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Chapter Text

Part 1

What would be different if the Croyso sisters had each other?

————

Maximillian had never seen anything more perfect. The baby slept peacefully in her crib, bundled up in an array of embroidered blue fabric.

She gripped the wooden bars, leaning further onto her toes.  Rosetta was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

“That’s your sister,” the round nanny tutted, smoothing back her wild red hair. Maximillian smiled.  Miss D. was her favorite nanny, who always found time to visit the nursery.

“Can I, can I hold her again?” She whispered.

Miss D. laughed. “Of course, dear, just give me a minute to get everything ready.”

Maxi could barely contain her excitement, bouncing on the tips of her toes.  The shaking disturbed the baby, who glanced through half-open eyes with a pout. Maxi giggled. She was so cute.

“I love you,” she whispered down to the baby, reaching a hand down to pet her cheek.

The baby smiled, snuggling into her hand and closing her perfect little eyes once again. Maxi swore that she would love her forever.

—————

The wide marble hallways opened through enormous windows to the dark, starry night outside. The stars fell slowly downward, ice twinkling as it swirled to the barren land below.  Her toes were as frozen as the landscape in thin, pinched stockings from the summer, so she was more clumsy that usual.  She cursed herself in her head.

“ Quickly !” She thought, boots clutched so tight her fingers ached.  “ Almost there!”

With the echoing of male voices and heavy footsteps just around the corner, the girl turned the ornate silver handle down and slipped inside. Silently, she leaned against the door as the voices passed.

She finally exhaled.

“You made it!” A small voice whispered. The beautiful lady Rosetta sat up in her luxurious bed, round lumps of blanket nearly obscuring her from view. Her golden hair shined in the flickering light, her big blue eyes bright with excitement. Airy fabrics hung from the rafters surrounding the bed, intricate gold pendants the only thing weighing them down to their world. They twinkled as chubby hands pushed a small candle onto the bedside table. She turned on her tummy and slid onto the floor.

Maxi’s legs gave out, her heart pitter pattering as she sank to the floor, shaking with fear. Yet seeing the little girl scampering over, she couldn’t help but smile. Rosetta took this as an invitation to curl into her bony lap.

“Maxi you’re so brave! I was so scared father would catch you!”

Maxi smoothed her sisters blonde fuzz behind an ear, nuzzling her close. Their father had begun to show interest in Maximilian’s future and studies. His disappointment and dissatisfaction followed her like dark clouds day and night, but weight against her chest and little arms around her helped her to breathe again. At least little Rosetta didn’t know what it felt like yet. She was too young for father to care altogether much, letting her days be filled with tutors and nannies while he attended to more important matters- such as treating his elder daughter’s “affliction”.  That summer, Miss D. had been dismissed and Maxi had been ordered to stay away from her sister, lest her affliction be spread.  Rosetta had shown up in Maxi’s room in the middle of the night one week later, demanding that Maxi stop ignoring her. From then on, Maxi decided she would rather risk her father’s anger than cause such sadness in that sweet face. It had been so lonely without her.

The fear of his anger remained, however. Maxi shuddered.

“Be-be quiet, he may sss-still yet.”

Rosetta’s face screwed up at the injustice. “He always ruins our play time. I hate pretending not to like you. You’re my sister!”

“Yes s-s-sweetheart, I am,” Maxi smiled lovingly down. “I always-s will be. B-b-But it is safer for you to hate m-me.”  Her eyes darkened. Just like father does , she thought. Even though her little heart tightened, she knew her baby sister would be far safer if she aligned herself to their father. Rosetta was the favored daughter, who could talk and act how he wished. Maxi knew the closer that Rosetta could appear to their father as a copy of him, the safer she would be.  And Maxi desired nothing more than for her sister to remain safe.  She would do anything for her.

Rosetta turned toward her. “Look, I’ve been working on my faces!” Her toothy grin morphed into a look of distain, nose tilted up. Maxi had seen that looks many times.

“Mar-marvelous work, you nailed it!”

“I know! I don’t have enough nose hairs though, so it’s not perfect.”  Her little eyebrows wiggled.

Maxi giggled softly, wary of the thin walls. These little visits were all that kept her spirit alive when father was home with nothing better to do than torment her. Rosetta had so much spirit in such a little frame. Her defiance in the face of their situation inspired Maxi to keep trying, even if just to be with her in these secret moments.

