“You’ve been doing this for like thirty minutes, Scarlet. Need a break?” suggests Alexander with a hint of awe.

“You shouldn’t worry about me. I could hold this piece of crap up for an hour if I had to,” I strain.

Sweat drips from my forehead to the massive boulder underneath my feet. My black tendrils lift it as I stand atop it with Alexander and Nigel. It’s part of my endurance training to increase my gifts’ use thresholds.

“Too cocky,” condemns Nigel. He turns away from me to a group of cadets he’s presiding over this week as part of his ‘trial period’ as a potential Captain. “That’s how you get killed. Overestimate your abilities, get cocky, then you have a blade sticking in your neck.”

“Or you’re just better, and you know it, so you gloat a little,” I suggest instead.

“Don’t tell them that.”

“But it’s true!”

“Very few times is that true.”

“You ready?” asks Alexander. He tosses his giant sword, a Claymore, around in his hands like a piece of paper.

I grit my teeth. “Sure. Why not?”

“That didn’t sound confident.” Alexander points his blade at me with one hand just to show off. The steel glimmers. “You sure you can keep going?”

“Might as well. Can’t get stronger if you don’t suffer.”

There’s a reason I’m pushing myself so hard with such odd training. Gifts are trained like a muscle since they technically are that. When anyone uses gifts, they can feel it in their core. Use it too much, their body hurts. Don’t use it enough, it remains weak. Like any muscle, it needs to be constantly pushed, fueled, and tested in new ways to get stronger and stronger. If there are two people with the same gift and one is overweight and the other is fit, the fit person’s gift will be stronger if they unleash them at each other.

Gifts tend to deteriorate in their effectiveness depending on a variety of health factors. Haven’t slept in days? Not eating? Poisoned? Cancer? Got stabbed? The gift diminishes as it repairs these ailments. But while it does, its efficiency decreases. Ailments directly affect gift abilities only, not the survivability of the individual. The more serious the illness, the less one can use their gift, as the power tries to save its “user” while sacrificing its output, in a sense.

Therein lies the general theory for fighting Divine Treat eaters: chip away. The goal is to always be causing gift users injuries. The more severe the better until the eater is on an even playing field with the non-eaters. Of course, fatal injuries work just as well. I couldn’t grow back an arm if it got cut off. The wound might seal up, but the arm would still be gone. Likewise, a stab in the heart or immense blood loss would end me just like anyone else.

But the positives certainly outweigh the negatives. Our skin, muscles, and organs last longer. Our life expectancies are higher than most. We’re not immortal and still age like everyone else, but, on average, Divine Treat eaters have a higher life expectancy than someone who hasn’t eaten the fruit. I’ll probably look twenty when I’m fifty years old, but I’ll still die of old age. It’s almost like the gifts stop fighting at some point.

It’s all unexplainably strange. I’ve read tons of theories on why and how Divine Treats work and exist, but everything is theoretical. It’s annoying.

I lick the top of my lip as excitement fills my gut. The feeling of battle, of blood being drawn, floods me with euphoria like nothing else.

“You know, it isn’t good for an engaged woman to spend so much time letting two men poke at her while she licks her lips,” mocks Alexander as he twirls his massive two-handed blade in his right hand.

Damn, he’s so annoyingly strong.

“Listen, Alexander, I’m going to stab you.” My blades lower to point at his groin. “Then I’m going to turn you into a woman.”

The crowd “ohhhs”.

“Ouch!” Alexander winces naturally. “Why did you have to take that so far?! It was a joke!”

“She’s starting to feel the burn, so she’s lashing out,” explains Nigel.

“Guilty!” I yell.

“You’re holding the rock longer than you used to. Your skills haven’t dropped by that much under the strain. But there’s always room for improvement.”

“You don’t say?!”

It’s maddening that I can lift this giant rock by myself with no problem. It only takes four tendrils to hold up the boulder. At some point, it got too easy, and I started sparring with people on top of the rock while I held it up. It’s creative enough that Nigel wanted to show it to fresh crops of cadets. I’m assuming Nigel got permission from my father since he’s such a boy scout. It’s odd he gave it considering his restrictions when I was thirteen, but maybe he’s become a little lax now that I’ve “gone along” with his whims?

Ha! Sure, I have. Bastard…

Gods, this “husband manipulation” plan is so tedious. I wish I had it in me to massacre everyone and live like a rogue, but I just don’t. Then again, it’s perfectly reasonable not to be a murderous psychopath. It’d ruin any semblance of normalcy I desire.

