MIREYA POV
It's been three weeks. Four nights. And six long hours of training.
I count it in my head because it feels easier that way. Easier than counting bruises. Easier than counting the times I've fallen. The times my body ached so much I wanted to give up.
Every morning starts before the sun rises. Greta wakes me gently, but the day is never gentle.
First lesson... Posture.
"Straight back," Lord Malric says, walking around me slowly. "A noble lady
does not slouch."
My shoulders ache, but I force them back.
The second lesson speech.
"Again, you're to speak more refined" he says when I slip. "You are not from the slums. You are Faye Duskbane."
I repeat the words until they feel like poison on my tongue.
After that comes history. Names of houses. Alliances. Enemies. Rules of the Iron Spire Trials.
And at night… Combat, weapons.
A blade was placed in my hand for the first time three weeks ago. It felt wrong. Heavy. Cold.
Now my palms are covered in small cuts. My arms burn from endless practice.
"You are too slow," he says calmly when I miss a strike.
I grit my teeth and try again.
I don't cry anymore. Not in front of him.
By the time I collapse into bed each night, my body is trembling from exhaustion. Every muscle aches. Every joint feels like it could give out.
But I force myself to lie still, knowing that tomorrow hell begins again.
There is no rest. There is no mercy. Only training.
Only surviving.
I had just a week to be the perfect pawn, the perfect imposter, the perfect lie.
Every second counted. Every movement mattered. One mistake, one slip of the tongue, and it could all be over.
I forced myself out of bed before the sun had even risen, my body screaming in protest. Greta was already waiting, her calm face hiding the worry she surely felt.
"Miss… time to start," she said quietly.
I nodded, my hands shaking as I straightened my back. Posture first. Always posture. My shoulders burned, my legs ached, but I forced myself to stand tall.
Then came speech. Repeating words until I could taste my own lies and my mouth hurt.
History followed, a flood of names and dates and betrayals that threatened to drown me. I memorized alliances, enemies, rules of the Iron Spire Trials…all of it. I repeated them until my tongue ached and my head spun.
And then the weapons.
The sword in my hands felt wrong at first, heavy and cold, like it didn't belong to me. My arms burned, my palms were raw, but I swung and parried anyway. Every block, every strike was another test. Another reminder that I had to survive.
"You should be better at this by now," Lord Malric said calmly, but the weight of it cut deeper than any shout.
I didn't answer. I gritted my teeth and swung again. And again. And again.
By nightfall, my body trembled with exhaustion. My joints screamed. My muscles ached. My hands were bleeding. I lay in bed, every part of me trembling, but I forced myself still.
Tomorrow it will start again.
And I had to be perfect.
Because if I wasn't…
Death awaits me…
That has been life… for three weeks on repeat..
I stared at myself in the mirror standing in front of me.
I barely recognized the woman looking back at me. The fine dress, the carefully braided hair, the way I held myself…. it was all so wrong, so unfamiliar. Yet it had to be perfect.
Today, Lord Malric was hosting a dinner. His words rang in my head like a warning…
"It's time you familiarize yourself with people so they get used to your face. Whatever questions are asked, remember how to respond as we practiced. Don't fail me, girl."
I could feel the weight of those words pressing on me as I smoothed the fabric of my dress and adjusted my posture.
From below, the sounds of the dining hall reached my room. Laughter, clinking glasses, voices…deep, confident, powerful. Every sound reminded me of my place here.
The slum.. The unwanted and forbidden.
I breathe in deeply.. My heart is beating fast.
A dinner filled with Gifted…. Every hair in my body stood. Dining with monsters… murderers who killed my family.
I felt like a tiny fish, swimming among sharks. My stomach twisted. My heart pounded. Every step I took tonight had to be perfect. One slip, one wrong word, and I could ruin everything.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
This was my life now. Pretend. Lie. Survive.
I had no choice.
And yet… staring at the mirror, I wondered how long I could keep pretending before I lost myself completely.
I took another deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. The woman in the mirror looked poised, calm, and collected… but I knew it was all a mask. Beneath it, my heart raced, my stomach twisted, and my mind ran a thousand steps ahead, planning every answer, every movement.
The footsteps on the stairs made me jump. Greta appeared at the door, holding a tray with a small glass of water. Her eyes flicked to mine, and I forced a smile.
"Drink this, Miss," she said softly. "It'll help."
I nodded, taking the glass. My hands still trembled as I raised them to my lips. The water was cool, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside me.
"You're ready," Greta whispered, almost to herself. "Just remember everything you've practiced… And tonight would go smoothly."
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that I could walk into that dining hall, among all those Gifted, and not crumble. But fear coiled in my chest like a living thing.
When I finally stepped toward the door, I could hear the voices more clearly now…. laughter, the sharp edges of power in every tone. Each name I had memorized whispered in my mind, a reminder that these weren't just strangers. These were people who could destroy me with a word, with a look, with a single mistake.
I swallowed hard and straightened my shoulders.
This was survival. This was the game.
And I couldn't afford to lose.
With a trembling hand, I opened the door and stepped out.
The dining hall spread before me, glittering, alive, dangerous. A hundred eyes could be on me in a single second.
I felt small.
But I had to appear strong.
Because tonight… the game had already begun.