Rosetta huffed, “Okay, enough talking about father, I want to tell you about a story that my nanny told me today, about a brave knight and a pretty fairy…”

The quiet chatter continued, in the dark, cool bedroom, with only the ornate furniture to keep them company.  The companions drank in the sight and sound and experience of each other long into the cold night, to sustain them for the days ahead.

——————

The day was bright and warm, the safety of the garden cocooning the redhead as she breathed in the white flowers. She plucked at the stems, remembering her dark haired friend from long ago. She prayed for his safety. Her thin fingers fiddled with the metal band he left her. The band went everywhere with the girl, and her dreams and hopes played earnestly in her heart whenever she held the warped metal.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of footsteps fast approaching. Rosetta burst into view, tears dripping down her red face.

“Whatever h…happened?” Maxi exclaimed, receiving her sister into her arms with a grunt.  Rosetta splayed onto the ground, sobbing into Maxi’s worn skirt. It took minutes of shushing and stroking her hair for her to wipe her cheeks and flip around, head up in Maxi’s lap.

“He’s so mean! The ambassador from Livadon came today to negotiate better trade agreements, so father was already in a bad mood.  He was talking as if everything he said was they smartest thing ever thought and we’re lucky to even get to hear his divinations .,” Rosetta waggled her finger’s sarcastically. Maxi giggled.

“He just loves wiggling his ugly rat fingers into other peoples pies. The ambassador refused to accept father’s demands, and he got so furious. He said so many mean things about you, and my mother. And the ambassador remarked on your skills, and I smiled and agreed, and he got so mad when the man left that he whacked my hands, and said I was a horrible daughter for betraying him, and, and” Her cries cut her off as she lifted her dainty hands into Maxi’s view. They were reddened, with a small bleeding scratch across the back.

Maxi sighed, running her hands along the lacy frills of her sister’s dress. “What did I- did I tell you,” her voice stern, but her touch soft.

Rosetta moaned, and threw one arm over her eyes.

“You- you are not to-“

“Not to defend you, I GET it, but Maxi-“

“No, no buts. Why didn’t- didn’t you go to the priest?”

Rosetta peeked out from behind her arm. “It’s warmer when you do it.”

Maxi sighed, but slipped the band onto her wrist and held out her hands obligingly. Rosetta smiled, and slapped her hands into them.

Maxi breathed deeply, feeling the warmth trickle from her heart through her body, joining at her hands, and seeping into the ones she held.  Rosetta sighed.

When Maxi opened her eyes, Rosetta was beaming up at her. They discovered this little trick one day, and it was their solemn secret.  They knew that if anyone were to find out, she would be punished quite severely, or worse, they may never be allowed to see each other again.

“One day,” Rosetta promised, “We will both get married to ugly old men that give father loads of money, and I will make sure my ugly old husband makes your ugly old husband teach you how to use any magic you want.”

Maxi laughed. “May-maybe your husband will be young, and s-strong, and exceed-exceedingly handsome.”

Rosetta stood dramatically. “Either way, I’ll make sure I can boss him around, and you” she spun around, “will be my best friend.”

Maxi leaned back laughing, hair flying back as her giggles shook her wiry frame.

“And!” Rosetta stood tall, one hand pointed straight about her, “You shall be my secret wizard!”

“Shh!” Maxi chortled, “We’re too- too close!”

Rosetta rolled her eyes. “We’re fine, I’ll head back. I have to finish my lessons.” She gagged. “You’re lucky you don’t have as many.”

Maxi smiled. Just because she knew the reasons didn’t mean that Rosetta had to figure them out just yet.

“G-good luck.”

“Thank you, fair Maximillian,” Rosetta grinned, waltzing her way back to the castle.

Maxi felt her curls blow in the breeze, as she thought of a brave, strong, handsome knight coming to take them both away.  Hopefully, it wouldn’t be a cruel old man like their father.  Hopefully, Rosetta would come with her.   And she could help take care of her little red head babies. She wanted so many babies.

Maxi held the band to her lips. She prayed, and imagined, hope warming her more than the summer sun.

————————

Rosetta sat at an old oak table hunched over a book whose words would not stop blurring together. Her nanny sat patiently, mending and minding her work. The girl sighed deeply, gazing out the window. The spring whispered on the wind, and small buds covered the bare branches where new life would come. Soon, Maxi’s favorite flowers would bloom, and she would sit in the garden staring longingly toward the town. Rosetta wished she could pick her brain, see who she was thinking of. But whenever she got close, Maxi would turn all attention to her. Rosetta thought sometimes that Maxi could love with her whole body in one direction. She was the warmth Rosetta craved more than anything, the one softness in her life. Rosetta wished they were far away, where father’s constant scrutiny could not reach them. Rosetta hated how she had to learn how to control everything around her, a constant chess game made up of only her words and actions.