Likewise, the harm of simply fleeing and stealing money doesn’t benefit me in my personal risk analysis. I live a life of luxury with servants, whatever food I want, a chef that adores me, access to weaponry, a trainer, powers I wouldn’t have had otherwise, friends, and generally whatever I want. Father is one of only six barons, and he oversees our country’s food. My second life has been relatively easy thus far. The only bothersome restrictions I have are that I need guards whenever I leave the castle, and I must marry someone with influence. I have Remi, Alexander, and Nigel so that first part isn’t a problem. I wouldn’t want to leave the castle without one of them anyways.

This whole “marriage” shit is my only issue then, otherwise, I’d be totally fine with this life. Granted, I’d like to travel and do some humanitarian work, possibly. I do feel like I’ve been in a rut for a while, but there is no reason I can’t find something meaningful to do within my current role now that my opportunities have changed. Everything was going so smoothly until I turned thirteen! That’s when this whole “issue” came into my life, and I started having bad thoughts.

If it weren’t for Remi, I might have repressed totally into the failure I used to be. She said it best, “What? Do you think someone as strong as you can’t control some weak little man? Gods, you’re so whiny, and you over-complicate shit all the time. Think outside the box for once, Scarlet.”

Remi’s an amazing pep talker. I could feel the love and kindness in her words.

But she was right. I had a choice over whom I could marry once Harold and I ruined our “affair,” and though it’s created some difficulties, I can confidently say that I’m in a better position now than I thought I’d be at this point in time. Two guys are fighting over me. Even though the engagement ball ended up being embarrassing as all hell, I can turn this around. It’s not entirely hopeless.

I am in the body of a big-boobed redhead with a perfectly maintained figure. In theory, I can get whatever I want if I try hard enough! The tools are at my disposal! All I need to do is use them. My upcoming “dates” are the perfect opportunity to lay the groundwork for manipulation, or so I’ve rationalized. There’s no reason I can’t get both men to succumb to my…charms? No, that’s not the right word…

Shit, I’m tired of thinking this. I need to sweat some more!

“Why don’t we call it for the day? No need to push yourself, Lady Scarlet,” suggests Nigel. He uses my formal title in front of his men. I get it, but it annoys me.

“How about you stop holding back and fight me, coward! Come on already!” I twirl my blades in both hands like windmills fluttering about my face.

Alexander turns to Nigel. “I don’t care if she’s the baron’s daughter; you’ve got to fuck her up now. She called you a bitch to your face in front of your men.”

“She didn’t call me a bitch. And no, I’m not gonna fuck her up,” groans Nigel, though he does look more irritated than usual now.

“Oh? You’re a coward? Got it.”

Nigel winces. He turns to the cadets examining us. “Continue to watch Lady Scarlet. She may be a noble, but her skills are on par with myself and Alexander. Learn from what you’ll see today. Practice your gifts. Put yourself in tough, creative situations constantly. A blade left in its scabbard starts to rust. The same occurs with gifts. And remember, just because official practice ends for the day does not mean you are precluded from improving in your off-hours. It’ll make you better.” He turns back to me. “Now then—”

“You’ll fuck her up?” suggests Alexander.

Nigel sighs. “You go first.”

“Fine then. Guess I gotta make you look good,” remarks Alexander with a sardonic grin.

“Don’t make me look good. Simply try.”

Alexander walks towards me, flipping his blade about between his hand. “Way to make everything so serious.”

And so, we begin.

Alexander rushes forward. He prepares his blade overhead. The weight of it is massive. He brings it down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I witness Nigel take advantage of Alexander’s swing to pull into my blind spot. He rears around Alexander’s side to launch a sideswipe at me with a sharp horizontal sweep.

Damn. Glad I saw that in time.

Using my light abilities, I strengthen my body.

Tandem use of my gifts doesn’t cause me to pass out anymore, but there’s always the risk that my gifts will stop working or one will activate while the other cuts off. Can’t get better unless you try, and the risks aren’t usually worth it, but they are during practice, though, since that’s the point.

Most people only have one gift muscle, but I feel two inside me. It’s why it’s difficult to use them simultaneously, kind of like doing a bench press and leg press at the same time. It’s doable but awkward though it gets easier with repetition.

