Leona POV

Leona Lockheart was not a child anymore. She was not stupid. She knew exactly what she was—the daughter of a concubine, the youngest, the one who didn't quite belong at the main table but sat there anyway because Father insisted on keeping all his children close. She knew her place in the hierarchy, oh yes, Theodore had made absolutely certain she understood that.

She was fourteen now, which meant she was practically an adult, thank you very much. She was mature, sophisticated, and a proper young lady of noble bearing who definitely didn't still sleep with her stuffed griffin sometimes when thunderstorms got too loud.

And she absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent hated Theodore Lockheart.

Had hated him for as long as she could remember, really. Which was saying something, because Leona had an excellent memory. Top of her class in magical theory, thank you very much. She could recite the Seven Principles of Mana Manipulation backwards. So when she said she remembered every single horrible thing Theodore had done to her, she meant it.

She was seven. Seven! Just a little girl trying to learn embroidery with Mother—no, with Lady Lenna, because that's what Theodore had made sure she understood. Lady Lenna wasn't her mother. Her mother was just a concubine. A nobody. And Leona, well, she was even less than that. She was a mistake, an embarrassment to the family name, and would just be married off for some backwater noble for political reasons. She'd run to her room and cried for hours. Ruined the handkerchief she'd been working on with her tears and snot. Very undignified. Very un-lady-like. But she'd been seven.

Or when she was nine and finally managed her first proper spell—a tiny flame, barely bigger than a candle's, but she'd been so proud. Had run to show everyone. Theodore had laughed at her, and it had made her stomach feel all twisted up and wrong. She felt very small then. Smaller than small. The flame had gone out. She hadn't managed to cast it again for weeks. Or when she was eleven and he'd—

No. No, she wasn't going to think about that one. That one still made her chest feel tight and her eyes get all hot and stupid.

The point was, Theodore was horrible. He had always been horrible. A wastrel and a bully and a drunk and probably other things she wasn't supposed to know about but did anyway because she was very good at listening at doors. She never eavesdropped! She just... accidentally overheard things while happening to stand near doors sometimes. It was completely different!

So when he'd gotten himself exiled—sorry, "encouraged to manage a border territory"—Leona had been delighted. Good riddance. Don't let the door hit you on the way out. Hope you enjoy your mosquito-infested swamp town, you absolute toad.

Life had been better without him. Quieter, safer, and so much better. She could walk through the halls without checking around corners first, practice her magic without worrying about mocking or laughter or straight up hurtful words, she could actually feel like maybe, possibly, she belonged here.

And now he was back, sitting right there at the dinner table like he belonged. Like he hadn't spent years making her life miserable. Like he could just waltz back in and everyone would forgive him because he'd apparently invented some stupid enchantment thing that had the grown-ups all excited.

Worse, he looked... different.

Not physically, no. He looked the same as she remembered. Well, his hair was longer, Maximillian had been right about that. Made him look softer somehow. Less sharp. But that wasn't the real difference. The real difference was in his eyes. Theodore had always had this look like he was constantly finding everyone around him disappointing and wasn't shy about letting them know it. Especially her. Especially when he looked at her like she was something gross he'd stepped in and now had to scrape off his boot.

But when he'd looked at her tonight...

Kind. That was the word her brain kept supplying, and she kept rejecting it because that was impossible. Theodore wasn't kind. Theodore was mean and cruel and horrible and definitely not looking at her with something that might actually be warmth in his eyes.

It had to be an act. Part of his whole "reformed wastrel" performance. Probably wanted something. Money, maybe. Or Father's favor back. Or—

"Something to say, Leona?" Max's voice cut through her thoughts.

Oh. Had she snorted? Out loud? At the dinner table? How terribly un-ladylike. Mother would be appalled if she were here. But also, how dare Max call her out like that in front of everyone? She was a Lockheart too, and she had every right to express her opinions in her own home!

"Just seems convenient. He goes away in disgrace and suddenly comes back all reformed and brilliant? Please!"

"Leona! Apologize at once."

Apologize? To him? Why? Why do you never listen to me? After everything he'd—

"Why should I?"

"It's fine," Theodore said, and his voice was so calm, so... reasonable. It was nothing like the sneering tone she remembered. "She's not wrong. I was a disappointment before."

…What?

What what what?

Theodore never admitted fault! Ever! Even when caught red-handed doing something awful, he'd just smile that horrible smile and make it seem like it was your fault for caring! Something hot and ugly and angry bubbled inside her.

"You were a complete ass," she said, because if he was going to admit to being disappointing, she was going to make sure everyone knew exactly how disappointing.

