On the other side of her sword, an eleven year old Callum sneered. It had only been a short while since both of them had been in sword lessons, but there was no doubt that Maude was the sword instructor’s favorite. She had a natural talent for the sword, their instructor claimed. Though they had started sword lessons right around the same time, Maude had quickly surpassed Callum. At some point, after every lesson, Callum had gotten into the habit of challenging Maude to a duel, and today was no different, save for the aggravated attitude he seemed to have.

“How dare you steal what is rightfully mine,” Callum said. “I should have been the sword saint!” He was hacking and slashing at her, the way that he usually did. It was easy enough for Maude to predict his movements that she had no trouble blocking his blows.

Callum growled at her lack of reaction. He always tried to play dirty tricks by distracting her from fighting in hopes of beating her.

“You are worthless, and should have never been born!” Callum shouted at her, attempting to catch her off guard with a low blow near her thighs. She easily blocked it.

As if she hadn’t heard that statement nearly every single day of her life.

Callum’s swings seemed to speed up. He seemed to be thinking that she was moving slow because that was her quickest speed. Yet she was moving slow because she knew she’d be in trouble if she beat him too easily. “At least give him a chance to win,” her sword instructor had chastised her.

I thought victory was my only option, she thought, blocking one of Callum’s attacks aimed at her face. At least, that’s what Father tells me.

“You don’t deserve to live,” Callum told her, launching another flurry of attacks at her. “I’ll kill you one day.”

“Just keep trying,” Maude responded.

Her words just seemed to antagonize him more. “I’ll successfully do it one day when I’m big and strong,” he promised.

“Why do you want me to die anyway?” Maude asked. “What did I ever do to you?”

“You stole my rightful place,” he replied.

“Those seem like words Mother taught you to say,” Maude pointed out.

Her words seemed to cause some internal strife inside of him. She saw it playing out across his face. Ultimately, whatever battle he was fighting internally, he lost. “You stole my rightful place!” he screamed at her, now clearly enraged.

I don’t understand, Maude thought. Why did that make him angrier and more sure of himself?

“I stole nothing of yours,” Maude replied, confident. I’m lucky if I get enough food to survive in this goddamn family, she thought.

“Harlot’s daughter!” Callum exclaimed. “You’re nothing but a good for nothing harlot’s daughter!”

What the hell did he just say? Maude thought, feeling her own rage building.

“Say that again,” she said, coldly.

“Harlot’s daughter!” he shouted again.

Maude felt her ability come uncapped. Her senses got stronger, her muscles more powerful, and her strength increased. She wasn’t able to hold it back. She started slashing at him aggressively. He almost couldn’t stop all of her blows.. He started taking steps back, the classic sign that someone was quickly being overwhelmed by their dueling partner.

“Fuck you,” she said. “You didn’t even know my mother. How dare you call her that.” She pulled one of his own dirty tricks out of her bag, and hit him in the shin with the hilt of her sword and her hand, hard.

Callum screamed and fell to the ground. “My leg!” he cried out. “You just broke my leg.”

“Well deserved,” Maude sneered with gritted teeth. In the corner of her eye, she saw servants scrambling around, some clearly on their way over to the two of them.

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She put the tip of her sword next to the flesh of his neck. “Take that back,” she commanded.

“Take what back?” Callum replied, giving her a look so filled with contempt, it was hard to believe she’d just received it from an eleven year old.

“You know what I mean,” she said, pressing the sword in more to his skin. A small trickle of red started around the point of it. “Take. That. Back.”

“Never,” he spat. His saliva landed on one of her hands. “Your mother was a harlot who seduced the duke. You don’t deserve to live.”

“Do you want to die?” Maude asked, seething.

“If you kill me, you’ll be executed by the emperor,” he said. “I’d love to see you try.”

Maude sneered at him. Maybe I should just do it, she thought.

“Wait!” she heard Zara’s voice scream out. She sounded as though she was completely out of breath.

Son of a…! Maude thought. She pulled her sword away from Callum, who had turned as white as a sheet and was heavily perspiring. His leg was twisted in an unnatural angle. What was I just about to do? Maude thought. What have I done?