I jump until I’m sideways in the air away from Alexander’s downward strike. I press my foot along the side of his attack. Alexander’s blade surges sideways in response, blocking Nigel’s strike as I intended it to.

I flip backward and land on my feet. Both my blades raise into a defensive position, one above my head and the other thrust forward at my waist. My light cloak disappears as I conserve my power.

The crowd of cadets cheers us on.

“Do you guys have any family?” I ask them out of the blue.

Alexander takes a follow-up swing at me. I duck below it. A few of my hairs get snipped off. “What?” he deliberates as his swing passes me.

“I realize I’ve never asked, and I feel like an asshole. It’s always been about my problems, and I’ve never inquired anything about you guys,” I state as I plunge forward with a right jab at Alexander’s gut and an overhead swing at his neck.

Alexander blocks the lunge while Nigel uses his sword to parry my other swing.

“All I have is my father,” answers Nigel. He presses me back with a few sword swipes. “He’s a farmer. I send him money once a week to help him get by. He’s up in age now and his feet don’t carry him like they once did.” Nigel kicks at my chest. I bend backward quickly, letting the foot pass above my face. “I never knew my mother. Never had any brothers or sisters. Always wanted to be a soldier. That’s about it for me. Nothing too special.”

“How sweet,” I reply.

I flip backward while lashing my foot forward. It connects with the underside of Nigel’s outstretched leg. The weight is amplified temporarily by my light gift. It flips him, sending him off a few feet away.

My stable foot is quickly swept out from under me. I land on my back in pain.

“I was an orphan. My mom was a prostitute, but she died a few years after giving birth to me. Some disease,” says Alexander. He leers over me with a jeering smile as he rejoices at having put me on my rear with such a cheap move. “I ended up working odd jobs at the brothel she served until I made enough money to travel. I came here from Farmer’s Bastion hoping to make more money being a soldier. Maybe find a wife and kids.” He prepares his blade overhead. “Maybe marry the baron’s daughter and coast on a life of easy money. Who knows?”

“Ha!” I kick my legs backward, rolling me a significant distance out of harm’s way. My body is brought up just in time as the flat of Alexander’s blade lands where my belly was. Even he wouldn’t try to go for a lethal hit there, not if he wasn’t entirely sure I would dodge it.

“You don’t think it’s possible?” jokes Alexander. “I hear the baron’s daughter is gorgeous.”

“You don’t say?” I revel. “But you grew up in a brothel? That explains so much.”

I cross my blades in an ‘X’ over my right shoulder. They catch Nigel’s strike just as it comes down.

“Doesn’t it?” says Nigel with a sigh. “He’s always been a little odd. They made him clean up after sessions to repay his room and board.”

“Hey, it was like I had twenty different mothers. There are worse things in the world.”

Alexander calmly peels some rocks from off the boulder, raises them in the air, and hits them with the flat of his massive blade like a baseball bat.

I grab the rocks out of the air with a sudden dark tendril.

It stops the shards from hitting me, but the boulder below us dips a little.

All three of us stagger.

Taking that opportunity, I curl my body to the left, careen out my right foot back, and twist it around to hit Nigel.

The attack is easily dodged, but Nigel is pushed back a few feet.

A random rock cuts the edge of my face, drawing blood.

My attention shifts to Alexander. Debris flies my way at horrifying speeds. They’re essentially pebbles, but at the velocity he’s launching them, they’ll tear my skin like buckshot rounds from a shotgun.

So much for taking it easy on the baron’s daughter. But none of us have bothered with that for a while. Anything to get stronger. It’s not like we’ll die from a serious hit. Only if the wound is fatal.

I dodge the rocks, deflecting some with my blades when they get too close.

I opt not to use dark gifts anymore, as that’ll make the boulder unstable again. Using too many light gifts will do the same thing. I need to keep things under control, or I’ll lose by default under my own dumb rules.

With each dodge, I press forward. Cuts and scrapes pepper my skin. Though I’m good at dodging, the number of rocks is too much.

Alexander knows it won’t kill me, though he’s hoping it’ll wear down my stamina.

Well, he’s right; it is. The rock is getting harder and harder to hold up.

As I get within sword strike range, the rocks cease. Alexander’s massive longsword comes down in quick succession. An overhead. A sweep. Diagonal cut. Strike, strike, strike, strike! They come for me like rain.

If I directly block his blade, he might shatter my swords. Instead, I deftly use parries to control the motion of his strike away from my body.