"Language," Max said, but his heart wasn't really in it.

"What? He was! He broke off his engagement in the most public, humiliating way possible. He dueled Lord Garrett's son over some stupid slight. He spent more time in taverns than—"

"That's enough." Father's voice was quiet but it cut through her rant like a blade through butter.

She slumped in her chair, fidgeting with her fingers. She'd been scolded like a child. Again. In front of him. Perfect. He was going to make sure to rub that in her face later, wasn't he? The second course arrived, and Leona pushed it around her plate, appetite gone. Her stomach was all twisted up with... with something.

Then Theodore asked about her, about how she'd been doing.

Like he cared.

Lady Lenna lit up like someone had cast an illumination spell on her face. She quickly started gushing about Leona's grades and her magical theory scores and suggesting Theodore could give her pointers and—

No. No no no no no.

"I don't need his help," she snapped.

She didn't. She was doing perfectly fine on her own. She didn't need some him of all swooping in to play big brother after years of—

"Now, dear—" Lady Lenna started.

"I don't! I'm doing perfectly fine on my own. I don't need some—some wastrel who suddenly decided to pretend he's reformed to—"

"That is quite enough, young lady. You're embarrassing yourself."

"I'm embarrassing myself? He's the one who—"

The words just poured out. Years of hurt and anger and confusion all tumbling over each other to get out. He'd ruined everything!

"You're right."

The words stopped her mid-rant and her brain kind of froze.

"I was all of those things. Worse, probably. I don't expect you to forgive me or trust me or even like me. But I'm trying to be better."

She stared at him. No way. Just a moment and he'd laugh and say "just kidding" and the real Theodore would come back.

It didn't come.

He just sat there, looking at her with those impossible, kind eyes, and her brain absolutely refused to process what was happening.

How could he just... say that? How could he just admit it, like it was nothing? Like all those years of pain and humiliation were just... mistakes he was sorry for? After everything he'd done, all the nights she'd cried herself to sleep wondering what was wrong with her, why she wasn't good enough, why she didn't deserve basic human kindness... how could he just sit there and casually mention he was "trying to be better"?

Where was his punishment? Where was the suffering he deserved for making her childhood miserable? Why did he get to just... move on? Be free of it? Start over fresh while she still woke up sometimes from nightmares where he was laughing at her?

It wasn't fair.

The young lady of House Lockheart was not going to cry at the dinner table. That would be completely inappropriate.

She was a proper young lady and proper young ladies didn't cry.

"Actually," she heard herself say, standing up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. Her hands were flat on the table and maybe shaking a little but that was just... magical overflow. From being so powerful. Obviously. "I have a better idea."

"Leona, sit down," Max said.

She ignored him. Why did everyone treat her like a child? If she stopped now, she'd lose her nerve. And probably cry. Which was not happening.

"A duel. Magic only. If I win, you don't teach me anything and you admit you're still the same pathetic wastrel you always were. And if I lose... Then... then I'll accept his teaching. But I won't lose!"

He'd refuse, obviously. Theodore never did anything that might make him look bad. He'd make some excuse about it being beneath him or—

"I accept."

What?

She stared at him. He was... smiling? It wasn't a sneer. He wasn't looking down on her. It was something else. Something almost... gentle?

What was happening?

The rest of dinner was a blur. She barely tasted anything. Her mind was spinning, trying to figure out his angle. What was happening? What was his angle? What did he want? Because there had to be something. There was always something with Theodore. Theodore always had a trap. But he just sat there, eating peacefully, occasionally responding to Lady Lenna's chatter or Father's questions about his border work. Acting like a normal person instead of the monster she remembered.

It was very confusing and she didn't like it one bit.

***

Later, dressed in her practice clothes and standing in one of the training rooms, Leona felt much more confident. This was her element. This was where she excelled. Magic came to her as naturally as breathing, and she'd been practicing constantly while Theodore was away making a mess of some poor border town.

Theodore looked relaxed, like he was about to take a casual stroll instead of facing the magical prodigy of House Lockheart. Well, he'd learn soon enough exactly how much she'd improved.

"Ready?" he asked.

She lifted her chin, raised her hands, and felt the mana flowing through her channels, ready to be shaped. She was good at this. Really good. The professor said she had natural talent. She'd show Theodore exactly how much she'd grown while he was gone.

"Ready."

When they started, she cast her best spell. [Mana Bolt]. It was clean, efficient, and powerful. The blue-white energy formed between her palms, condensed down to a point of brilliant light, then shot toward Theodore with a crack like lightning. He sidestepped it.

