Twenty-one years later.

Blinding sunlight poured through the massive stained-glass windows, painting the central corridor of the Navia Palace in fractured, bloody hues.

Twenty-one-year-old Elinore strode down the center of the hall. She wore a standard-issue, heavy wool military uniform, its stiff, bulky cut deliberately chosen to hide the lines of her body. Her knee-high leather boots struck the polished marble floor with a crisp, rhythmic clack, clack, clack.

Her raven hair was pulled back into a severe, flawless knot at the base of her skull. Her jaw was locked tight. Her eyes were chips of blue ice. She used the cold, arrogant mask to distract from the delicate, inherently feminine bone structure of her face.

Up ahead, a group of young, velvet-clad noblemen leaned against the stone railing, smoking cheap tobacco. The moment they spotted Elinore, they exchanged malicious, knowing smirks.

"Well, well. Look who graces us with his presence," sneered a noble with a face heavily scarred by pox. He dragged out the words, dripping with sarcasm. "Our delicate Prince of Navia."

Another noble snorted, blowing smoke into the air. "Look at that tiny waist. I bet he can't even lift a broadsword. If you ask me, throw him into the Urekai slave camps. Those beasts would probably mistake him for a female and tear him apart!"

Elinore's boots faltered for a fraction of a second. At the word Urekai, her heart violently contracted in her chest. But her face remained a mask of absolute stone.

She didn't turn her head. She didn't break her stride. She simply rested her black-gloved right hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to her hip. Her thumb slowly, deliberately stroked the steel crossguard.

The casual movement radiated a sudden, suffocating aura of lethal violence. The nobles' laughter died instantly in their throats. They subconsciously took a half-step back, pressing against the railing.

Elinore walked right past them. She didn't spare them a single glance, leaving the group of arrogant boys exchanging nervous, humiliated looks.

She turned the corner and immediately ducked into an abandoned, rust-smelling armory. She slammed the heavy iron door shut and threw the deadbolt.

Elinore leaned back against the freezing iron. The icy mask shattered. She gasped for air, her chest heaving like a drowning victim breaking the surface.

She reached up and pressed her gloved hand hard against her chest, right over the thick fabric of her uniform. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a cold, hollow exhaustion.

Twenty-one years. This lie was a parasitic vine wrapping around her throat.

Her parents were gone. Ten years ago, an "accident" orchestrated by King Orestus had taken them. She stared at her reflection in a rusted, polished shield leaning against the wall. No matter how hard she tried to look rough, the face staring back was undeniably, beautifully female.

She let out a bitter, self-mocking breath. After her parents' murder, Orestus had kept her and Josefina in the palace under the guise of "adoption." They were nothing but convenient pawns waiting to be sacrificed.

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the exhaustion back down. She didn't have the luxury of weakness. Her sister, Josefina, was still trapped in this hellhole.

She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, taking deep, measured breaths to calm her racing pulse.

Suddenly, her highly trained ears caught a sound. It was faint, coming from deep down the corridor outside the armory. A scuffle.

Elinore's eyes snapped open. The exhaustion vanished, replaced by the hyper-alert focus of a predator. She quickly buttoned her collar and drew the short sword from her belt.

She pressed her ear against the cold iron door. She heard the dull thud of a body hitting a wall, followed by a muffled, desperate sob.

The abandoned library in the South Wing, Elinore calculated instantly. No one ever went down there.

A sickening sense of dread coiled in her gut. She unlocked the door and slipped out of the armory, moving like a shadow.

She stayed close to the walls, her boots silent, bypassing the main patrol routes.

As she neared the library, the sounds grew louder. The sickening tear of fabric. The heavy, wet panting of a man.

Elinore's nose twitched. She smelled it. A cheap, overpowering cologne. It was the signature scent of the Minister of Human Affairs, Lord Corbin Vance.

Then, she heard the cry. A high, terrified sob that she knew better than her own heartbeat.

Elinore's pupils dilated. The blood rushed to her head with a deafening roar.

Josefina!

Elinore reached the heavy, carved wooden doors of the library. They were slightly ajar. Through the crack, the scene inside obliterated every last shred of her sanity.

Her knuckles turned bone-white around the hilt of her sword. A terrifying, murderous rage exploded behind her eyes. She lifted her heavy military boot and kicked the door with everything she had.

