Matriarch Eliza Alistar looked none too pleased with my nonreaction. She didn’t bother praising the sycophants bowing and scraping before her; instead, she leveled a steady glare my way. It wasn’t exactly hateful, but I couldn’t imagine anyone mistaking it for kind. The look that Darrow shot in my direction, however, was filled with outright malice.

He snarled, his mouth opening as if to speak, when the golden House Coin appeared again, twirling between my fingers with an easy grace. I raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. When he remained silent, I tilted my head in mock surprise.

His jaw clenched, the small muscles under his eyes flexing like he was working them out. Aside from the Matriarch, Darrow, and Glory, none of the others seemed to notice my display of arrogance. They were too absorbed in whispering to one another or attempting to catch Lady Eliza’s attention with praises, though their efforts dwindled as her steely gaze remained fixed on me.

“Is something the matter, Lord Darrow?” I asked, feigning innocence as I flipped the House Coin one last time. At the apex of its spin, I returned it to my storage ring, making it vanish in midair.

“Possession of the Duke’s House Coin doesn’t give you leave to disrespect our Matriarch,” he growled.

I clicked my tongue. “No disrespect intended, Lord Darrow, but surely you mean to say temporary Matriarch? After all, your grandmother is not the Duchess. She is…” I paused, shifting my gaze to Lady Eliza with feigned forgetfulness. “Pardon my lapse, Lady Eliza, but what exactly is your title outside of your temporary one here in the duchy?”

The intensity of Lady Eliza's stare made every nerve in my body scream to flee. I was injured, and she was in the gold realm; only someone with a death wish would provoke her like this.

I clenched my jaw, pushing back the urge to retreat. I couldn’t back down, or the House Coin would lose the nominal authority it currently lent me. Symbols of power only mattered as much as they were allowed to, even with enchantments involved.

“I am a Marchioness,” Lady Eliza replied calmly, her expression betraying no irritation or embarrassment. She looked at me as if assessing a peculiar creature, deciding whether it should be saved or put down.

“Oh?” I replied, my words laced with false and borderline sarcastic curiosity. “And who is minding your territory while you attend to the Alistar duchy… temporarily?”

I snuck the word in again, and Darrow’s jaw twitched in fury.

“You ask interesting questions for someone so young.” She turned to Darrow with a frown. It took him several seconds to realize his grandmother’s attention had shifted, and by then, it was too late. With a speed my vision could barely follow, she swatted the back of his head with an audible thud.

“Ow!” Darrow cried out indignantly, rubbing his head as he looked at her with shock. She smacked him again before he could protest further, and he raised a hand to forestall another strike. “Grandmo—Matriarch, may I ask why you’re hitting me?” he inquired, his other hand still nursing the sore spot.

“Darrow Elliot Alistar. Do you aspire to be Duke of this duchy, or a hooligan?” Her tone matched his indignation, but she didn't sound accusatory. “Compose yourself. This is a meeting of high nobility, not a schoolyard brawl. I won’t tolerate such foolishness from any potential successor to my brother’s duchy, not even from my own grandson. Is that understood?” She swept her gaze over all fourteen of us, and we nodded in unison. Even I found myself nodding as her eyes lingered on me, her gaze sharp and almost hypnotic. With the level of energy in a gold-realm core, Lady Eliza could easily be hundreds of years old—ancient by Graedon standards, though simply old by Ordite’s norms. Many elders of the Aedroniran martial sects lived to similar ages.

“I… apologize, Matriarch,” Darrow muttered through clenched teeth. His eyes seemed to desperately avoid mine as he retook his seat.

“Regardless,” Lady Eliza continued, ignoring her grandson’s apology, “Lady Lilliana is correct. I am the temporary matriarch. Even if I wished to stay, as the young lady so aptly pointed out, I have my own lands to attend.” She paused, scanning the room. “That is why we are here today. As all fourteen successors are present, I shall now announce the criteria the council has selected to decide the next heir.”

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Nida leaned forward as one of Lady Eliza’s servants handed her a dainty ceramic cup with gold accents. It clanked softly on its matching saucer as she took a sip. “When there is no named heir, the council establishes the requirements to determine who is best suited to succeed the deceased patriarch or matriarch,” she explained. I vaguely recalled Brianna and Victor mentioning this but nodded to Nida in thanks for the reminder.

