Schemel arrived at the school gates just as classes let out. Her driver pulled into the open compound, and she walked the rest of the way. It was not often she visited a private school.

  It disappointed her. Everything was flat and lifeless. No greenery anywhere, just grey blocks. Soon they came upon staff gathered in the administration block. A military vehicle stood parked at the entrance, surrounded by several green boys loitering while staff argued heatedly with them. What a mess.

  But when they saw a woman in green approaching, the argument broke off. One staff member hurried forward and bowed. “Ms. Sorel.” Idiot. Good thing she was a foreigner. “The principal and your daughter are waiting in her office.”

  “It’s Renna,” Marissa corrected.

  “Sorry,” the young woman said, bowing again. “May I take you to the principal’s office, Renna?”

  She led them up to a high floor, opened the office door, and scurried away.

  “Marissa, return to the lobby,” said Schemel. “I want to speak to the principal in private.”

  “Yes, Renna.”

  Schemel stepped inside and felt the room heavy with fear—more from the principal than from Ashamel. Her daughter sat small and shrinking in the chair behind the desk. The principal stood stiff, his bald black head gleaming under the light. An earthen.

  “Renna,” he greeted in a deep voice, offering his hand. She didn’t know why she had expected him to salute. That was almost funny. She played along and shook his hand.

  “John Thompson.”

  “Thompson,” her voice rang out. “I wish we had met under different circumstances.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Now, why am I here?”

  “Well, there has been—”

  “No. Why am I here? Why did you not call her grandmother?”

  “We tried, but couldn’t reach her.”

  “And her aunt? There is a phone for the dossi at home.”

  “We’re sorry for involving you,” said the principal.

  “No matter.”

  Thompson cleared his throat. “As I was saying, there have been a series of incidents involving your daughter that have led me to reconsider her admission to our school.”

  Ashey folded her lips, looking away when Schemel turned to her. Her hair was a mess, golden strands falling across her shoulders. A cut marked her lip and scratches ran beneath her eyes. Her neck sank into her torso.

  “Go on,” said Schemel.

  “She was involved in another fight with one of her classmates,” he said. “This is the third incident this week, and I won’t tolerate another.”

  “Why were you fighting?” she asked Ashey.

  “That is irrelevant,” said the principal. “What matters is the act.”

  “Ashey,” Schemel said softly. “What happened?”

  “Sincerely, Ms. Sorel—”

  “Renna,” she corrected. “And I was not speaking to you.”

  Ashey stayed silent. The last time Schemel had seen her like this was before she left home to fight her war. Ashey had been just a little girl then.

  “The student she attacked mocked Ashamel in front of her friends,” said Thompson.

  “Why are they mocking you?”

  “Allegedly, your daughter has been involved in many sexual relations with her classmates, and they shamed her for it. I can tell you now that we do not tolerate shaming.”

  “No,” said Ashey, her voice quiet. “That’s not it.”

  “Why did you fight your friend?” asked Schemel.

  “She said I’d slept with our teacher,” said Ashey. “But we didn’t do anything.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ashey thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “We just kissed one time, but it was a long time ago.”

  “Ah,” said Schemel, turning back to the principal. How grey can one man turn? “Here I thought it was something worse.”

  “Ms. Sorel, I can swear to you, I did not know.”

  “You did,” whispered Schemel. “But that’s all right. You Sodenites find it amusing when you stick your tongues down children’s throats. I don’t blame you at all. And I would like to thank you for expelling my daughter. It is the most exciting news I’ve received all day.”

  They left the office. With every step, she increased her pace, making it more difficult for Ashey to catch up. “Mom, where are we going?”

  “I don’t know,” sighed Schemel. “I was thinking, maybe, to your aunt Mariel. She might adopt you.”

  Ashey stopped walking, pouting and on the verge of tears. “Why are you like this?” asked Ashey. “You’re always mean to me.”

  “A’shay, I’m not mean. If I were mean, I would murder you.”

  “I didn’t choose to be your daughter. I never asked to be a Sorel. You make me feel… like I don’t matter.”

  “You have every opportunity to be worth something. Have you ever put yourself in my shoes? The High Commander leads the greatest army in the world, but her daughter is a talentless idiot. A useless, pitiless whore.” Ashey hugged herself, turned around and walked away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Schemel doubled over, grabbed her by the arm, and stormed down the stairs. Ashey dangled along like a lifeless doll. “Where are you taking me?”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Across the sea,” said Schemel. Her car pulled around and Marissa stepped out. She stopped, shocked that Schemel handled her daughter in such a way.

