Marked by the Ruthless Princess

Returning home, Lina Riley stabled her horse and then stepped through the gate, only to find Reginald Riley waiting with a grim expression. He barked, "Where did you learn your combat skills?!"

Claiming the champion's title should have been a joyful matter, yet as a father, Reginald showed no delight—only wary suspicion. The Riley family's influence ensured swift news, and Lina had anticipated this reaction. She sneered silently, showing no fear. In truth, she scarcely acknowledged Reginald at all.

"If Father ignores me, must I not consider my own future?"

Reginald seethed with anger. With Sophia Riley absent, he raised a hand, prepared to teach his daughter a painful lesson.

A heavy blow was imminent. Lina could even feel the wind on her cheek, certain she'd lose teeth if it connected. Growing furious, she seized Reginald's wrist, squeezing hard. His face twisted in pain, but pride stopped him from crying out. Cold sweat trickled down as he struggled, only to suffer greater agony.

"You disobedient girl!" he snarled.

Observing his torment, Lina curved her lips into a mocking smile. "Father still remembers I'm your daughter? How touching."

One more squeeze and his hand might break. Lina, disinterested in trouble, released him. Reginald, pale-faced and clutching his wrist, was stunned. His despised second daughter possessed inner strength surpassing his own. He glared venomously, as if facing a mortal enemy instead of his child. Vile plots surged in his mind—he knew more than just warfare, having long navigated court intrigues.

Lina understood him too well from her previous life. After Sophia died back then, Reginald blamed Lina entirely, sending her on perilous missions with the excuse that a general's daughter should lead by example. Hollow justification. Fortunately, Lina's luck and skill had kept her alive, even as Reginald's own lack of fighting spirit led to his eventual downfall.

She found him no more than a petty clown, unworthy of her attention. Lina strode deeper into the estate, desiring nothing but a warm cup of tea.

Passing Sophia's room, Lina overheard sobbing.

"Boo-hoo! Sister, rest in peace. I'll never forget you."

"Miss, please don't cry. The second miss will surely be grateful, even in the afterlife."

Alarmed, Lina knocked on the door. "Elder Sister, I'm back."

The sounds stopped abruptly. A maid opened the door, astonishment plain on her face. "S-Second Miss?"

Inside, Sophia stood awkwardly near a small black urn—a vessel used to burn paper offerings for the deceased. On the table lay half-burned paper effigies. Embarrassed, Sophia nudged the urn aside, but the half-burned offerings remained in plain view.

Guilt weighed heavily on Sophia. She'd assumed Lina would meet a grim end. Lina walked in and sat opposite, observing until Sophia resembled an ostrich burying its head in shame. Lina's stern demeanor vanished. She teased lightly, "Elder Sister, you never believed in me?"

Sophia flushed and started coughing, too anxious to explain. A maid rushed over with medicine, feeding it to Sophia until her breathing steadied. Her face remained deathly pale, prompting Lina's concern.

"How have you been, Sister?" Lina asked gently.

Sophia's hand trembled, forcing a bitter smile. She said nothing. Lina's heart sank. She remembered a legendary physician rumored to be close to Lucille Everard. Maybe one day, Lina could meet that healer and save Sophia.

Lost in thought, Lina was interrupted by another maid's hurried arrival. "Second Miss, an imperial decree summons you to the gate."

At the main gate, Reginald was already kneeling. Samuel Whitaker read the decree. Unlike before, his manner was excessively flattering.

When Lina moved to kneel and accept the decree, Whitaker stopped her. "Oh, the Crown Princess says you're injured, no need to kneel. Simply accept the rewards."

Lina rolled her eyes inwardly. She was hardly injured—just a tiny scratch on her neck thinner than a hair.

With a gesture, two guards presented a spear with a red shaft and silver tip.

"This is the Crown Princess's gift."

Lina's pupils contracted. That was her old weapon from her previous life, awarded by the court after she lost her hand. Who'd have thought she'd receive it so easily this time?

Reginald, too, was stunned. Such a weapon, forged by master artisans under the founder's reign, was a treasure. The Crown Princess valued Lina so highly as to bestow such a prize?

He trembled, both terrified and resentful. If only Sophia were healthy, this honor would be hers, he believed. Lina paid no mind to his turmoil, fully absorbed in admiring her new companion.

