“What have you done to yourself?” Telin Casmenoc, margravine and matriarch of the family, clucks disapprovingly over Irenis’s arms. “You’ve put on weight!”

The ducal family is hosting the quarterly ball for all the vassals under them, and as the margravate the Casmenocs are invited to turn out in force. Irenis doesn’t get to go as a Casmenoc, but she’s fine with that. At nine years old, she’s accepted that she will never be a true Casmenoc. But she can be useful, and useful people get steak at dinner! And rolls, and a taste of the chef’s specialty honeyed venison stew, and—

She’s hungry.

Bealead Casmenoc, sister-in-law of the margrave, clucks over Irenis’s dress. Her husband is Grandfather’s older brother and should technically have inherited the margravate, but all the servants and other nobles whisper about him being “impotent.” Irenis knows what that means! Because she is good at being useful! But it makes Great-Uncle Kenson and Great-Aunt Bealead angry, so she never ever says it. It’s a bad word like “shit.”

Grandmother finishes braiding Irenis’s hair and nods to herself. “It’ll do. It’s too bad you’re outgrowing this dress. What are you eating?”

Great-Aunt Bealead says waspishly, “Too much.”

Battlemaster Calon says she has to eat jerky before every single swordsmanship lesson. But Irenis keeps her mouth shut. Lying is improper, but swordsmanship is even more improper, and she doesn’t want them to take it away.

Grandmother plucks at the bow on the back. “It’s probably just that she’s growing up. Didn’t you have a phase where you didn’t have a waist?”

“You had a phase where you cried over having to wear a corset,” Great-Aunt Bealead snips back.

Corsets are all right. Irenis doesn’t wear one regularly yet, though. She doesn’t have enough development to need one. The one she has on now is uncomfortable because it was made for and worn by someone else. If she had one of her very own that was made for her, she’d probably like it. But corsets are expensive to make, too expensive to waste on a bastard. She does a little twirl and waits for instructions.

“Now,” says Grandmother, “you remember your job.”

“Yes, Lady Casmenoc!” Irenis almost asks a question, but seals her lips tight. She knows better than to speak without being spoken to.

Great-Aunt Bealead answers it anyway. “Keep an eye on Baron Vulfenback and Count Sainclair tonight. You remember their faces?”

“Of course, my lady!” Irenis does remember! She knows how to read and the girls her age are memorizing noble families in class, so Irenis has all the information she needs.

“Good. Go on, then. If you do well, you can have steak for dinner tomorrow.”

Irenis curtsies and scampers into the ballroom.

As expected of a duke, it’s fancy and huge. All the vassals fit in here with room to spare. Irenis adjusts her hair and goes to socialize.

This is the only time she gets to socialize on equal footing with people her age. As long as she’s being useful, her cousins have orders to avoid her at balls, and she has ink in her hair to keep people from connecting her to the Casmenocs. This is how she’s useful and the only reason the Casmenocs haven’t found a way to kill her yet.

The baron and count she’s to keep an eye on are talking together. Irenis gets a plate and pretends to dither over desserts close to them.

“…son has no interest in dull girls. He wants a partner who can keep up with him.”

“Mm. My oldest daughter is going to inherit the county, but my second eldest is also sharp as a tack. Shall we introduce them?”

“Yes.” The baron takes a sip of his drink. “If they don’t get along, I have a few trade opportunities to discuss with you.”

Mmm. They’re making an alliance! Irenis makes note of this.

She wanders away with her desserts so they don’t suspect her of listening to them and goes to eat them by the bathrooms. People always plot by the bathrooms.

And sure enough, there are two people whispering as she gets closer. Irenis softens her footsteps and makes sure to pick a soft dessert, not one of the crunchy ones, as she listens.

“…your father be angry?”

“Father doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you.”

Irenis rolls her eyes hard and puts her cake down. She has a tiny brass mirror in her pocket that’s bent to let her look around corners. She unfolds it and carefully pushes it so she can see the scene.

