With arms and legs aching with use, Jysmn forced herself to strain her way up the steps she had fled down only hours before. Maids beating at mats, cleaning them, stared at her as she walked by. It made her walk all the more nerve racking.

She had been training for as long as her body allowed her by the beach. Part of her hoping Marvella would come running back on Corn. She hadn't, but that hadn't stopped Jysmn from waiting around for longer than she had ought to.

Swinging her sword, in both hands, she had finally called it before her legs would give out on her walk back. They had almost a few times.

"My Lady," a maid, not Marvella, came rushing down the steps. Curtsying, she looked too frantic for this early in the morning. "Her High Ladyship has sent Guards all across the City looking for you. We thought you had run away again."

Jysmn stopped on the step on ten down from the maid. Sweat had made her shirt damp, clinging to her muscular body, her boots digging into her. She'd have to get new ones, somehow, without asking her mother for money. But she felt the guilt twist like a hollow grave in her gut. Not magic. Just shame.
Running a hand through her sweat glistened hair, she thought for a moment.

She didn't know which answer sounded better. Run off for the day, despite the ache in her body after that very long workout... Or, go in and face her mother. Who she could already hear barking panicked orders to her staff down the echoing hallway.

Suddenly her legs didn't hurt as much.

"Jysmn Marie-Anne Graceline," her mothers harsh voice roared from the hall, followed by a stampede of feet. Jysmn was frozen in place as her mother stormed outside, shoving the maid out the way. She was surprised to see her sister, with wide, panicked eyes behind her. Along with a throng of the other servants and staff.

No Marvella. From what Jysmn got from her down at the beach, she didn't work weekends. Leaving out the fact that she brought her sister her dresses from the seamstress later on today, on Sundays.

The tournament was this weekend, the whole week given for their preparation. Which they were encouraged to allow to keep going, despite the threat of war. The King wanted everyone to enjoy their planned celebration, as if there were not a war coming. At leas the tournament would highlight some of the good fighters. New generals and high ranking soldiers. Jysmn would make sure she'd be one of them.

"I just went for a run," Jysmn said, actually tasting fear on her tongue. She had been up against more threatening people, yet she was shaking in her boots at the rage of her mother.

"A run?" she scoffed, spitting the word like it was venom. Her face still pulled back in the snarl. But panic was replaced with anger. And a mothers fury. Well, Jysmn guessed it would just be called fury. High Lady Graceline was anything but a mother, despite carrying her two daughters during pregnancy. "Scrios soldiers invaded the Palace and the City in a ship, what makes you think you're safe out alone? There's a beach just beyond that forest, or has it been too long that you've forgotten?"

Jysmn swallowed the insult. Both from her mother and her own she wanted to say.

"I can handle myself, thank you, mother," she said through her teeth. As polite as she could. It still sounded harsh. Much like how Marvella had spoke to her down at the beach.

"Don't be so stupid," she snapped, continuing on her rampage. "I doubt a single girl, even you, would be able to handle half a dozen Scrios soldiers."

Jysmn didn't want to argue that she was neither right nor wrong. Simply, she left this argument up to a maybe. She hadn't fought six or more soldiers at once. She had taken on similar that number with pirates or other Guards from across the world, but she had never been alone, or left unscathed. Theoretically, if they were anything like the men who attacked the Palace that night, she could potentially take them. With her gifts and maybe a slash of a sword. All this she kept to herself, of course.

"This chat was lovely, mother, but the day has just begun and I have things to do," she said, sidestepping her mother and her entourage, climbing the steps.

Thankfully, no one called out to stop her. She could still feel all their eyes on her back as she worked her way back into the house, all the way back to her room.

Once she opened the doors, a lump lodged its way into her throat. Her old wardrobe had been placed in its original spot, her few belongings, including the hideous pink dress, were wedged inside of it. The old painted wildflowers and wines wound themselves along the dark wood.

There was only one person who had the authority to order something like this back in her room. And she had just been yelling at her.