Still, the hits are like boulders slamming into water. Each smash rings through my arms even as I dull the impact.

Nigel appears in my blind spot again at the worst moment of the rally, using one of my tendrils currently holding the rock up as cover.

Dammit.

He’s going to hit me with the flat. I’ve got no way out of this. I’m scre—

Wait!

Boulder!

I move it a little.

Nigel senses this. He jumps at just the right moment, but he is unable to complete his attack against me.

Alexander, on the other hand, was not prepared. As he rose his blade, the boulder dipped. His momentum was behind his head. With the dip, he fell in conjecture with his sword, landing him on his back with a bang.

When I dropped the boulder, I hopped as well. As I did, I raised my swords, bringing them across my chest like an ‘X’ ready to smack at Alexander if he fell.

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And here he has fallen.

I angle forward, ready to strike.

BOOOOOOM!

Explosive energy discharges between myself and Alexander, sending the two of us flying away from each other. I soar some distance away, hit the rock, and skid.

I lose control of the rock. My tendrils disappear, and it slams into the ground. The force sends little shockwaves down my spine.

“Owwwww,” I groan.

I look up.

The tip of a blade touches under my chin.

The “string” that bonds our combat grows taut at this conclusion, and, yet again, another loss to Nigel.

“How lovely it is to see you,” I curse at Nigel.

Nigel, as he rarely does, smiles. “Do you concede?”

“Yes, sir. You win. I’m yours to do with as you wish. Again. Please, don’t finish in my hair this time. It took ages to wash out.”

The surrounding cadets chuckle at my comments.

Nigel retracts his blade with a frown, sheathing it into his belt. “Shut up, idiot. Stupid rumors like that might get me killed.”

“Nigel,” I coo. “after being dominated by your…strong, masculine moves…I can no longer be a bride. You must take responsibility!”

“Please, stop.”

I laugh. “Sorry, sorry. I’m kidding!”

Nigel holds out his hand for me to take.

Grasping his palm, I’m raised to my feet.

The “string” seems to grow for a moment. My breath catches in my chest, though Nigel seems entirely unfazed.

“Are you okay?” asks Nigel.

“Ahem!” I clear my throat, nodding. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Overall, it was very impressive.”

“It’d be more impressive if I’d won. Gods, I want to beat you two one day.” My eyes narrow in disgust, mostly at myself. I puff out my cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve ever even beat you one-on-one now that I think about it. You never use your gift unless you have to, so you’ve never gone all out against me. It’s annoying.”

“It’s not like I want to kill you, Scarlet,” says Nigel in a quiet voice. “I’ve been fighting longer, and I have real combat experience.”

“You’re just lucky you’re a prodigy that ate such a good Divine Treat.” My face sours. “Gods, I hate that name.”

“So we’ve all heard dozens of times. You don’t have to rant about—”

“I mean, is that really the best they could have come up with?”

“Here we go,” says Alexander as he walks closer. He files in beside Nigel. Dust cakes his body.

“I get people love the Gods, but isn’t that a little too on the nose? ‘Divine Treat’,” I scoff. “It’s so pretentious!”

“Let it out.”

“They’re gold orbs. They don’t look like fruit. I wouldn’t call eating one a ‘treat’ given how painful it was afterward. Why not something like Aurum Fructus? That’s what I would have called it! The Latin language is very clean and professional. All it means is “golden fruit,” but that’s exactly what it is and it sounds so much better! It even has a hint of divinity because it’s a dead language! That would make it as vague and confusing as any God!”

“Scarlet, you—” Nigel tries to speak.

“Or how about something more dramatic? The Voiced have golden eyes, apparently. The Divine Treats are gold and they kind of look like eyes. What about calling it the Eyes of Gods or maybe Tapuach or Gods’ Peris or—”

Nigel puts a hand over my mouth.

I stop talking.

“It doesn’t matter how many names you come up with, there’s nothing you can do about a term so powerfully ingrained in society,” says Nigel. “I can only hear this exact same argument so many times, Scarlet.”

I lick Nigel’s palm.

Nigel recoils, moving his hand.

“That was very bold of you,” says Alexander to both Nigel and me, chuckling.

I ignore them and my actions, saying, “It’s so stupid though!”

“I know, I know,” says Nigel. He wipes his palm on the top of my head.

