"Leave us," Count Ravenshield commanded. The rest of the court left silently. They held their heads high, but there was no cheer in their movements—a pride of nobility shadowed by the failure of both moral and social fiber.

In the empty room, Ravina opened her mouth to speak, but the words were caught in her throat. What exactly had she done? It wasn't an argument for a trial she had prepared but a presentation. She knew now it had been nothing more than a waste of time. The count had won the trial for her through the legal method of the world, a method she hadn't even considered—and with such ease too. Sure, his rank and reputation helped, but in reality, Ravina hadn't been able to do anything and stood there in silence as they decided what to do for her. Without the count, she had lost—easily.

"You too," the count continued after a moment. Confused, Ravina thought he meant for her to leave, so she turned slowly to the door. However, soon after his words, the shadows parted, and two more knights stepped out, shocking the young girl who hadn't noticed them before. Then again, she hadn't seen the other knights either. It was a scary thought that so many men could be hidden in the shadows.

Well, shit, she thought. I'm not sleeping well tonight.

"You know," one of the knights called, his voice muffled slightly by the iron helm over his face, "it's not too late to earn the title of Sir."

The count smiled at him. "Too busy, old friend. Too busy."

The knight shrugged as he turned to leave. "It's a tried and true excuse, my lord, nothing more." He left, closing the door behind him before the count could get a word in. Unperturbed by the knight's words, the count let out a small chuckle. The sound of it scared Ravina slightly, only then realizing she had never expected this man could smile, let alone laugh.

Now it was truly just the two of them: father and daughter, a nobleman and the replacement.

Ravina opened her mouth but still couldn't find the words. The atmosphere was heavy, and her heartfelt somber. So she stood there, waiting for him. Was waiting all she could ever do? Her life seemed to always be in someone else's hands.

The good count eyed her for a moment before making his way back to his seat, elegantly taking it while looking over the girl before him with a hardened frown. Taking a breath, he began, "I am quite disappointed," he said matter-of-factly. The words pierced her chest, their impact striking deeper than she realized.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

"Why?" she asked before she could stop herself. "They wouldn't even give me a chance." An excuse, just an excuse. It was unfair, illegal even according to the duke. Yet all she thought was that the words leaving her lips were little more than an excuse. An excuse. A failure. An excuse.

The words echoed in her head, and all she could do was look at the floor, squeezing her hands together.

It was on a whim, that was the worst part. The count was able to precisely state the error of their ways. Even subjecting that he wouldn't have cared if they had given her a chance but all that would have done is allow her to give a presentation, not an argument. Months wasted for an argument. And what could she say? She wasn't a lawyer? A kid? An excuse. Another excuse. “Sorry,” she said quickly followed by, “I know I should have been able to handle that.” The count didn't want excuses, he wanted results. But all she had was excuses.

There was a sigh. "No, it was my own fault." The man's gaze became distant as he looked at the young girl, but he saw not her, but the shadow of something else. "Madam Pelman speaks highly of you, and Mathus won't stop talking about you whenever he gets the chance." He shook his head. "And I have to admit, the manor has gotten a little livelier since you arrived, even if it's somewhat less productive."

Ravina looked up at him, confusion furrowing her brow.

"You know, that dress suits you."

The sudden compliment surprised her. It was spoken with such a genuine tongue that it elated her heart. Her ears warmed slightly as she gripped the dress by the tips of her fingers. It was a fitting ensemble for the meeting—elegant yet not overly lavish, deserving of the noble title of count. The dress, a rare shade of purple, was chosen to accentuate the hue of her eyes, signaling her noble lineage even though she was not his true-born daughter.

An intricate white pattern, stitched from fine silk, adorned the high collar and extended across the top of the dress. The sleeves, subtly puffed at the shoulders, were not distracting but distinctively noticeable. They ended mid-arm, where black threads tied them down over her intricate white undershirt, giving the illusion of white gloves. The main body of the dress featured a subtle black square outline pattern, neatly framed by a decorative, dark purple-grey corset. Below the corset, the fabric flowed gracefully, concealing all but the tips of her shoes.

“If anything.” His next words suddenly pulled Ravina back to reality with a cold, shocking snap. She looked at the furrowed face of the count. "I can't help but wonder if she would have looked as good in such a dress, or if her mother would have dressed her even better. Matching outfits... no." The count stood up and shook his head. "Whatever the case, it's a long-gone fantasy, nothing closer to a dead dream. And now, I've done my part. The rest is up to you."

He began walking away. "Rumors will no doubt spread about the care I have for my daughter, securing your place and ensuring you have a proper chance next time. Don't expect any more help; I doubt we'll see each other again." With that, he left the room, leaving the young girl behind to play with her dress. Her expression was dark—too dark for a child her age.