Sophie had always been proud to wear the sigil of the royal knights, to carry the weight of her family's name as a knight captain. But since Draven's letter had circulated through the order, everything had changed. The words had cut deep—deeper than she cared to admit. But it wasn't the blow to her pride that hurt most; it was how the others saw her now.
The training grounds bustled with activity, a dozen knights sparring with clanging swords, their laughter and shouts filling the air. Sophie stood on the edge, her posture stiff, watching them as they went about their drills. She should have been leading these sessions, like she used to. But now she was merely an observer, passed over and quietly ignored.
She clenched her fists, feeling the letter's sting all over again. The knights, once respectful and deferential, now cast sidelong glances at her, their whispers loud enough that she could catch the words. Nepotism. Failure. Her brother's puppet.