  “Renna,” the Firstman said.

  “Bring me my phone,” said Schemel, shoving Ashey into the car.

  Terell answered the phone. “You never call me,” her sister said. “Is anything wrong?”

  “How is the family?” asked Schemel.

  “We’re doing well. Schemy, are you alright? You don’t sound okay.”

  “I don’t want Ashamel anymore.”

  “Schemel…”

  “I'll pay you."

  “I’m calling Mother.”

  They were on their way to Mariel’s home when she received a call from Helen herself. She spoke to Ashey first and then yelled at Schemel for a while.

  “Bring her back here this instant,” said Helen. “Your sister is here. We’re going to discuss your daughter’s future.”

  Helen and Mariel waited in the guest room.

  “Take her upstairs,” the older woman said to Mariel.

  Ashey couldn’t leave Schemel’s side fast enough. Helen did not falter in her stance—one of the few who never did. Speaking to her mother was never pleasant for Schemel.

  “She got expelled.”

  “Sit.”

  “One week in and they kicked her out,” said Schemel. “Even the Sodenites don’t want her.”

  “Sit. Down.”

  Schemel obeyed. Helen’s black dress absorbed light completely, making her bony figure resemble a wraith.

  “You are a mother,” said Helen. “No matter what your societal responsibility is, you have another duty. And that duty is to your children. We don’t get to pick and choose what we prioritise, because the moment you have a child, everything else becomes less important.”

  “Don’t you dare blame me. I left Ashamel in your care and you let her rot. You did this because you hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” said Helen. “You hate yourself.”

  “I suppose I do. I should’ve known this would happen. All those years, I saw the way you looked at Thorel, the things you said behind his back. Why would you want Ashamel to become anything like him or me?”

  “Your grandfather was a monster. He raised you like an animal.”

  “He raised me like a Sorel!” Schemel’s voice rang through the halls. “Mariel and Terell—you forced them onto different paths, and I was left alone to carry our family name. I’m the only one who cares about this family. We are bound for irrelevancy if nothing changes.”

  Her mother held Schemel’s shaking shoulders. Schemel did not remember when Helen had last come this close to her.

  “Schemel, no one wants this for you,” said Helen. “You don’t have to carry such a burden.”

  “I made the choice.”

  “Ashamel did not.”

  “A shame.”

  “Why don’t you have another child if it bothers you so much?” Mariel asked, standing on the stairs. “Barring your insufferable attitude, you’re an attractive woman.”

  “I already have another child,” Schemel announced. “And his name is Jenne.”

  “You are out of your mind,” said Helen.

  “Mother, you know how she is,” said Mariel. “Schemy would say anything to get out of a corner.”

  “Being the Lady Balancer, I expected more support from you,” said Schemel. “Are you uncomfortable that an earthen could become your relative? What would the public say about that—that your support for the earthen community ends only where your convenience begins?”

  “That’s enough,” Helen snapped. “Mariel, fetch Ashey so we may start our meeting.”

  “I’m not interested in your meeting, Mother. As far as I’m concerned, she is not my daughter anymore.”

  “Goodness,” Helen sighed.

  “You can do with her as you want.”

  She was out the door, and no one stopped her. Schemel breathed again once she was back in her car and out of the estate grounds. Marissa tried speaking to Schemel, but she did not respond. And when her driver asked where she wanted to go, she told him to take her to the most depressing place he could find. He took her to Regilon’s home.

  The car parked on the side of the road. Through the twisted forest and iron gates, she pounded on his door. Regilon did not answer and never would. He pretended to be absent—a pointless act. She barged into his home.

  She had never liked it when Thorel brought her here. A chill ran down her spine. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Regis was still alive, lurking in the shadows. Too upset to be bothered for long, she found the nearest couch and sank onto it, her back arched against the armrests. She let her head fall over, hair hanging down, and looked at the world upside-down. It made more sense like this.

  Red eyes gleamed in the darkness as they descended the stairs.

  “I don’t like it when you visit me,” he said. “I may have to ask you to leave.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?”

  “I am not interested.”

  “You lost all your friends for a reason.”

  She extended a hand and he reached out. Schemel pulled him into a chair and sat on his lap, slipping an arm around his neck and combing her fingers through his hair. He was cold and still guarded.

