Maris had skipped class again to practice with her spear. The girls who normally fawn over her had invited her to practice them and asked for pointers from her on how to improve themselves.

Usually, she would have rejected such invitations but after yesterday where she had lost so thoroughly to Cain, she couldn't help but think maybe there was other students like him who could give her a challenge.

However she was quickly left disappointed as each one of them was laughably weak. It was like she was a dragon in a field of lambs.

Maris sighed as she watched another swing fall short of the mark. The strike lacked power, precision, and conviction, but the girl delivering it looked up at her with sparkling eyes, clearly more interested in Maris' smile than in her own form.

"You're not even holding the spear right," Maris said, stepping closer. She corrected the girl's grip with a firm touch, guiding her hands into position. "Like this. Otherwise, the weapon controls you instead of the other way around."

The girl flushed, nodding quickly, and her friends giggled from the sidelines. Maris could already feel their gazes lingering on her, full of admiration that had little to do with combat.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. No matter how cold or blunt she was, they always came back, asking her to show them things, praising her movements, laughing at her sharp remarks as though she had told the funniest joke in the world. It was irritating, yet… strangely familiar.

She drove her spear into the ground and leaned against it, her crimson eyes sweeping over the group. "Do you actually want to get stronger, or do you just enjoy following me around?"

One of the girls blurted out, "Both!" which earned a chorus of embarrassed laughter. Maris blinked at the honesty, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite herself.

Cain's face flickered in her thoughts again, the memory of her defeat still burning in her chest. Unlike these girls, he hadn't cared about her charm, her presence, or the way she carried herself. He had only cared about winning, about overpowering her completely. That was the kind of fire she craved.

Maris tilted her spear up from the ground and rested it across her shoulders, feeling the familiar itch of wasted time. Her patience was wearing thin. These girls were nothing like Cain. They would never strike her blood into motion, never force her heart to pound with the thrill of battle.

"Maybe this was a mistake," she muttered, not quite intending for them to hear. "I should have trained alone. Or better yet, dragged Cain out here again."

Her offhand remark drew no offense. Instead, one of the girls, a petite blonde with eyes that burned with surprising fire, suddenly clenched her fists.

"Then I'll get stronger," the girl said, her voice trembling with determination. "I'll work harder than anyone else. Just wait, Lady Maris. I'll take down that bastard myself!"

Maris arched a brow, intrigued despite herself. "Oh? And which bastard are you talking about with so much venom?"

The girl's cheeks flushed, but she lifted her chin as if drawing courage from Maris' piercing gaze. "Cain," she said. "I won't let scum like him take our Prince away from us."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the other girls. Heads nodded. Eyes grew hard. To them it seemed obvious, natural. To Maris it was nonsense. She blinked, her confusion plain as she stared at the group.

"Cain?" she repeated, almost tasting the name on her tongue. "You think Cain is a bastard?"

Several girls stepped closer as if they could shield her from something dangerous. One reached out, almost brushing Maris' arm before pulling back. "It's all right," she said softly. "You don't have to keep pretending, Lady Maris. We'll free you from his clutches. You're too good for someone like him."

Maris stared at them in open bewilderment. Her? In Cain's clutches? The very idea was absurd. A low laugh escaped her before she could stop it, sharp and humorless. "You're all out of your minds. Cain has more honor in his little finger than half the so-called noblemen in this Academy. He is a much better man than the one my father once tried to sell me to as a concubine."

That silenced them. The girls glanced at each other, startled that Maris would admit something so personal. Their admiration had always been for her strength, her beauty, her confidence. But this glimpse of vulnerability, however small, only deepened their attachment to her.

One girl hesitated, then stepped forward. "Who was it? The man your father tried to marry you off to?"

Maris' face darkened, her grip tightening on her spear until her knuckles whitened. With a sharp motion she spat on the ground, her disdain clear. "Some bastard whose name sounded like a pig's. I met him once. He was cruel, arrogant, utterly foul. I swore that day I'd sooner die than bow to such filth."

The girls exchanged looks, their eyes flicking toward one another, silent questions passing between them. Slowly, it was as if a shared understanding settled among them. One girl, braver than the rest, drew in a breath and asked the question aloud.

"Was his name… Paigos?"

Maris' eyes widened slightly. She snapped her fingers with sudden recognition. "That's it. Yes. Paigos. An utter bastard."

The air grew heavier. The girl who had spoken shifted on her feet, nervousness etched into her face. She twisted the end of her braid before forcing the words out. "Lady Maris… you do know, don't you? Paigos… he's related to Cain."

Maris blinked, her expression hardening as though the very suggestion was an insult. "What nonsense are you spouting? Cain is nothing like that wretch. Do not put them in the same breath."

The girl swallowed, her eyes flicking toward her companions for reassurance before speaking again. "But it's true. Paigos is Cain's older brother."

The words struck Maris like a spear to the gut. Her entire body went rigid. She stared at the girl, her mouth slightly parted, but no sound came out at first. The weight of the revelation pressed against her chest, stealing her breath.

"Brother?" she repeated finally, her voice hoarse with disbelief.

The group of girls nodded slowly, almost in unison. None of them looked particularly happy to confirm it, but none dared deny it either.

Maris' mind raced, disbelief tangling with memory. Cain's steady eyes. His measured words. His quiet strength. Nothing in him resembled the arrogance, cruelty, and rot that had oozed from Paigos the day she met him. They couldn't be brothers. They couldn't be of the same blood.

She found herself shaking her head slowly. "Impossible. Cain is nothing like him. Cain fights with purpose. Paigos fights for his own ego. They aren't the same. They can't be the same."

One of the girls, sensing her turmoil, reached for her hand, but Maris jerked it away before contact could be made. She needed space. She needed clarity.

Her chest burned with conflicting emotions. She remembered Cain's calm strength, the way he had crushed her in combat without malice. Then she remembered Paigos' mocking laughter, the cold calculation in his eyes, the way his hand had lingered far too long when he had greeted her during that arranged meeting. Two men who could not be more different. And yet… related?

Her voice was low when she spoke again, almost to herself. "How could such a man share blood with Cain?"

No one answered. The girls simply stood in a loose circle around her, their admiration tinged now with curiosity and concern.

Maris clenched her jaw and looked away, crimson eyes burning. "If it is true… then that blood is a curse. But Cain is not Paigos. He will never be Paigos."

Silence followed her declaration. Not one girl dared argue. They could see the storm raging behind her eyes, the mixture of anger, shame, and confusion that she could barely contain.

Maris turned from them, lifting her spear and resting it across her shoulders once more. "Enough for today. Go back to your classes. You'll learn nothing more from me while my head is like this."

The girls obeyed reluctantly, dispersing with quiet murmurs. Their gazes lingered on her back until the last of them left.

Maris remained alone, staring at the empty practice field. She tightened her grip on her spear, her heart pounding in her chest.

Cain… the man who had bested her, who had earned her respect in a way few ever had. Could he truly share blood with one of the ones she despised most?

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