal Family's eyes to the South."
"Precisely," I replied.
"And you?" Mother asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied my face. "Where will you be?"
"I will be 'dying'," I said flatly.
The word hung in the air, cold and clinical.
"The Queen has already spread rumors that my constitution is weak, that the Capital air was too much for me," I explained. "I will simply confirm her lies. I will petition for a retreat—a journey to our remote Northern Estate to recover in the 'clean, cold air' away from the stress of the Tournament."
I gestured to the thin, winding trade route on the map that led into the mountains.
"A sick girl traveling with a small escort is of no concern to the Crown. It is boring. And because it is boring, they will not watch it."
Mother's lips curled slowly. It was a sharp, dangerous expression. She understood the cruelty of the tactic immediately.
"We feed them their own arrogance," she murmured. "While they gloat over your 'weakness', you slip behind their backs."
"I will take a minimal retinue," I continued. "Just my personal guard. And, of course, the 'mercenaries' I have hired for protection on the road."
I nodded toward Valerie and Cassius.
"To the world, Valerie is just a paid sword guarding an invalid noblewoman. By the time the Capital realizes the true Heir of the North has returned, we will already be inside her walls."
Father pushed himself off the fireplace, his heavy boots thudding against the floor.
"Two days," he decided, his voice booming like a war drum. "We leave in two days. I will send word to the Palace that the Aurelius entourage is splitting. We will take the main road South. Aurelia will take the trade route North."
He turned his gaze to Valerie. The air in the room seemed to drop in temperature.
"Do not mistake this for charity, girl. We are not marching into the snow to save you. We are investing in a change of management. If you fail to reclaim your seat, do not expect us to rescue you. We are betting on a Wolf. If you turn out to be a dog, we will let you freeze."
Valerie didn't flinch. She met the Duke's stare with a hardness that surprised even me. "I am no dog, Your Grace."
"Then prove it," Mother said, turning her back on us to signal the end of the audience. "Dismissed."
...
The preparations began before the sun had even fully risen. The manor transformed into a machine of calculated chaos. Servants rushed through the halls with trunks of silk for the South and bundles of fur for the North.
I retreated to my room, the noise of the living grating against my nerves.
I stood before the mirror, looking at the "Winter Vault" key resting on the velvet cloth on my desk.
The Prince would go South to play out his romance. The "Main Story" would happen there, safe and warm and predictable. But the North... the North was unwritten territory for me.
The Book had described the Northern Succession as a winter tragedy—a background event scheduled for months from now. By marching on 761 NE-08-20, I was taking a knife to the timeline. I was stepping into the background to force the tragedy into the foreground.
Knock. Knock.
"Enter," I commanded, my voice raspy.
Octavi stepped inside. She was dressed in her traveling gear, her sword polished and ready.
"My Lady," she said. "The Vanguard is assembling in the courtyard. Your brother is preparing his mount."
"Does he know the plan?"
"He knows he is going South," Octavi said, her voice neutral. "He... did not ask about you."
I felt a small, sharp pang in my chest—the kind a phantom limb might feel. Of course he didn't. To Aurelio, I was the strange, cold sister who locked herself in her room, the 'Villainess' who plotted in shadows while he trained in the sun. We had been drifting apart for years, pushed by the current of the script.
"Good," I said, though the word tasted like ash. "It is better that way."
"Is it?" Octavi asked, a rare challenge in her tone. "He is your brother, My Lady. He is going into the Viper's Nest of the Southern Court. He might need... a goodbye like the old time."
I gripped the edge of the desk.
I wanted to let him go without a word. It would be easier. But I needed him to be perfect. I needed him to be so focused on his role that he wouldn't look North until it was too late.
"I will speak to him," I said, grabbing my heavy shawl. "But not for sentiment. For strategy."
I descended the stairs, my heart cold, my mind sharp.
Survival is for us, I repeated to myself. Happiness is for the characters.
...
The stables smelled of sweet hay and oiled leather. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing through the high windows.
Aurelio was in the last stall, adjusting the saddle on his black mare. He was dressed in the colors of our House—gold and white. He looked every inch the Heir.
He heard my footsteps and stiffened. He didn't turn around immediately.
"I am ready," he said, his voice clipped. "You don't need to check on me."
"I am not checking on you," I said, stopping a few paces away. "I am checking the asset."
