Chapter 3: The Departure
The morning of Jessica's departure was cold, the sky overcast in muted gray. It matched the atmosphere in the estate perfectly.
Her mother fussed over her, dabbing a handkerchief at nonexistent dust on Jessica's uniform. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her worry barely contained beneath the forced smile on her face.
"You're not fully recovered," she murmured, voice trembling. "You should stay another season. There's no rush—"
"There is a rush," her father interrupted, standing by the carriage with his arms crossed. "She's already been admitted. She goes now."
Jessica remained silent, only adjusting the sword at her hip. It still felt wrong. The weight, the balance—everything about it was foreign to her hands.
Her mother hesitated, looking between Jessica and her father. "At least let her take a lighter weapon—"
"Enough." His tone was final. He didn't even look at her.
Her mother clenched her hands into fists, but she said nothing more.
Tobias was already seated in the carriage, watching with disinterest. He had been ready for over an hour, making sure to remind Jessica that she was the one delaying the trip.
She let out a slow breath. Just a few more steps, and she'd be gone from this place.
Then, the sword shifted awkwardly again, pressing into her hip. The irritation flared.
"This sword is a joke," she muttered, rolling her shoulder. "More like a lump of iron than a weapon."
The moment the words left her mouth, she knew it was a mistake.
A sharp crack echoed through the courtyard.
Her head snapped to the side, the sting spreading across her cheek. The force wasn't enough to truly hurt—it was nothing compared to what she'd endured before. But the slap itself wasn't what mattered.
It was the fact that she let it land.
She had seen it coming the second her father moved. Instead of dodging, she had turned her face just slightly—just enough to control how it landed, enough to absorb the impact without snapping her neck.
It was an instinct from another time, another battlefield.
She straightened slowly, exhaling through her nose.
And then she met his gaze.
Her father flinched.
It was a minuscule reaction, but she caught it. His back straightened, his shoulders locked, as if bracing against something unseen. Next to him, her mother's breath hitched sharply. Her face had gone pale, her hands gripping her skirts as though she were fighting the urge to step between them.
For a brief second, it was as if they weren't looking at their daughter at all.
But then it was gone.
Her father scowled, recovering just as quickly. "Get in the carriage."
Jessica said nothing, only turning on her heel and stepping into the waiting transport.
Tobias barely glanced at her as she sat down, only smirking. "Finally done crying?"
She didn't respond. The carriage lurched forward, the estate shrinking behind her as they set off for Arcadia.
She let out a slow breath, fingers brushing against the hilt of her sword.
Soon, she'd have a weapon that actually suited her.
And soon, she'd make sure no one laid a hand on her again.
Chapter 3.5: A Brother's Oath
The rhythmic sway of the carriage and the dull clatter of wheels against the road should have been a reprieve from the morning's tension. Yet, the silence inside was thick, pressing against Jessica like an unspoken weight.
She kept her eyes on the landscape outside, watching the trees blur past. Tobias had been quiet since the slap. No mocking jabs, no passive-aggressive comments. Just... stillness.
That was, until he moved.
Without warning, he reached across the space between them and pulled her into a tight embrace.
Her reflexes nearly took over—her muscles tensed, one hand twitching toward a strike. Her mind screamed ambush, body coiling as if expecting an attack. But before she could react, she caught herself, fingers barely brushing his arm before stopping.
Her arms were now pinned awkwardly between their bodies, tight against his chest. The warmth of it, the weight, was completely foreign to her.
What in the hells...?
Tobias sighed, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. His grip was firm but not crushing, as if he expected her to vanish if he let go too soon.
Then, he spoke.
"I'm still the heir. That hasn't changed," he murmured, voice quieter than she'd ever heard it. "I won't abandon you."
Her brain stalled.
What?
Before she could even begin to process the words, he continued. "I'll marry a respectable noblewoman, someone strong enough to keep Father in check. Once I inherit, he won't be able to touch you anymore." His arms tightened slightly. "I won't let him throw you away."
She blinked, completely at a loss.
This was the same brother who had mocked her for forgetting things, the same brother who never lifted a finger to help when their father pressed her into training. The same brother who had watched her struggle, never once offering anything but sneers.
And yet, here he was, holding her like he was afraid she'd break.
She swallowed, trying to piece together a response.
"Why?"
It was the only thing she could manage.
Tobias let out a dry laugh. "You really did forget everything, huh?" He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his expression unreadable. "I was never going to let him throw you out. You're still my little sister, even if you've turned into a forgetful brat."
His hand reached up to ruffle her hair, and this time, her reflexes did kick in—she smacked his hand away without thinking.
Tobias chuckled, but the amusement in his eyes softened into something else. Something gentler.
"You're not alone, Jess," he said, the sincerity in his voice almost startling. "So stop acting like you are."
She stared at him, her thoughts still scrambling for some kind of foothold.
Her brother was a jerk. He was arrogant, dismissive, condescending.
But maybe... just maybe... that wasn't all there was to him.
Before she could say anything, the carriage suddenly jolted.
The horses outside whinnied in panic, the vehicle lurching violently to one side.
Tobias cursed, shoving her back onto the seat as the driver shouted from the front.
"Monsters!"
The carriage rocked again, this time hard enough to tilt one of the wheels off the road. The sound of splintering wood filled the air as something massive slammed against the side.
Her grip on the seat tightened.
So much for a peaceful ride.