Heir of Fire

chapter two

"You are no longer Serena. You are no lady of any house. Your name is Gemma. You're the daughter of a baker and his wife. Nothing more." Tessa had told her the day she left. It wasn't safe for the two girls to stay together. Serena had never seen her since.

For the first few days, Serena - no, Gemma - didn't speak much. She wasn't sure what to say, and when she did open her mouth, it only seemed to cause more trouble. The baker and his wife weren't unkind, but they weren't warm either. They were busy, always rushing about, tending to dough, kneading, baking, and selling loaves to the never-ending stream of customers who passed through their shop. Serena, though, had been born into a life of silks and servants, not one of flour-dusted aprons and blistering heat.

"Don't just stand there, girl, stir the pot!" The baker's wife, Marah, barked one morning, her hands deep in dough. Serena had been watching them, mesmerised by how quickly and effortlessly they worked. It was nothing like the elegant meals prepared for her in Castamere, where everything was done behind the scenes. Now, it was expected she would help, and her clumsiness only added to her growing frustrations.

"I'm trying," Serena muttered under her breath, though she wasn't. The ladle felt foreign in her hand, heavy and awkward, and the thick porridge splashed onto the counter as she stirred too fast.

Marah scowled, her lips pressed thin. "Spoilt, this one. No sense of how to work. Thinks she's too good for stirring a pot."

Serena's cheeks flushed. She didn't belong here, and every mistake she made reminded her just how far she'd fallen. But she couldn't say that, not out loud. She wasn't Serena Reyne anymore. Now she was Gemma, the daughter of a baker and his wife. Nothing more.

Tessa's words echoed in her mind as she continued to stir the pot.

But even as she tried to adjust to her new life, Serena found herself stumbling over the smallest tasks. She fumbled with the bread trays, spilled flour across the floor, and earned scolding after scolding from Marah. She couldn't stop herself from speaking like a lady, from expecting things to be done for her rather than by her. It felt like the entire world had flipped upside down.

And the children in the streets weren't any kinder.

Serena had tried to keep to herself, avoiding the other lowborn children who ran through the dirty alleyways outside the bakery. But one afternoon, as she attempted to carry a basket of bread to the front of the shop, a boy with messy dark hair darted out of nowhere, knocking into her so hard she nearly dropped the whole basket.

"Watch it!" Serena snapped, her voice sharp. "You almost knocked me over!"

The boy - probably, not older than her - gave her a long, amused look. "Well, well. Listen to her, talkin' all fancy."

Serena bristled. She had forgotten, for a moment, where she was. "I'm not-"

"Oh, you are," he interrupted, grinning. "Think she's a little lady, doesn't she?"

A few of the other children gathered around, laughing. Serena's face flushed red with embarrassment and anger. She wanted to shout at them, to tell them she was a lady. She was Serena Reyne of Castamere, the daughter of a lord, not some baker's girl. But she bit her tongue, the weight of Tessa's warning heavy in her mind.

"She's probably never had to do nothin' for herself," the boy went on, crossing his arms as he sized her up. "You don't look like the rest of us. You look soft."

The other children giggled, nudging each other as they watched her. Serena's chest tightened with frustration. Everything about this world felt wrong - dirty, rough, nothing like the life she once knew. But these children didn't know that. To them, she was Gemma, just another girl from the streets. But the way they stared at her, with suspicion now growing behind their eyes, made her uneasy.