Ezra straightened her suit and stared at her reflection. Piercing green eyes stared back at her, cynical and unforgiving. Just as her mother intended, she cut a masculine figure. Constant training every morning, before the sun touched the horizon, gave her muscle mass and daily tutoring kept her sharp. She was naturally tall for a woman, her black hair had been cut short for as long as she could remember. Her dark olive skin was clear and healthy.

She had been blessed with superior genes and cursed with a life of lying about her very identity.

“Are you ready, Ezra?” Her mother entered the room, arms open wide to hug her. “My handsome man,” she cooed, “I can’t believe you’re leaving me.”

Ezra’s eyes flickered over her dismissively, “Is the car here?” Her voice was hoarse from continuous screaming that damaged her vocal cords. It replicated a post-puberty male’s voice well enough. Her mother certainly thought of everything.

“Not yet,” her mother chimed. Viere Ketea wasn’t the dancer of her youth but she still had a strange ethereal beauty. Her long limbs extended like wings as she moved, her fingers flitting over Ezra’ face. She had large eyes like spun gold and long, sweeping lashes. She seemed to be delicate and weak but appearances were designed to be misleading.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Ezra glanced away from her for only second, to glance out the window, yet when she looked back, her mother had an ugly scowl. “Try not to draw attention to yourself. You’ll ruin us.”

Those were the words she used if even the light hit Ezra at an angle that was a bit too feminine for her liking.

Nowadays, Ezra found herself giving the same response. “If I was going to ruin us, it wouldn’t be on accident.” What she left unsaid was that it’d be out of a need to burn this forsaken inherited estate to the ground along with every childhood memory it brought to mind.

Her mother took this statement as reassurance and tucked a pocket square into her breast pocket, “Your father would have been so proud.”

Ezra sneered, “He would have been appalled. As would you, were he alive.”

“But he isn’t,” Viere reminded her, “He would have been proud of you for taking care of your mother.”

He wouldn’t have cared, Ezra thought bitterly. He wouldn’t have cared a bit for his pretty little wife and his non-male heir. He would have been like every other male in this sniveling patriarch society, disinterested and controlling. After he died, her mother could have either retreated to a life outside high society with an allowance or claim her daughter was male and therefore, liable to inherit her father’s estate and funds. She decided to force her daughter into this charade.

A servant ran into the room and bowed at the waist, “The car is here, sir.”

“Wonderful,” Ezra slid out of her mother’s grip and headed towards the door. “Good bye, mother.”

“Be good, dear son.” Don’t ruin us.

Ezra glanced back, “There’s hardly any fun in being good.”