Aurelio turned then. His face was guarded, his eyes—so like mine, yet so full of life—narrowed in suspicion. He looked at me as if I were a stranger wearing his sister's face.
"Is that what I am?" he asked, a bitter edge to his voice. "An asset?"
"For the next few weeks, yes," I said, deliberately letting the coldness into my tone. "The South is a stage, Aurelio. The entire Kingdom will be watching. I need you to be perfect."
He let out a scoff, shaking his head. He stepped closer, searching my face.
"You have really changed, Sister," he whispered, the anger in his voice bleeding into confusion. "You used to read to me. You used to smile. Now... now you talk like Father. No, worse. You talk like Mother."
He gripped the stall door, his knuckles white.
"Why?" he demanded, his voice cracking slightly. "Why did you change? What happened to the sister who tried to save everyone?"
"She died," I answered flatly.
Aurelio flinched.
"You scare me," he admitted, stepping back. "I don't know who you are anymore."
I walked closer to him. He didn't retreat this time, though his body was tense. I reached out, not to touch him, but to straighten the Aurelius crest on his chest.
"I have one order for you, Brother."
"I am not your soldier," he snapped.
"No. You are a brother," I said softly, dropping the mask for a fraction of a second. "And that is why you must do this."
I looked him dead in the eye.
"Protect Ophelia."
Aurelio froze. "Ophelia? She's safe in Florence. She's staying at home."
He looked at me, confusion clouding his gaze. "Why are you bringing her up? She's miles away from the Tournament. No one can touch her there."
"The board is bigger than you think, Aurelio," I whispered.
I gripped his shoulder, my fingers digging into the leather of his armor.
"The parents will be distracted by the politics. You must be the one who remembers her. You must be the one who ensures the guards at home are loyal. Send letters. Demand updates. Keep her in your mind, because if you forget her... the plot might not."
Aurelio stared at me. He saw the desperation hidden deep behind the ice in my eyes.
He swallowed hard, then nodded.
"I will," he vowed, his voice steady. "I won't let anything happen to her."
"Good."
I stepped back, the cold mask sliding back into place.
"Then go."
Aurelio turned back to his horse, grabbing the reins. He paused before mounting.
"Goodbye, Sister Aurelia," he said, not looking back. "I hope... I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in the snow."
"Goodbye, Aurelio."
I watched him lead his horse out into the sunlight.
I stood alone in the shadows of the stable. I had anchored him to the safe plot. I had ensured Ophelia had a guardian.
...
Outside, the carriages were waiting.
On the left, the Golden Vanguard for the South. On the right, my iron-reinforced shadow convoy for the North.
I walked past the gold and the banners, clutching the small, locked leather case against my side. Inside was the Book, the ink-stained proof of my existence, the script I was about to burn.
"We are ready, My Lady," Octavi said, standing by the door of the dark carriage.
I nodded and climbed inside.
The interior was cramped compared to the Aurelius luxury I was used to, but it was fortified. Sitting on the opposite bench was Valerie, her arms crossed, eyes closed in meditation, a whetstone rhythmically sliding against a dagger in her lap. Beside her, Cassius was already checking the window latches, his mercenary instincts scanning for threats.
Octavi followed me in, taking the seat next to me, her sword resting between her knees. Adel took the last corner.
I placed the leather case on my lap, my hands resting protectively over the lock.
The carriage lurched forward with a groan of wood and metal.
I leaned my head back against the cushions as the darkness of the carriage swallowed us. We were a carriage of outcasts—a villainess, a mercenary, a traitor, an exiled heir, and a maid who knew the secrets of the Gods.
Look at the South, I thought, visualizing the Golden Vanguard moving in the opposite direction.
The North was a vacuum. The Book inside the case on my lap said nothing happened here for another three months. It was a blank page.
If I marched North—if I became a "Main Plot" threat in a theatre that was supposed to be empty—Nona couldn't simply ignore me. Nature abhorred a vacuum, but Fate abhorred a plot hole even more.
I felt a dangerous curiosity unfurl in my chest. Nona was resource-constrained. If I started the succession early, she would have to scramble. She would have to designate a new Main Character for the North to stop me.
I wanted to see who it was. I wanted to see what kind of hollow puppet Nona would create when she was desperate.
Let Anna has her Romance, I thought as the wheels began to turn, carrying us away from the sun. I am going North to find out who Nona sends to stop me.