Page 14 of Song of the Heart Scale (The Dragon’s Ballad #3)

I snorted. “Doubtful, Jacob. While you were away fighting the good fight on the border, I’ve been working hard trying to make money to survive.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family has been sitting idly by, twiddling their thumbs and hoping money would fall from the sky.

Don’t feed me that bullshit.” I had to give Arya her props.

She might have been into some shady shit, but she had been making money any way she knew how.

Jacob's mouth fell open and his expression shifted from confusion to shock. “Arya, that's not what I—”

Just then, the stable doors crashed open, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

Lady Gianna stormed into the stables in a full-blown snit.

Her usually immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled, with dark brown curls escaping her elegant updo.

Her face was flushed with anger, her eyes narrowed to slits as they locked onto me.

“You!” she hissed, marching forward with her fists clenched at her sides. “Hiding in the stables. How fitting. I hope you're pleased with yourself!”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the stall post. “Good morning to you too, sister dearest. Lovely weather we're having.”

“Don't you dare mock me!” Gianna snapped, her voice trembling with rage. “The emperor is dead, and now everything is ruined!”

Jacob stepped between us. “Gianna, please. Whatever this is about—”

“Get out of my way, Jacob!” Gianna snarled, shoving him hard in the chest.

As Jacob stumbled backward, he lost his balance on the slick, straw-covered floor.

Maeve, who had been hovering nearby, reflexively reached out to catch him, her slender arms somehow managing to steady his larger frame.

When their bodies collided in an awkward embrace, Maeve's face blazed scarlet until Jacob regained his footing.

“Thank you,” he murmured to her, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed her fierce blush. Maeve nodded mutely, her hands lingering on his arms a moment longer than necessary before she reluctantly let go.

Gianna advanced on me, her face contorted with fury. “You think you're so clever, don't you? The emperor's death means the alliance is shattered. You've gotten exactly what you wanted—no wedding, no obligations. And Damien!”

I didn't back away. Instead, I straightened my stance, placing my feet shoulder-width apart, weight balanced, as old habits from basic training automatically kicked in.

Something flickered in Gianna's eyes—recognition, then uncertainty. Her gaze darted to my hands as they curled into loose fists. The stable air thickened between us.

“What about Damien?” I asked, my voice dangerously low.

“He was supposed to be mine !” Gianna shrieked, lunging forward with startling speed.

Her palm struck out in a wild slap that I effortlessly sidestepped. She stumbled, off-balance, her expensive slippers sliding in the hay.

“Gianna, stop this!” Jacob shouted, moving to intervene.

I held up a hand. “Stay back. She wants a fight? Fine.”

Gianna's face contorted with fury. She charged again, this time aiming a clumsy punch at my face.

I caught her wrist mid-swing and used her momentum to pivot her body away from me.

She gasped as I released her and pushed, sending her staggering into an empty stall.

Hair fell loose from their pins as she whirled around, chest heaving.

“You think you can humiliate me like this?” She reached down to grab a riding crop hanging on the stall door.

I almost laughed. A riding crop against military combat training? Poor girl had no idea what she was getting into.

“Put that down before you hurt yourself,” I warned, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet.

“I'll hurt you !” Gianna shrieked, wildly swinging the crop.

I ducked under the arc of her swing and closed the distance between us in two quick steps. With practiced precision, I grabbed her wrist and applied just enough pressure to the tendons to make her fingers spring open. The crop clattered to the ground.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, trying to wrench away.

Her free hand came up to slap me and claw my face, her pointed nails aiming for my eyes. I twisted her arm behind her back in one fluid motion, immobilizing her with minimal effort.

“Enough!” I growled, my voice low and controlled. “This isn't going to solve anything. And honestly, you’ll lose any fight against me,” I snorted.

Gianna struggled against my hold as rage-filled tears streamed down her face. “You've ruined everything! You always ruin everything!”

“I didn't kill the emperor, if that's what you're implying,” I said, maintaining my grip while being careful not to actually hurt her.

Jacob stood frozen with his mouth agape. “Arya... where did you learn to...?”

I ignored him, focusing on Gianna as she gradually exhausted herself and her struggles weakened. When her breathing shifted from rage to defeat, I carefully released her and stepped back with my hands raised. “Are you done?” I asked quietly.

Gianna stumbled forward, rubbing her wrists though I knew I hadn't hurt her. Tears streamed down her face.

