The grassland seemed never ending. Just one boring patch of grass and weeds after another. From as far back as I could crane my neck to as far ahead of me as I could squint, there was not much to be seen aside from the tall, half-brown grass and small patches of thorny bushes. It astounded me that I was fairly certain that we were still within the outer reaches of my father’s kingdom, yet there were no signs it was claimed or even inhabited.

  There was so much wasted space outside the boundaries of the hamlets and villages. I had read about so many terrible famines in my tutor’s history books and yet right here was an astounding amount of empty land that could be used to grow enough food to prevent some, if not all, of the famines. It was a bit out of the way and would require relocation of some serfs and royal troops to protect the outer edge from being easy pickings, but it seemed a reasonable trade for greater food security for the kingdom.

  The long lasting success of the kingdom pointed towards there being some other reason why the resources were going unused. Badly managed kingdoms rarely survived and my father’s bloodline had controlled the area for centuries, therefore it was unlikely they were making grave mistakes and rather that I could not see the logic behind their choices. Perhaps there simply weren’t enough commoners to expand, though that felt easy to remedy. Certainly it must be possible to encourage fertility among the commoners to expand farming into these otherwise useless land.

  “You are thinking deeply, child,” Aunt Mari said, interrupting my thoughts. She looked intimidating mounted upon her imposing gelding. “Tell me, what has you so enthralled in thought?”

  “This land,” I said with a wave of my arm, “it is such a waste. Why even protect it if it's left here unused? I feel there has to be some reason why it is left as it is.”

  Her right eyebrow raised in intrigue. “What do you propose be done with the land?”

  “People should be working it,” I replied. “I see no reason why it couldn't make for at least adequate farming soil for some kind of grain. We would just need more commoners to work the land.” I could feel a little spark of excitement ignite within me at the chance to show my cleverness. “A few castle servants have whispered about pagan fertility rites that father has banned. It seems like it might be a better idea to encourage them to increase the commoner population and have enough to work this vast territory.”

  “Clever girl,” she mused, “but why doesn't he if it would benefit him?”

  That I wasn't certain how to answer. It seemed silly to me that he would deny the very thing that would increase the productivity of his entire kingdom. Not only would more commoner births increase the farming potential, but also there could be more builders, more miners, and more recruits for the army. It all around felt like it would only benefit the kingdom to encourage the general population to expand. The King would be richer, his army more powerful, and his land more secure. Surely he had to have thought about the approach and instead found some inexplicable reason not to use it.

  “You are very sharp, but you still have much to learn,” my aunt commented. A brief smile flitted across her lips. “It is quite simple: it is because the people truly hate him and he is well aware of it. He finds it far too dangerous to encourage the peasants to multiply.”

  She kept referring to the commoner's hate of my father, but I was still unable to fully wrap my mind around it. I had never seen or heard much discontent, even by the most lowly of castle servants. Though, to be fair, I typically saw little need to take much notice of them. Still, among the prolific gossip whispered within the castle I had not heard a single ill word against my father and the servants seemed to have loose lips about absolutely anything on their minds. My face must have given away my doubts as a low chuckle tumbled out of my aunt’s lips.

  “Even the most foolish of commoners knows to keep their true feelings buried deep out of fear for the ax,” she said with a gentle laugh. “Even if you have never heard the discontent, it is there and ever present. No monarch rules with the full love and support of their subjects. The weight of the crown contains the necessity to keep those at the bottom firmly pushed down into their station. The servants in the castle and the peasants that toil the field know that as long as your father sits on the throne, they will always be squashed by his thumb.”

  Aunt Mari paused, looking into the distance over the never-ending grassland. The silent moment was meant to have me take in and consider her words, though it felt like too big of a concept to wrap my mind around in a brief moment.

  “The simple fact is that the more commoners that exist, the more bold they will become,” she began again. “When they are relatively few they are not a threat, but given enough anger and enough mouths to spread feelings of revolution, the more the danger grows. Your father's army is vast, but even the strongest army can be defeated by the desperation of down-trodden people. If there is one thing every monarch must understand to keep their throne is: while you can have a mighty army of silver and iron, no army can stand against uncountable pitchforks and people willing to die for their freedom and principles.”

  Her horse snorted and tossed his glistening black head back like he agreed with her explanation. My aunt smiled and patted his neck, then glanced over to me with an expression that inquired if I understood her impromptu lesson on commoner dynamics.

