Irenis whips her head up to stare at him. “The Veriths?!”

Grandfather waves his hand and the guards yank Irenis to her feet. “Be grateful. If you’re so eager to fight, you can do so somewhere useful.”

One of the guards shoves Irenis’s head down to make her bow. Some of the group of knights chuckle.

Irenis has only one answer that will be acceptable. “Yes, my lord.”

He’s sending her off to the wolves. No, off to dragons.

The Casmenoc margravate guards the northwest border, which is merely a high cliff shore. They have never had to field a land attack because the cliffs and the rocks below them make it an undesirable attack vector.

The Verith margravate, on the other hand, guards the eastern border, which is the volcanic Coleacir mountain range. The volcanos themselves aren’t a problem, but the monster nests that form in those mountains constantly spew danger. The Veriths have long been known as the Eastern Shield, protecting the empire from monsters and the foreign countries that lie beyond. With great strength, though, comes a great price.

Rumors swirl constantly about the Veriths. Their margrave, a foreigner from beyond the mountains, is said to be ten feet tall with skin as black as night, hair red as blood, and a taste for human flesh. Irenis thinks that the “ten feet tall” thing is stupid, because he has a wife and heir, so clearly he’s small enough to make said heir with said wife. The human flesh thing, though… she has no easy disproof for that.

The Verith margravine is rumored to go out to battle herself, in only chain mail stays. Rumors say she teaches her household’s daughters not embroidery and housekeeping, but swordplay and magic. Irenis thinks the chain mail thing must be fake and secretly wishes the swordplay rumor to be true. Not that she would ever be one of the Verith daughters, but they wouldn’t break her sword if they respected theirs.

The margravate itself is said to be a tyranny ruled by despots with eyes as gold as dragons’ blood, and the eastern duchy turns a blind eye because the Veriths can inflict fear upon their enemies. All the children of the Verith family, be they branch or main, are said to inherit the golden eyes and the monstrous strength in both arms and magic. They hate those they consider weak and beneath them. Irenis will be lucky to escape their castle and go to the ramparts; she’s surely weaker than them.

All in all, this is a very elaborate way of getting rid of Irenis. Either she dies on the ramparts fighting monsters, or the Veriths wipe her out because her weakness disgusts them.

Grandfather gestures. “Now begone. You’ll leave this afternoon.”

Irenis nods and then gets yanked away by the guards.

They release her and take off the chains once they’re outside the main hall. Irenis walks away to her closet in a daze.

She doesn’t have much to her name. The bed and blanket belong to the Casmenocs. All the toys she ever got have long since fallen apart or been taken away. Her sword is shattered, but she manages to hide a few shards in an empty pouch that once held marbles.

Someone knocks on her door and she jumps. She opens it to Esella, a kitchen maid. “Hello?”

Esella bows briefly. “I’m leaving to take care of my sick mother, so the Casmenocs can’t fire me.” She holds out a tiny cake. “Happy birthday, my lady.”

Irenis takes the cake, tears pricking at her eyes. “Thank you. I hope your mother recovers.”

“She’s getting old, so it’s less recovery and more hospice.”

“Oh, um.” Irenis chews on the cake—it’s chocolate raspberry, mmm—as she thinks. “Then I hope the rest of her days are peaceful?”

“I hope so too.” Esella curtsies and leaves. Irenis finishes her cake, hides the pouch under her dress, and sets out to leave.

The grooms mostly don’t know her. This means they don’t torment her, but they don’t help her either. But one stable boy smiles at her and pulls out a horse for her. “Here you are, this one’s nice and gentle.” Air whistles through his gapped front teeth when he speaks. It’s cute.

The horse, a small tan palfrey with a black stripe down its muzzle, sniffs Irenis. And tries to eat her hair.

Irenis giggles and lets the horse smell her palm before she scratches its ears. “What’s his name?”

“Her name’s Midge. Poor girl was brought in as a riding horse for one of the ladies up in the castle, but she wanted a fiery black stallion, not boring old Midge.”

Irenis pats Midge’s neck, her heart panging in sympathy.

