As Ophelia lay in her modest bed, her thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a gust of wind. The world she now inhabited was so unlike her previous life, yet familiar memories blended uneasily with the strange customs and challenges of her new existence. Her body ached from the hours spent cleaning, and though her belly was full, the solitude of her small tower pressed heavily upon her.

The faint flicker of candlelight cast dancing shadows across the stone walls. Ophelia allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability, clutching the thin blanket closer as the chilly night air seeped through the cracks in the walls. It had been over a month since she found herself in this world—this life—but the unease had not faded.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled her. She sat up abruptly, her heart pounding as the door to her room creaked open. It was Hilary, one of her maids, carrying a tray with what appeared to be a bowl of broth and a hunk of hard cheese.

"Lady Ophelia," Hilary said, her tone neutral but not unkind. "I thought you might be hungry later, so I brought this."

Ophelia blinked in surprise. She had not expected either of the maids to offer her such consideration, especially not in the evening when they were often too tired to do more than the bare minimum.

"Thank you, Hilary," Ophelia replied, trying to keep the astonishment from her voice.

Hilary set the tray on the small table by the bed, hesitating as though she wanted to say more but thought better of it. After a moment, she curtseyed and left the room, leaving Ophelia alone once more. The broth smelled faintly of herbs, but the taste was bland, a stark reminder of the meagre resources available to her.

As she ate, her thoughts turned to the idea of magic—the essence that defined nobility in this world. In 12 months, she would turn twelve and be presented to the church for the ritual that would reveal her magic nature. Anxiety churned in her stomach as she pondered what that would mean. Her father’s lukewarm attitude toward her suggested he had little hope for her potential. She set the empty bowl aside and stared at her hands, wondering if they would ever channel the power she’d heard whispered about. Nobles with strong magic were prized assets, their abilities ranging from combat prowess to rare skills like healing or farseeing. Illegitimate children were rarely gifted with significant power, but Ophelia couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she might be different.

The candle burned lower as her exhaustion grew. She extinguished it with a careful puff, plunging the room into darkness. Nestling beneath the blanket, she stared up at the ceiling, her mind racing. If she was going to survive in this world, she would need to be more than a forgotten daughter relegated to the fringes of her family.

Morning came too soon, announced by the soft clanging of the bell in the keep. Ophelia dressed quickly, determined to make the most of the hours ahead. Today, she planned to visit the small book room on the second floor. It was one of the few places in her tower that truly felt like a sanctuary.

She entered the room and ran her fingers over the spines of the leather-bound tomes. Most of the books were dusty, their covers faded with age. Pulling one from the shelf, she flipped it open to reveal cramped handwriting detailing the basics of magic theory.

If magic truly is in my blood, then I’ll start here, she thought, settling into the worn chair by the window. Ophelia leaned back in the chair, the sunlight streaming through the narrow window warming her face. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, she felt a flicker of hope.

With Ophelia in the library, poring over a book about the geography of the Qeorene Empire. It was an expansive kingdom, stretching from the northern tundra to the temperate southern coasts, dotted with rolling hills and sprawling estates ruled by lords and ladies. The text was dry, but Ophelia devoured it. Every detail she learned about her new home gave her a sense of control in a world where so much was uncertain.

The empire’s structure fascinated her. The nobility held power over vast swaths of land, and the common folk—freemen, serfs, and slaves—supported their lords through labour and taxes. The book detailed the fortified cities that protected trade routes and the intricate networks of alliances and rivalries that defined noble politics. Each noble house was bound by loyalty to the Crown but often pursued its own ambitions, leading to a precarious balance of power.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

A soft knock interrupted her reading. She turned to see Ellen entering the book room, her usual look of disdain replaced with something approaching amusement.

“Lady Margery has sent gifts for you, my lady,” Ellen said, her tone flat though she was radiating a smug look. “You are to receive a new handmaid and a personal knight.”

Ophelia raised an eyebrow, setting the book aside. Gifts from Lady Margery? It didn’t sound like generosity; it felt more like a test.

“Bring them in,” she said, keeping her voice calm.

