Chapter 2

Julisa POV:

The freezing mist of the High Court bit into my cheeks as I hurried along the damp stone corridors back to my private bedchamber.

The lingering scent of dark pine and frost from the man I had just collided with still clung to my cloak, but my mind was too focused on the betrayal in the grand hall to wonder who he was.

I pushed my heavy timber door open and locked it behind me.

My personal maid, Molly, was pacing anxiously by the hearth. The moment she saw me, she rushed over to take my cloak, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"My lady," she choked out, her voice trembling. "The servants are gossiping... They say the Clan Lord brought a female general back and wants to make her his equal. How could he do this? After everything you poured into this rotting keep over the past year..."

I didn't answer. I walked past the grand wardrobe filled with pastel silk gowns—clothes Clan Parrish had specifically chosen to make me look like a tame, submissive housewife who knew her place.

I didn't touch a single piece of silk. Instead, I dropped to my knees, reached into the deepest corner under my bed, and dragged out a heavy ironwood trunk.

I unbuckled the brass latches. The lid creaked open, releasing the familiar, metallic scent of cold iron and old blood.

My chest tightened as my fingers brushed over the top item—a scorched, bloodstained mithril crest bearing the roaring stag insignia of Clan Richardson.

Beneath it lay a stack of untouched property deeds and a tarnished silver rattle that once belonged to a child.

I pulled the rattle into the pale glow of the moonstones embedded in the wall.

Three years ago, my father and my six older brothers marched to the Abyssal Rift. They were the proudest First-Tier Warlords of this kingdom. They held the frontline until their very last breath, dying as heroes.

But the nightmare didn't end there.

The official story fed to the Great Council was that a rogue pack of Abyssal assassins slipped past the borders and randomly attacked our ancestral manor.

I survived only because my mother stuffed me inside the secret rune-cellar beneath the floorboards just before the demon fire started ripping through the manor walls.

I heard every scream. I heard the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. They butchered my mother, my sister-in-law, and even my two-year-old nephew.

I crouched in the dark, covering my mouth with both hands as my two-year-old nephew's blood seeped through the floorboards and dripped onto my face. They left nothing but ash and shattered bones.

When the smoke cleared, Clan Parrish stepped in. They called it charity. They claimed they were honoring my father's heroic memory by offering a Court Alliance to his orphaned, Spiritless daughter.

But looking at my father's crest now, it finally dawned on me. They didn't take me in out of charity. They took me in solely to siphon off the massive Silverdew death compensations my father had left behind, and to exploit my sacred weaving skills to fund Darryl's military ambitions.

I set the silver rattle down on the floor. The agonizing grief that used to choke me had hardened into cold, tempered steel.

"Molly, bring me the ledgers," I said, my voice completely devoid of tremors.

Molly wiped her tears, walked to the hidden wall compartment, and pulled out a thick sheepskin ledger.

I took the book and ran my fingers over the dense rows of ink recording thousands of phials of Silverdew spent on Darryl's troops and his mother's medicine.

"Starting this exact second, cut off all supplies of refined Silverdew to the main courtyard," I ordered coldly.

Molly's eyes widened, and a fierce spark of vindication lit up her face. "Good! Let them see how they survive without your money!"

But then she frowned, her tone shifting to practical concern. "But my lady, what about the Blood-Tempering Elixirs for Dowager Lady Beulah? Without your seal, the Apothecary Temple won't give them a single pill. The backlash in her withering Tree Spirit will kill her."

I snapped the ledger shut with a heavy thud.

"Then let her ask their glorious new general for elixirs."

Molly nodded vigorously. "Yes, my lady! I will inform the apothecary and the silk-weaving workshops at once."

Urgent, heavy footsteps suddenly echoed in the hallway outside, followed by a sharp, authoritative knock on the timber door.

"My lady!" a guard called from the corridor. "The Dowager Lady is furious about what you did in the grand hall! She has summoned you to the upper hall immediately!"

I rubbed my thumb over the cold ridges of my father's mithril crest. The old woman clearly couldn't swallow the humiliation of being publicly defied just moments ago.

"My lady, the Dowager is surely going to pressure you into accepting that woman," Molly whispered, stepping closer. "Should I tell them you are unwell?"

"Why would I hide?" I slipped the mithril crest into my wide sleeve and stood up straight, my green eyes flashing with a predatory sharpness. "I want to see just how shameless this family can be."

I pulled the door open, brushed past the startled guard, and walked briskly along the suspended vine-bridge leading to the keep's upper hall.