Survival Classes and Surprising Questions
"I don't like if anybody touches me."
I stepped back, my eyes locked on Edward's, making sure he understood I wasn't joking.
Edward blinked, then slowly nodded, raising both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Of course, I apologize."
"Good," I said flatly. "So when do we start learning?"
He looked momentarily confused. "Huh?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Swords. Learn. Swordsmanship." I waved my hand in a mock-fighting motion, gripping an imaginary sword and swinging it once with dramatic flair. "This thing," I added, hoping the theatrics would knock some sense into him.
That finally seemed to jolt him back from whatever daydream he was stuck in. "Oh! Yeah. Swords… Right."
I sighed deeply. "Is it that surprising for a young lady to want to learn how to survive here?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "Not exactly common, but... why do you want to learn?"
"Simple," I said with a straight face. "This place is crawling with people who'd love to poison me, stab me, or trip me down the stairs with a smile on their face. If someday a sword-wielding assassin jumps out of the curtains, I need to do more than scream."
Edward didn't laugh. He just nodded like that was the most reasonable thing in the world.
So I guess sword-wielding assassins weren't rare here. Noted.
"If that's the case," he said, "why don't you also learn archery? It'll be useful from a distance."
I blinked. "Actually… that's a great idea."
Before I could stroll away, I remembered something important. "Wait—what time are my survival classes, then? Yeah survival Classes that's what I am gonna call them."
He chuckled. "We can start tomorrow morning, right after breakfast."
"Perfect. See you then."
I spun on my heel with as much grace as I could manage, trying to maintain that mysterious, noble air… and immediately cringed at myself.
"Cool?" Really, Isla?
I needed to stop using phrases from my world before I gave myself away. Maybe I should start reading the kingdom's etiquette guide—or burn it, depending on the level of boredom it induced.
.....
I'd been taking lessons with Edward for a few days now, and I had to admit, the guy knew what he was doing with a sword and bow.
Despite his occasional weird comments and mysterious silences, he was a good teacher. Sharp, patient, and surprisingly focused.
My routine had become simple and almost peaceful: wake up, eat, train, eat again, read some old historical books, snack a little (I swear I'm not addicted), and sleep.
The best part?
Amelia—my elegant, ever-scheming stepmother—had barely spoken to me.
Which was odd. Suspicious, even.
Lady Amelia not bothering me felt like nature going out of balance. But I wasn't going to complain. Maybe she found a new target. Maybe she was planning something. Either way, I was grateful for the quiet.
Elena, my supposed stepsister, still kept her distance. Frankly, that was working in both our favors. Peace was rare in this household, and I'd take it however it came.
Today was different.
Sasha, my ever-loyal maid who knew when to be invisible and when to act like a shadowy sidekick, was helping me dress.
"Why am I wearing this again?" I muttered as she carefully fixed the lace on my sleeve.
"Because, my lady, you've been summoned by the Duke," she said, sounding more anxious than I felt.
Ah yes, the summons.
I'd been wondering why Father suddenly wanted to see me. Not that I was nervous—okay, I was. Just a little. It wasn't like I'd done anything wrong… that he knew of.
Still, something about him made me feel off-balance. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't the real Isla, yet my heart kept reacting to his presence like he was my actual father. That connection shouldn't exist.
And yet, somehow—it did.
I knocked lightly on the door to his study, heart doing an unhelpful little skip as his voice called out, "Enter."
He was seated at his desk, surrounded by paperwork and sealed documents. The room smelled of old leather, ink, and authority.
He didn't look up.
"Why are you standing? Come in and sit down."
His tone was neutral, but I obeyed quickly, settling into the chair across from him.
"May I know why you asked for me, Father?" I said, keeping my voice calm, controlled.
Only then did he lift his eyes from the documents and look at me.
"Your mother informed me that you're taking classes from Edward. What exactly are you learning?"
Of course. Amelia.
I sighed internally. "Swordsmanship and archery," I said. "I want to learn how to protect myself, in case it's ever needed."
There was a pause—a long one.
And then, something flickered across his face. Something I wasn't used to seeing.
Was that… sadness?
He cleared his throat and said, "That's a wise decision. As the daughter of a Duke, it is good for you to be capable of defending yourself."
He hesitated again, as though there was more he wanted to say. But the words never came.
"Thank you," I replied, unsure what else to add.
"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave—"
"Wait," he interrupted, and I froze mid-stand.
"There's one more thing."
I sat back down slowly, curious.
"You're turning eighteen in three months. Is there anything you want for your birthday?"
I blinked.
What?
Was he serious?
"When was the last time you asked Isla something like that?" I muttered under my breath—too softly for him to hear.
I straightened up. "Uhm… Whatever you deem fit, Father. I don't really need anything."
He gave a small nod and turned back to his paperwork.
I took that as my cue to leave.
Back in my room, Sasha handed me a book from my nightstand. I flipped through the pages absentmindedly, the words blurring.
"My lady?" she asked gently. "You seem quiet."
"My eighteenth birthday is in three months," I said, staring out the window.
"That's wonderful! You'll have a grand celebration, I'm sure."
I didn't respond immediately.
"It's not the birthday that surprised me. It's the fact that father asked me if I wanted anything for my birthday."
Sasha's eyes softened. "That is even better , my lady. I've noticed him changing a little, haven't you? He looks at you now—not through you."
I hummed, unsure how to feel about that.
Later that day, after my training with Edward, I was walking in the garden to clear my head.
And then—like thunder before a storm—I heard the unmistakable sound of Amelia's entourage approaching.
If fanfare had a personality, it would be her entrance.
Her maids announced her presence with all the drama of a royal parade. I turned to Sasha, who was already rolling her eyes in solidarity.
"Why do you think she's here?" I asked.
"I suspect she doesn't like that you're getting lessons from Lord Edward," Sasha said wisely.
I smiled. "You've become quite the little detective lately."
"I learn from the best, my lady."
"Well then," I said, brushing invisible dust from my shoulder, "Let's see what chaos she brings with her today."