“Are you sure this is alright, my Lady?” Beatrice nervously tugged at the sleeves of her dress as a waitress poured tea into her delicately painted porcelain cup.

  “Just call me Josephine or Jo, like we were back in my room. Come on, let’s just enjoy ourselves.” I gestured for a slice of tart stacked with glazed fruits to be placed on her plate.

  “This cheesecake is so good!” Claire was digging in with no reservation and that brought a smile to my lips. My chest warmed.

  The girls had ditched their black and white uniforms for frilly, flowy summer dresses of flowery red, sky blue, and vibrant green. I wore a simple, shale-blue dress. Its silk fabric gave the dress a nice sheen, but it was otherwise understated, much to the chagrin of the girls.

  I just wanted to relax and blend in today.

  “Have as much as you like, all of you. This is my apology for not coming back earlier… to stop the attack.”

  “Jo, no.” Nellin’s fingers laced over mine and squeezed. She then whispered in a low voice, “You are our little girl. Not our guard or protector. It shouldn’t have been up to you. What happened was not at all your fault.”

  Miona sipped her tea. The way the sun shone over the lustrous waves of the long dark hair flowing down her back made her look especially elegant this morning. “Did they catch whoever was behind it? Whoever sent those goons must be truly audacious. To think they’d bring in demons!”

  Murmurs of equally indignant outrage echoed around the table.

  I gestured for more sweets to be brought over. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I asked Father to hide the details of the investigation.

  No good would have come of advancing the Queen’s agenda even more.

  It was time to pull back from the brink of war. Preparations were needed on our side first.

  The voucher that Elise had mentioned was a lacquered wooden tablet with our house seal and name engraved on it. I presented it to the hostess of the tea room and we were instantly given our own exclusive table, bypassing the long line of envious, angry stares waiting at the entrance.

  “Jo… remember those boys who I caught you fishing with? One of them was named Hans.” Beatrice said, savoring a scone as an attendant poured her more tea.

  “Yes?” I asked hesitantly. Her voice had an ominous undertone to it.

  “He told me an interesting tale. Apparently, before we came into the infirmary, you made everyone your vassals, and then gave them a divine blessing.”

  Claire pushed on her puffy cheeks, swallowing whatever treat it was in her mouth. “One of the injured guards told me your voice was like an angel’s! He heard the strange, melodic words, and next thing he knew, he was as light as air. All his wounds were gone, including the old ones.”

  “Jo! Why couldn’t you have waited for us?!” Nellin squealed.

  “I…”

  Miona raised an eyebrow. “If she could heal all their wounds, couldn’t she have healed her own?”

  Nellin scoffed at her. “You don’t understand. A saint must sacrifice something of themselves to gain their divine powers. That was why Saint Nalindol was blind.”

  “No…” I gasped, but my voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “Hans did mention that he felt light pouring down from the heavens. I’m so jealous,” Beatrice gushed wistfully.

  I shook my head, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the servers and waitresses, leaning forward to listen, their eyes sparkling. Their eyes multiplied, into tens, hundreds, thousands that had awaited me as we approached the castles, the towns, the burned-out villages.

  “No…”

  They had come in droves, from all over, in their finest, and in rags. The well-fed, and the famished on their last legs. They waited at the town squares, and by the side of the road as my army marched through. All of them reached for me. They wanted to touch and kiss me, my clothing, my hands, my feet.

  “Make way!”

  I’d yell at them for their own safety. But they kept pushing toward me, holding up urns, jewelry, and even infants to touch my body.

  “Idolatry!”

  The accusation flew from my captors, that I had stolen their adoration, that I had presented myself as a false Saint. I was naive enough during my first few lifetimes to deny the charges.

  “I hadn’t seduced them!”

  I’d proclaim to all who’d listen.

  “Many came to see me willingly, but they kissed my hands as little as I could help. The poor folk came to me readily, because I never did them any unkindness.”

  Of course, they wouldn’t listen. They never did.

  “Guilty before God!”

  They’d convict me, jeer me, throw their rotten food against me, and I’d burn.

