MIREYA POV
The questions kept coming, sharper and faster now. I felt like I was being tested from every direction at once.
"Faye, how would you handle a dispute with another noble house?" a woman asked, her eyes glinting.
I swallowed hard, remembering my practice. "Carefully. I would listen first, understand their position, and act with honor. Conflict can always be resolved without unnecessary bloodshed."
Another voice cut in, deeper this time. "And if honor fails?"
I forced a steady tone. "Then I would do what is necessary to protect those under my care. Loyalty and duty come first, always."
My heart pounded. Every word had to sound natural—every pause measured. I could feel the weight of their gazes, pressing in from all sides. I dared not let them sense my fear.
Small nods, murmurs… some approving, some skeptical. I forced myself to meet every glance evenly, smile softly but confidently, and speak slowly enough to seem deliberate.
As the conversation continued, I found a rhythm. Questions came, I answered, questions came, I answered. The cycle became almost tiring. My jaw ached from smiling, my arms burned from sitting stiffly, but I didn't let it show.
I was aware of Lord Malric, watching silently from across the room. His presence was like a shadow over every word I spoke, a constant reminder that perfection was the only thing that mattered.
By the time the dessert was brought in, I was exhausted in a way I'd never known. But no one could tell. I could only force one more practiced smile and lift my fork with careful grace.
This was the life I had now. Every word, every gesture… a step in the game.
And I had to win.
Because if I failed even once… I wouldn't just disappoint Lord Malric. I would lose myself completely.
By the time the night was ending, my body was exhausted. My jaw ached from smiling, my butt was stiff from sitting too long, and my mind was numb from every word I had carefully chosen.
The room began to quiet as the guests finished their dessert and conversations. Plates were cleared, candles flickered low, and I felt a small weight lift off my shoulders. For the first time tonight, I could breathe a little.
Lord Malric stood from his chair and looked toward me. His expression was unreadable for a moment, then he gave the tiniest nod.
"You did well tonight," he said, his voice calm but carrying that same sharp authority.
I froze for a heartbeat, unsure if I had heard correctly.
"You answered correctly. Your posture, your words… you held yourself as expected," he continued. "This is exactly how Faye Duskbane should appear to others."
I felt a flicker of relief, though I forced it small, careful. I couldn't let it show too much… any sign of pride might be seen as arrogance tomorrow.
"Thank you, my lord," I said, voice steady, bowing slightly.
He gave a faint nod again, then turned his attention elsewhere.
I exhaled softly, finally letting my shoulders drop.
The dinner was over. I had survived.
For now.
But tomorrow, I knew, would bring another test.
Another chance to prove I could be perfect.
Another day to survive.
I finally slipped out of the dining hall and made my way back to my room. The hallways were quiet now, the echo of footsteps long gone, leaving only the soft flicker of candlelight to guide me.
I closed the door behind me and sank onto the edge of the bed, my body aching from the long day. Three weeks of training, a night putting off the performance, and still… it never felt enough.
The Trial was in six days. Six days to prove I could be Faye Duskbane. Six days to survive. Six days to pretend perfectly… or die.
I pressed my face into my hands, letting the exhaustion take me for a moment. But even in that brief pause, my mind wandered.
Edda. Brina. Orla. Hestia. Soren and Lief. I missed them more than I thought possible. The streets of Harrowden, the chaos, the friendship, even the thieving… they felt like another life now. A life I might never have again.
I clenched my fists, wishing I could hear their voices, their laughter, their presence beside me. I wouldn't dare admit it out loud here… not to Lord Malric, not to Greta… but I missed them terrible it made me feel sick.
I could feel the weight of the Trial pressing down on me, but it wasn't just that. It was the loneliness, the isolation, the constant reminder that I had no one here who truly cared… and no one I could trust.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to focus, trying to remember everything I had learned, everything I had practiced. But even as I replayed lessons and sword moves in my mind, I couldn't shake the emptiness that clung to me.
Six days. That's all I had.
Six days to survive.
Six days to become the perfect pawn.
And maybe… six days to prove I could.
I lay back against the pillows, but sleep didn't come easily. My body ached from the day, but my mind raced faster than ever. Every lesson, every movement, every word Lord Malric had corrected me on played over and over in my head.
Six days. That was all.
I couldn't afford to forget anythingzzz not a single gesture, a single line, a single strike with the blade. One misstep, one poorly chosen word… and I would fail. And failure here wasn't just humiliation. It could be far worse.
I pulled the blankets tighter around me, trying to push the fear down, trying to imagine the streets of Harrowden instead. The crowded alleys. The laughter of Edda as she bragged about a successful job. Brina's serious face. Orla and Hestia's teasing smiles. Soren and Lief were arguing over who had spotted the richer target first.
I missed them all fiercely. The thought made my chest tighten. Here, in this gilded cage, I had no one to rely on but Greta… and she wasn't family. She was careful, obedient, quiet… helpful, yes, but nothing more.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus on what mattered. Six days. Survive. Train. Learn. Memorize. Be the best.
If I could make it through the Trial, maybe… just maybe… I could carve out a future for myself. A life where I could see Edda and the others again.
But first, I had to survive Lord Malric's world.
I took a deep, shaky breath and whispered to myself, almost like a prayer:
I will not fail. I cannot fail. I will be the best pawn.
And with that, I finally let the exhaustion pull me under, though sleep felt fragile, temporary, like it could be ripped away at any moment.
Six days. That's all I had.
And the clock was already ticking.