“I mean, I get it’s because when you think of a “treat,” it aligns with the word “gift.” Gifts are what we call our powers, for some reason, but we don’t call it magic, so I understand that—”

“She’ll shut up if you kiss her!” shouts one of the cadets lost in the crowd.

I immediately stop talking. My face burns red.

Nigel turns on the crowd watching us. “I believe we will work on cardio tomorrow. The scenery around Water’s Bastion is rather beautiful. We’ll lap it a few dozen times.” He pauses coldly. “In full dress. Dismissed.”

The cadets groan. One larger one gets slapped in the back of the head by someone close by. That must have been the culprit. With lowered heads, they all exit the courtyard.

“I don’t think I command a lot of respect,” I notice.

“I warned you about making crude comments,” says Nigel. “But it’s not just that. You treat people normally, so they do the same in kind. It doesn’t mean I can let comments like that go unpunished, even with your lax attitude.”

“I’m not really going to complain this time,” I say with a tail of nervous laughter at the end. “Why would they fear or respect me? I’m extremely unserious. And they just watched my weak ass get beat.”

“Now, now, you aren’t weak,” says Nigel. “If it helps, you could probably beat Alexander if you tried hard enough.”

“I protest that claim!” denies Alexander with haughty determination.

“Lucky for you, I’m too tired to try today.” My eyes feel heavy, and my muscles hurt. “Maybe some other time.”

Alexander shivers. “Can you believe I’m not looking forward to that?”

“Steel your nerves,” says Nigel.

“It’s easy for you to say that; you’re the best fighter out of all of us.” Alexander appears annoyed. I feel the same way, honestly.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” expresses Nigel. For the first time in his life, he looks embarrassed.

“No, you are. By a lot,” I tell him even though I do not want to.

“Fine.” Nigel’s chin raises. “I accept the title.”

Alexander and I look at each other before bursting out into laughter.

“Yes, yes. Laugh it up. By the way, Lady Scarlet, you appear to have a visitor.” Nigel jerks his head behind him.

I follow the motion until my eyes land on Christopher. Prince Christopher, that is. I have a feeling I’m going to drop that moniker on accident eventually.

The prince stands in his usual white outfit, though this one is slightly modified from the last one I saw. It’s a good look for him, so I understand why he dresses that way. Very regal.

His eyes watch over us with amusement. Christopher seems stunned, even thrilled, by us. How long was he watching?

“I suppose I should go talk to him,” I whine under my breath. “Duty calls.”

“Hey, he’s very handsome,” Alexander encourages.

“That he is,” I tut under my breath.

“Oh? An admission?” Alexander hones in. “I thought Lady Scarlet only liked tavern waitresses?”

Quickly, I whip around until I’m facing Nigel. “You told him?!”

“It may have…slipped out,” Nigel expresses. He holds my gaze though his face trembles slightly. It’s clear he wants to avert his eyes.

“I’m annoyed that I was the last person to know.” Alexander shakes his head. “You all think so little of me because of my overly bubbly personality.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Is Prince Christopher a tavern waitress in disguise? Or a princess with no curves, I wonder?” Alexander combs his fingers through his long, blonde hair. “Why oh why would Lady Scarlet act in such a positive way towards her male suitor? What is she not telling us? Hmmm.” He pauses. “Could it be that our lady…likes…everything?”

“Shut up. You’re reading too much into it. I can promise you I’m not excited in the slightest.”

“Am I? I don’t think so.” Alexander points at me. “You know, you remind me of a whore.”

I blink. “The hell did you say to me?”

“Really?” Nigel eyes Alexander with both shame and surprise.

“That came out wrong.” Alexander resets himself, chuckling nervously. “Like I said, I grew up in a brothel as a child. Let’s just say there’s a certain type of personality that undertakes that work. It helps if you can cross lines and enjoy it if that makes any sense. You give off the same vibe, that’s all I’m saying. There’s honestly nothing to be ashamed of. So what if you like men and women? Who cares? It’s better than torturing yourself.”

First Remi, now Alexander?! Am I the only one who doesn’t know what I like?!

No! I refuse! This is bullshit! It’s not who I was, and it won’t be who I become! They’re putting false concepts on me because it makes sense to them! It’s not like they know everything. It’s all a dumb, shitty assumption.

Gods, I hate this…

“Uh-huh.” My eyes narrow. “All I heard was that you called your charge a whore to her face. Nigel?”

“Yes?”

“Do the stables need cleaning?”

“They do. That would be the cadets’ jobs later this afternoon.”

