Swords clanged, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing in the air. The two men circled each other in the arena, each throwing verbal jabs and insults to the other as their colleagues cheered them on. They sparred and turned, parried and ducked, every movement practiced and guarded.
It was fascinating, to Effion at least. She had found a new hiding spot, just behind the rusting stack of breastplates the knights had abandoned. They wouldn't discover her here. She had a few cramps in her neck from craning too long, just to witness the sparring between her father's knights. It was fast becoming her new favourite thing to do.
She watched with renewed interest as the two knights danced around each other before lunging at themselves again. Every parry, lunge, shift or stroke did not go unnoticed by her keen eyes. She noticed how each knight took a sweeping gaze of his situation before deciding his next course of action: whether to attack or defend. It was like chess, and it was absolutely fascinating. The air was putrid from sweaty odour, but she did not mind much.
Laughter from the other end of the hall made her shift her gaze. Her brother walked in with his friends. Which of her brothers, she wasn't quite sure. But the arrogant sneer, haughty stride and graceful laugh was a giveaway.
She sighed. She couldn't be discovered here: that would mean trouble. She had two options now: stay still and hope she wasn't discovered, or risk it and leave quietly. The former seemed more risky, so she chose the latter, praying that no one would notice her running away.
She looked around, plotting how to slip away. The hall was large and there were two entrances on either side. Both were clustered with knights who all stood at attention, greeting the young master of the house.
She sighed. So it was Thomas Bon Eder, her first brother, after all. This was not good. He was a known braggart about his many accomplishments and skills with the sword, and he brought his friends, so he'd be staying in the armoury for a very long time. She bit back a groan. She had to leave, and fast.
"Oh, what's that?" one of Thomas's friends asked, pointing at the very place she was hiding. Darn it, no, she cursed. She stilled, praying he lost interest in the rusting breastplates.
Thomas laughed, an ugly, arrogant sound that scraped Effion's ears. "Those are the knights' discarded breastplates. My father changes them every year, he believes in the best materials for the Eder knights."
Effion rolled her eyes in disdain. Lies.
Another friend spoke up. "The markings and designs on the breastplates are unique, to say the least." He bent down, taking one very close to her right foot. She swallowed in nervousness.
Her blood ran cold when she realised he'd seen her foot. No, no, no.
He slowly stood up, walking around the pile of scrapped metal until he came face to face with a trembling Effion.
Effion clasped her hands to her mouth, eyes pleading with him not to rat her out. Please, please, her eyes blinked. Just pretend you didn't see me.
He tilted his head, blue eyes twinkling in amusement.
Effion recognized him with each blink. Adam Von Vanderbilt. Sole heir to the House of Vanderbilt and future Duke of the part of the Philian north, Vanderbilt. He was also betrothed to Thomas's younger sister, one of her father's legitimate daughters. How had her sleazy brother managed to befriend him?
"Come now, Adam," Thomas piped. "Except you've developed a new curiosity for useless metal?" Laughter rose among the young men.
Adam opened his mouth slightly, humour tipping the corners of his lips into a playful smile.
Effion's heart pounded in fear. She blinked, shaking her head. Please, please, let him not tell my brother.
"I was only curious, nothing more," he finally said, a smile ghosting his lips. He looked towards the closest entrance. "I wonder if the knights at the entrance could shift away a little. I'm curious to see how sunlight could reflect off the surfaces."
Thomas snorted, bewildered. "You're a curious one, Vanderbilt," he quipped. Flicking his hands, he gestured for the knights to leave the entrance.
Adam nodded a little, the golden beams radiating off his blond hair. "Fascinating," he said, his eyes locked on Effion's. "How…curious." Effion's cheeks burned from embarrassment.
Thomas laughed a little. "Come on, Vanderbilt. There are even better things to see here, like my father's men!"
He nodded a little. "I'll be with you soon, Thomas." He gave Effion one last amused look before mouthing, "Go."
She blinked, realising he was helping her. "Thank you," she whispered gratefully, before quietly stealing away. She tiptoed closer and closer to the entrance until she got out, but not before she heard her brother ask, "What was that? Did someone leave the armoury?" and Adam reply with a chuckle, "Must be the wind, Thomas."
The afternoon sun settled on her pale face and she breathed in deeply. Today was a good day, save for her embarrassing debacle with the Vanderbilt heir. She would take a stroll, then read a book on the War of Ferg later. James, the librarian, had told her earlier that there was a new book on the Fergian War. Then she would have a cup of tea-
She paused.