  “But why do they hate him? I still don't understand,” I asked. “They rely on him for protection and guidance. Without him there would not be a strong leader to stop another kingdom from overrunning and taking the land. Wouldn’t they just end up under another monarch’s rule if they decided to rebel and overthrow him?”

  The smile reappeared on her lips and she gave a short, understanding nod. “This is something we can easily see as the ultimate outcome, but a majority of the peasants either are unable to or cannot afford the time to work out the end of the path of revolution. They spend much of their physical and mental focus on survival and are therefore much more susceptible to their base instincts.”

  “Base instincts?” I questioned.

  “The instinctive reactions we all have. The gut feelings we have before thought and reason take over,” she explained. “They may feel anger that a king’s law has wronged them and they stop at that initial feeling. It festers and with little time to waste on thinking when there’s mouths to feed and work to get done, that’s where it stops. The anger has no chance to be reasoned with or alleviated.”

  Again there was a moment of silence with nothing but the clop of the horses’ hooves on the group and the occasional blast of air through their nostrils.

  “Tell me, do you think that every man, woman, and child born as a peasant enjoys their lot in life?” she asked.

  Before meeting my aunt I would have been inclined to answer that they must feel happy living in the kingdom thanks to the protection and security living under a strong monarch affords them. However, now that I had seen a glimpse into the living conditions and the toil they experienced in the fields, I was not quite sure how anyone could be happy living in such squalor. Not a single dwelling we had rode past or been in felt like it was truly fit for anyone to live in. The coat of dirt and filth over everything and everyone made me queasy just to think about.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I could not live as they do, but they also might just not know anything better. Perhaps they think that what they have is the best they could hope for.”

  “Every person has hopes, dreams, and wishes and to be a peasant is to know that all of those things do not matter. They can never hope to be much more than what they were born into. A farmer’s son will be a farmer, a blacksmith’s a blacksmith. It cannot be helped that this lack of mobility and hopelessness will breed feelings of discontent, but it can be controlled.” My aunt turned her head to look at me directly. “Your response is what many nobles and royals will tell you, that the general rabble does not know any better, but I can tell you from personal experience that there are just as many, perhaps more, intelligent and cunning people of low birth than there are high.”

  Furrowing my brow, I was confused by the conflicting information flowing through my mind. I had never considered that they too were people with hopes and dreams. Father had always referred to them as generic tools to be utilized and expendable. Something akin to cattle or sheep who only could follow what direction had been provided to them, not people who could think for themselves and want different lives. It felt like a complete shattering of everything I had been taught on how to run a kingdom.

  “The key is to let them know that they are controlled,” my aunt continued, “but tantalize them with the chance to better their situation. In your father's kingdom, they know that they will be born peasants and die peasants, probably within the same dirty hovel. Therefore, the less of them there are, the less chance for an uprising. It’s been fairly successful as far as strategies go, but all it will take is a few particularly good harvests and some increased years for births and the peasants will start plotting.”

  Our journey went silent again as I processed the information. I couldn't deny that it did indeed clarify a lot of things. No wonder father had always seemed concerned with the census count each year, too much of an increase in population would cause worry for an uprising. I couldn’t deny that if I was forced into a life filled with dirt and digging in a field for turnips every single day for the rest of my life that I certainly would have revolution on the mind.

  “Is there the same kind of problem at the Yser estate?” I asked. Surely if even someone as powerful as my father had difficulties keeping the peasants at bay, then it must be a nearly universal problem.

  “Hmm, I would not say so,” she answered slyly, “though I will allow you to witness and deduce just how we have managed that on your own. You are a sharp girl with Yser blood in your veins, I’m sure it will quickly become apparent to you.”

  My aunt raised her hand to signal silence and pulled back on the reins of her gelding to bring him to a stop. I followed her lead and brought my own to a stop. She closed her eyes and I felt goosebumps raise across my arms and neck. After a moment her eyes snapped back open again and we continued riding.

  “We are nearly to the edge of our boundaries and should arrive before the evening,” she said.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “My methods will become known to you with time if you keep to your bloodline’s destiny and work hard.”

  The vagueness of her answer annoyed me, but was expected. We had been riding for nearly two weeks at this point and it seemed as if each and every one of our conversations inevitably ended with her stating that I would simply figure it out for myself. I felt that the answer probably had something to do with the magic she kept referring to, though that still felt fantastic and farfetched.

  Over the course of the ride, I had come to find out that she was an entirely different kind of person than I was accustomed to. Everyone I had been around before seemed to be living by a strict code that bid them to at least try to live piously and simply, aunt Mari seemed to rail against the idea.

