Reincarnated As An Archmage’s Daughter

She woke up expecting the soft glow of Kofery’s conjured stars, or the quiet clicking of Lusha’s spiders in the corners.

Instead, her eyes opened to deep burgundy silk drapes cascading from a four-poster bed so enormous she could have rolled across it three times without touching the edges. The mattress was stuffed with something absurdly luxurious—feathers, or perhaps the dreams of very wealthy people. Sunlight poured through tall windows, turning drifting dust motes into flecks of floating gold.

This is not the Tower, she thought, her mind still foggy. This isn’t any room I’ve ever been in.

She tried to sit up, but her muscles screamed in protest. Her hands were wrapped in clean white bandages, and a dull throb pulsed behind her ribs, something cracked during the whale’s death throes, most likely.

“You’re awake.”

Dravin’s voice came from very close by.

Hania turned her head slowly. He sat in a chair pulled right beside the bed, so near his knee nearly brushed the mattress. Arms crossed, silver hair loose over his shoulders, he watched her with those glowing red eyes. The intensity made her want to disappear under the blankets.

He looked… off. His hair was still perfect, his face still annoyingly handsome, his clothes immaculate despite the chaos of the ocean battle. But shadows lingered under his eyes—shadows she’d never seen before. His hands rested motionless on the arms of the chair.

Uh oh.

“Dad,” she croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again, pitching her voice higher and softer. “Daddy… Where are we? What happened? I was so scared.”

Dravin didn’t move. He simply kept watching her.

Hania widened her eyes, making them as big and innocent as possible. She let her lower lip tremble just slightly, the same routine she’d perfected since she was one.

“I thought I was going to die,” she whispered. “The whale swallowed me and it was so dark and cold… I couldn’t breathe. I just wanted to see you again…”

“You summoned a vampire,” Dravin said.

Her trembling lip froze mid-quiver.

“You drew a summoning circle with a fish tail as the primary node,” he continued, his voice never rising above its usual conversational volume. “You baited him into shattering my wards. You convinced him to carry you across half the continent. And then you allowed him to use you as a hostage in a magical duel that nearly sank the entire southern coastline.”

“That’s… not exactly how I would describe it.”

“How would you describe it?”

She opened her mouth. “I was bored?”

Dravin’s eye twitched.

Hania realized instantly she had miscalculated. The innocent act wasn’t going to work here. Her father wasn’t Kofery, who folded at the first sign of tears, nor Lusha, who would’ve laughed and called her clever. Dravin was looking at her like she was a flawed magical equation he was trying to debug.

Time to pivot.

She softened the performance, not frightened child anymore, but contrite daughter who had definitely learned her lesson (and would absolutely not repeat it… until next time).

“The vampire was supposed to be a joke,” she admitted, staring down at her bandaged hands. “I was angry. You wouldn’t let me leave the Tower, and I was frustrated. I just wanted to prove I could… that I wasn’t trapped. That I could see the world if I really wanted to.”

Dravin said nothing.

“I didn’t mean for any of it to happen,” she continued, and this part was true. “The circle wasn’t supposed to actually work. I was just doodling. When he appeared, I panicked. Then I thought… if I could just get past the wards and see something outside the Tower, I could come right back and no one would ever know.”

She looked up at him, letting a single real tear slip down her cheek. Real this time, because her ribs hurt, she was exhausted, and some small part of her was still genuinely afraid of the look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The silence stretched. Dravin uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, closing the distance between them.

“That vampire could have killed you a dozen times before I arrived.”

“I know.”

“The whale’s digestive acids would have dissolved you in minutes if you hadn’t used magic.”

“I know, Dad.”

He reached out. For a heartbeat she thought he might hug her. Dravin's hugs were rare enough to be mythical events, catalogued and celebrated like solar eclipses. Instead, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up toward his.

“Look at me.”

She did.

“The next time you want to leave the Tower,” he said quietly, “ask me again.”

“And you’ll just say no again.”

“Then ask me again after that.”

She stared at him. He stared back. His thumb brushed once across her cheek, wiping away the tear, before he released her and leaned back.

“That’s not a yes,” she said.

“That’s not a no.”

Hania filed the exchange away for later analysis.

“Now,” he said, standing, “we’re leaving.”

“Wait—what?” Hania sat up too quickly and winced as her ribs protested. “We just got here. Wherever ‘here’ is. Where are we?”

“The Southern Dukedom.” Dravin’s jaw tightened. “Leonarth’s territory.”

“Then shouldn’t we at least say hello? I’ve never been here before. I want to see—”

“No.”

“Daddy—”

“We’re leaving,” he repeated. There was an urgency in his voice that made her stop arguing. “Now.”

He turned toward the door. Hania watched him, mind racing. “Dad,” she called.

He paused, back still to her.

“Why are you really in such a hurry?”

Before he could answer, the door opened from the other side.

A young man stood in the doorway, one hand raised as if he’d been about to knock. He had red hair tied back at the nape of his neck, bright amber eyes, and a smile already curving into something dangerously charming.