“Sisters, please!” Jacob rushed forward, finally snapping out of his stupor with a horrified expression. “This has gone too far!”

Gianna whirled around to face me with hatred blazing in her eyes. “You're not her,” she whispered so quietly I barely caught it. I wondered if Jacob heard. “And one day, everyone will know.”

That was a threat. Subtle, but it was there. Hopefully by then, the real Arya would be back.

“What did you say?” Jacob murmured as he approached Gianna, confusion laced in his expression.

Gianna turned her gaze to me knowingly. I glared at her, daring her to say it. She gulped deeply as she met my eyes, unable to look at Jacob.

“Go ahead, Gianna,” I threatened. “Tell our brother what you just said.”

She grimaced and sweat beads slid down her face.

I smirked as I cupped my ear and scrunched my nose. “What was that? I can’t hear you.”

“Arya, enough!” Jacob shouted. His gaze never left Gianna’s frightened face. She looked ready to piss herself.

I rolled my eyes. “You sure didn’t intervene when she was swinging a riding crop at me like a wild woman,” I muttered and stepped away toward Maeve.

“My lady,” Maeve murmured as she took ahold of my wrist and patted my hand reassuringly.

“Gianna, please calm down,” Jacob soothed. “We should all work hard to get along. We cannot be a house divided, especially during such turbulent times.”

Gianna glared at me but nodded at Jacob, suddenly docile. I knew damn well she didn’t agree, but I wasn’t going to call her out on it.

“We should all return to the house,” Jacob said, stepping between us like a buffer. “Father will be expecting us for the midday meal, and with the news of the emperor...” He trailed off, glancing nervously between Gianna and me.

“Fine,” I said, straightening my sleeves. “Just keep her away from the butter knives.”

Gianna's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “This isn't over, Arya .”

“It never is with you,” I muttered.

As we left the stables, I noticed Maeve lingering behind, her gaze fixed on Jacob's retreating form. I slowed my pace to walk beside her.

“You should tell him,” I whispered.

Maeve's head snapped toward me, her eyes wide with horror. “My lady! I would never—it wouldn't be proper—he's Lady Arya’s brother and I'm just a—”

“A what? A handmaiden?” I rolled my eyes. “Jacob doesn't care about that stuff. He doesn’t seem like the type.”

Her cheeks flushed deeper. “It's not just that, my lady. Even if I were to... to speak my mind, there's Lady Elise to consider.”

I stopped abruptly. “Who the hell is Lady Elise?”

Maeve blinked at me in surprise. “Lord Mercer's daughter? The one your father has been corresponding with regarding a potential match for Young Master Jacob since his return?”

“Of course,” I muttered. Another arranged marriage. The Ryder family specialty.

As we approached the main house, I noticed a sleek black carriage pulling up to the entrance with the imperial crest emblazoned on its door.

My stomach dropped. Only one person would dare flaunt imperial insignia on the day the emperor's death was announced.

The royal guard flanked the carriage, their crimson cloaks standing out starkly against the cloying morning mist.

The door swung open and Crown Prince Thorne emerged, his tall frame unfolding gracefully from the carriage.

His dark hair was pulled back in a severe style, emphasizing the sharp angles of his face.

Unlike his usual ornate court attire, he wore a simple black tunic with silver threading—mourning clothes, but still unmistakably royal.

“Shit,” I breathed, instinctively taking a step back.

Maeve gasped beside me. “Is that—?”

“The Crown Prince,” Jacob confirmed, his voice tight with barely-held tension. “What is he doing here?”

Gianna's entire demeanor instantly transformed.

The fury that had contorted her features moments ago melted away, replaced by a practiced mask of demure elegance.

She smoothed her skirts, hastily fixed her hair, and straightened her shoulders.

“Crown Prince Thorne,” she breathed, her voice honey-sweet.

I watched her transformation with disgust. Just moments ago she was screaming about Damien being “hers”, and now she was preening for the Crown Prince? Unbelievable.

I watched, frozen in place, as Prince Thorne's calculating gaze swept across the grounds and landed directly on me.

His eyes—cold and blue as the ocean in winter— slightly narrowed.

Without breaking his stare, he murmured something to the royal guard beside him, then began walking purposefully in our direction.

“He's coming this way,” Maeve squeaked, gripping my arm so tightly I winced.

“Lady Arya Ryder!” Thorne called out, his deep voice effortlessly carrying across the distance between us. “Just the person I wished to see.”