I had never been locked in the wardrobe for as long as I had been that night.

I never really did anything my parents punished me for, other than a mild scolding, but I could not understand why I was so wronged. Later, Mother told me that Marcus had riled up the Headmaster to the point of completely shifting the Academy's view on my person, and in her anger she had done so.

Apologies aside, I still felt it was poor judgment on her part but that was not the main problem at the time. When I passed out, I had been scraping the doors viciously to the point where my skin had been damaged and worn out. They said my body was haggard when I finally flopped out, unconscious with matted hair and sunken eyes and bloodied hands. It was only for one night, but that one night in the wardrobe meant I was comatose for three days afterwards. Father said Mother visited my room and prayed for my recovery with him many times, stroking my hair or holding my hand when she did, but with how Mother normally was I did not believe him. I should have.

When I woke up three days later, Father was in the chair by my side, gripping my hand to his face. He did not move for a while, and his hand felt gentle, reassuring, to me. Still, the stinging of my wounded fingers meant I eventually had to break that comfortable silence. When I spoke, it was like I'd swallowed sand made of glass and sounded much the same. Father started, his hands shaking as he handed me a glass of water, before he pleaded with me for forgiveness.

"Eliza, my daughter, my Starling, can you forgive me? I would have asked you what happened but your mother... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't think this would happen. Please, please forgive me-" He cried and cried until his voice broke off into the night. I felt his sobs bounce around the room as he took my hands in his, engulfing them. He kissed the bandages on my fingers, already stained red and rust-coloured, begging for my forgiveness. Although it warmed me, I still seethed, wondering why only one of my family was here to care for me. Even the bouquet on my table was not from them, but from Adrianne sending her best wishes.

Never had I ever seen Father in that state, not even once. It was the first and only time he had worried so much to the point of exhausting himself for my sake, but I held that one image in my mind dearly, and if I could I would've etched it into the very blood in my heart. Even after he passed I could not escape the grief of that memory, nor was my bitterness against Mother and my brother appeased until far later.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I forgave him easily, trying to stop his tears from spilling, and long afterward he stayed into the night. We read stories of dragons and knights and he told me of his boyish childhood days until the moon hung high in the sky, casting beams of light into the room. He felt me some abandoned soup the nurse left me, urging me to regain my strength. Eventually, for all his doting, it was time for me to sleep and he had to go back as well. He gave me one final kiss on the forehead, hand brushing my knuckles fondly as he snuck out of my room. I smiled as I watched the moonlight dance around, perfectly content until I heard another creak at the door.

It was him.

That wretched little snake, but somehow his eyes felt softer and clearer than before. His hair was darker, but I had dismissed it as the darkness of the night instead of anything serious. Marcus crept up and curled into my arms as he held my bandaged hands. I could feel the dried blood flake when he rubbed his thumbs over the tips, watching the fabric twist and fold.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered, kissing my fingers. I felt his tears cool my skin, but still my anger did not fade. I said nothing, unimpressed.

"Leonard told me it was a present for you. He said you were pretty, like a flower. I didn't like the way he looked at you. I couldn't do anything, you know he's older than I am. I told him I'd give it to you, and I did, but he's a stupid boy and not worth your time. I thought you'd like it more if it was from me instead. I'm sorry, I didn't know he stole it. Promise!"

"Then, why did you bring the Headmaster to me instead? Why not take him to Leonard instead?"

"Because Leonard told him that he gave it to me as soon as he got caught. I couldn't afford to tell the truth OR get in trouble, you know this! Mother would've punished you all the more if I did!"

It seemed too convenient to be true and too simple to be a lie, given his babied babbling and his constant stream of tears. If his action was a mistake, my anger would be meaningless. There is no point in striking one who has done you no real wrong, after all.

I looked into his eyes, bright and clear, unflinching. Or perhaps I was too young to recognise that characteristic glimmer of delight, that sheen of mischief in the eye of a child who'd gotten away with something. I caved in easily, forgiving him. We fell asleep with him curled in my arms, and once morning arrived, he was dragged away to the Academy in my place. I was to deal with Mother's etiquette training, and despised every second of it. It turned out that she'd long planned to remove me from the Academy anyway, but I still felt this little misdeed played a part in it. Although I'd forgiven Marcus, I still felt it in my heart to pay him back for it.

Never once did it occur to me that there was no Leonard in his class, nor in the years below.