Daughter of the Sword

2 || Exposed

CLANG. "IT SHOULD HAVE come by now," my father says. "There must be something wrong."

I shrink in my seat. My hand trembles as I thread the needle through the fabric, and I miss my line, the pattern distorting before my eyes. I start again. Clang.

"You're just anxious, Father; how could anything be wrong?" my brother asks, the grate of exhaustion in his voice. Clang.

Beside me, my mother glances at my needlework and pauses her own. I look up at her, but her eyes remain on my fabric, her face delicately blank. She does not speak. But she takes my hand, and guides the stitch.

"Luke, you will be twenty soon, exiting your adolescence. In the history of our family, no Heir has ever received them this late."

"Two months ago, the seer said it was close."

"Then perhaps we have done something wrong." I glance out the window just as he swings, and my brother blocks it, grunting as the impact shudders through him. Clang. "Good. When your powers arrive, your speed and strength will double. There will be no soldier of Hallar who can withstand you. But first we must sort out this mess. The King is growing impatient."

A breeze flutters through the window, warm and sweet on my skin. Silence fills the room as they pause in the training yard, gathering their breath.

Luke sighs. "Fine. We'll make the trek after we go to market today."

Even though my brother speaks, I swear I hear the voice of my father in him. Already as forceful as the General. Another, stronger breeze ruffles the flowers on the centrepiece, and I bite my cheek hard enough to draw blood. The wind fades.

The side door creaks open, and Luke's measured footsteps draw near. "Mera, are you ready to go?"

Yet there, he sounds like himself. The General would not have asked me; he would have scolded Luke for it. "One does not deign to place requests of their inferiors. You are a commander. Do not bestow respect upon them that they do not merit."

I offer a tight smile and nod. I place my needlework on the table, and he eyes it.

"Let's hope your husband doesn't need his pillows embroidered," he says, a sneaky smirk dancing on his face.

I cast him a glare, the most backtalk I can manage without a scolding. But I've grown quite good at them, if I do say so myself.

"You might also need a blind man," he continues, looping his arm in mine as he steers me to the lobby. "So he can't see how fiery you really are."

When I'm certain both my mother and the General are out of sight, I give him a solid kick in the shin.

He curses. "Are there any legless men in the kingdom?"

The morning has eased into a warm spring day, delicate blue skies stretching to the mountains on the horizon as the sun warms my skin. My brother takes my arm and guides me to the carriage, my skirts sweeping the stone walkway through the gardens. My father had once boasted to foreign emissaries that every stone hails from a different region conquered by Lyria as it stretched across the continent, poised to devour the world. Only Hallar remains to contest us, plucking off our colonies for an empire of their own. I climb into the carriage and Luke closes the door behind me, shutting out my thoughts with a soft click.

The familiar patter of the hooves echoes down the road as we roll towards the market, my hands bunched in my lap. I stare out the window at the manors we pass, all the distinguished names of the kingdom, the king's most trusted advisors. The finest quarter in the entire empire. My eyes trail over the servants trimming bushes and polishing statues, the women bringing trays of refreshments to the tea houses, where the ladies of the house undoubtedly chatter away, far from the gaze of their husbands. I eye their fanciful stonework, the vaulting white entryways and polished roofs, a picture of peace and splendour. One day, I'll be able to manage my own, my secret space on the property of whichever lord offers the most advantageous trade deal. Perhaps I'll go to Serin, the kingdom across the sea to the west. Or Dayna, our small neighbour to the south. Or to the smattering of city-states, tied to us by commerce. But then I remember the secret roiling inside of me, and the vision slips away.