Maude felt a hard slap on her cheek from Zara. Her step-mother was out of breath, panting, and red faced, but the smack smarted all the same. “What the hell are you doing?” Zara demanded. “Trying to kill your only sibling?”

“If you can even justify calling him my sibling,” Maude spat, which earned her another slap across her other cheek.

Maybe I should just kill them both, she thought.

Tears started to fall from Zara’s eyes as she collapsed on the ground next to her son. “Oh my baby,” she said. “Where does it hurt, sweetie?”

Callum was breathing hard now, perspiring heavily. He pointed at his mangled leg and Zara gasped. “Oh my sweet angel!” she exclaimed. “What did that little devil do to you?”

Little devil? Maude thought. At least I know where he got the harlot comment from. Not like I couldn’t have guessed.

Zara looked up at Maude, tears quickly running down her face. “You worthless waste of space,” she snarled. Maude sneered right back at her.

Two more people arrived, the family physician who quickly ran up to Callum to assess his condition, and Matthias Holloway.

Her father’s hand hit her skull so hard that Maude saw black for a few seconds, and nearly fell to the ground herself. “What the fuck are you doing, you insolent child?” He bellowed at her.

Maude was the only person standing with a sword. Do they not realize I could easily kill them all right now? The power is in my hands, yet they insist on treating me this way.

“What do you think you are doing, going after the future duke like that?” her father raged. “Do you have no conscience, girl?” he shouted.

Maude scoffed. “I’m the one without a conscience? He called my mother a harlot.”

Her father’s face twisted into a sneer. “Your mother was a harlot,” he replied.

Maude felt her stomach drop. It was the first she’d heard her father say anything negative about her mother. He usually said nothing regarding Maude’s mother at all.

“His leg is indeed broken,” Maude heard the physician say to Zara. “He will likely not be able to fully walk on it for several months while it heals, and we will have to put him in a cast.”

Zara’s wails increased at what the physician was telling her.

Maude’s father shook his head at her. “Just because you are a sword saint does not mean you get to use your abilities however you please. They are supposed to be a source of pride for this family, not a source of strife.”

Maude scoffed again. “Tell that to your jealous son,” she said.

Her father turned toward a few servants who were standing off to the side. “You there,” he pointed. “The three of you. Disarm her and take her to her room. She is not to leave that room for three days. All she is allowed to eat is porridge.”

“What?” Maude exclaimed. “But that’s not fair! Callum started this!”

“Though he may be younger than you, it would be best if you heed my words, bitch,” her father said in a soft tone full of rage. “Callum is your superior. Callum is Holloway’s future.”

The guard that was a part of the group of servants that her father had pointed out ripped the sword out of Maude’s hand. The two maids grabbed her, one under each arm and started dragging her back towards the Holloway manor.

“No, no!” Maude exclaimed. “You can’t do this to me! I’m your daughter!”

“No daughter of mine would be so openly hostile to challenge the authority of the future duke of Holloway,” her father said.

What? Maude thought. Why do they always pick Callum over me? What have I ever done to deserve their ire?

She released herself from the maids’ grips. “I can walk by myself,” she told them. She strode into the manor, standing tall, tears stinging her eyes.

As she made it into the attic room, she heard the outside lock click behind her. I can’t survive like this, she thought. I can’t even defend myself in this house. If I keep trying, they will have me killed, sword saint ability or no.

But what can I do? She wondered.

I can’t show them any weakness, and I can’t allow myself to get angry, she thought. And lastly, I cannot, under any circumstances, ever resort to violence. She paused in her thinking, remembering how both Zara and her father had resorted to slapping her or hitting her in some way when they saw what she had done.

If I stop resorting to violence, I will be a better person than them, she thought. And when I’m an adult, I am never going to be like them.

She felt tears falling from her eyes. “Oh mother,” she whispered. “Why did you have to leave me alone in this hell?”

I will become a pacifist to survive, she thought. It’s the only way I can survive.