“I think it would be helpful for Alexander to aid them in that task.”

“As you wish.”

Alexander drops his head a little. “Ah, dammit.”

“Anyways, toodles!” I walk away. “And no more talking about my nonexistent sex life, please!”

That may have been a little too loud.

I cross the courtyard until I am before Prince Christopher. He lightly bows before me. I respond in kind.

“A lovely morning,” the prince states plainly.

“That it is.” Sweat drips from my brow, and I wipe it away. “Sorry, I’m a mess. Probably not very attractive.”

“There is allure in effort. I do not mind. It does little to mar your grace.”

Cheeeeesy…

“What’s going on? Do you wish to spar?” I jest, placing my hands on my blades. A smile runs across my lips.

Prince Christopher laughs. “Maybe another time. No, I was wondering when you were free for the day. I think I know what I would like to do with you.”

Oh yeah. The “date.” How ironic. I was just thinking about that.

As important as they are to my future, I’m too tired to fake a personality today. Plus, I’ll need to mentally prepare myself for some level of “putting out.”

“If I’m being honest, after I eat lunch, I’m going to be in so much pain that I won’t be very fun to be around. I have no plans for tomorrow, and I’ll look better then. Does mid-morning before lunch work for you?”

Prince Christopher nods. “It does. I will see you then. I have my own training to do as well. Perhaps this is a sign?” He begins walking away. “Good day, Lady Scarlet.”

“And to you, Prince Christopher.”

Damn, none of that reminded me of my old self. It’s getting increasingly easier to act fake and feminine. Hell, I did it at the ball, and I’ve accepted that mentality for the dates.

Where the hell did Felix go? He wouldn’t be able to do this kind of thing.

Looking back, I wasn’t really myself around Harold Astra either. How much of my personality has slipped away? Who am I now?

I don’t feel like anybody anymore. Everyone else has noticed things about me that I can’t see. Am I ignorant? Are they wrong? Were these issues always there and I just didn’t notice?

I’d always assumed Felix was the more predominant consciousness in my mind, one that’d overtake Scarlet’s when push came to shove. Perhaps that was a too simplistic rationalization. It shouldn’t be surprising that I’ve changed. I was always going to given the circumstances. I was raised and treated like a girl for the past eighteen years by society, my body, and those around me. It was bound to do something to my brain.

It’s not like Felix had everything figured out in my past life. When I was him, I tried to kill myself. Maybe this change is a good thing, fake or not? I can only hope so. There’s no other choice for me in this life.

It doesn’t help that I’m still referring to myself as separate people. It’s only gotten worse over the years.

“Just more shit to deal with,” I mutter, putting that aside until I fall asleep tonight. I’ll dwell on it then like I do every other day.

I bite the edge of my lip, turn, and walk back to my friends.

“Are you okay?” Nigel asks as I approach. “You look dazed.”

“Oh, sorry.” I shake my head. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not,” Alexander comments. “You look like shit.”

“Have some class, man,” reprimands Nigel.

“Did he say something crappy to you? Do we have to create an accident, hmm?” peruses Alexander.

For some reason, that makes me laugh. “Gods, you’d both be found out and killed in less than a day if anything happened to that man.”

“But he did do something?” asks Nigel.

“No, he didn’t. It’s me. I’m the weird one,” I admit sadly. “I’m slowly realizing I don’t know myself anymore, is all.”

Alexander and Nigel both stare at me. They seem taken aback by my words.

“You’ve been cooped up in this castle most of your life. You’ve only been into town a handful of times. It’s not like you have the personal freedom to explore life outside this coddled environment,” says Nigel carefully. “It’d make sense if you felt strange interacting with new people.”

I suppose that’s true from his perspective. I was thinking something similar at the ball. Maybe that is the real reason why I am the way I am now. It has nothing to do with an awkward sexual realignment in my psyche. I’m just insanely introverted now thanks to my current circumstances. Isolationism is a cruel mistress. Huh. That…kind of makes me feel better.

“Eh, you’ll be fine. You’re an adaptable person.” Alexander shrugs his shoulders. “When have you ever had a problem you couldn’t solve?”

“My marriage.”

“From what Remi’s implied, you’ll fix that too. I’m not that worried. Something good will happen eventually,” Alexander retorts in a casual tone.

“You’re being oddly supportive. It’s weird,” I inform Alexander as I make a face.

