"Heirzia… you are a lady. Would you please act like one?"
Her father's voice echoed through the grand hall, calm yet heavy with disappointment.
Heirzia stood in front of him, her fingers curling against the folds of her gown. "I don't want to be a lady," she said coldly, her blue eyes unflinching. "Not if it means being sold into another household to clean, to cook, and to look after someone's son."
"You mean being married to your soon-to-be husband?" her father retorted, his tone sharpening. "Oh, Heirzia, don't be like that. Every lady is bound to marry."
She met his gaze with quiet defiance. "If Mother were alive, she would never have agreed to this."
The room fell silent until her father's hand slammed against the desk. The ink jar toppled, dark liquid spilling across scattered papers like blood spreading over parchment.
"Do not speak of your mother," he snapped. "Do you know how important this is? Being married to the oldest son of the Rykhard Empire is a great opportunity. You would be the Crown Princess! Do you understand? This is all for you."
"I never asked for any of this, Father!" she shouted, her voice trembling with rage. "Stop deciding everything on your own and let me walk my own path for once!"
"SILENCE!" His voice boomed through the room. "You will marry whether you like it or not. I am your father do not talk back to me!"
Heirzia's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Is this because my mother was a lowborn woman? Because she was just your mistress?" she whispered, venom in every word. "You're doing this for your own gain, aren't you? I'm just another one of your tools, am I, Father?"
His jaw tightened. "This discussion is over. Go back to your chamber. You will leave within a few days to prepare for your wedding."
Heirzia bowed stiffly. "As you wish… Father."
She turned away before he could see the tears burning in her eyes.
That night, the manor was quiet. Her father assumed she was packing for her departure. But when dawn broke, her chamber was empty, the sheets untouched.
The guards found one of the stable gates open, hoofprints trailing off into the forest.
The horse she had taken belonged to one of her knights.
And from that moment on, Heirzia Adeline Vyntra was no longer the daughter of House Vyntra, she was a runaway.