Chapter 4

"What do you think you' re doing?" My voice was dangerously low, trembling with a rage I hadn' t felt even in the face of death.

David just laughed, kicking at a piece of the broken model. "Just a little housewarming gift, sister. Or should I say, a farewell gift? You won' t be needing this sentimental junk where you' re going."

He looked around the room with disgust. "I can' t believe you kicked Emily out of here. This place is wasted on you. She made it beautiful."

"This place was never hers," I seethed, my fists clenched at my sides.

"Everything should be hers!" he shouted, his face contorting with a childish entitlement that mirrored our mother's. "She deserves it more than you! You' re just a cold, selfish witch! You even want to steal her chance at the selection, and her betrothal!"

Her betrothal. He was talking about my fiancé. The man who was promised to me. The casual way he spoke of it, as if my claim was nothing, finally broke something inside me.

I moved so fast he didn' t have time to react. The sharp crack of my palm connecting with his cheek echoed in the silent courtyard.

His head snapped to the side. He stared at me, his hand flying to his reddening face, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. I had never laid a hand on him in his entire life.

"You hit me?" he whispered, aghast.

Looking at him, at this boy I had once adored, I felt a profound and sudden sense of alienation. This wasn't the little brother who used to follow me everywhere, who I taught to read. This was a stranger, a cruel puppet mouthing words of poison fed to him by my mother and cousin.

The pain of that realization was sharper than any physical blow.

But I buried it deep. There was no time for grief.

I slapped him again, harder this time.

"Do not forget your place, David," I said, my voice like ice. "I am the firstborn of this house. The daughter of General Thompson. You will show me respect."

"Sarah, stop!" A panicked voice cried out from the doorway.

Emily rushed in, her face a perfect portrait of distress. She ran to David' s side, fussing over his cheek.

"Are you alright, David? Oh, Sarah, how could you? He' s your brother!"

She was playing the peacemaker, the gentle soul caught in the middle of a brutal fight, but her eyes, when they flickered towards me, held a triumphant glint. She had likely sent him here, knowing exactly what buttons to push to cause this explosion.

"Stay out of this, Emily," I warned.

David, emboldened by her presence, shoved her behind him. "Don' t you talk to her like that! You' re the one who' s wrong! I hope you fail the selection! I hope you end up disgraced and alone! I hope you die!"

His words were a curse, a cruel echo of my actual fate in my previous life. The air left my lungs.

"What is all this commotion?"

My mother swept into the room, her eyes immediately landing on the scene: me standing over a tearful Emily and a defiant David with a red mark on his face. She didn' t ask what happened. She didn' t need to. Her verdict was instantaneous.

"Sarah!" she shrieked, her voice filled with outrage. "You' ve gone too far! First, you terrorize your cousin, and now you attack your own brother? Have you lost your mind?"

I looked from her furious face to David' s sneer and Emily' s false tears. I was surrounded by my tormentors, the architects of my misery. A wave of utter despair washed over me, so potent it felt like I was drowning.

"Am I even your daughter?" The question ripped from my throat, raw and full of a lifetime of pain. "Did you ever, for a single moment, love me? Or have I always been just a tool for you to use for her?" I pointed a trembling finger at Emily.

My mother recoiled as if I had struck her. For a moment, she was speechless.

It was in that tense, suffocating silence that a new voice cut through the air, calm and authoritative.

"By order of His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor."

We all turned. Duke Henderson stood at the entrance to the courtyard, flanked by two palace guards. He held a rolled-up scroll of yellow silk, bound with a red ribbon. An imperial edict.

His gaze swept over the scene-the broken model, my furious family, my own disheveled state. He paused for a fraction of a second, his eyes meeting mine with an unreadable expression.

Then, he unrolled the scroll, his voice ringing out with official power, silencing all the ugly, domestic drama.

"Sarah Thompson, daughter of the late General Thompson, for her exceptional display of martial prowess and strategic knowledge in the first round of the imperial selection, is hereby appointed a fifth-rank officer cadet. She is to report to the Northern Garrison for training immediately."

He looked up from the scroll, his eyes locking onto mine.

"The Emperor' s edict grants you protection. No one may hinder an imperial officer from their duty."

The world stopped. My mother' s mouth hung open. David' s face was a comical mask of shock. Emily' s eyes were wide with pure, unadulterated disbelief.

I had not just won a small victory. I had just been handed a sword. And a shield.