CRASH!

The heavy oak door exploded inward under Elinore's boot. It slammed against the stone wall so hard dust rained down from the vaulted ceiling.

Inside the dim, dust-choked library, the obese, sweating form of Lord Corbin Vance had Josefina pinned flat against a long wooden reading table.

Josefina's ornate silk dress was ripped open at the shoulder, exposing her pale skin. Her face was drenched in tears. She was thrashing wildly, her hands pushing uselessly against the man's massive chest.

Corbin jumped at the explosive sound. He cursed and whipped his head around, his greasy face twisted in frustrated, lust-fueled rage.

"Which blind animal dares to interrupt-" Corbin's words caught in his throat.

Elinore stalked into the room. She moved like a lioness, radiating an aura of pure, unadulterated murder. The polished steel of her short sword caught the weak light filtering through the dirty windows.

Josefina saw her. She let out a gut-wrenching, desperate wail. "Elinore! Help me!"

Hearing her sister's cry burned away the last thread of Elinore's restraint. She lunged forward. Her left hand shot out, grabbing the thick velvet collar of Corbin's expensive doublet.

Tapping into the legendary, innate physical strength rumored to run deep in the Navian royal bloodline-a dormant power her father had possessed-Elinore ripped the heavy man completely off the table with a surge of force that utterly defied her slender frame. Corbin let out a high-pitched squeal of shock.

Elinore didn't pause. She drove her right knee upward, burying it deep into Corbin's soft, fleshy stomach.

"Guh-" Corbin gagged. Acid shot up his throat. His body folded in half like a cheap folding chair.

Elinore tossed him aside like a bag of garbage. Corbin's heavy body crashed into a towering bookshelf. The ancient wood splintered and collapsed, burying him under an avalanche of dust and heavy leather-bound tomes.

Elinore instantly spun around. She ripped off her military jacket and threw it over Josefina's torn dress, shielding her exposed skin. She stepped in front of the table, placing her body entirely between her sister and the threat.

Josefina scrambled off the table and hid behind Elinore's back. She gripped the fabric of the military jacket, her entire body shaking violently as she sobbed into Elinore's shoulder blades.

Corbin clawed his way out of the pile of books. He spat a glob of dust and saliva onto the floor. When he realized who had attacked him, the terror in his eyes morphed into arrogant, venomous fury.

"Elinore! You little bastard! You dare lay a hand on me? !" Corbin screamed, pointing a fat, shaking finger at her.

He slapped the dust off his velvet clothes and puffed out his chest, trying to use the weight of his political office to crush her.

"You think you're saving her? You idiot! She is mine!" Corbin sneered, a filthy, triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Elinore's eyes were dead. She tightened her grip on her sword and took a slow step forward. "Shut your dirty mouth, Corbin. Take one more step toward her, and I will end your life."

Corbin let out a grating, mocking laugh. "End my life? You? The little pretty-boy prince who looks more like a whore than a man?"

He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a piece of rolled parchment. He shook it aggressively in Elinore's face. The heavy red wax seal of the King dangled from the bottom.

"Look closely! This is the deed!" Corbin spat. "Your dear uncle, King Orestus, lost a hand of cards to me last night!"

Elinore's eyes locked onto the red wax seal. A bucket of ice water crashed over her head. Her stomach dropped to the floor.

"He bet Josefina, and he lost! She is my legal property now! I can do whatever I want with her!" Corbin declared.

Josefina let out a hollow, broken whimper behind Elinore. Her knees gave out, and she slid down to the floor, clutching the jacket.

Elinore's body went rigid. She knew Orestus was a monster, but using his own niece as poker chips?

A wave of absolute disgust and hatred for the royal bloodline boiled in Elinore's chest. She looked at Corbin's smug, sweaty face. The urge to kill him spiked.

Corbin thought Elinore was paralyzed by the King's seal. He smirked and stepped forward, reaching his hand out to shove Elinore aside and grab Josefina.

"Move out of the way, you useless little shit. Let the men handle their business," Corbin sneered.

The second Corbin's fingers grazed Elinore's shirt, she moved. Her wrist flicked. The short sword became a blur of silver.

Before Corbin could even blink, the razor-sharp tip of Elinore's blade was pressed directly against the pulsing vein in his thick neck.