Cup of tea…
Alarm rang through her. She had a tea class with the governess! The governess must be livid by now, which meant a difficult class ahead.
Lifting up her dress, she made a dash for the general hall room. Short puffs of air left her mouth as her hair curled from humidity and perspiration. One, two, one, two, she urged herself forward, her legs getting tired. The maids only looked on, perplexed at the sight of one of their young ladies running like her life depended on it.
Soon, she reached the hallroom and slowly peeked in. Her half sisters were all in attendance, laughing heartily and discussing. She bit back a groan, trying to tidy herself up before she stepped inside. She smoothed down her dress and was about to tidy up her hair when the large doors swung open to reveal the governess, Mrs Pryce, wearing an unamused look.
"Well, what do we have here. Miss Effion de Ricci," she said, arms akimbo. "I thought you'd never show up."
"I apologize, Ma'am," Effion managed. "I… er, I lost track of time."
"Doing what exactly? Staring lewdly at the knights' half nakedness again in your free time?" The governess' angry remark elicited a cruel bout of laughs from her sisters in the room, who had craned their necks to watch.
She had been caught one time in the knights' armoury, and for the next three months, rumours flew about the manor that there was a lewd young miss that loved to ogle the knights during practice. It was an awful time for Effion, but that did not deter her from sating her curiosity on martial arts.
Effion looked down, her cheeks burning with shame. She had wanted to argue that she only thought that martial arts was a beautiful art form, another depiction of human behaviour. She wanted to say that there was nothing lustful or lewd about watching knights fight, and she wished that she could study it openly without any shame.
But she said nothing. Her chest burned, heat building up between her lungs. She felt like she could spit fire.
"Effion Von Eder, this is your final strike. It is a shame, an embarrassment to be seen as a lady, watching men barely clothed spar violently! It is lewd and dishonourable. I will inform your father of this lewd habit and leave the punishment to him."
She wanted to laugh. Her father? He barely recognised her, among the thirteen female children he had sired in his foolish quest to have more male children, legitimate or not. He would not bother to discipline her. She was of no use to him after all. She was illegitimate.
But she only nodded in reply, before stepping in. She looked around before finding an empty chair. But before she could sit down, it was dragged away by her sister, Grace. Her full, pretty lips twisted into a fake smile. "Sorry, were you going to sit here? I'm sorry, sister, I just got settled. I didn't realise you'd be joining us so… late."
She blinked. "But-"
"I much prefer using two chairs. You understand, yes?" She smiled sweetly, her cheeks dimpling.
Effion gritted her teeth as chuckles reverberated through the room. She sighed. "There's no chair left, Grace."
Grace's nose flared in irritation, like she was disgusted at Effion's use of her name. "Oh, dear. I'm sorry, sister, but I can't let this chair go."
Melody, Grace's immediate elder sister, chided her silently. "Grace!" But Grace refused to budge.
Effion glanced at Mrs Pryce, who was holding a pot of tea. She doubted that the governess would chastise Grace for her open bullying, but surely she would settle the matter?
The governess looked away, clearing her throat. "Since there's no chair left, you'll have to stand." She gestured hurriedly.
Effion exhaled a little. What was she expecting, after all? Even the governess wouldn't want to cross a legitimate daughter. She silently took a pot, a cup and its saucer.
Melody, however, spoke up. "Actually, Grace will relinquish the chair. I'm sure she can manage for today. Isn't that right, Grace?" She asked, shooting her sister a sharp glare.
Grace scoffed and pushed the chair towards Effion with annoyance.
Effion lowered herself gingerly into her seat, offering Melody a grateful smile.
To her surprise, Melody smiled back warmly, almost sweetly.
Effion was soon forgotten as they resumed the etiquette class, her sisters gathering around Melody as she proudly showed off her engagement ring. "Father said yes," she giddily said, watching as the amethyst on the ring glimmered in the sun. "The preparations for the wedding are underway too."
The young ladies cooed at the band, fawning over the pricey, huge gem. "You're so lucky, Sister Melody," a sister, Charlotte, said. "It's obvious Sir Adam loves you. And you'll be a future duchess too!"
Melody laughed a little at the praise. "I know. But I'll be sad to leave you all, my sisters." She smiled. "I won't forget you."
Mrs Pryce chipped in, watching them brew the tea. "You mustn't forget the Eder House, miss," she said coyly. "Or your teachers."