  “You had a choice to join our families together. You could’ve had me, but you chose Genevie—night over day. Look at you now.”

  “You were far too young,” he said. “Genevie and I understood what our elders wanted and were ready to shoulder the responsibility.”

  “You made the wrong choice. But I am willing to overlook that mistake and help you make the right decision this time. I have come to be your wife, and I won’t leave until you agree. If you don’t, I’ll seduce you and get myself pregnant with your child. Then you’ll be forced to marry me.”

  “How romantic.”

  “You can show me your kitchen so I can start dinner.”

  He grabbed her waist and lowered her. “You’re upset.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “Spill.”

  “My daughter, Reggie,” she said. “She’s an absolute mess.”

  “During the early years of the Great Oppression, your grandfather never executed his earthen captives. He treated them to warm cells and fed them twice daily.”

  “I allowed an earthen spy in my bed to spite him. After it became public, Thorel tortured and killed any earthen he captured. But you can’t hold me accountable. I was—”

  “Young?”

  “Yes,” she drawled.

  “Your grandfather burned down the Hall of Heroes because he did not want ascenders to live above regular citizens. Thorel himself defied Varmel. Your grandfather betrayed your great-grandfather to Demettle. You are Sorels—you’re all a mess. Ashamel is not out of place, whether you like it or not.”

  “But she has no power,” said Schemel. “I would forgive everything if she showed me even a flicker of magic.”

  “Your father showed no signs of magic either.”

  “Thorel called my father his greatest failure.”

  “And Ashel became Chancellor despite that,” said Regilon. “He ended the Great Oppression and saved countless lives. The world respects him more than Thorel.”

  “I like my father,” Schemel admitted. “Mariel is weak at magic as well, but she compensates by doing important work. Ashamel shows no promise.”

  “Who does Ashamel remind you of?”

  “Terell,” said Schemel. “She got married and ran off to Yuna. She’s made her children Yunnish.”

  “Is that not worth fuming about? But you don’t hate her, do you?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Your hatred of Ashamel is personal.”

  “She is my punishment for a sin I committed,” she said. “God knew what I wanted most out of life, and Ashamel represents how I will never get it. My family dies with me.”

  Her words moved him. Unlike her, he was truly the last of his family. Unable to accept the horrid truth, he had been searching for Genevie and the son she had taken away.

  “I see the way you look at Jenne,” said Schemel. “You want the same thing as I do. When you saw him wrapped in the Gallant cloak, your jealousy took control. I feel that rage too. I feel it all the time when he speaks of returning home to his family in the south. I want them to die so he can be mine alone.”

  He had no place to judge. Regilon could have rescued Blackwood at any time but had refused.

  “Being alone is not easy, Schemel. You do not know what you have. Bond with her. Spend as much time as you can with the girl. Do not let your pride take away the only thing you have.”

  “This would have been so much easier if Jenne were my son.”

  “When a parent has a second child, it does not replace the first. They become siblings. Treat them as such.”

  On the ride back to her estate, she gave Marissa a task. “I want Ashamel back in Glen Jacobs. A teacher kissed her at school. Dangle it in front of the principal’s nose until he accepts to readmit her.”

  Ashey was stuck in a chair in the guest room, with Helen kneeling beside it. Mariel noticed Schemel’s return and alerted their mother. Something had died inside the girl.

  “I’m sorry for treating you so harshly,” said Schemel. “Still, I am pained because I am not proud of you. But even though you are useless, it does not mean you’re hopeless. You can change.”

  Ashey’s eyes glistened.

  “You need to get closer to Jenne,” said Schemel. “He sets an example of who I want you to become. Learn from him. Let him be your moral guide.”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  “I have arranged for you to return to Glen Jacobs.”

  “Mom, I don’t want to go back.”

  Schemel wrapped her. “Conquer everything.”

  “Okay,” Ashey breathed, saddened again.

  “Besides, you don’t need friends at school. Jenne is your only friend. Spend all your free time with him.”

  “I want to, Mom, but Jenne doesn’t like me that much. Not as much as the red girl, anyway.”

  Schemel stopped stroking Ashey’s hair. No wonder he knew so much about the Myersians. “The caterer at Se Fina,” Schemel guessed.

  “No, it’s not Eva,” said Ashey. “But I think it’s her sister. I don’t remember her name.”

  “That’s fine,” said Schemel. “I’ll find out.”