Heiress

Part 1: Lyrae

I couldn’t have heard that correctly, I thought.

"My Lady expects me to attend her after her wedding?" I gasped, meeting Lady Lysae’s jewel bright green eyes. Our gazes locked, rapiers crossed between us. We stood opposite each other, watching, waiting for the other to strike. 

"You are my companion for life, per my father’s directive.” she snapped “Why would my marriage change that? You will accompany me across the seas after I wed.”

I forced myself to focus on our morning's sport; my stance felt slightly off balance and I lowered my center to steady myself. I did not break her gaze, nor would I let the crushing disappointment of her words distract me. Instead, I stilled myself inside, holding steady, holding strong, holding my breath in the tense silence of anticipation. 

With an expert snap of her blade, Lysae began her assault, feinting one way, then the other. Seeking to land a blow on the double padded waist coat protecting my upper torso. I parried, then dodged; saw an opportunity, but swiped too late, and missed. 

Even as we traded blows, my mind kept flitting to thoughts of my own hopes for the future. Each crumbled into impossibilities as I now knew I'd be leaving Exhaikes with Lysae when she married. I had hoped to remain at the court of the Grand Duchy. I’d served well, and planned to entreat Duke Argvane’s permission to pursue formal training as a Hydromentalist.  

Though my Lady Lyrae had yet to met the bride-groom, within 13 months, she would be wed to the Prince-Heir of the Kingdom of Yeva.

“Does my Lady,” I gasped barely defending against a trio of quick strikes, “not wish to become the Princess-Heir of Yeva? It would be a grand honor in the sight of all,”

“There is no honor in being forced to bed a sweaty Yevan pig,” She hissed, offering a teasing blow with her blade. I moved back, refusing the bait. 

“You may find the prince agreeable.” I gasped, ”Romances have bloomed in stranger gardens, my lady.” I heaved, then stumbled slightly in my attempt to parry and dodge in the same move. She landed her first hit on me. 

I wondered how long we'd been sparing; I felt sweaty in all the most uncomfortable places, and found it hard to catch my breath. My arm ached from holding the rapier aloft and a permanent vibrating had set into my hand due to her repeated attacks. My Lady Lysae barely seemed out of breathe while I felt ready to collapse. 

Yet, this felt far removed from the aggression I'd come to expect during these bouts. I suspected I provided little challenge, but Lysae didn't seem bored. Rather my Lady seemed distracted. Something weighed on her mind, something connected to her upcoming wedding.   

"What think you of these rumors of Gaeluntor?" She asked in a rush.

The rumors are likely true, I thought, but kept my mouth closed. 

News of increased soldiers near our shared border with Gaeluntor had filtered in from multiple sources over the last three weeks. The Duke, Lysae’s father, had dis­patched scouts not three nights previous to investigate. As many others did, I felt certain Gaeluntor would declare war upon us within weeks. The thought terrified me. Almost as much as leaving Exhaikes, did. 

I could not share these thoughts with Lysae. I’d learned, via the painful slap of her palm across my face, that she never wanted my opinion. Rather, she wanted me to confirm her opinion on any given matter. 

Now, I needed to tease out what her opinion might be... 

"I’ve been wondering this myself. Gaeluntor and Exhaikes have never been on amicable terms, but why marshal forces now?"

"Gaeluntor attacks while we are still weak, before I am old enough to marry," She groundout.

“Oh, I’m certain my lady has the right of it. Gaeluntor cannot be ignorant of our state of affairs,” I agreed, for our state of affairs was dismal, indeed. 

The last decade had seen pagues, floods, and fires ravage the Grand Duchy of Exhaikes. For every one person alive today in Exhaikes, it was believed as many as nine had perrished. Orphanages overflowed. Road ways and markets felt empty; Our fields had gone fallow for lack of workers, which in turn created near famine-level scarcities of vital resources. All of the rich potential of Exhaikes went unrealized simply because there weren't enough people to cultivate it. Gaeluntor saw that potential and wished to seize it before the Grand Duchy came under the protections of the Kingdom of Yeva. 

My Lady Lysae would turn 16 within a month’s time. She'd be of marriageable age, and subject to fulfilling the terms of our treaty with the Kingdom of Yeva. Thus, her concern about marriage to that “Yevan pig.”

Suddenly, Lysae came at me with a barrage of attacking blows, forcing me backwards. Though it shouldn't have, the shift in her demeanor caught me off-guard. I managed a credible defense against all but the last, which caught me on the temple. The blunt tipped jab sent a shock of pain arching over my skull. My vision blurred, and I felt dizzy. I moved just in time to avoid a second blow to the head, and just managed to get my blade up in time to avoid a second hit. 

