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Horrified with how small she had become, how drawn she was from her usual cheerful nature, Maude snapped. Withdrawing her dagger from her right thigh, she smashed the hilt into the glass of the mirror, shattering the broken woman in front of her. Shards of glass scattered around her room in a million tiny pieces.

Maude thought it resembled her soul quite well.

She tore the gown from her body and donned leggings, a tunic with a leather vest over the top, and wrapped the shawl her mother had left in her room a few nights ago around her waist, pulling it up into a hood before she realized what she was doing. Belting her sword to her hip and stringing her bow to hang over her shoulder, she made for the window. She glanced over her shoulder at the small keepsakes and once-precious items in her room and wanted to burn them all. She flicked her fingers toward her bed, the dry linen catching quickly.

Before she could turn to the window and begin to lower herself down the outside, her door opened. Of all the people to enter her room that night, she had not expected her father. His face twisted in rage at the site of her belongings burning, of his Heir escaping from under his thumb. Maude palmed her dagger and quickly took up a defensive position. Her father was a big man with years of muscle packed onto his limbs, but Maude was fast.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was calm and deadly.

Maude said nothing; they only circled each other.

“No daughter of mine sneaks away in the night like a coward,” he continued, taking in the room around her and her clothes.

Maude adjusted the grip on her dagger, reaching for her sword. She had her back to the window, and panic started to outweigh her rational thoughts. She was a Helcat who had been cornered, and she was close to biting.

“So this is how you choose to fight your battles now, with weapons against your father?”

Maude lunged for him, reaching to strike for his throat with her dagger. Before she could land the hit on him, he thrust upward with his axe and gave her a maniacal grin.

“So be it,” he growled.

Her father swung out his battle axe at her in a wide arc. She jumped backward, losing her footing and going down on her backside. Before shecould stand, he swung down, and Maude had to roll out of the way. She sliced at the back of his legs with her sword but missed, grazing his calves instead. Gore ran freely from the wound, but he didn’t seem to notice. Where his blood splattered across the floor of her ruined room, she could hear it sizzle with the heat she knew ran through him just as hot as it ran through her.

She managed to get to her feet and execute a series of blows, giving him a small cut just below his ear that was the result of his block. Maude started to get more ground on him, making her way to the window, to her freedom. Maude saw her opportunity to land the final blow that would end his hold on her life. Moving quickly before the chance was lost, she did not see her father drop his axe and swoop down to grab a shard of the shattered mirror.

As Maude came down over him with her dagger aiming for his throat, her father feinted to his left and wrapped his arm around Maude’s throat before placing the shard of glass under her chin. Paralyzed by the sudden change in advantage, Maude scrambled for a way to break free from his hold.

“You see,dóttir, I am the strength in this kingdom. You skulk around this palace like your life is miserable, your head in the clouds with idealizations of heroism and freedom. Worthless, weak, absent-minded fool,” he said in her ear as he ran the sharp edge of the glass gently up the side of her face.

“You will learn that we are the same, Maude. You cannot escape me because you are just like me. Now, when you look upon your face, you will be reminded of how alike you are to your dear Papa.” He pushed the sharp point of the glass into her skin just above her temple, hot liquid dripping onto her cheek.

“You will remember how hateful you are,” her father whispered, the sound of her still-burning bedroom fading.

“You will remember that you are a monster,” was the last thing Maude heard before blinding pain seared down the side of her face.

White flashed before her eyes, and a high-pitched scream reverberated off the stone walls of her room that she recognized as her own. Nausea roiled in hergut at the pain that seemed to be unending. Blistering hot blood sputtered down her face and neck, staining her skin the same crimson color as her hair. Maude felt her father release her, and a wave of dizziness caused her knees to slam into the floor. She caught herself before her face was further ruined and felt the sharp bite of the glass peppering her palms.

“Clean yourself up before you see yourself down to the whipping post. I believe the General has some sense to beat into you yet,” her father commanded as he wiped her blood from his hands.

“No,” she growled from her position on the floor.

“Pardon?”

“No.”

Maude rose from the floor and straightened to her full height. She could feel the steady flow of her blood coursing down her face and onto her clothes, but she remained even-footed. Feeling more herself than she ever could have imagined before this moment, Maude stood tall with her back straight and unyielding. The last of her hesitation turned to ash as she reached for the short sword she had hated using and pointed it at the King’s chest.

“No more,” Maude said as she swiped down, releasing the belt that held her father’s axe from his waist and turning for the window.

She could hear him reaching for her, could feel his fingers grazing her back, but it only steeled her nerves further. On her knees before her father, Maude had decided that she would no longer be a victim.

Maude raced for the window with whatever strength remained and flung herself out. The wind ripped her hair from its braid and Maude thought she had never felt freer as she began to fall.

“Maude?” A tentative voicecame from behind her.

She was still facing the walls of the palace, clutching onto the uneven bricks that stuck out from the structure. Her breathing had been uneven, and Maude was unsure how long she had been standing there.

“Maude? Are you well?” Eydis said, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.