There was something about him, the Duke, my father. It was the way he sat, tucking his wand back into its holster, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded, resting on his knees. Calm and collected. A man who knew he was powerful, someone to be feared. It was obvious he was used to adoration and deference.

He looked at home in this room with its dark wooden furnishings and gold filigree. We sat in his office, where a sitting area was on the left side near a fireplace. There was a couch, two armchairs, and a low center table with a few travel books on top.

On the right sat two small desks where his aids probably worked. Behind them were cabinets, and a slightly opened door showed more documents. Behind those were tall windows that overlooked the west garden of the castle.

Centered and to the back of the room was his desk, and behind it was a towering bookshelf. On top of the desk were stacks of paper, a communication orb, and several magic items I couldn’t identify. The ink well was still open, as though he’d been working until I came.

I might have felt flattered he took a moment out of his busy day to meet me if I didn’t know the truth. He always took afternoon meals with the family, and for an hour after, he spoke to each of the children about what they were doing and how their schooling was going. He would arrange more time if they needed to talk to him about something in particular.

No, I wasn’t a special person who he took a moment out of his busy day to meet. The duke slotted me in as a business appointment. Which should tell me there was a hidden benefit to my marriage.

When I came here at age seven, I thought they would invite me to join those family meetings if I got better at my studies. I don’t know when I let go of that hope, just wanting him to pay attention to me, for anyone to pay attention and justify my existence.

That hadn’t changed, despite knowing this man didn’t care about me.

I sat in front of him, sweaty palms, head down, not daring to look at his face, and it burned to realize I wasn’t acting. The shame and nervousness were the same, despite my age and everything I’d lived through.

I was still worried about our father-daughter relationship, despite his callous indifference in the later part of my life. I didn’t actually know what that meant, except I wanted his love, but would settle for approval or a little respect.

I wouldn’t get it, but I couldn’t help what I wanted.

I played with my fingers, wondering why it was like this.

I hated him.

I’d died hating him.

Sitting here, I still hated him, but I also wanted to know why he didn’t like me.

I bowed my head. It doesn’t take much to create hate. A bit of negligence. A dash of fear here and a sprinkle of pain there. Lots of loneliness.

I glanced through my bangs at the blurry outline of the man before me, wondering why death or time didn’t give me the gift of indifference.

“Let’s talk,” he said, picking up a bell from the side table and running it. The bell didn’t make a sound, but a moment later, a butler entered the room and placed a cup of tea on the table in front of the duke before leaving. The butler didn’t acknowledge my presence. “I’m sure you’re curious about why I called you here.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.

“That is a given. I’m sorry I have been too busy managing the affairs of the Duchy to spend too much time with you, but as your father, there are still things that I am responsible for.”

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He paused, and I thought this was an appropriate time to nod. My head bobbed up and down, eyes still staring at my scuffed shoes.

“Good. I assure you that while not the most expressive parent, I take the role seriously. As such, I have a duty to find you the most suitable match. After much deliberation, I have chosen Baron Smolt. He recently inherited his father's title. In a year, when you turn sixteen, he will be twenty. The four-year age gap is just right.” He delivered the words in a dry tone, not bothering to fake the emotions it would take to convince me he cared.

I couldn’t fake a blush, so I buried my head lower and dug the toe of my shoe into the carpet. I should have practiced being bashful. This conversation should have been happening with Selena since she was the one who ended up marrying the Baron.

“I have also secured a match for your sister. It will be a blessed year for the Duchy. Two marriages, and one to the crown prince, no less.” The pitch of his voice changed, and I could hear his excitement.

Yes. I know. I couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through my body at the mention of the crown prince. I pushed it out of my mind.

How did I react to this last time?

I’d been jealous.

Who wouldn’t be? Even commoners could tell the difference between a baron and a crown prince.

Ah, I remembered.

Flying to my feet. “Why does she get to marry a prince, and I’m stuck with a baron?” Were my words too forced? No, I could feel long-forgotten anger bubbling to the surface. I grabbed a book from the table and threw it to the floor. “It’s not fair!” I hadn’t factored in not eating. Standing made me dizzy, and my bruised knees wanted to give out. I kept going, something inside making my mouth move. “There’s nothing special about her. Why do I always have to accept her scraps?” I asked, not having said this in the past, but it was how I felt now.

I was on the floor before I knew what happened.

My hand cupped my cheek, a familiar burn spreading.

I looked at his shoes and felt his presence towering over me. I buried my face in the silk rug, fighting back tears and laughter.

At least it was softer than the cave.

I tasted the blood in my mouth. Something about this scene reminded me of what happened with Madeline earlier. It felt staged. My words were not enough to warrant this reaction.

Carrot and stick. The words popped into my mind, and a picture started forming. After this, I would turn to Cathrine for comfort, increasing my dependency on her.

Good to know. The hit would have happened regardless of what I said. The Duke might even have found an excuse to hit me if I stayed silent.

There was nothing more malleable than an ignorant, fearful child.

I bit my lip to stop from saying more. I didn’t need to collect any scars from running my mouth. If I spoke again, the Duke would throw the cup at me, shattering it, and a shard of glass would cut my neck.

I pulled myself up but stayed kneeling.

The things that were blurry in my mind rushed back. I remembered now how I was supposed to behave.

An unruly child when I was alone.

A dog when I was in front of my father.

An ant when I was before my siblings.

And shit clinging to the bottom of a shoe when I was in front of the Duchess.

I, Jal provided amusement for the whole family.

I grit my teeth, holding on to the knowledge that I could change the future and comforting myself. No one here cared about what was best for me, and if I didn’t fight for my future, I’d die a dog's death again.

If this were my reality, I would make it a nightmare for everyone else. I took a deep breath, letting my anger and disappointment go. Letting anger affect and control me was punishing myself for other people’s sins.

At that thought, I felt lighter, not just my mind, but my body. I hadn’t realized how strained I was until it disappeared.

“You will get married to who I tell you to, and you will be happy about it. Your marriage is about more than you, and I have considered everything from your status; to your comportment; and your value. You can’t do better than a baron. You’re not even worthy of that. If Baron Smolt weren’t a noble of the Duchy, you wouldn’t even be worthy of that much. You can’t use magic. You have failed all your etiquette classes. And you’re a bastard who can’t give birth to a son. I had to pay him to take you.” He sat listing my faults in a bland tone, my shoulder hunching at every word.

The silver tip of his shoe tapping on the floor made me spiral into memories.