“Does that mean you’ll forgive my earlier comments and let me have an afternoon free of horse dung?” Alexander bats his eyes like a child asking for toys.

I shake my head. “Nah.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“What’d you two talk about then?” Nigel casts the conversation upon a different route.

“When we’re going on a date, I suppose.”

“Ahhhhh!” They say in unison.

“What?”

“That explains the emotional shift,” says Alexander.

I frown.

“It might be best to…not overthink it? If you go into it with bad intentions, you won’t be happy,” suggests Nigel in a light tone. It’s clear he doesn’t want to anger me.

“Because you don’t seem to hate him,” notes Alexander.

“Because I don’t,” I lament. “It doesn’t mean I want to get married. Whether it’s with a good person or not, I’ll still lose this level of freedom I’ve bitterly clung to. I don’t want that. There’s so much to do in this life, things to see. I can’t waste my time again doing useless shit.”

“Again?” Alexander and Nigel question in tandem.

I wave them off. “It’s just a saying.”

The men frown.

“I think he’s too much of a pretty boy for you,” says Alexander.

“And why do you say that?” I ask.

“I don’t know. You’re a girl, but you hardly act like one. Only sometimes,” Alexander answers honestly.

These are weird conversations to have with grown men. It goes to show that the absence of technology does wonders for the ability of people to talk to one another.

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or not.” My hand gently pats Alexander on the shoulder. “So I’ll say nothing.”

“It’s not like I’m saying you aren’t pretty or anything. You are.”

“Oh no,” whispers Nigel as he dips his head.

“Hey,” says Alexander. “if you ever get bored of whomever you marry, I’ll gladly go for a roll around if you’re desperate.”

“Nigel,” I speak.

“Yes?”

“Feel free to stab Alexander, if you will.”

Nigel does not comply. He does slap Alexander on the back of the head though.

“You aren’t entirely wrong; I’ll give you that. I’m not traditionally feminine,” I allow. A part of me wants to reveal my past, but I can’t. I settle for little tidbits of truth fleshed within our existing world. “A ‘normal girl’ wouldn’t be vulgar, desire power, fight with swords, get drunk, nor care about the things I do. At times, I find myself wondering what’s so different between you two and myself. Who am I? Not a girl. Not the way I’m supposed to be. I’m not normal, but I must be something.” I chuckle. “A weirdo, I guess.”

There’s a spit of silence.

“I think you’re just a person like anyone else trying to figure out their place in the world. There’s no reason to stress over who you are,” Nigel eventually speaks. “You are who you are, but what you choose to do with your life is entirely up to you in the end, even with others pushing you in certain directions.”

“Besides, just because your personality is a little different doesn’t mean you aren’t a girl or whatever,” says Alexander. “That’s just a description of your body and what it can do. In the end, who you are is defined by your actions. You’re totally in control of that, so don’t stress.”

I stare at them before licking the top of my lip nervously. “Thanks.”

That does help a bit. I’m overthinking things. Of course I am. I’ve had eighteen years to get over these feelings in my head, and I likely never will. Who possibly could?

“And Alexander,” I begin. “I know we’re friends, but you’re waaaaay too comfortable trying to elicit sex from Remi and me.”

Alexander shrugs. “Gotta try when I can. There are only so many maids that can hate me. My options are beginning to run thin. It’s not like I’m getting any younger—” His eyes sadden. “—or that I have anyone waiting for me right now. It’s tough.”

Nigel pats Alexander on the shoulder. “You do a lot of good work for your country. Be proud of that. Your sacrifices are not in vain.”

“We work too hard,” complains Alexander. “I don’t have time to scope out a wife. We’re going to die alone, aren’t we?”

Nigel nods. “It’s a possibility. You can always quit.”

“Nah. I’m not there yet.”

“Chin up.” I pat Alexander on the shoulder. “You’re not horrible to look at. Keep at it. Maybe tone down your personality, alright?”

With that, I walk towards the castle.

“Don’t forget to give your all when you’re shoveling shit!” I call back, laughing.

Alexander shouts after me, but his words are faint in the distance.

Frowning, I scratch my temple.

Tomorrow, I deal with Prince Christopher. Nigel and Alexander are right. There’s no need to reflect on why I am the way I am. I just am. I’ll act on my impulses and do what I want within reason. I do have some freedom, even if my sense of self is obscured by my dual realities.

“I wonder what I’ll wear?” I hear myself openly say.