  She chewed with her mouth open, swore, sat in a most unladylike manner, and as soon as we were out of view of the last village, she had changed from a gown into an outfit I found difficult to describe. It seemed to be made of little more than a lady's brassier, leaving her arms and much of her torso bare accompanied with a pair of worn leather pants. I had heard of women dressing less chastely before, but even in my young age, I knew the outfit would cause women to shield their children's eyes and men to clamber over themselves.

  Despite how I had been raised, I didn't feel any different about her. In fact, I felt like she should be envied for her complete disregard for what the rules of propriety told her she should wear. I imagined that it must have made her feel free and independent from a lot of the stupid rules that society dictated be followed.

  The weather-worn and barely visible wagon ruts we had been following abruptly stopped at a large boulder in the middle of the field. It seemed as though the wagon had simply vanished upon touching the smooth stone surface with no trace of continuing tracks anywhere.

  Aunt Mari grinned at the confusion on my face and pulled her gelding to a stop, swinging down swiftly and motioning for me to do the same.

  “Come child, this is your first test,” she said while helping me down from my horse.

  I was becoming a more confident rider, but I still felt dizzy looking at the height difference from the back of the mare to the ground below.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Test?” I asked. There seemed to be absolutely nothing before us but an ordinary rock. Sure it was almost out-of-place with how large it was in the field, but otherwise it seemed unremarkable. “This seems to be just a rock.”

  “Yes, of course, you will find that many tests will be required of you along the way. Though, this one is the most vital.” She took the reins of both of our horses and motioned for me to approach the boulder. “Place your hand upon the stone and open our way home.”

  Surely she was mad. I was beginning to believe that magic may indeed exist in some form since she was so insistent, but I had never had any bit of proof that it was a skill I possessed. A gentle laugh escaped her lips as she seemed to read my mind.

  “I assure you, if you are any daughter of Yser, you will be able to do it,” she encouraged.

  Having no clue what I should do, I tentatively laid my right hand on the stone. At first nothing seemed to happen other than I noticed how strangely cold the material seemed to be despite the temperate spring day. Rapidly, the stone beneath my hands began to feel soft, almost like the texture of a custard and warmed to feel much like the hot summer rays of the sun.

  Exhilaration ran through me as I experienced a feeling that was wholly unlike anything I had ever felt so far. I felt that I could do anything, that the world would tremble at my name if I so chose. It was delicious, a guttural, primal feeling that I never wanted to let go of. A laugh escaped my lips, low and cackling, it would have likely frightened me if I hadn't been so preoccupied. My vision swirled and blurred and I felt like I would black out from the bliss. Then, as quickly as the feeling rushed over me, it was gone. So was the stone and the barren field we had been in.

  Before us now stood a proud mountain with a castle built into the cliff face. The dark stone was intricately decorated with birds of prey and lounging predators, starkly contrasted to the boring stone geometric patterns of my father's castle walls. The castle felt both welcoming and distinctly foreboding, warning any traveler that may have ill intentions that it will be their last resting place.

  “I knew you belong with us,” Mari said, voice tinged with mirth, “that was quick, perhaps your blood is not tainted like your mother's.”

  My mind snapped back to the feeling of doing... whatever it was that I just did to get here. I wanted more of it, I wanted to be able to harness that power in whatever way I could. I had only had a single taste, but it was undeniably intoxicating.

  Mounting back up, we rode up the winding mountain path towards the castle gates. As we approached, I realized that the castle was actually much bigger than I had thought, the sheer size making it seem like it was much closer than it actually was at first glance. It took us until nearly nightfall to reach the outside gates, riding farther into the day that we would typically go. My back and legs felt sore and like they may be getting blisters from the lack of break, but I certainly did not want to complain or ask to stop now that we were so close to my new home.

  Wordlessly, aunt Mari raised a hand before the massive stone gates and flicked her wrist to the side. The doors groaned and shivered before slowly sliding away to reveal the courtyard inside. I noticed that unlike father's castle, there were no ropes or other mechanisms to open the gates, I could only assume that she had used magic to allow us access.

  Within the walls, there were several servants waiting to help us off our horses and lead them away to be stabled and looked after. Two women with high cheekbones and meticulously kept dark hair bowed deeply in their black tunics.

  “It is lovely to have you back home, Mistress Mari,” the taller one said. “I see that you have brought back another daughter.”

  My aunt nodded and motioned to me. “She will need a room, her mother's old one should suffice. Allow her to make any necessary changes she sees fit.”

