I want to be very clear. Nathan was a bright kid, and precocious. He was big for his age, and very energetic. And despite being far less articulate than I, he had more friends than I did among our age group. I was the oddity that got people to pay attention, but from the beginning he had a way of looking at people that made them feel seen and appreciated, and a smile that made you want to share it. His good heart showed on his face. People invited us to events because they heard about me. They invited us back because they met him.

  We were at Yheta's birthday party and I was sitting on a raised stool with some of the older cousins from Yheta's house, Snairlin. They wanted to hear the story of how he single-handedly won the first-ever egg race, and I was regaling them with nail-biting tension and amusing them all by exaggerating every detail just a little bit past credulity, keeping the story very high-energy. Nathan walked up, and waited until I had finished before he tugged my skirt. "Come see the baby," he said to me. I hopped down, and took his hand to walk with him away.

  "Oh my gods she's like those enchanted dolls, but the voice of a grown woman!"

  I probably was not intended to hear that. Whichever of Yheta's cousins that was seemed to be saying it in a flattering way, excited and fond. I've been told, by experts in the field, that I am absolutely adorable. Speaking of adorable, Nathan led me to a quieter corner of the room, where some of the less lively extended family members were sitting. He brought me around to one table, where a green-clad couple were sitting and chatting between them quietly. A sort of bassinet sat next to her, a wicker basket suspended from a wooden stand, secured on both sides like a hammock, and the woman's hand was gently swinging it in a soothing tempo.

  "Oh, he's come back!" the baby's father said, smiling. Their clothing was green and gold, the colors of Snairlin, and from a glance at his jewelry and and the 'fruit salad' mix of his medals and honor ribbons, I could see that this was a count. I dipped a curtsey. "My Lord Count, my name is Natalie Harigold, my brother Nathan. A pleasure to meet you and your wife. My brother has called my attention to your child?"

  He blinked in surprise and stood from his chair rapidly, sketched a bow to me to release me from my curtsey. I stood, smiling warmly, and his wife laughed behind her hand. "Oh!" she said. "We'd heard stories about the duke's daughter! So glad we finally get to meet you in person! Yheta has been going on about that party! But yes, this is his new baby sister, Filita Snairlin. This is her first time out in public."

  Oh. So this is Filita. Of course Nathan is absolutely enamored with this baby.

  His eyes almost glowed as he stared down at her. She was one of those perfect little infants that manages to look nothing like a very old man. She had fair skin like both of her parents, and when her hair came in it would be the same lavender as her mother's. In a few years, Nathan and her would begin practicing their penmanship by writing letters to each other. When her parents expanded their merchant's routes into Meadowtam, she would come to live in a town very near to our palace, and from that day on they were going to be the very closest of friends.

  Every dating-sim game needs an option for the long-term childhood friend, and Filly is that one for Nathan. So, obviously she is the very first of his love interests I'm going to get to meet. She was one of my favorites- she's sharp and smart, she skips a grade in elementary which winds up putting her in the same grade at school as either of us. One of the harder love interests to get a good ending with, because she only turns eighteen a few months before the end of the game, so you're romancing her almost entirely as a friend right up until the very end.

  I smiled at her, and squeezed Nathan's hand. I looked up at her doting parents. "She's lovely," I said, and turned to the count. "She's got your eyes."

  He did a double-take. "Thank you! But, she's not opened them all day, how do you know that?"

  "I will bet you the first dance at her debut that I'm right," I said with a broad smile.

  He laughed. "Ah! What a claim! If my wife agrees to your terms then I accept your wager, and I need name no other terms because you are quite correct! Now how did you know?"

  I winked at him. "Your eyes, that blue, it's very recessive. Not found often even in families. Same as the cleft in your chin. She has a dimple on her chin, and I worked it out from there."

  That's a complete fabrication. I know because I've played this game, and as soon as I saw his striking eyes there was no doubt. I'm not smart enough to BBC-Sherlock my way to conclusions like that.

  Nathan shook his head. "That's not true. She's magic."

  "Really?" Countess Snairlin said, glancing at me with a neutral expression.

  I sighed, and patted Nathan's hand. I left him cooing at little Filly, and I climbed up onto a chair opposite the honorable Count and Countess. I set my elbows on the table top, and laced my fingers together. I stared at my palms while I spoke. "I am not though. Not yet, but I can feel it. It's building inside me. Soon I'll be casting spells and binding essence. A sorceress before my debut. I get pushes, I feel things. When it happens I never doubt. I think that is what pushed me into ... as you see me." I waved vaguely towards myself. "I know that a child my age should not speak as I do, nor think and know as I do. And yet I do. And I know that there is a great talent for magic growing each year inside me. I do not believe in coincidence enough to think these are separate gifts. I know that some mages exhibit bursts of wild magic before they crest into spellcasting. I believe that is what I have. And why I can already see the way your daughter is going to smile at my brother."

  At those last words, the Countess gasped and clutched a serviette to her mouth, her eyes watering with unspent tears.