She came at me again, relentlessly. I defended, but only just barely. I knew this level of aggression. I’d come to expect from her, but only when…

I spotted him. Framed in an upper floor window above the courtyard where we sparred, Grand Duke Argvane stood watching us. He calmly sipped his tea, expression betraying no thoughts, no emotions, just a cool detachment. 

Lysae always became more aggressive, more formidable, more imperious when he looked on. Though she had never said as much in so many words, Lysae desired to impress her father, to see him beam at her with pride. I noted desire evidenced in her every action and every word spoken in his presence. These all took the form she believed would earn his favor. 

I'd never heard the man reproach his child, I'd also never heard commendation out of his mouth, either. He seemed ambivalent towards her, at best. 

I'd only had opportunity to interract with the Duke on a handful of occasions over the last year. He had always seemed kind to me, compassionate, if a little sad. I accepted his pity with gratitude; as a foundling left on his door step, he could have allowed me to simply starve. I count myself fortunate he’d raised me as his daughter’s companion for life. 

If my lady wished to impress her father, I would do what I could to help.

As soon as I could credibly do so, I took a hit on the padded waistcoat, and doubled over, then slowly sagged to my knees. I raised my hand in a gesture of surrender even as I gasped “I yield,” 

This would surely help my Lady appear victorious in her father's eyes.

She placed the tip of her rapier under my chin and lifted my face up to hers. “You are dead,” she proclaimed, eyes glittering like the cat who caught the canary. Then, she tilted her head up, turned her gaze to the window where the Duke stood.

He glared at the pair of us for only a split second, then shook his head and turned away from the window, out of sight. Even I could feel his disappointment.  

Lyrae's expression darkened, as her gaze lowered. More than a few heartbeats ticked the seconds away as my Lady processed her father's disappointment. Again.

My breathing had returned to near normal when she finally turned to me.

"Don't just cower there, girl! Fetch us some water," Lysae snapped.

As I rose, I felt every muscle twinge and groan in protest of this morning's hard sport. I made my way towards the arched stoneway door leading to the main hall of the palace. Resting on small trestle beside the door were an arrangement of serving goblets. I rested my rapier against the wall, then lifted the nicest of the goblets. I began Drawing water.

I remembered sensation of wet, the sound of water, and it's taste, until my finger tips began to tingle followed by a slight tugging sensation. Water formed, first as condensation, then as droplets, finally as a solid stream from my fingers. After a moment, I switched to a second goblet filling them both to the brim. 

I took the nicer of the two cups to My Lady, and proffered it with a short bow. When she had drunk her fill, I was allowed to return for my own goblet. It was cool on my tongue and refreshing despite the slightest hint of a salty after taste. That concerned me. I had not intended to Draw salt water. Why had it formed? 

"I'm afraid refreshment will have to wait my Ladies," A silken raspy voice sounded from the darkened archway. I started, turning towards the voice, even as I reached for my rapier. 

 Minister Torvax, dark and disturbing, appeared from the archway. He offered a short bow to my Lady Lysae and continued.

"Your father wishes an audience with you" he said, "Both of you, as soon as possible,"

Part 2: Lysae

I could not have heard that correctly. I thought

Standing in my fathers' lavishly appointed study, attended by Minister Torvax with Lyrae standing in attendance behind me, all I could do was gawp at my father like a fish out of water. He continued to speak, but blood thundered in my ears, distorting the words falling from his mouth, twisting them into gibberish.

My father spoke, saying …something vital, important, impossible…  

'...I know this must come as a shock to you; please, take a moment and collect your thoughts..."

My fa- the Duke‘s unwavering gaze focused upon me. He has grey eyes, I thought dumbly. They were the color of cold steel and possessed all the warmth of deep winter's freeze. 

Yet, somewhere, in those storm-colored depths, I saw a spark, a hint of …sympathy? In all my remembrances of this man, it was the most emotion I could recall seeing on his face. It might have chilled me if his prior words had not left me numb 

Shock. I thought. I'm in shock. 

Not. His. Daughter. 

What does he mean? I'm not his daughter? 

“Was mother unfaithful?” I wondered in a whisper. My words, so quiet, went unheard. 

“Was I adopted like Lyrae?”

I felt a gentle hand pressed against my upper arm. I started at the touch, turning to face my companion. In the wake of my fath- this news, I'd forgotten she stood behind me. 

She always remained so quiet, I found it easy to forget about her presence. She gazed up at me, her lovely, if unremarkable, features wore an expression of deepest concern. Some distant part of me wished to slap that concern off her face. How dare she? I’m the daughter of the D-

Lyrae's concern continued to radiate from deep within her eyes. It was a genuine concern.. and it showed clearly from within… her steel grey eyes.

And I knew. I am not the daughter of the Duke.

