Loneliness seeped into her like a fungus — quiet at first, then spreading, consuming everything it touched. It grew stronger with each day, each minute she spent staring at the silent walls of her room. The air felt heavier now, as if something once alive had been scraped out of the space and left it hollow.
The feeling of not belonging gnawed at her, an endless battle to stay kind, to stay sane. Her limits were tested again — this time, alone. But maybe being alone was safer. Maybe it hurt less that way.
The thought trembled through her mind, and the ache behind it was almost unbearable.
- Princess, it's time for your lesson.
The maid's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Valerie rose without a word. The woman followed a few steps behind as they walked down the long corridors of the castle — a place too flawless to be real, too cold to be kind.
Every door they passed carried echoes — faint, lingering traces of laughter that used to fill those halls. But now, only silence answered her. Every step felt like thorns breaking through the marble floor, reminding her of what was taken, what she could not get back.
She could not change that place. It was the castle that sought to change her — to shape her into something empty enough to survive its walls.
They entered as soon as they reached the door. No one was inside — as always. Her first lesson had cost her a week of pain each time she sat. "If you arrive ten minutes late, you are late. If you arrive exactly on time, you are still late."
Her study room looked different now — the corner awkwardly filled, as if someone had placed random objects there just to keep the emptiness away. A small table under the window held an empty glass jar, standing where a white sofa once did. The children's books were gone too. A third of the shelves stood bare.
Being there felt like walking past the locked door of her mother's old room — quiet, untouched, and unbearably hollow.
- Your Highness, the teacher has arrived.
The maid's voice dragged her back to the present. Valerie straightened, brushing invisible dust from her dress before bowing politely as the woman entered, followed by a tall man.
- Good afternoon, Miss Lasswyn. Sir. I look forward to today's lesson.
- Lower your head more. And mind your dress, it should not lift that high.
- Yes, Miss Lasswyn. I will be more careful next time.
- Fine. Today, I will not be the one teaching you. The King has ordered that you begin your studies in battle strategy. Sir Raddick will assist with that.
- Royal Knight Novick Raddick at your service, Princess.
The man bowed low before her.
- I am Valerie Aurum Kryon Bonesses. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Raddick.
With a gentle, practiced smile, Valerie took her seat. Miss Lasswyn settled in a corner with a cup of tea while the knight began his lesson. Valerie listened closely — her mind trained well under Miss Lasswyn's rigid discipline, where every mistake came with a punishment sharp enough to remember.
The lesson went smoothly. The books were easier than expected, almost intuitive. Every move, every counterattack felt obvious to her — yet useless in her isolated life. She would never don armor, never command an army. As Miss Lasswyn often reminded her:
"The only battles a princess can fight are those that raise her dignity — fought with polite, poisonous words at the right moment."
- The next book is about hostage situations. Please, read the first strategy aloud, Princess Valerie.
An old, brown-covered book landed on the table. The title, Saving the People, was almost erased by time. Valerie opened it carefully. The pages were stained and handwritten in a slanted, elegant script she had never seen before.
Before she could begin reading, a knock interrupted. Miss Lasswyn shot a glance at the knight, silently commanding him to open the door. He obeyed immediately.
- Sir Raddick! How's it going, brother? The brat giving you trouble?
- No, Sir. Everything is going well. She is very—
- Good, good. Thanks for covering for me. A captain has more important duties, after all...
His eyes drifted to Miss Lasswyn, lounging with her teacup, and his tone softened with smug familiarity.
- ...and more important company, it seems.
He approached her. Miss Lasswyn lifted her hand for him to kiss, and he did so without hesitation before sitting opposite her, the two sharing a quiet, knowing smile.
Valerie lowered her eyes to the book again, forcing herself to ignore their presence.
- We may continue, Your Highness. Please, go ahead and read the strategy.
- Very well. Saving the People, chapter one:
In case of hostage situations, the most important thing is the safety of our people. We must protect the hostages at all costs and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Confrontation may not be the best choice — the risk is too high, for the hostages' lives hang in the balance.
The best approach is as follows: while creating a distraction at the front, we deceive the enemy into believing we are careless and overconfident. Meanwhile, a small group infiltrates to rescue the captives unseen. No blood should be shed. Only if the hostages are unreachable, or in imminent danger, must we proceed to the next strategy in chapter two.
Her voice trembled faintly on the words "no blood should be shed," and she hesitated before closing the book.
The knight studied her uneasy movements.
- What are your thoughts on this strategy, Your Highness?
- The book says the most important thing is the safety of our people. But what about the soldiers? They are our people too. Should we just trade their lives for the hostages'?
Sir Raddick's eyes widened in surprise. At such a young age, the girl could ask questions so sharp, so perceptive.
- It isn't certain the soldiers will die in battle. Besides, those men would gladly give their lives if it meant saving one or five others. That is what it means to be a knight.
- It's impossible to have zero losses once a battle begins. I understand, at least a little, the duty and honor of a knight — but is it the same for all of them? Every man on that battlefield... do they truly have no doubt about giving their precious life for the sake of a commoner? Is it right to trade a man's life, uncertain in its sacrifice, for five others that may mean nothing to him?
Valerie looked once more at the book's cover before rising laughter echoed behind her. The captain's voice boomed through the room, sharp with amusement. The lady on the sofa smirked faintly, while he stood, his grin widening.
- Saving the people? What an old-fashioned tale. You know, Princess, we — the great minds of this kingdom, such as your father — would use that strategy for a different purpose.
The heavy steps of his boots rang against the marble floor as he approached. Leaning close enough for her to feel his breath, his tone grew darker.
- We'd kill the hostages first. Turn it into a reason to strike. Imagine it — a bloodbath in the name of mercy.
Watching her discomfort, Sir Raddick stepped forward.
- Sir... maybe we should stop here—
- What? She needs to know. We must live life to its fullest! A peaceful ending with no bloodshed? That's so boring. Imagine it, Princess — a bloodbath in the name of mercy. Doesn't that sound far more... fun?
Valerie's mind spun. How could someone be so heartless? His words clawed at her skin; his breath felt as foul as his ideas. Something broke inside her, and the words escaped before she could stop them.
- There is no kingdom without the people who live in it! You wouldn't be alive without those who work the fields to feed you. Where is your honor? You don't deserve to be a kni—
- Valerie!
The lady's sharp cry cut her like a blade. No title. No respect. Just her name — a warning. Her hands trembled, her throat went dry, and her chest tightened.
- These books... they're useless. I'll never go to battle... I don't want to. There's no need to learn this.
Her words came out in a whisper, broken between quiet sobs. She stood abruptly, her chair screeching across the floor. Miss Lasswyn opened her mouth to scold her again, but Valerie didn't wait. She bowed — stiffly, too fast — and hurried out, her shoes clicking sharply against the marble.
Outside, the corridor met her with silence. The cold air rushed in, wrapping around her like a ghost. She walked faster, clutching her arms tightly — not from anger, but from the hollow ache growing in her chest.
Because somewhere in those words he dared to repeat — somewhere between bloodbath and mercy — she had seen a reflection of something she didn't want to remember.
And she couldn't bear to face it again.