  “Of course my Lady,” she said with a low bow. “Mistress Evonia would like an audience with the both of you once you are settled in.”

  “She foresaw this happening, of course,” aunt Mari said with mirth, “I don't know why anything about her surprises me anymore.” She let out a low chuckle. “Tell her that we will be her audience after we get a bite to eat and a chance to bathe.”

  I had never been so relieved to expect a bath. My aunt still seemed to smell fresh and floral despite our long days on the road and nights sleeping in the dirt, but I, on the other hand, felt bad for anyone unlucky enough to be standing down-wind of me.

  The two servants led me through the courtyard, which seemed to be filled with rather lazy servants talking and laughing amongst each other, though they straightened up and pretended to be busy as soon as they caught a look at me. I didn't know why they would snap to attention for me, they had no reason to believe that I was anything other than a guest to the castle.

  The black tunics seemed to be the standard dress for every servant in the castle from the lowly scullery maid to the head cook. The required attire appealed to me, it seemed to make sense that people would better know their place in the hierarchy if they were refused personal expression. I supposed that it would seem a bit cruel to many to be denied such a form of expression, but I couldn't help but only find it amazingly practical.

  After what seemed like it would be a never-ending maze of hallways, the two servants stopped outside a heavy wooden door and produced a key to unlock the ornate mechanism that secured it firmly. Inside was an elegant bedroom with a grand fireplace, not unlike my bedroom in my father's castle. The only difference seemed to be the lavishness of the decoration with tapestries adoring the walls depicting all sorts of battles and mythological creatures. I could imagine that back in my father's castle such decoration would have been considered unfitting for a child, but I quite enjoyed the tastefully gruesome scenery.

  “We will draw you a bath if you would like,” the shorter, quieter servant offered after we stepped into the room.

  “That would be nice,” I said and motioned for the taller servant to place my bags upon the nightstand.

  The shorter servant opened a small door within the bedroom to reveal what appeared to be a strange, tiny room with a washing tub already present. Strange stone fixtures with levers attached to them jutted from the wall over the basin. With a pull of the lever, water began to flow from the wall and fill the basin. I had never seen something so convenient and I wondered just why I had been the heir to a kingdom and had never enjoyed such luxury before. Perhaps my mother's House was much more powerful than I had initially thought.

  After a bath and a tray of roasted meat gratefully provided to me, I felt more like I was accustomed to. The time on the road had been humbling, it was decent enough information to know how others lived, but I never wanted to repeat such an event without luxury accommodations. A carriage or other sort of transportation fitting of a princess would have done wonders for my overall mood.

  Just as I had smoothed out the last wrinkle from the bodice of the best dress that had been sent with me, there was a short knock on the door before aunt Mari entered. She had changed as well, though her new outfit was no less scandalous. It was thrilling to think that I was now in a place with such different rules and thoughts on propriety.

  “Are you ready to meet your grandmother?”

  “I suppose that I am, is she the one in charge?”

  “A queen in her own right, though she often does not use the title at this time,” she explained.

  “How is that so?” I asked, confused about how a queen could not call herself a queen.

  “All in good time,” she deflected, spinning around and motioning for me to follow her. “Come now with no more questions, I believe you will grow to like her.”

  I was led down a long hallway, the walls decorated with multitudes of oil paintings with gilt frames that depicted all matter of demons and other hellish creatures. My father had a similar hall leading up to his throne room, though instead of demons, long-dead relatives make up the décor. At the end of the hallway, a large golden door stood ornately, the surface polished to a blinding shine. I suspected that if many outside of the castle walls knew of its existence that it may have started wars over those who would covet it for their own kingdoms.

  “There she is,” a woman looking very much like aunt Mari said from her silver throne.

  Surprisingly, she was dressed similarly to Mari in what appeared to be little more than undergarments. Several servants in black tunics sat on the ground around her in various states of fawning, most of them male.

  Though she was my grandmother, it was as if her aging had stopped in the prime of her life with not even a single gray hair to mar her ebony locks. It seemed strange that even though both of these women were certainly older than my mother, she was the one growing silver streaks and gaining wrinkles by the years.

  “I have been looking forward to meeting you for a while now,” she continued, a half-smile gracing her lips. “By the look of you, I see that your mother's tainted blood did not get passed down.”

  I really didn't know what to say to that. I wasn't even sure how her blood was tainted.

  “The child does not know what you speak of,” Mari explained, “Rela was a daft fool who didn't tell her child anything about the House of Yser.”