Lina bowed in gratitude. "Your Highness, I thank you."

Whitaker praised her, "Your valor suits it perfectly."

After some pleasantries, Whitaker departed with his men. Lina, eager to test the spear's balance, slipped away, ignoring Reginald's poisonous glare. Retreating to her quarters, she practiced until sweat soaked her clothes, pausing only when dusk fell. Carefully, she stored the weapon. Still dissatisfied, she wrapped it in old fabric and pondered where to place it.

"Seems you really like it."

A soft, amused voice startled her. Lina turned to see Lucille Everard perched in the window frame, moonlight caressing her features as she watched Lina with a smile.

Unlike before, Lina no longer feared her as much. After securing the spear, she greeted quietly, "Your Highness."

Lucille answered with a soft hum, flipping gracefully from the sill to the floor. Her gaze drifted to Lina's neck before slipping away. Sitting on Lina's bed, Lucille said, "Have you considered moving out of here?"

Lucille had many informants and understood Reginald's malice. Normally, she wouldn't care, but why not intervene? Lina amused her, and keeping the girl closer would save Lucille the trouble of visiting every time. Lina seemed puzzled. "I've little money and can't afford a place."

"Your Highness came tonight just for this?"

Lucille ignored the question, her expression critical as she surveyed Lina's humble room. Then, lowering her voice temptingly, "How about moving into the palace?"

Though innocently spoken, recent awkward incidents flooded Lina's mind, making her ears burn red. Panicked, she stammered, "Thank you, Your Highness, but I'm unworthy of such grace."

Lucille toyed with a lock of her own hair, noting Lina's nervousness. A spark of mischief gleamed in her eyes. She released her hair and stepped closer, inch by inch. Lina's fear flared, but she dared not move, eyes darting anxiously. The faint plum scent quickened her heartbeat.

At last, Lina pleaded softly, "Your Highness…"

Seeing Lina's flushed ears, Lucille relented. They stood half a step apart. Lucille chuckled, "I won't eat you."

Lina: "…"

Truly, the Crown Princess was a bold Earthbound noblewoman.

Their stalemate broke when a masked figure dangled upside-down in the window, blocking the moonlight. "Mistress, Beatrice Byrd awaits in the palace."

A trusted assassin of Lucille's, no doubt. Beatrice Byrd was someone Lucille valued. Surprised by the early return, Lucille's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Swiftly, she left without farewells.

She rushed back to her own quarters, ablaze with lamplight. A plain-robed woman—Beatrice Byrd—sat by a desk. Hearing Lucille's arrival, she turned and offered a weary smile. "Hello, Lucy."

Lucille took a seat opposite. Unable to hide concern, she asked, "You didn't go send your daughter away?"

"I changed my mind. She'll stay by my side."

Candlelight revealed Beatrice's melancholy, a far cry from the spirited woman Lucille knew. Uncomfortable, Lucille said, "If you need help, just ask."

Beatrice shook her head, unwilling to discuss it. Instead, she teased Lucille, "As for that Riley girl, don't overthink. I believe she's quite good. You're not too young anymore."

Lucille snorted, "You think Lina's good without meeting her? And you're older than me, unmarried at thirty-two. I'm twenty-seven. You first."

Smirking, Lucille threatened, "We're old friends. I've not helped you find a spouse yet. Give me a few days, I'll gather all the fine Heavenblessed suitors so you can pick one."

Beatrice's scalp tingled. This was Lucille's petty revenge. She surrendered hastily, "All right, I was joking. Now check my pulse."

Lucille extended her hand obediently. After diagnosing her, Beatrice brightened, "The poison's weakened a lot, no other complications. Perhaps that girl's influence helped. Maybe you should accept her."

Seeing Lucille's face darken, Beatrice hurriedly added, "Kidding, just kidding."

Beatrice yawned, long travel exhausting her. "If nothing else, I'll leave now."

Lucille waved her off impatiently.

Alone again, Lucille stared at the flickering flame. In the dancing light, Lina's face appeared—and then burned black in a flash of imagination. Lucille startled, standing up. Finding nothing, she resumed her seat, massaging her temples.

"Probably just another hallucination," she muttered.