The Villainess With White Roses

Chapter 8 - The Art Of Falling Gracefully

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ANDRELISE

I watch the knights from a distance, each swing and strike catching my eye. It's not the spectacle that interests me, though; I'm not here to admire the show. I need to learn how to defend myself—really defend myself.

These men are using skills I want to understand, moves that would let me feel more secure, more capable. If I could just manage that, things would be different.

A few days ago, I found myself in a mess with this gang that roams the alleys. I was only there for a bite of roasted meat, of all things. It has become quiet a guilty pleasure, I would have sent someone to get it but I have a reputation to keep.

It was supposed to be quick—grab the meat, disappear back into the crowd—but some gang spotted me and decided I looked suspicious. Or maybe they just didn't like my face or maybe its the small bag of gold I had. Either way, they started chasing me down, and they were relentless.

What followed was... well, it was ridiculous. I was darting between stalls, ducking behind barrels, even hiding behind an old woman's cart. The gang was surprisingly persistent, though, and I had to sprint for what felt like ages.

When I finally found a hiding spot, I could barely breathe, pressed up against a stack of boxes. I stayed hidden for twenty minutes, not because the alley rats could still be there but frankly I was catching my breath. And by the time I did peek out, I realized I lost my precious roasted meat.

My reward for all that trouble? Nothing but sore legs and the realization that I need to work on my stamina.

Not exactly what I will call —'Grace under pressure'

So here I am, watching these knights. I need to be able to run without feeling like my lungs are on fire, and more importantly, I need to know how to handle a weapon.

It's clear now that I can't just slip through life unnoticed. And if my father's going to start giving me more responsibilities, there's no way I want a knight hanging around. Not only would it be suffocating, but it would also mean my father's eyes and ears would follow me everywhere.

No, thank you.

I glance over at the knights again. A few of them notice me and give a respectful nod, just enough acknowledgment to make it clear they see me watching. Then they go back to their training. I doubt any of them would seriously consider teaching me, though. If I asked, they'd probably just smile politely, nod, and do the bare minimum to keep me from accidentally hurting myself. But I don't need that. I need real training, someone who'd actually push me.

I know what I want—I just don't know how to get it. How does one even go about asking for sword lessons without sounding like they're playing at something?

And then there's the question of who would teach me in secret. My father can't know. If he catches wind of this, I'll have a guard on my tail for the rest of my life.

Just as I'm lost in thought, Marcel approaches, his usual stern expression in place.

"Your father is requesting your presence," he says, voice steady, as if he's been waiting for the right moment to interrupt my plans.

This man has the worst timing

——
ANDRELISE

Father barely looks up as he says it. "You're going to the Grand Codex for me. There's a book I need, and only a family member can retrieve it."

His voice is clipped, that tone he uses when he wants to remind me I have no real choice. "The butler can't go, obviously."

His words hang in the air, thick with annoyance.