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“He is ruthless, but he has taught me everything I know. I should trust him,” Valda said, scratching Cerberus’s jaw.

“I… don’t. I don’t like him, and if am being honest, I think he is hiding things from you.”

“How would you know that?”

“I—” Maris sighed, her steps shuffling around. “I don’t. I don’t know but his face—”

“He likes to do things his way. My mother has gotten into numerous fights with him because of that, that doesn’t mean he is untrustworthy.” Right?

“He is putting ideas in your head that I am here to hurt you and I need you to understand this,” Maris said. “I would never do anything to harm you or anyone at all. If you want me to swear it, I will.”

What bothered her the most was that she trusted Maris. And even if Arwin told her that there was something wrong or suspicious about her, she wouldn’t listen… Something inside of her was sure that Maris was harmless, and that she truly just wanted to help.

“I know you would never hurt me,” Valda whispered, absentmindedly petting Cerberus neck. “You would’ve done that by now. But then I think about what you said, how they rather have me in power than my mother and…”

“Valda, I would’ve basically given myself away. Why would I let you know my plans if I had any? I didn’t even want to be in that meeting in the first place. That man—” Maris scoffed. “He hates me.”

“He probably hates all Sealians,” Valda said before she bit her thumbnail. It made sense. Yet, there was still something that was bothering her in the back of her mind. Arwin’s words to her. Was she really that predictable and easily manipulated? No. Valda had never taken such liberties with other maids. Maris was different.

“I need to clear my head,” Valda said. “I need my cane.”

“Yes, of course,” Maris hurried away from Valda and came back just as quick to hand her the cane. Valda kissed Cerberus’s snout, placed her on the floor before unfolding the cane and standing. She tested the cane and chuckled when she felt Cerberus swatting at it. “If you want to come with me, you are more than welcome, Maris.”

“Where are you going?”

“To beat something up.”

Maris was in disbelief. She had heard countless stories of Valda’s legendary skill as a warrior back when she worked at the tavern, and her mother’s praises of the royal family and Valda’s abilities had only added to the mystique. The bards at the tavern sang of Valda’s conquests on the battlefield, but seeing her in action always left Maris in awe.

Valda had expressed a desire to train, and Maris could do nothing but follow her. A group of five young soldiers were already waiting, and fear gnawed at Maris’s stomach. She had been a witness to Valda’s last “training” session, which hadn’t gone well in the beginning. But something was different this time.

Valda stood in the center of the ring, surrounded by the men, her cutlass gripped tightly in her hand. Her knees were bent, her eyes closed in concentration. Maris watched uneasily from the shadows, torn between a desire to intervene and the knowledge that it would only land her in trouble. With a fierce scream, Valda unleashed her power, and the men charged at her with swords raised.

But Valda deftly blocked every attack, using gusts of wind from her free hand to knock the soldiers off their feet. Maris held her breath, anxiously gripping her skirt. Valda effortlessly threw off a soldier who had managed to grab her in a chokehold, and with three opponents down, she turned her attention to the last two guards.

Releasing her cutlass, Valda clenched her fists, and the wind around her intensified, swirling like a tornado. The guards charged at her, but Valda stood tall, her control over the wind evident as the guards’ skulls collided with a sickening thud, pulled together by the force of the gust.

Maris squinted, shielding her eyes from the sand, but she couldn’t look away from Valda’s graceful movements as she dusted herself off, retrieved her sword, and sheathed it. She wiped the sweat from her forehead before dismissing the soldiers.

Maris approached Valda, announcing herself with a touch of her arm. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

Valda sighed. “Content yet worried.”

Maris frowned. “And why is that?”

“For now, I have to rely on my gift,” Valda said, her tone tinged with frustration. “I can’t fight like I used to, but I can still defend myself.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“I cannot use it all the time. The gods gave their chosen few special gifts, but our mortal bodies have limits. We are not capable of using those gifts as much as they would’ve.” Valda sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I do hear the steps, their grunts. I can smell them getting close, but at the end of it all, I won’t have accuracy.”

“I think with a little bit of practice you can get where you want to be. You’re relearning a skill that took years to master. Of course you have to take things slow.”

Valda chuckled. “True. As much as I want to go back to how things were, it is impossible. Now, I do want to go back to doing something that I enjoyed when I was a princess.”

“What is that?”

Valda turned away from Maris and called out to one of the guards by the back entrance of the castle. “Get Argo and the other mare. I wish to go out.”