…What? Why did he sidestep? Wasn't he supposed to put up a [Mana Shield] like a normal person? Wasn't this supposed to be a proper magical duel with proper magical defenses?

"Good form," he said. "But you're telegraphing. See how your shoulders tense right before release? Try keeping them loose. Also, I see your confusion. In a real fight, people don't do exchanges like a duel, offense and defense or whatever. You're surprised by a mere side step."

What?

She fired another bolt. Then another. This time, they all fizzled out before they even reached him. There was still no shield.

And he kept talking.

"Your mana compression is excellent, but you're wasting energy on the visual display. The glow doesn't add power, it just looks pretty. It also gives away position. You can technically make an invisible [Mana Bolt] and you should know how as well. You should try it."

Was he... was he giving her advice? In the middle of a duel? Like this was some kind of lesson instead of a serious magical combat?

How dare he?

She switched tactics, creating a swirling vortex of air to trap him in place so he couldn't just dodge around like an annoying... dodge-y thing. Then she'd hit him with everything she had and—

"Interesting approach," he said, walking through her vortex like it was a light breeze. "But you're spreading the rotation too wide. Tighten the spiral, increase the spin speed. Like this."

A vortex appeared above his palm. Tiny, maybe the size of an apple, but she could feel the power in it. The air in the entire training ground seemed to bend toward it.

Then it vanished.

"Try again."

She did, making it tighter and faster just like he'd suggested, and it actually worked better, which was completely beside the point because she wasn't taking advice from him! This was supposed to be a duel, not a lesson!

Fire! Yes, fire and air, her best combination. Feed the flames with air, create a spiral of burning death that—

Theodore dispersed that too.

How was he doing that?

You couldn't just take control over someone else's magic!

"Excellent combining elements," he said, and he sounded genuinely impressed, which made everything worse. "But you're thinking of them as separate things working together. Try thinking of them as one thing. Mm. Think of it like this: fire is just very excited air. Excite it more."

"Stop teaching me!" she shrieked, launching a barrage of [Mana Bolts].

He deflected them with little nudges of mana that sent her attacks spinning off into the walls.

Why are you not using a shield!

"Your rapid-fire technique is impressive. Most mages your age can't maintain that rate of—duck."

She ducked without thinking. A [Mana Bolt]—her own, somehow reflected back—whizzed over her head.

"—fire without exhausting themselves. But you're sacrificing accuracy for speed."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

He was supposed to fight back, be cruel, be Theodore. He wasn't supposed to just stand there giving her helpful tips like some kind of... of... teacher! She threw everything at him. Every spell she knew. Every trick she'd learned. Every clever combination she'd figured out late at night when she couldn't sleep because her brain wouldn't stop trying to solve magical equations.

He deflected everything and commented on all of it. Genuine, helpful comments that actually made sense and would probably make her better if she actually listened which she definitely wasn't doing.

"Your foundation is really quite excellent—"

"Shut up!"

"—and your mana reserves are impressive for your age—"

"I said shut up!"

"—but you're letting emotion interfere with your control."

That did it.

She pulled on everything she had. All her mana, all her anger, all her hurt and compressed it down into one massive attack. It was not a bolt or a blast or anything with form, it was just raw power, raw emotion, raw everything she'd been holding inside for years.

It stopped before hitting him, a [Mana Shield] flickering for a moment before vanishing.

"That was incredibly powerful. But you need to—"

"I hate you!"

The words tore out of her throat like they'd been waiting years to escape, and oh no, oh no no no, her eyes were getting hot and wet and this was not happening, she was not crying, she was a sophisticated young lady who did not cry over—

She was crying.

Big, ugly, childish tears that she couldn't stop no matter how hard she tried.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Each repetition felt like something breaking inside her chest. "You don't get to come back and be nice and pretend like you didn't—like you never—you ruined everything! You made me feel like nothing! Like I didn't deserve to exist! And now you're just... just..."

She couldn't finish. Couldn't bear to see whatever expression was on his face. Pity, probably. Or worse, that strange kindness that made her chest hurt in ways she didn't understand.

So she ran.

Turned and ran like the child she pretended she wasn't. Ran before he could say something kind that would make everything worse. Ran before she had to face the fact that maybe, possibly, he really had changed. And if he had changed, what did that mean for all the anger she'd been carrying?

What did that mean for her?

Where was it all supposed to go?

She didn't want to know.

Lady Lenna and stupid Max called out to her but she just ran, and cried, and hated that she was crying, and hated him for making her cry, and hated herself for still being such a child after all.

***

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