Melody smiled at the meaning. "Of course, Ma'am. I won't forget you either."
Just then, Thomas and Adam walked in. The young ladies, on cue, bowed in courtesy.
Thomas nodded at Mrs Pryce, who humbly ushered them in. "Master Thomas, the ladies are still training. Might I ask that you come another time?"
Thomas's irritated gaze flickered to the governess, who shrank back in a mixture of fear and wounded pride, her hands knotting nervously in the folds of her skirt. "My friend has only come to see his fiancée. Is that not also allowed?"
The governess smiled nervously and nodded in quiet agreement. "I suppose I could allow it, sir."
Melody beamed, her gaze on Adam. "Adam, you came."
He smiled at Melody's remark. "How could I not? I promised."
The sisters cooed, and Melody offered a smug little smile before glancing at Adam. A hint of pink touched her cheeks. "I do appreciate it," she said, the words unusually gentle on her tongue.
Adam smiled, but his eyes weren't on his fiancée- they lingered, instead, on her sister. The moment their eyes met, Effion dropped her gaze, heat rising to her cheeks.
"It seems there'll be a lot of weddings this year," Grace chirped happily. "The Strausses also have a wedding to plan, and so do the Silversteins." Her lilty voice dropped to a whisper. "I even heard that the Reinhardts may have another wedding."
Her sister gasped. "Grace! Where did you hear that from?"
"I heard Father talking about it," she sheepishly replied.
"Is it really true?" Charlotte asked, tapping Grace a little. "Is the Archduke set on taking another wife?"
Thomas cleared his throat. "It is none of your business, Charlotte. I'd rather you stick to making tea or the likes instead of prattling on idly."
"Oh, but it is, brother!" Charlotte cried. "There are only five dukes in Philos, and two of those houses have given their daughters in marriage to the duke!" She gasped, like she'd just remembered something. "What if we're next?"
Kristina, a blonde haired girl and sister of Charlotte, piped up, "It's unlikely that Father will agree to marry us off. Sister Melody's wedding will be a lot to handle, after all. Besides, Father is a Count."
"Miss Kristina is right," Adam joined in, smiling a little. "If the news is true, the archduke won't pick from a Count's house." He took Melody's hands in his, squeezing it softly in assurance. "However, I do doubt that he'd be willing to marry again. His last wife's death was gruesome after all."
Charlotte wasn't calmed, however -not in the slightest. "What about the rumours that he kills his wives? He's married three times in the past two years, not to mention all the fiancées he was set to marry were dropping dead! I hear he's a cold blooded killer, both in state and on the battlefield."
"Hush, you," Thomas cut in, annoyed at her frenzied rambling. "Those are unfounded rumours, no doubt. He is a man of skill and grace. If you said these words aloud outside, it would be regarded as contempt of the crown!"
"But he isn't the king, brother," Harriet, a quiet girl, reasoned. "Behind every smoke there is a fire, no matter how little. The rumours may be false, but there must be an element of truth. Besides, people say the Reinhardt duchy is infested with dragon blood."
"Ha! More unreasonable folly," Thomas sneered, the laugh curling at the edge of his mouth. "Women- forever ruled by emotion and nonsense."
Adam smiled at that, shrugging a bit. "It is alright," he said in their defence. "They're only voicing out their opinions. That is not a crime."
"You are too modest, Adam," Thomas quipped, an eyebrow raised. "It is our duty as men to steer them away from their female folly."
Effion, who had been silent all along and had been content with just listening to the curious conversation, prickled with irritation and anger at Thomas's unkind words. Female folly… as though being a woman automatically meant one was sentenced to be deemed erratic and without common sense forever.
Adam chuckled at Thomas's stern expression. "Ah, but I really must be going now," he said, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve with a practiced ease. "I have quite a lot to do."
Melody looked a bit disappointed. "Oh, so soon?" She looked up at him, blue eyes unblinking. "You must stay a while longer."
Adam smiled as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Another time," he murmured. "I really must be off." But even as his gaze flicked- unmistakably- to Effion, Melody's smile fell. Just for a second. Then, like a mask slipping back into place, she tightened her grip on his hand. "Of course," she said softly. "We'll all be waiting."
Thomas patted his back. "Then I must send you off. As courtesy demands."
Adam laughed a little. "I assure you, you're under no obligation to."
Thomas let out a chuckle. "I insist."
