The day Rae had been waiting for had finally arrived.
Five long years of rigorous training, isolation, and growth were coming to an end. During her time in seclusion, Rae had risen through the ranks in ways she could barely comprehend. She was now a Tier Five Aura Sentinel, mastering close-quarters combat, weaponry, and swordsmanship. In magehood, she had reached Tier Seven Archmage, with a deep understanding of all six elements, and she was a Tier Four Nightblade, excelling in the art of stealth and assassination. Yet, Rae remained blissfully unaware of how exceptional she had become, lacking a benchmark to measure her progress.
Visits from Crystal and Harold had been sporadic over the years, brief and bittersweet moments that reminded Rae of how much she missed them. They were her family, the closest thing to home she had known, but her training had consumed every part of her life. Despite the distance, Rae had grown immensely—physically, mentally, and magically. She had learned to conceal the dark aura that had once terrified those around her and had refined her mastery of chantless magic and object-stored spells, innovations she had developed alongside Merle. Magic circles had become her favored casting method, their intricacy mirroring her creativity. Yet, for all her achievements, etiquette lessons under Miss Luna's strict tutelage remained her weakest point. Rae had little patience for the ways of a "lady."
Now, the carriage rattled along the dusty road toward Harold's manor. The journey was quiet, but Rae could sense an undercurrent of unease in the air. When they passed through the village, the change was impossible to ignore. Faces that had once been bright with cheer were now gaunt and shadowed, their smiles replaced by hollow expressions. The air felt heavy, and whispers of hardship clung to the atmosphere like a fog.
When they arrived at the mansion, Rae was greeted by a whirlwind of emotion. Crystal's arms enveloped her the moment she stepped through the doors, her mother's voice a melody of relief and joy as she murmured, "I've missed you so much, my darling." The embrace was so tight Rae feared her ribs might crack, but she didn't mind. Harold's greeting was more formal, a noble's bow that demanded a curtsy in return. Rae stiffly obliged, earning a rare approving nod from Miss Luna.
"You look lovely," Harold said warmly. "You've grown into a beautiful young lady."
The compliment landed awkwardly. Rae forced a polite smile, but her chest tightened. The words felt foreign, a stark reminder of her changed body. She still thought of herself as a boy, and the constant reinforcement of her femininity gnawed at her. Yet, a small part of her, buried deep beneath the surface, felt an unfamiliar warmth at the acknowledgment.
A maid escorted Rae to her new quarters, a room that felt alien in its extravagance. The walls were adorned with pastel hues, the bed grand and swathed in silk. Flower vases stood on either side, their blossoms carefully arranged in perfect symmetry. Rae's old room had been simple, practical. This… this felt suffocating.
Opening the closet, Rae's discomfort deepened. Rows of dresses and gowns filled the space, their intricate designs mocking her preference for the tight trousers she had worn during training. She groaned, muttering under her breath as she unpacked her belongings. Before she could finish, a knock at the door interrupted her.
"Lady Rae," came the maid's timid voice, "may I enter to prepare you for tonight's event?"
Rae sighed. "No dresses," she said firmly. "Thank you, but I can manage on my own."
"Please, my lady," the maid pleaded. "I've been instructed to assist you. If I fail, the master may… well, he won't be pleased."
The maid's earnestness softened Rae's resolve. With a reluctant nod, she allowed the woman in. "Fine, but no dresses," Rae repeated.
The maid led her to the bathhouse, a grand building detached from the mansion. Inside, a steaming pool of water awaited, its surface strewn with fragrant petals. Rae hesitated, but the maid's gentle insistence left her no room for argument. She submitted to the ritual, cringing at the overly delicate treatment. The presence of soap, a luxury in this world, hinted that tonight's event was no ordinary gathering.
When Rae returned to her room, she discovered her trousers had mysteriously disappeared. The maid offered an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid your clothes are being washed, my lady. The dress is all that's left."
Rae's jaw clenched. Cornered, she donned the dress, its flowing fabric alien against her skin. She muttered curses under her breath but ultimately resigned herself to the inevitable.
As evening fell, the mansion buzzed with life. Servants scurried about, making last-minute adjustments to the grand hall's decorations. The glittering chandeliers cast warm, golden light over the polished floors, and the scent of fresh flowers mingled with the aroma of roasted meats and sweet confections wafting from the kitchens. Guests arrived in droves, their colorful attire a patchwork of cultures. Elves with flowing robes, beastfolk with braided fur, demons with glowing eyes, and humans in their finest silks mingled with curiosity and cautious camaraderie.
Rae stood at the edge of the hall, awkwardly tugging at the sleeves of her dress. The fabric clung tightly to her frame, constricting her movements and making her feel out of place. The gown was beautiful—a deep indigo adorned with delicate silver embroidery—but to her, it felt like a costume, a betrayal of the person she still clung to inside.
The music began, a lively waltz that filled the hall with an air of celebration. Harold approached her with a warm smile, his hand extended. "May I have this dance, my lady?"
Rae hesitated, her mind flashing back to the grueling etiquette lessons with Miss Luna. Every step, every movement had been drilled into her with military precision. Now, with Harold waiting expectantly, the lessons came rushing back. Taking a steadying breath, she placed her hand in his.
The dance began, and to Rae's surprise, the movements felt natural. Harold led with confidence, and she followed without misstep. The soft rustle of her gown as it swept across the floor blended with the music, and for a fleeting moment, she forgot her discomfort. The world narrowed to the rhythm of the waltz and the encouraging smile on Harold's face.
When the music faded, applause rippled through the hall. Harold released her hand and turned to the crowd. His expression shifted, becoming serious yet tender, as he raised his voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his tone commanding attention. "Thank you for joining us tonight to celebrate Rae's ninth birthday. Before we continue with the festivities, I have an important announcement to make."
The room quieted, the air thick with anticipation. Harold glanced at Rae, his eyes glistening with unspoken emotion.
"Many of you believe Rae to be my child. In my heart, she is. But tonight, I must share the truth. Rae is of royal blood. Her birth parents are Princess Diane Wemberly and Duke Christopher Monterey Wentworth."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire, guests exchanging astonished glances. Rae froze, Harold's words settling over her like a heavy cloak.
Crystal, standing nearby, could no longer hold back her tears. She stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Please forgive me, Rae. I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood. You will always be my child."
Rae looked at her, the room fading into the background. Her heart ached at the sight of Crystal's tear-streaked face. "Forgive you?" Rae's voice soft. "Why would I forgive you for loving me? You've been more of a mother to me than anyone else could ever be. You and Harold—you're my parents. That won't ever change."
Crystal let out a small sob, pulling Rae into a tight embrace. Harold joined them, placing a hand on Rae's shoulder. His face was lined with pride and relief, tears silently streaming down his cheeks.
The room erupted into applause, but Rae barely noticed. Her heart was too full—of gratitude, of love, and of a newfound understanding of where she belonged.
The night continued with the cutting of the cake, a towering masterpiece of sugar and cream that drew gasps from the crowd. Guests lined up to present their gifts to Rae, each offering kind words and warm wishes. Yet, as the festivities carried on, Rae's thoughts lingered on Harold and Crystal.
She watched them from across the hall, their expressions a mixture of pride and nervousness as they mingled with the guests. They had given her a life filled with love, protection, and opportunity. Her royal blood didn't define her. The people who raised her, who stood by her through everything—that was her family.
Rae allowed herself a small smile. She wasn't just a child of royal lineage or the boy in the dress she despised. She was Rae Vermont, the daughter of Crystal and Harold, and that was enough.