Gracie Kubas

The air felt thick with judgment. Even the sky seemed to weep in sympathy, gray clouds hanging low, threatening to break open at any moment. I stood at the front of the grand hall, staring at the black coffin that held Fritz Kubas, my husband, the man who'd shaped so much of my short life. The heavy scent of incense clogged my throat, making it harder to breathe than it already was.

I was supposed to be prepared for this. After all, I’d been trained since I became his wife at thirteen years old. Trained to manage his estate, care for his children, and perform the duties expected of the marchioness title that now sat heavily on my shoulders. But standing here, in front of this gathering of nobles, I felt every bit the girl I had been when I first arrived at this mansion—a child forced into a life far too big for her.

The black lace veil I wore scratched at my forehead, and I resisted the urge to adjust it. That would be improper, and heaven forbid I did anything improper today. The weight of their stares, the disapproval in their eyes, pressed against me like a vice. I could feel it—Fritz’s cousins, his sister, his brother—all of them watching, waiting for me to fail. To crack under the pressure. I could hear their whispered judgments as though they were spoken directly into my ears. She’s too young for this. Too inexperienced. She’ll never manage. Fritz was a fool for marrying her.

I could hear them, and I hated them for it.

But I couldn’t show it. Fritz’s children stood nearby, silent and still, as if carved from stone. Carlo, his eldest, at only fourteen, was the one who concerned me the most. He was already taller than me, his features sharp and angular, a living reminder of his father. He stared at the coffin with unreadable eyes, not a flicker of emotion breaking through. Carlyn, his twin, was standing beside him, her usually bright and mischievous face eerily calm. Cliff, at eleven, fidgeted slightly, while little Wilbert, only six, clung to Aura’s hand. She was thirteen and more composed than any of them.

The children were hybrids—part dragon shifter, part elemental—children of power. And I? I was only half of that equation. Half human, half elemental. The least powerful among them, and they knew it. Even in their silence, I could feel their distance. I hadn’t been able to connect with them before Fritz died. I hadn’t been able to connect with anyone, not really. And now, I wasn’t sure how to start.

The murmurs from the crowd of nobles began to grow louder, and I blinked, realizing the priest had stopped speaking. It was time. Time for me to step forward, to say something—anything. My hands clenched tightly in front of me, my nails biting into my palms through the thin gloves. My heart pounded in my chest, the echo of it almost louder than the whispers.

Taking a breath, I moved forward, each step feeling like I was walking deeper into a trap. I hated this place. I hated everything about it. The grand marble walls, the looming chandeliers, the endless sea of black clothing—reminders that this was not a home, not a place of comfort. It had been a prison for me ever since I first arrived.

I came to a stop at the front of the room, my hands shaking slightly as I placed them on the edge of the coffin. Fritz’s face was obscured by the ornate lid, but I could still picture it, clear as day. The hard lines, the coldness in his eyes, the way his presence had filled every corner of the room, suffocating and inescapable. And now, he was gone, leaving me to pick up the pieces of the life he had left behind.

My throat tightened. I had to speak. They expected me to speak.

“I...” The word caught in my throat, and I had to swallow hard to push it out. “Fritz was... a great man.”

It was a lie, but I had to say it. The nobles were watching, waiting for my every word, judging my every move. I could feel their stares, sharp and probing, as though they could see right through me. Could they see how broken I was inside? How terrified?

“He provided for this family, for all of us. He was a man of great responsibility, and he worked tirelessly to ensure that the Kubas name remained one of strength and power.” The words felt hollow, even as they left my lips. I couldn’t think about the good, not really. Not with the memories of his anger, his cruelty, hanging just beneath the surface. But it wasn’t the time or the place for that. No one here cared about the truth. They cared about appearances. About legacy.

And now, I had to uphold that legacy.

“He will be remembered,” I finished quietly, my voice trembling. “And it is my duty, as his wife and as the marchioness of this estate, to ensure that his legacy continues.”

A murmur rippled through the room, a low hum of approval from some, skepticism from others. I could hear Fritz’s sister, Lady Anselma, whispering to her brother. I didn’t need to hear the words to know they were poisonous. They had never accepted me as part of this family. They barely accepted Fritz’s children. He had made enemies even among his own blood, and they resented me for being an outsider who had been given a seat of power within their world.

I turned back to the coffin, staring down at it, my heart heavy with the weight of everything I was about to face. The estate. The children. The politics. The whispers of scandal that would follow me wherever I went. Could I even do this? Could I survive in this world of dragons and power, where everyone was waiting for me to fail?

Suddenly, a small hand tugged at my sleeve. I looked down to find Wilbert staring up at me, his large eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place. He was the youngest, the most innocent of them all. He didn’t fully understand what had happened. Didn’t understand the enormity of the situation. He just knew that his father was gone and that everything was about to change.

“Is it over?” he whispered, his voice so small it broke my heart.

I knelt down, taking his tiny hand in mine. “Not yet, Wilbert. But soon.”

He nodded, clinging to my hand as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. And maybe, in a way, it was. I had to be strong for him. For all of them. If not for me, then for them.

But even as I stood back up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing on the edge of something far darker than I could imagine. Something was coming—something dangerous. I could feel it lurking in the shadows, watching, waiting. And I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to face it alone.

But I had no choice.