  “I am no saint…”

  “Jo?” Nellin’s arm caught my back as I sank back into the light atmosphere around the tea room table.

  All conversations ceased, and all gazes turned to me.

  Beatrice hurried over. I raised my head to meet her large, worried eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I need some air.”

  —

  “Jo, look at this brocade. It’s beautiful. Just look at the sheen.” Miona pulled out a dress and held a sleeve up to me. Up close against her silky hair, the deep patterned colors really seemed to bloom.

  “I think it would look great on you.” I waved to the attendant. “Can we get that one to try on as well?”

  “Well, I suppose we are similar in size,” Miona said with a smile as the attendant took the layered dress from her hands.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “No, I want you to try it. It would be my gift.”

  “My Lady, we can’t come close to affording anything in this shop,” Miona hissed at me.

  “Please, it would make me happy if you accept. My lady mother said to shop to my heart’s content, and buying this for you would do exactly that.”

  “Jo, you really are…” she hesitated at the last word. Leaning closer, she studied over my face. “Are you feeling better?” she whispered.

  “Yes. The air helped.”

  We had taken a long stroll across the heart of the capital to get here. Surprisingly, being surrounded by the noise of the big city had a calming effect on me. The sound of wagon wheels, the clatter of horse hooves, the cries of stall owners, and the sea of chatter from residents going about their lives pushed the memories of throngs waiting for me at the villages, of the marches and battlefields, back into the recesses of my mind.

  The castle walls here were pristine stone rather than charred ruin; guards stood at attention rather than hanging limp off the parapets.

  “No, we’re definitely not giving up our slot! Do you know who you’re demanding this of?!”

  Beatrice’s sharp voice cut through the still dignified silence of the dress shop.

  I exchanged a glance with Miona, and we quickly made our way over to the other section of the store. There, Beatrice, Nellin and Claire were facing a group of well-dressed young ladies in gowns. Young men of similar age flanked the newcomers, glints of steel armor peeking from beneath their jackets.

  “What’s going on?” I asked as I approached.

  A nervous shop attendant ran up to me. “My Lady, I’m truly sorry. But another Lady—the Crown Prince’s betrothed, no less—has asked for access to the dressing rooms, and the dresses for an upcoming event.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll be done soon enough.”

  The attendant glanced nervously at a brunette with elaborate ringlets standing at the head of the pack, and received a hard glare in return.

  “I’m afraid they want the rooms right now. We can hold the dresses that you selected until your return.”

  “No. We want to try those dresses as well,” the brunette declared, her arms crossed haughtily.

  That voice. That stance.

  Those royals and nobles who think they own you, that you’re just some tool to be used and then tossed aside. That you’re completely beneath them.

  “I refuse.”

  “Don’t you dare! You country bumpkin. I know your type. You can’t even afford a proper healer for that disfigured face of yours. You have no standing to refuse the great Lady Leticia of Dawnport.” The brunette sneered at me, tilting her head. “You better get out while you can. She’ll be here soon.”

  “I will talk to her when she gets here.”

  Maybe I could convince her to get Anthony off of my back somehow. I’m sure she could see reason.

  I turned to leave and waved over at my maid. “Girls, finish picking out your dresses.”

  A racket erupted behind me: a jumble of angry shouting, clatter of falling clothing racks, and the clinks of plate against chain.

  I swung back. Someone had laid hands on Beatrice.

  The entire room turned red. [Hasted Steps] completed on reflex, and I arrived the next instant, bringing with me a column of air that knocked clothing and people down to the ground with a solid reverberating…

  Whooomp!

  My hand slammed into the arm of the boy grabbing her and all the speed bled into him. He crashed into the ground screaming, his arm contorted at an impossible angle.

  “Don’t you dare touch my attendants.” I said evenly, as the boy’s pained screams continued to flood the room.

  “It’s broken! It’s broken. She broke my arm!”

  I turned to Beatrice and the girls; though shaken, they all nodded to me.

  The brunette yelped and ducked behind a taller, burly boy with short, straw-colored hair.