Ellen curtsied and disappeared down the hall. Moments later, she returned with two figures in tow.

The first was a girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen, with auburn hair tied neatly back and a freckled face that radiated nervous energy. She wore a simple gray dress, slightly too large for her, and clutched a satchel in her hands.

“This is Maerys, your new personal maid,” Ellen announced.

Maerys curtsied awkwardly. “It’s an honour, my lady,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The second figure was a boy no older than sixteen, dressed in ill-fitting armour that clinked as he moved. His dark hair was cropped short, and his brown eyes darted nervously around the room. He carried a sword at his side, but the hilt was polished and unused.

“And this is Ser Colin, your knight,” Ellen said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the boy’s unease.

Ser Colin bowed stiffly. “At your service, Lady Ophelia,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

Ophelia studied the pair, her expression unreadable. They were young, inexperienced, and clearly chosen by Lady Margery for their lack of polish. But Ophelia wasn’t about to let the first wife’s scheme rattle her. If anything, this was an opportunity.

“Thank you, Ellen,” Ophelia said. “You may leave us now.”

Ellen hesitated, clearly hoping to witness more awkwardness, but a sharp glance from Ophelia sent her scurrying out.

Once the door closed, Ophelia rose from her chair, smoothing her dress. She stepped closer to Maerys and Colin, her gaze steady but not unkind.

“I am Ophelia Higburgh,” she said. “You’ll be serving me from now on, so let’s start with honesty. Maerys, have you been a handmaid before?”

Maerys shook her head, her cheeks flushing. “No, my lady. I was… a scullery maid before this.”

“And you, Ser Colin? Are you a seasoned knight?”

“I trained with the guards at my father’s estate,” Colin admitted. “But this is my first official post.”

Ophelia nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “Good. Then we’re all learning together. I’ll expect both of you to do your best, and in return, I’ll make sure you’re treated fairly. Does that sound reasonable?”

The pair exchanged glances, clearly surprised by her tone. Maerys nodded eagerly, and Colin straightened his shoulders.

“Yes, my lady,” they said in unison.

“Good,” Ophelia said, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. “Now, Maerys, I’ll need your help organising this room later. For now, familiarise yourself with the layout of the tower. Colin, you’ll begin by joining me in the courtyard for a tour of the grounds. I want to understand the defences of this place.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Of course, my lady.”

With her new attendants in tow, Ophelia felt a strange sense of determination. Lady Margery might have intended to humiliate her with these inexperienced servants, but Ophelia saw their potential. She had given her fresh bodies with no present influence from any of the wives. She could make them loyal to her and only her as from all the historical reading she has done she would need a strong personal household to get anywhere.

Though she was waiting for the other foot to drop in this situation, no way would Lady Margery give her new help for no reason, they still had a good month before the next engagement. And that surprise came the very next day.

Ophelia stood in the doorway of the servant's hall, watching as Ellen and Hilary packed their things, their expressions a mix of relief and thinly veiled disdain. Their departure was swift, leaving behind an air of finality that Ophelia found oddly liberating. She had no illusions about their feelings toward her—they had always viewed their assignment as temporary drudgery, not true service.

Lady Margery had made her intentions clear. By withdrawing the experienced staff and replacing them with the untested Maerys and Colin, she was setting Ophelia up to fail. The customary arrangement dictated that a child of Ophelia’s status would keep their borrowed staff until their twelfth birthday and magical confirmation. But Lady Margery had found a way to skirt the norms, likely citing Ophelia’s small household as justification and weak backing.

As the door closed behind Ellen and Hilary, Maerys shifted nervously by the hearth, wringing her hands. Colin stood awkwardly near the entrance, his armour clinking faintly with each fidget.

“Well,” Ophelia said, breaking the silence, “it seems we’ll be relying on each other from now on.”

Maerys nodded, though her wide eyes betrayed her uncertainty. “I’ll do my best, my lady.”

“Me as well,” Colin added.

Ophelia managed a small smile, though inside she simmered. Lady Margery might think she’d succeeded in making her life more difficult, but she had given the gurl a boon.