A Name Is a Weapon

They're talking about me.

The walls of this city were built to hold up nobles, not rumors — yet somehow, I've cracked both.

They don't know my name, and it terrifies them.

Good.

---

I stood by the window, watching clouds gather like they were waiting for permission to storm. Let them wait.

The mask sat on the sill beside me. Still smooth. Still silent.

Just like me.

I didn't sleep last night. Not after he said those words.

> "She picked my interest. She'll marry me."

Like I was a ribbon to be pinned to his chest.

Like I didn't walk into that room with my hands full of fire.

---

Gareth walked in with that face — the one that says, you're not going to like this.

"Another invitation," he said. "Tea with the Queen's secretary."

I rolled my eyes. "They waste no time."

"They think you belong to the prince now."

I snorted. "Let them think it. It's safer than knowing I belong to no one."

---

They've turned my silence into a blank page and filled it with theories.

A noble's daughter. A forgotten heir. A foreign spy.

One of them even said I was Thorian's secret sister.

I should've been insulted.

Instead, I was impressed.

> It takes real fear to twist nonsense into strategy.

---

I picked up the mask.

It's strange — the first time I wore it, I felt like I was hiding.

Now? It feels more like armor.

"Gareth," I said, "send a letter. Not to the Queen."

He raised an eyebrow. "To whom?"

"House Elbrandt's old steward."

He frowned. "Milena… that man helped destroy your family."

I met his eyes.

> "Then he knows exactly what I want to know."

---