The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully as Irene’s mind weaved between feelings of anger, betrayal, emptiness and confusion. She had managed to avoid most of the court officials that frequented the halls by remaining in her room. She had not seen a glance of Wendy after their last encounter, and she prayed she wouldn’t enter her room by chance.

Her sanctuary had served well so far to preserve her solitude. Irene used this period of peace to think about the events of the morning. Her mind was a mess, unlike the uncluttered, organized train of thought she usually possessed.

It was true she rarely participated in council meetings or any political events for that matter, but she was always present. She did have the power to stand up and speak for herself, but there was an unspoken animosity that Irene could feel every time she tried to contribute in the past.

Irene ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. She was reading the copy of Of Greed and Power that sat on her nightstand. However, the words seemed to float off the page and jumble together in a tangled mess, similar to her thoughts that had still cluttered her frustrated mind. She stood up, throwing the novel onto her bed as she looked at herself in the mirror, trying to see who looked back at her past all the glorious titles and statuses.

Who really was Irene Bae, without her rank, without her status, and without her lineage? Who was she, without the duties that weighed down her shoulders every passing day? Would she only be a pretty face that served to appeal to faceless court officials with a tight lipped smile? Or would people see her as a well read, talented young woman with a say in what she wanted to believe in, who she wanted to be with, and who she wanted to be?

As Irene thought about her identity, her thoughts drifted back to her mother. She didn’t remember much about her, except for the fact that she was warm and loving. Her hands unconsciously found the handle of the dresser drawer, reaching inside to retrieve a long slender dagger. It was expensive looking, the steel black sheath etched with flowering designs and embellished with rubies of all sizes. Irene absentmindedly ran her fingers over the length of the dagger, the jewels feeling smooth and familiar under her touch.

The dagger was one of the most prized possessions of her mother’s and Irene found herself fiddling with the weapon whenever her thoughts got too deep. It was like her mother had left a piece of her with Irene, no matter how small.

Irene gave a slight pull on the leather bound handle, the silvery blade sliding effortlessly out of the sheath. The blade was still razor sharp, even after years of disuse. The metallic sheen was so bright it was almost translucent, without so much as a scratch to blemish the silvery metal. Irene could clearly see herself in the slim shape of the blade.

The reflection that stared back at Irene betrayed no answers to the silent questions she asked in her head. In the dimming light of the room, her eyes seemed as dark as the sea at midnight. Likewise, they stormed with turmoil like the waters that raged during a winter storm.

Irene sighed heavily before looking away with a frown. There was no use thinking about these frivolous things. She knew who she was, and she knew who she wanted to be. She was the Princess of Shateron and she only wanted to serve the citizens of her kingdom well. What she wanted to believe in and who she wanted to be with were foolish questions. She had to trust in her own kingdom and she was already bound to Wendy through royal marriage.

A sharp knock at her chamber door pulled Irene from the depths of her thoughts. She quickly sheathed and slid the dagger into the folds of her robes, the cold, smooth texture of the heavy sheath comfortable against her skin. Irene already knew who was at the door. Who else would have the need to speak to her after the morning’s debacle?

“Come in.” Irene said, voice steady and neutral.

The door swung open to reveal none other than Sir Duncan. He dipped his head in habitual respect as he hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on a gold tipped cane. Irene rose to greet him as well, but Duncan merely motioned for her to sit back down.

“We won’t be heading to my study this time. I’m getting quite old and I’ve done enough walking today.” Duncan said amicably, opposite of what Irene expected his disposition to be.

Duncan slowly sunk down in the armchair that sat near Irene. He only sat in silence as he observed Irene’s room. She waited for him to initiate conversation, for she didn’t know the meaning behind his strange behavior.

Duncan’s eyes suddenly lit up in recognition as he raised his cane to point at the old leather bound book that sat on Irene’s bed.

“Good choice. I’ve read that novel many times over and it’s always like reading it the first time.” Duncan stated casually.

Irene nodded in agreement. “The way they discuss royal politics using a fictional storyline is very interesting. It’s certainly better than a lot of other novels I’ve read.”

Duncan hummed as he tapped his cane on the floor absentmindedly. “I’m proud of you Irene. You’ve become a smart, responsible, well-read woman.” He said in a soft voice.

Irene blinked in surprise. This was the last thing she expected to hear after the events that took place in the morning. The fact that Duncan had never openly stated his pride for Irene only added to her surprise.

“Thank you, Sir.” Irene replied tentatively after a brief pause.

“I believe my praise is long overdue, Irene. You truly acted like a member of the royal Shateron court today during the council.” Duncan’s sharp eyes met Irene’s own gaze. “You actions are commendable, even though I may not agree with your decision.”

Irene’s jaw tightened. She knew the topic of the conversation would turn to the council meeting sooner or later. “I know the entire council didn’t agree with my vote override. However, I believe I did what was right.” She stated calmly, returning Duncan’s piercing gaze..”

Duncan merely sighed as he gently set his cane aside. “Princess Irene, you are still young. What you believe