Adam inclined his head, his mouth lifting in a polite smile. "Then I'm honoured."
He stopped at the threshold, one hand on the door. Then, as though the thought had only just occurred to him, he turned. "Ah- how forgetful of me." A charming smile touched his lips. "My father's tasked me with overseeing the delivery of a few Zhennish peacocks to the Selvelt Garden. A gift to Lady Vernay, I believe."
He looked directly at the governess now, all polite formality. "Do you suppose the ladies might enjoy a visit? It may prove an instructive detour- grace, form, and… rare feathers."
Mrs Pryce's eyes lit up. "Oh! I daresay they would, sir. That would be most... educational."
"Ah, so those were the birds I saw squawking in the cage earlier," Thomas laughed. "I'd love to see it too. Rare birds are a sight to see."
The girls all rose from their seats in a flurry of satin and perfume. The governess, now visibly pleased by the change in pace, clapped her hands once.
"Come along, ladies. Let's not keep the peacocks waiting."
Melody turned with a bright, practiced smile. "Oh, how marvelous! I adore rare birds- especially when they're gifts." She looped her arm through the governess without asking. "You must see how the gold feathers match my new gloves, Miss Pryce."
The governess chuckled indulgently and allowed herself to be led toward the door.
Effion stood, quieter, adjusting her skirt-
"Stop right there," Mrs Pryce said. Her voice was firm, eyes narrowing. "Effion, your hem is disgraceful. It's dragging again. Sit. I won't have you trailing threads through the garden."
Effion flushed and sat back down without protest. "Yes, ma'am."
The other girls didn't wait. They filed out in a bubbling stream of excitement, the governess ushering them all into the corridor with talk of "decorum in public" and "back straight, chin high."
The door clicked shut.
Effion let out a slow breath, reaching beneath the table to examine the hem she already knew was perfectly intact.
Minutes went by, the clock ticking at a painfully slow pace. She sighed, her mind wandering. What would it be like if she was legitimate? If her father adored her like he did with Melody? If he cherished her?
Would she also laugh freely, spin freely, call Thomas, 'Brother,' so freely? Would she be free?
"A cruel trick," said a voice, low and warm, from behind her.
She turned sharply. Adam stood in the doorway again, one hand still resting on the knob.
"Mr Vanderbilt," she breathed.
"I merely forgot my glove, miss. I apologize if I startled you," he said, his eyes crinkling into a kind smile. "Miss Effion, isn't it?"
Effion blinked. "Pardon…?"
""Your name," he said lightly, even though he'd committed it to memory a dozen times. "It's of Galvican origin, no?"
Bewildered, she nodded in response.
"I believe I've not had the pleasure of conversation, though I've had many observations," he continued.
"Ah," she said. Did he come here because of how he helped her in the morning? Did he come to gloat? "Thank you, sir," she curtseyed.
He smiled a little. It seemed she did not remember him- or did not want to. "We have met quite a few times, miss."
Effion blinked, looking away. "I do not recall, sir."
He brought out a single gold feather, studying it. "I find that hard to believe, miss."
She stepped back, her heart fluttering in a confused manner. "You are engaged, sir."
He looked at her. "That doesn't mean we cannot be friends, Effion."
She blinked again. He knew.
He knew it was her. She had been hoping he would not find out.
"How did you know?" she asked quietly. "How did you find out it was me?"
Adam smiled a little. "It isn't very easy to forget your pen pal's handwriting, even if they're using a fake name." He stepped closer. "And as luck would see fit, your sister was my betrothed. It was… easy."
Effion nodded, smiling a bit to herself. She had known for some time that her pen pal was neither the girl he claimed to be in his letters nor a commoner. A discreet bribe to the servant who ferried their notes had revealed the truth: her mysterious friend was none other than the heir to the Vanderbilt House.
He took her hand in his, smiling. "I never thought our formal introduction would be this way, Effy," he said, humour tinging his voice.
Effion angled her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze at the use of her nickname. She smiled. "I'm happy for you, Adam. You'll be married soon."
He nodded at that. Carefully, he slipped the golden feather into her hair. "It's pretty."
Effion stepped back at the intimate gesture. "Adam…"
He smiled- disarmingly innocent.
"It's a gift, Effion. Take it." Then, with effortless grace, he picked up his glove and offered her a quick wink. "Till we meet again, Effy."
And just like that, he turned and disappeared through the door, leaving only the faint scent of cedar and trouble in his wake.