Count Deluwen’s son and the duke’s daughter are kissing passionately. Irenis makes a face—romance is gross, kissing is gross—and puts her mirror away. Now Grandmother and Great-Aunt Bealead will have blackmail in case those two families start acting up! The duchy may run the land, but the Casmenoc margravate is really who runs the nobility. Grandmother said so, and that’s why she makes the family tolerate Irenis.

Irenis continues to drift around the ball and collect gossip and information. If she gets caught, she knows how to giggle and curtsey and say she’s a baron’s fourth daughter, and that makes everyone lose interest in her.

There’s a couple of boys and girls her age standing around. One of them perks up when he sees Irenis and waves her down. “Hey! I didn’t know you’d be attending!”

Irenis grins and trots over as fast as she can without being improper. Acon Tamark, the Tamark baron’s only heir, who her cousins don’t even give the time of day. They’re missing out. Acon is hilarious. Irenis stops and curtsies at an appropriate distance. “It’s good to see you, young master Tamark.”

“You too, young mistress Wenlis. How is your father?”

“Still recovering.” The lie slides easily off Irenis’s tongue. Of course, she can’t tell him that she’s actually a margravate’s bastard daughter. That would blow her cover. “And your family?”

“They’re well! Mother says I’m going to have a younger brother or sister very soon!”

Irenis beams. “I’m so glad!”

They chat for a while, and then the grownups all start making excuses to leave. Irenis says her goodbyes and slips back into the Casmenocs’ rooms.

Great-Aunt Bealead undoes her hair and brushes the ink out with cleaning potions. Irenis hates how the potions feel in her hair, but she’s already taken a bath today. “Who was that boy you spent so much time with?”

Irenis flinches. “He, um, Baron Tamark’s son.”

“Hmm. And he doesn’t know who you are?”

“No, my lady.”

“There you are. Make sure he doesn’t find out. Even when we do decide who you’ll marry, it’ll be easier to marry off a baron’s daughter than a disgrace.”

“Yes, my lady.” Irenis knew better than to hope she could tell her friend, but she’s disappointed anyway. She slides off the stool and curtsies. “Have a good night.”

“Straighten your back and lower your head more.”

Irenis does so.

“Good. Off to bed with you.”

“Yes, my lady.” Irenis leaves at a dignified walk.

—

A week after they get home from the ducal ball, Irenis is cleaning sconces in the main hall when someone bashes the doors open. Battlemaster Calon stalks in, cloak billowing behind him. Everyone pauses to watch him. Irenis keeps scrubbing the sconce, though. She needs to keep her wits about her.

Grandfather, the margrave Sethion, raises an eyebrow at him. “Yes, battlemaster?”

Battlemaster Calon crosses his arms. “I have noticed a breach of honor within this household.”

Everyone perks up at that. Irenis taps her helper to make him move her ladder to the next sconce, but he doesn’t move.

“There is a child in this household with more talent in her little finger than the students I was contracted to teach have in their entire bodies. However, I have never seen her at ordinary lessons and her peers actively push her off the field if she dares to show up. Furthermore, even the ones who aim to be knights turn a blind eye to her suffering or actively perpetuate it.”

Irenis taps her helper harder. He jumps and moves on.

“Allow her to learn and put a stop to the bullying, and you’ll have two imperial knights, one of whom will shine more brilliantly than anyone on the battlefield.”

Grandmother sniffs. “And who exactly would this child be?”

Battlemaster Calon hesitates. “I am reluctant to say. If you disagree or grow angry with me, it would be very easy to take out your anger on her if you knew her name.”

Grandfather snorts. “In that case, we will not be able to honor your request. Some servant’s child doesn’t deserve to hold a sword.”

Battlemaster Calon glares. “I am a servant’s child, your grace.”

Grandfather makes a shooing motion. “It matters not. Begone, if that was all you had to say.”

Battlemaster Calon turns to leave without a word.

“Oh, by the way. If you fail to fulfill your contract out of protest, I will have no regrets in terminating it.”

Sending him away. Of course. Anyone who stands up for Irenis gets sent away.

But Battlemaster Calon just looks at him for a long moment, and then leaves without protesting.

That afternoon, Irenis sees him on the training grounds.

Calon of Druig really can do the impossible!