“According to this duchy’s laws and the council’s decision,” Lady Eliza intoned, her voice grave, “the next leader of House Alistar will be chosen…” I couldn’t tell if the pause that followed was intentionally made for the drama or not, but if it had been, it worked. Everyone held their breath, awaiting the Marchioness’ next words. She unrolled a thin scroll, no wider than a finger, revealing just three words. “By the people.”

A wave of whispered outrage rippled through the table until Lady Eliza silenced it with a low, vibrating growl that seemed to resonate through the hall.

“It is up to each of you to prove your worth to the people. Show them your loyalty, your bravery, your wisdom, and your kindness. The council and I will watch and judge, as we have throughout your lives. Anyone caught sabotaging a candidate with violence will face swift retribution.” Her expression was set as if carved from stone. “House Alistar does not tolerate backstabbing or murder among its nobility. You will triumph fairly, or not at all.”

“Matriarch,” Darrow said as Lady Eliza fell silent. “Is it not part of our laws that the successor must be of noble blood?” His tone was pointed, clearly aimed at my exclusion. He still didn't look at me, though. “I don’t believe Lady Lilliana qualifies as a true member of our lineage.”

Lady Eliza sipped her drink, savoring the silence, while Darrow shot me a smug look, confident he’d cornered me. I didn’t bother responding, recalling how Brianna and Victor had warned me that some candidates would attempt to exclude me based on bloodline. They’d also assured me that the council’s historic commitment to fairness would prevent any such exclusion, as long as I held legitimacy to the duchy by way of Duke Collin Alistar’s House Coin and his dying wish.

“The council has waived such requirements in regards to Lady Lilliana of House Silverwater,” Lady Eliza said, proving Brianna and Victor correct. “They have determined it was my brother’s last desire to allow Lady Lilliana to partake in our succession challenge. They, nor I, will allow my brother’s dying wishes to be tainted.”

Darrow’s protests died in his throat, his defiant expression crumbling as she invoked her brother’s last wishes. I nodded along as the matriarch spoke but otherwise kept silent. Why push back when the matriarch was already paving the way for me?

“There is no deadline.” Lady Eliza continued, leaning back into her long-backed chair with her cup of blackish liquid. “I shall remain Matriarch until it’s evident to the council that the people have chosen their next Duke or Duchess. An announcement will be made to inform the duchy that it is their civic duty to decide.”

“Will the council participate in this decision?” asked one of the young female successors—Guinevere, I believed—who had the same dirty blonde hair and keen brown eyes as the rest. Her thin jawline tapered sharply at the chin, giving her a birdlike visage that seemed both watchful and precise

“Everyone will participate,” Lady Eliza replied. “The next Duke or Duchess will have to persuade nobles and commoners alike, including myself and the council.”

“And what if the people are split between candidates?” Guinevere pressed, unperturbed despite addressing someone of Lady Eliza’s standing so directly.

The matriarch shrugged. “Then I will continue as Matriarch until one candidate triumphs.”

At first, this plan had sounded well-thought-out, but now it seemed like little more than a subtle power play on the Marchioness’ part. No ruler—especially an heir—could sway an entire duchy’s allegiance without stirring some dissent. I scanned my memory of Ordite’s most beloved rulers. Even they had factions of resentment and unrest; expecting complete harmony was naïve.

“I sense some of you doubt this is possible,” Lady Eliza said, a rare smile ghosting across her features. “But Collin won the duchy’s love well before his own succession challenge. Villages and towns beyond our borders sought to join his territory once he was named Duke. Difficult as it is, it can be done—by those with a pure heart.”

It sounded like idealistic drivel. A pure heart? I’d known Duke Alistar. The man was just, yes, but hardly pure-hearted. His men had followed him loyally, but it had taken me mere weeks to bring them to heel under my command after his death. Surely, they weren’t under some unbreakable charm of devotion.

Or had they been? And had it broken upon his death?

Memories of the duke’s soldiers flashed through my mind, their eyes clouded with an unnatural golden hue that radiated like sunlight. I was tempted to pull out the House Coin and send my energy into it again to double-check for any lingering energy or magic, but now wasn’t the time.

“I suggest the lot of you start thinking about what kind of Duke or Duchess you want to be,” she said. “Because I have known each one of you for your entire lives, and perhaps three of you have shown any potential to rule as my brother did. Prove me wrong. Prove me right. It is your choice. I shall be watching how you do.”

Her words were spoken in the same flat tone she’d maintained since her arrival, but her final remark about watching came with her gaze fixed on me.

I smiled at the challenge.