  I unlaced my hands, and pushed one out towards the count. He hesitated, and reached out to take my tiny hand between his thumb and two fingers. "She's beautiful," I assure him. "And so smart. Even without magic pushing her too fast for her own good, she's likely more intelligent than I am. You're going to be so proud."

  They both wept happy tears, and thanked me. Nathan looked up from the bassinet, and gave me a kind smile.

  I am the best fucking fortune-teller.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  After I had that very endearing and touching conversation with the host and hostess of this party, Yheta came plunging out of the merry-go-round parade of pageantry, and grabbed me by my arm. "C'mon!" he said. "You gotta do the race!"

  I let myself be dragged along, and Nathan came away too. My legs were a bit too short, Yheta was six years old and I was not yet three. "We were just meeting your sister. You must be so proud," I said.

  He scoffed. "It's just a baby."

  By the time Nathan and I turn fifteen, Yheta is a real jerk. I was rather hoping that if I showed some kindness to him early, he was going to be less of a pain in the ass. He's one of the main antagonists if Nathan decides to develop Filly as a love interest, in the game. I was looking to make things easier by giving him some nice positive formative experiences, but it was hard to tell how much of what I was in was a living, breathing world that would react to my actions and how much of it was a scripted game where people were bent to suit the needs of the narrative.

  We were yanked back to the side room where the other children were gathered up, looking bored and uncomfortable. Yheta had declared the start of the race, made everyone form up in teams, and then left them there while he ran out to get me and Nathan. When we got there, he made Nathan go stand on one side "because teams are already made", and had me act as referee and showrunner for this event.

  He had already formed up the teams, and a casual eye could see that he had stacked the deck somewhat. The youngest children were all in one team, opposite Yheta's. The ones that would have trouble walking and balancing, all set up to lose against him. His own teammates seemed uncomfortable with this, but said little. He made sure he was near the middle of the pack, just a couple kids in front of him and behind him in the relay order. I shrugged, took the basket of eggs, and stepped to the middle of the room.

  For the sake of form I recited the rules again, and got nods from all parties. I raised an arm, and counted off ready-set-go! and then stood back to help out when the smaller kids were having trouble with their instructions. I had to coax and coach them along a little bit, and behind me the older children that Yheta had gathered were making the trip with relative ease. The host was six, his guests were as old as ten years old and competing against three-year-old. I think every maid and guard in that room felt second-hand embarrassment just watching this debacle.

  Then it was Yheta's turn to run his race. He rejected the Natalie Rule and held his spoon in his hand. But when he took two steps he tipped the spoon down and dropped the egg out. "Oops!" he declared cheerily, and ran to me to get a new egg. He ran back to his wall, and two steps later dropped his egg again. "Oops!"

  After the fourth, he stopped running back to his wall, it was just this one-after-another stooge routine of grossly-affected clumsiness and overdone apology as he just dropped one squishy crackling orb after another onto the floor right at my feet. He laughed loudly, and declared how silly and klutzy he was, right until we ran out of eggs. Then, he wheeled around, sprinted for his governess, and snatched a feather duster she was holding for him.

  And like that, the charade was over. He sprinted his lap with "the chicken", and handed it off to the next relay. Even with all his clownery and showboating, his team won while there were three still kids left to run on the other side. He leaped around and cheered for himself while everyone else just sort of shuffled our feet and watched.

  Someone had to do something. And I felt responsible. I'd invented this game, and I'd made a big deal of him winning the first game. I walked over, and he stopped the more exuberant punches and frolics as I approached. He grinned at me, wide enough to see his molars, his face a little pink with exertion, more from his enthusiastic self-congratulations than from the run itself.

  I stepped in closer, and touched his arm, turning him with me away from the rest of the room, we tucked our shoulders for a modicum of privacy. "Congratulations, of course, but could we have found a way to do this that was a little more sporting?"

  His face froze up. "What?" He stared at me as if betrayed. "You were supposed to understand!"

  Several people startled and stared at us, his raised petulant voice shocking a few.

  "No, not like that," I said, my voice soft and low. "You didn't do bad, but things could have been done a little differently. Everything is still all right."

  "But I won," he said, stressing it hard.

  Most of my de-escalation strategies are not tailored to seven-year-olds. "Yheta, you did win, but maybe this wasn't the best way to win."

  "You were supposed to understand," he repeated. He turned and bolted from the room.

  All eyes were on me. I shot a desperate look at Taeril. She cleared her throat. "Okay, so who hasn't heard the joke about the bishop and the wagon wheel?" she asked, and the tension broke hard as everyone turned her way, and she started in on a joke that was just a little too bawdy for this audience. I sagged back, relieved to be off the hot seat.

  The Snairlin governess squatted down to my level next to me, and patted my arm. "I'd not worry about it, my lady," she said cheerily. "It won't be the last time a young lady rejects him, nor the last time he takes it poorly."

  Rejec- I froze, jaw dropping. I realized, only then, that Yheta had staged all this up to impress me. Yheta the Ass, the main antagonist of the Filita route, was craving my attention. In some questlines, this guy drops a bag of kittens into a river just so his sister can't have them. He orders innocent men executed out of spite. And his six-year-old version was trying to win my approval?

  I'll bet that goddess is very entertained right now.