A chilling clarity doused me, washing away the shock of moments before. Even as my mind wanted to argue against the truth, I knew. My mother had not been unfaithful. She had not been my mother. 

"My Lady Lys..." Tovrax began his silken rasp shattering the still silence. "Miss Lysae,” he corrected “You are owed both the deepest of apologies, and the most heartfelt expressions of gratitude the Grand Duchy of Exhaikes can bestow." 

I tore my gaze from the slight girl at my side, and focused on the dark-haired, dark-eyed man standing behind my fa-the Grand Duke of Exhaikes, where he sat at his desk in an exquisitely ornate chair. 

"In a perfect world,” Torvax continued, ‘we would have had more time to prepare you for this; to gently ease you through the transition to more …pedestrian duties, but we no longer have the luxury of time. A delayed messenger arrived with news this morning. Prince Aiven of Yeva is due here on the morrow and he expects to take the future Duchess as his bride before month's end."

"That, my dear, is you." My F- Duke Argvane said slowly, turning slightly in his chair to face Lyrae. 

I felt her shrink behind me. Shorter than me by five inches, and of a slighter build, she'd always been able to hide behind me. I’d never minded. Until now. 

Nausea roiled in my stomach. In that moment, I couldn't stand her. In that moment, her years of sempering, pandering service repulsed me.  

Now her head swiveled stupidly from one man to another, then to me, then back to both men before she dropped into an over dramatic bow.

"Please, my Lord, if this is some attempt at mirth, please, for the sake of my lady Lyrae, I beg your Lordship to put an end of this jest, for it is certainly distressing to my Lady, and-" 

A hysterical laugh bubbled up and escaped my throat, riding on a wave of impotent rage, a boiling, destructive fury that built towards irrational violence. Oh, if only this were a joke, but no. I'd heard of these ploys before. 

Raise a decoy heir to protect the true heir. If the decoy is assassinated, the line of succession remains in fact. Even as the crazed laughter escaped my lips, the scrape of the Duke’s chair drew my attention. He hastened to my comp-My lad - Lyrae’s side and reached a hand out to her, pulled her up.

"No, my child," he said, placing a gentle hand on the curve of her cheek.

 "You need never kneel to another soul again. I’ve watched you humble yourself all your life. Now, I will see you raised to the role of Princess of Yeva, Duchess of Exhaikes. I will see you honored as my daughter. "

Then my fa- Duke Argvane wrapped his arms about my - Her. 

All the anger fled as tears stung my eyes. I felt as if I'd shrink to nothingness. For over a decade I'd been telling myself "He's just not an affectionate man," or "He loves me, even if he doesn't show it." but here, clearly he is an affectionate, loving father. 

He just wasn’t my father. 

"Come, Miss Lysae. Allow me to escort you to your rooms for some rest. The Duke has details he wishes to discuss with my Lady Lyrae."

Torvax lead me from the room, and I followed in a blind, angry daze. Seething, I barely registered the casual respect offered by passing servants, with their popping bows and nods of “My Lady.” In moments, Torvax had left me to ‘rest’ in my quarters.

I froze as soon as I entered my bed chamber. My belongings were here, my clothes, my paints and books, and toiletries, were all here; But I shouldn’t be. This was the room of a future Duchess, not a dupe who’d been lied to her entire life. Who am I if not the daughter of Duke Argvane?

The anger burning inside me burst out in the form of broken vases, torn curtains and overturned furniture. As the rage subsided, the heartbreak pierced the fog of betrayal. 

Slowly, tears rolled down my face and I threw myself on my overturned mattress, wrapped my self in a plush blanket and wept softly recalling every moment I’d sought in vane for the smallest modicum of affection from “my father.” 

I’d thought being the perfect child, and best possible heir to the Grand Duchy would surely, someday, earn me a smile, a hug, his gentle nod of approval.

But Lyrae? All she’d had to do was be born.  

As day darkened into night, my eyes, puffy and swollen ached to the throbbing, pounding in my head. I considered trying to find some water; I also considered throwing myself out the open window. Since both required movement I didn't have the motivation for, I stayed put. 

There was a soft knock at the door. 

“Go away,” I croaked. 

The door opened anyway, and Torvax entered. He carried a tray of steaming soup, bread and warm tea. He paused only briefly to inspect the aftermath of my torrent of rage. Finding no upright surface to place the tray, he set it on the floor in front of me, then took a seat on the other side of the tray.

He pulled an elaborate dagger from within his robes and placed beside the food. Perhaps he had brought me a solution to the problem of my existence. 

"What's this?" I asked, reaching out to grasp the dagger. I expected to hear him say it would be a convenient end to my current humiliation. Instead, his next words surprised and intrigued me.

"That, My Lady Lyrae is how you are restored to your rightful place as heir to the Grand Duchy of Exhaikes," Torvax rasped softly.