DISCLAIMER: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
The Hylde family was not meant to be quiet, but the change from "Burnout Samantha" to "Lady Reinn" was meant to be peaceful.
The manor was in disarray on the second morning of her new life. Reinn had chosen a basic linen robe instead of three different silk dresses, and—most astonishingly—had sat through breakfast without once fussing about the warmth of her tea.
Eyldion, her older brother, murmured to their father, "She's broken," while they observed Reinn spreading jam on a slice of bread with composure. "Look at her. She didn't even throw the spoon at the maid when she forgot the sugar. Father, we should call the High Priest."
With a mixture of wonder and fear, Duke Eyrion Hylde observed his daughter. "Nonsense, Eyldion. She's just... maturing. Though, I must admit, her lack of screaming is making the house feel unnervingly empty."
"I think I would like to go to the Central Plaza today. I need new air. And perhaps some books that don't involve poetry about longing hearts." Reinn murmured, putting down her knife with a gentle clink that made both men wince.
Eyrion smiled. A trip to the market! This was nothing new. "A grand idea! We shall take the gold carriage! We shall buy out the entire silk district! I'll have the knights clear the streets!"
"No," Reinn firmly said. "Just a simple carriage. No knights. And Father... please don't yell at the shopkeepers. It's embarrassing."
Eyrion and Eyldion exchanged a bewildered gaze. Embarrassing? Reinn Hylde had never experienced shame in her life.
The empire's crown gem was the Central Plaza, where the rich came to preen and the commoners came to stare. The Hylde family's arrival was often like a cyclone striking a crystal store. Eyldion would sneer at every male who dared to breathe near his sister, Reinn would yell commands, and her mother Ryianne would buy anything in sight.
However, the storm had turned into a little wind today.
The capital's noblewomen paused, their fans frozen in mid-flutter, as they strolled through the opulent boutiques. They expected the "Golden Lioness" to be draped in rubies, demanding the rarest furs.
Rather, Reinn strolled with her hands folded and her critical, pragmatic gaze sweeping across the stalls. She appeared to be a lady reviewing a budget, an idea that the original Reinn would not have grasped if it had been thrust upon her.
"Reinn, darling, look!" Ryianne said, gesturing to a dress that appeared to weigh fifty pounds due to its abundance of diamonds. "It's perfect for the Spring Ball! It's loud, expensive, and absolutely unrealistic!"
Reinn said, "It looks like a chandelier had an accident, Mother," with hardly a glance at it. "I'd rather have that plain charcoal-grey cloak in the corner. It has deep pockets. Pockets are useful."
The shopkeeper almost passed out while preparing for a tantrum. "P-pockets, My Lady? But you always said pockets were for... peasants."
Reinn said, "I've changed my mind," her contemporary sensibilities clearly showing. "Hands get cold. Pockets are a human right."
Eyldion drew his dad away. "Father, she just called a grey cloak a 'human right.' Yesterday she spent three hours staring at a tree. I'm telling you, she's been possessed by a very boring ghost."
Whispering, "Wait," Eyrion narrowed his gaze. "Look at the crowd."
The plaza's patrons were gazing. Instead of their typical anxiety or displeasure, they were filled with a profound, unnerving curiosity. Reinn had a captivating new, serene atmosphere. In the high-stakes world of the nobility, everyone wanted to give her attention, but she wasn't pleading for it.
The crowd abruptly dispersed. In sharp contrast to the afternoon sun, the air became chilly and thick.
The guard from Mydril House was coming. Dyierrean Mydril, who resembled the "Wolf" for whom he was named, stood in the middle of the formation. His walk was disciplined, his countenance severe. He was accompanied by his younger brother, Dyiervo, who was occupied with persuading his brother not to appear as though he was on his way to a funeral.
Normally, Reinn would have run across the cobblestones at this sight, yelling Dyierrean's name and creating a public commotion that would have been the talk of the tea rooms for weeks.
Eyldion and Eyrion prepared themselves. They thought, here it comes. The yelling. The clinging. The humiliation.
But Reinn didn't run. She didn't even wave.
She turned back to the merchant after glancing at Dyierrean and noting his presence as though he were a very tall lamppost. "Does the cloak come with a hood? A large one? I'd like to be able to hide my face when I'm napping."
Dyierrean came to a complete stop. For three blocks, he had been practicing his "cold rejection" expression. From a distance, he had noticed the golden hair of the Hylde family, and he had prepared himself mentally for the headache that was sure to come.
It struck him like a physical blow to be disregarded, to be considered an afterthought.
Dyiervo whistled softly. "Whoa. Did the Lioness just lose her appetite for Wolves? Dyierrean, she didn't even look at your new sword belt."
Dyierrean remained silent. He observed Reinn paying for her cloak in a composed manner. She appeared to... logical. She appeared to have more important things to do than pursue him.
The Hylde family saw that the "weirdness" was becoming more widespread. The strangeness was becoming a problem. This abrupt disruption in the world's "normal sequence" was the most fascinating thing Dyierrean had ever seen, especially for a man who valued order and discipline.
With a lowered voice than normal, Dyierrean whispered, "Let's go." But his gaze lingered on the back of Reinn's head as he passed the Hylde household.
She was strange. She was different. And Dyierrean Mydril wanted to be the one to make her glance at him for the first time in twenty-one years.