  The queen's face turned into a disgusted frown and she turned her face to spit on a patch of bare ground. One of the servants quickly fetched a rag and wiped it up as if it was a gesture that was common to her.

  “I knew she was a fool and unfit to be a part of our family, but to deny her own daughter her heritage...”

  “That is not even the worst part,” Mari sighed, “she has borne a male child.”

  The servants gathered around the throne gasped sharply, their eyes darting up to Evonia like she was likely to fly into a rage. Indeed, rage flooded across her features and she lowered her head to her palm in an expression of frustration. Despite the expectation of anger and shouting, the room stood deathly silent.

  “You have seen it to be true?” Evonia uttered with a whisper that barely contained her rage.

  “Yes,” Mari admitted, “she even had the audacity to hold it out to me like I would want to lay a single gentle finger on it.”

  Without warning, Evonia slammed her fist onto the armrest of her throne and let out a guttural sound of disgust.

  “I knew I should have strangled her as soon as I saw that she did not look like us,” she exclaimed, her face becoming animated. “After everything we tried to do for her, all the training, the wealth wasted, and for what? For her to forsake everything.”

  Aunt Mari nodded understandingly while I watched with wide eyes. It was not typically considered very regal to lose control of your emotions. Especially in front of the servants.

  “At least she must have paid severely for her betrayal,” she snarled, though she seemed to be pulling herself back together.

  “There were complications,” I whispered, desperately hoping that I was not speaking out of turn.

  “Oh?” She turned her head slightly to the side. “Please, enlighten me.”

  I explained the blood-speckled clothing of the midwife and how weak and not herself mother had seemed post-birth. The news brought a new grin to Evonia's face.

  “Tell me child, how did that make you feel?”

  Normally I would have likely felt poorly for my mother and concerned about her well-being, but given the fact that she had willingly ripped away my rightful claim to the throne, it seemed like much of my love for her had died.

  “She deserves to suffer,” I said.

  It sounded harsh to me, she was my mother and that was supposed to mean something; at least the tutors and midwife kept telling me that. Apparently, despite how adults treated you, they were always deserving of respect. It was a lesson that I often had to mindfully bite my tongue on or risk saying the wrong thing and ending up punished.

  “You will do well here,” Evonia cooed, beckoning for me to step closer to her. “Let me see you up close, come.”

  I approached her throne, careful to keep my head bowed slightly as was the tradition for greeting royalty. She clicked her tongue in dissatisfaction at my gesture.

  “I see you have been trained incorrectly,” she gently scolded, “a daughter of Yser bows to no one.”

  I raised my chin and looked her directly in the eye. It felt so wrong, but it brought an even bigger grin to her face.

  “Yes, you learn quickly. Now let me inspect you and tell me your name.”

  She placed a cold hand on my chin and turned my face side to side while looking me over. With a command, I spun around slowly and she nodded as her assessment finished.

  “Toria,” I proclaimed.

  “Well, Toria, Mari was right to bring you here by the look of you, but do you have the talent?” my grandmother asked.

  “The talent?” I replied.

  Her grin faltered again and she shared a withering glance with her sister.

  “Rela truly told you nothing.”

  I shook my head. I had no idea any of these people existed or what they were. I thought I was just an ordinary princess awaiting her time on the throne.

  “She was able to transport us here,” Mari offered, “that is certainly sign enough that she has the talent.”

  Evonia seemed to consider the information for a moment before giving a short nod of her head.

  “That is true, not even her mother was able to do that on her own until she was older. How did it feel to wield such power Toria?”

  “It felt amazing, like I was pure power,” I answered before my brain could even really formulate a reply. “I want to be able to do that whenever I desire.”

  “And hopefully so you shall.” Evonia rose from her throne slowly and cast a long glance at Mari. I could tell that she was considering her next words carefully. “There is much for you to learn and know and I'm afraid that there might not be much time for you to do it in. I will not force you to stay in this place, but I would like to offer you power and command beyond your wildest dreams. Of course under a single condition.”

  I nodded my head eagerly. There was no way I would pass up on such an opportunity. I had been denied one kingdom and could possibly gain another in its place.

  “You must lead this kingdom to glory by any means necessary.”

  “Agreed,” I again said without much thought, “as long as I can have one condition as well.”

  “Speak, child.”

  “I lead this kingdom to glory by taking back the kingdom that was stolen from me.”

  Trilling laughter spilled out from Evonia, a genuine smile gracing her plumped lips. “Revenge makes for good leaders."