  “Jacob, do something about her!” she screeched.

  Jacob fumbled at the sword hanging off his hip.

  “Are you sure you want death, Jacob?” I asked.

  This boy. I can see from his movements alone that he wasn’t worth identifying. In fact just that act alone would scare him to death.

  “You stay back!” He finally pulled out his sword and pointed it at me. The sharp tip was wavering in the air.

  “No, put her in her place!” the girl screeched more.

  When Jacob looked back at the girl, I could taste a swirl of spice and salt emanating from his soul.

  The peppery spice, I had deduced from the Count, was most likely pride.

  But the salt? Hadn’t I tasted that same flavor from Zadina when she looked at me?

  Jacob turned to me with renewed confidence. “Alright, I challenge you to a sword duel. We face each other directly. No tricks or witchery.”

  I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

  This again.

  —

  Since we had wrecked the shop, we faced off outside in front of a marbled fountain.

  Beatrice asked if she should go for help, or inform them of whose house they were antagonizing.

  I just replied with, “I am angry.”

  One look into my eyes and she ushered the girls back.

  For this sword duel, I chose a single bare hand, holding the other behind my back. I was a sword after all, even if he wasn’t aware of that.

  This boy was nowhere near Count Dorlin, he wasn’t even better than Ayaka, the girl whose beautiful katana I had been forced to break.

  His sword wasn’t the same quality as that katana, but it was still well-made. The steel glistened in the sun and the edges on both sides were sharp.

  “You can still back out, girl!” The taller boy hollered.

  A sizable crowd had gathered around us. He looked to be about sixteen. Fighting a girl who appeared no older than eleven would earn him nothing but scorn, especially one with a slashed face.

  However, the object of his desire seemed bent on my destruction. “Jacob, don’t let her off the hook now. She broke Marion’s arm, and she disrespected our lady!”

  “Esther, she’s just a kid!”

  He surveyed the growing crowd, meeting eyes filled with disgust. The spice ebbed in that mixture of flavors clouding his soul. He would earn no more pride here.

  He needs a little push.

  “How about to the death instead?” I suggested, letting the cool breeze carry my voice over our spectators. “I believe that’s what she wants.”

  Esther shrank back, shielding her face from the crowd's rising murmurs. Desperation flared in Jacob’s eyes.

  “Shut up! Azure Charge!”

  He lifted his sword and his body surged forward, blurring into a streak of blue.

  Death it is…

  He was too fast for me to see as he moved through his skill, but I saw where his eyes flitted. I read the position and angles of his feet, the direction of his hips. I felt the current of air and magic sweep around me and I took a simple step to one side.

  His sword cleaved through the air just inches from my face, sending strands of my hair flying.

  There wasn’t a need for theater this time. No need to break a perfectly good sword, to shear quality steel.

  My hand shot up to meet his neck. His soft throat slammed against the web of my thumb, the full momentum of his speeding body focused on that single point of impact.

  He gagged.

  I drove him backward and down toward the ground by his neck. Now, all I had to do was squeeze a little harder and his trachea would collapse.

  Flesh is softer than steel.

  “My Lady! Please, spare him!”

  A familiar voice stayed my hand.

  I raised my head. Zadina was down on one knee before me, her blinding white robes pooling around her.

  “He’s one of my students. I apologize on his behalf.”

  “Then you haven’t taught him manners. He and his cohorts attacked innocents, those weaker than themselves.”

  I released him and stood up. Waves of whispers swept over the crowd.

  “I will ensure they learn, my Lady. You are, as always, righteous.” She rushed over to me, and those icy blue eyes took in my face. There were tears welling within them. “I thought I’d lost you. I was so relieved when I heard you were alive. But this…”

  I let her touch my cheek.

  “It is fine. And... thank you for saving the others. They wrote to me. They are doing well.”

  “You’re always thinking of everyone else. Never yourself. We can’t lose you.”

  She stared at me with those eyes of hers, her hand still touching my cheek. Her bright soul was coated in that familiar saltiness.

  And now I had a guess as to what it was.

  This is awkward.