Under my breath, I muttered, "Wow… that really didn't take her long. Am I really that scary?"
I rose from the tattered chair and walked toward the cracked, stained window. Outside, the garden was a graveyard of dead plants, their stems brittle and leaves withered. I turned to Lily. "We don't have a gardener?" I asked, trying to mask my disbelief.
She shook her head nervously. "Ma'am… we've never had a gardener."
The realization hit me like a hammer. If I wanted to survive, let alone ascend to the throne, I needed money. Fast. Starvation was a very real threat if I didn't act.
"Gather everything of value in this house," I instructed Lily, my tone calm but firm. "Decorations, curtains, couches—everything. It's all going to be sold."
Lily blinked at me, hesitant, but eventually nodded and left the room to begin collecting the mansion's meager treasures. I added, almost casually, "And my dresses. Sell all of them. There aren't many, but every coin will count."
Hours passed. Lily returned, exhausted, but with a satisfied look. "Everything has been gathered, my lady," she reported.
I allowed a proud smile to creep across my face. "Good. Now, send a letter to Countess Amelia of Wrexham territory. She is a merchant… she will come."
Lily's eyes widened. "That has no chance of happening, my lady. The Countess won't come here. You know your position."
I turned to her, smirking, and then—without warning—let out a long, low laugh that would have sent chills down anyone's spine. It was not a laugh born of amusement, but of power.
I gently patted her cheek. "Never doubt me," I said softly, my voice laced with conviction.
Then I walked to the stained mirror, looking at my reflection—the golden hair, the crystal blue eyes, the delicate frame—and said aloud for Lily to hear: "Send a letter to the Countess. Tell her I can make her son's magic stronger… even if he has no magical potential."
Lily hesitated for a moment, but the weight in my voice brooked no refusal. She bowed and left to deliver the letter.
Alone, I let myself smile, recalling the memory of Beatrice. The Countess had always been desperate. Her son had no magical potential, and without that, no one could teach him to wield magic. Countless had tried, all failed. No one could succeed—except me.
I rose from my seat and twirled across the room, the dilapidated walls and broken floorboards no longer bothering me. A thrill surged through me. I could do this. I could manipulate the Countess, use her desperation to my advantage, and inch closer to power.
I sang softly, a low chant to myself as I danced: "I am one step closer to the throne… one step closer to the throne… and anyone who stands in my way… will have their head."
Even in this weak, starving body, I was unstoppable. I was Kora, Legacy of Time and Mind. And I would make sure everyone remembered it.