Before every great journey comes preparation. The knights have been ready to go for weeks now, so the only thing left to do is give Irenis provisions. Irenis goes to the kitchens to pick up a week’s worth of food; the knights already have an agreement with the rulers of the lands they’ll pass through to resupply at various stops.

The maids are whispering as Irenis walks in. Irenis ignores them and goes up to the cook, who frowns down at her and plops a bag into her arms. Irenis would stumble if she weren’t a sword master.

The name “Verith” catches Irenis’s attention. The maids must have moved on to the scandal of the day. She slings the bag over her shoulder just in time to catch the next one.

“I heard that the margrave wears children’s knuckle bones in his hair like jewelry!”

“Really? Do you think they’re his own children’s? I heard that the Veriths make their children fight each other for the seat until there’s one left alive.”

Irenis swallows.

“Would the margravine allow it? She’s improper as anything—she’d give our lady Telin an aneurysm if she stepped foot in the castle—but she is from here. The margrave is a foreigner from beyond the mountains.”

“I heard from my aunt, who works in the Delis barony, that the margravine leads the front lines in battle and publicly lusts after her husband. She might allow it because she’s blinded by her desire.”

“Doesn’t she have competition? I heard the margrave’s tribe lets men have as many wives as they want.”

Irenis bows. “Thank you, cook.”

“Hmph.”

Esella turns up and leads Irenis out. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

“No, thank you.” Irenis swallows. “How many of the rumors do you think are true?”

“Mm?” Esella sucks in a breath. “I’m not really sure. I’ve never been outside the margravate. I don’t know what’s true and what’s false.”

Irenis looks down at the tiles. “Oh.”

“Oh, but, um, I’m pretty sure the harem rumor must be false! It’s illegal in this empire to have concubines, and having more than one spouse is looked down upon…” Esella falters. “But the Veriths wouldn’t care about that. Never mind me.”

It’s not the spouse thing I’m worried about. Unless Irenis is very unlucky, the Veriths’ taste in bed partners will be entirely irrelevant to her. She wriggles her skinny, delicate fingers. She’s probably not a delicacy… unless noble children taste better than commoner children?

More to worry about.

A woman clears her throat behind them. Irenis speeds up. If she can just get away—

“Hey, bastard!” Melniche, the head maid’s understudy and crony, barks. “Where are you going? And what have you got?”

Esella turns around. “Melniche, leave her be. She’s being sent off to the ramparts! Surely you can show her a little kindness in this situation!”

“Why should I?”

Irenis keeps moving. She just needs to lose her.

“The masters encourage us to bully her! Probably hoping the little bug will off herself and save them the trouble. Aren’t you stressed?”

“That’s no reason to take it out on a child! I’m glad I’m leaving, so I don’t have to see your cruelty anymore!”

Irenis turns another corner, juggles the supplies so they won’t fall, and sprints for the courtyard. If she can just make it there, then Melniche won’t be able to take away or ruin her supplies.

She takes a corner too fast and slams into a body. She bounces off and lands hard on her tailbone. Ouch! Ow ow ow! “I’m sorry!”

Her uncle Emmon, an elven count with light purple skin and long honey-blond hair, looks down his nose at her. “I told them they should have sent you away years ago. I’m glad they finally saw sense.”

Irenis’s sole comfort is that Uncle Emmon hates every human who isn’t her aunt Adylyc or their two children. She stands up and bows deeply.

“Make sure you don’t bring shame on the family before you’re killed.” Uncle Emmon glides away.

Irenis gets to the courtyard and Midge without anything else happening. It’s started to rain, a light mist that prickles on Irenis’s exposed skin. The knights are getting ready to go as well. Irenis straps the bags onto Midge, mounts her from the left as Master Calon taught her, and rides up to join the group.

Grandfather comes out onto the stoop. “You go now to defend the eastern ramparts from monsters and invaders.”

Irenis glances at the knights. Does she recognize them?

“Ensure that in your conduct, you bring honor to your house…”

A tall man with a blond handlebar mustache sits up straighter on his horse.

“…your family…”

A clean-shaven man with light blue hair almost as long as Irenis’s stares up at the castle.

“…and to the Casmenoc name!”

Everyone cheers except Irenis.

She will never bring honor to this house.