“Oh,” he said, gaze flicking between Hania and Dravin. “You’re awake. Great-grandfather said you might sleep for three days. It’s only been one, he’s going to be annoyed he lost the bet.”

The temperature in the room plummeted.

“Emberlyn,” Dravin said, voice flat.

“Archmage.” Raylas inclined his head with exaggerated politeness. “I came to greet our guest. As is proper, since you’re in my family’s home.”

“You will stay away from her.”

“I’m just saying hello.”

“You’ve said it. Now leave.”

Raylas’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes slid to Hania. “She’s awake now. She can speak for herself, can’t she? Or does the Archmage speak for everyone in his vicinity?”

The air grew colder. Ice crystals began forming on the windowsill.

Hania watched the exchange from the bed, bandaged hands clutching the silk sheets.

Oh, she thought. This is going to be a problem.

She studied Raylas properly for the first time. At sixteen he was tall and lean, all long limbs and sharpening features. His red hair caught the sunlight like living flame. His amber eyes were exactly as she remembered. He was undeniably handsome.

And she felt… nothing.

She thought of the people she’d spent the last seven years surrounded by: her father, who looked like a final boss drawn by a romance cover artist; Lusha, whose beauty made flowers look dull; Kofery, who had grown into the face of an unfairly attractive young professor. Even the occasional visiting nobles and the Queen herself were all unreasonably beautiful.

Raylas was handsome. But after seven years of absurdly beautiful people, regular handsomeness barely registered.

Have I built up an immunity?

“Princess?” Raylas prompted, amused. “You’re staring.”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Just… still tired.”

Dravin moved, positioning himself between them and forcing Raylas to take a step back. “You’ve seen her. You’ve greeted her. Leave.”

“The Duke asked me to escort her to breakfast—”

“The Duke can eat alone.”

“Archmage, with respect—”

“There is no respect in that sentence.”

Raylas’s smile finally faltered, just slightly. He looked past Dravin at Hania. “Is he always like this?”

“Worse,” she admitted.

Dravin’s head turned toward her, one eyebrow raised. She gave him her sweetest smile.

“I’m just being honest, Daddy.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Raylas laughed softly. “I like her. Can I visit the Tower sometime? Great-grandfather says the library is bigger on the inside.”

“No,” Dravin said.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“You’re standing in my presence, asking about my library. You’re asking me.”

“I was asking her.” Raylas nodded toward Hania. “She seems more reasonable than you. And prettier.”

Hania snorted. “Flattery won’t work. I’ve been immune since I was three.”

“Three?”

“My nanny is very beautiful. I got used to pretty faces early.”

Dravin stepped forward, crowding Raylas back toward the door. “You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“I haven’t even been welcomed.”

“That’s the point.”

Raylas lifted his hands in mock surrender, eyes still sparkling. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. But Princess—” He glanced past Dravin one last time. “If you want to see the South before you leave, I’d be happy to show you around. The gardens are beautiful this time of year. And our library isn’t as big as yours, but we actually let people touch the books.”

Dravin closed the door in his face.

Hania stared at the closed door, then at her father. His hand still rested on the handle, back turned to her.

“Dad.”

“He’s manipulative, reckless, and far too clever for his own good,” Dravin said without turning.

“Sounds familiar.”

He turned then, eyes meeting hers. “He’s also sixteen. And you’re seven.”

“I’m aware of basic arithmetic, Dad.”

Dravin didn’t reply. He walked back to the chair and sat down, arms crossed once more, staring out at the unfamiliar landscape.

“We’re leaving in an hour,” he said. “Don’t talk to him again before then.”

“I haven’t even talked to him yet. He talked to me.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“It really isn’t.”

Hania studied her father’s profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes.

“Dad,” she said softly. “I’m not going to run off with some boy I just met. I am just seven, you know. I don’t even like boys. They’re loud and they smell weird.”

Dravin glanced at her. “He doesn’t smell weird.”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t. It’s not relevant.”

“You brought it up.”

“I’m ending this conversation.”

Hania grinned. “Dad?”

“What?”

“Thank you for coming to get me.”

He didn’t answer. But his hand shifted, resting on the edge of the bed near hers.

She looked down at her bandaged fingers. A faint golden glow shone through the white cloth. She’d almost forgotten.

“Dad… what’s in my hands?”

Dravin’s gaze dropped to her bandages. His expression flickered. “You were holding something when I pulled you from the water.”

He reached into his coat and withdrew a small velvet pouch. Loosening the drawstring, he tipped the contents onto the silk beside her.

A smooth golden sphere the size of a large melon rolled out onto the sheets.

The moment her bandaged fingers brushed its surface, the orb flared with warm light. Heat flooded through her, easing the ache in her ribs and soothing the burns on her hands.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“Just a useless trinket,” he said. “Give it to me.”

Hania curled her fingers around the large golden sphere. “No… I found it inside the whale’s heart. It’s mine. Let me keep it as a memory, Dad. Please?”

Dravin stared at the glowing melon-sized sphere in her hands, then at the stubborn set of her face.

“We’re still leaving in an hour,” he said.

“Can I keep it?”

A long silence.

Then: “Yes.”