The nanny struck the table, snapping Rosetta back to her task.

The blond flared her nose at the audacity. How rude.   The woman twitched under Rosetta’s glare.  Father would be pleased at how easy it was to frighten her.

Father’s plans for her future were in full swing, and these required her complete and total diligence to him.

“After all,” he said, “You will always be my daughter. Your loyalty lies not with any husband who may take you away.” He tilted her face up with a finger. “Your loyalty is to me. To your family.”

He dropped her face, but smiled. “I know you will do anything for me, my dear. And for your sister.”

His distance was her great relief, though his words continued to echo in the empty room.

Rosetta gritted her teeth, clutching the book tighter. She hated that man. She hated the way he controlled her every move, the way he reached into every single aspect of her life. She hated pleasing him, but she feared his disappointment even more. He knew the best method to control her, after all.

Even though father had no idea the depth of Rosetta’s affections, he learned that she feared most of all pain coming to Maximillian. The stupid, selfish man thought she was just afraid of what could happen to her. After all, the only thing he feared for was himself. Like a cellar rat, he could never see farther than his own immediate gain or pain. He could not imagine the pain he was truly inflicting whenever he made her watch from behind the mirror.

Even when the priests came through, when all bruises were healed, Rosetta would feel the pain of her failure to protect her only friend.

So, she obeyed. She worked even harder. She would bend the whole castle to her will if she had to. Her father’s approval grew, even as her heart began to deaden.

Rosetta would not react when the staff flinched at her approach. No, this was a good thing. She would not react when her father lost his temper. She was ice, strong and unmoving.

She would be perfect and untouchable.

————————

The chatter of the crowd mixed only with the clinking of glasses and shoes, another Croyso party in full swing. Nobles gathered around tables laden with fruits, cheeses, and wines. The beautiful lady Rosetta leaned elegantly toward her company in a lovely turquoise dress perfectly tailored to her maturing figure. Her guests smiled and laughed, taken aback by her charm and wit. She was in every way the perfect noblewoman.

Maxi, could only watch her with longing. She had disappointed father. Her voice had failed her at the worst possible moment: when greeting the royal family. When they moved on to engage with beautiful, lively Rosetta, and the crown princess reached to embrace her, father gripped her arm so tight it stung. The Duke smiled with sharp teeth.

“My daughter is sickly, and needs her rest.” His entourage tutted obligingly, hardly glancing to the thing he carted away.

“Such a doting father,” she heard one woman remark. She wondered how anyone saw a loving father in a dragon.  Maxi stared at the floor in hot shame.  He did not love her. She failed again. The room passed in a blur, the deafening crowd fading away.

The cane struck the floor quickly, the duke’s hand dug painfully into her skin.

Her heart pounded. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe.  He was so tall, his anger seemed enormous. Maxi hated herself, stumbling over her own feet, but there was nowhere she could go.

She was shoved into his office, the familiar smell disorienting. His hands were on her. He was yelling. He was shaking her. She was useless, ugly, nothing. A pathetic worm. She was a disgrace.

He bent her over, ripped down her dress. She heard the sound of his skin finding leather. The room felt very far away.

Father exploded in rage, though Maxi could not say for how long. Every blow sent a sharp white pain through her, but she didn’t dare to make a sound.  Sounds made it worse. The room kept drifting.

Then it stopped. Maxi realized she was on the floor again. Panic choked her. She stayed completely still, listening to the gulping breaths behind her. The room grew cold. Her ripped open dress bared her bleeding skin to the world. And to him.

The ugly reds and purples of the rug stared back at her. Maxi had never noticed that slight brown stain before. She heaved air in and out, staring at the rug. Why had father stopped hitting her?  The black speckles on the rug looked like a wicked smile.

Gentle hands were on her back, moving the fabric aside slowly.  Maxi was frozen. The wicked faces watched. He was saying something, his face too close. He was smiling, in the bad way. Muffled laughter trickled in from the hall.  His hands kept touching her bare skin. The dress slipped off her shoulders. The air was hot, was cold. The world blurred. He pulled it down further.

“Stop,” she whispered, begging.  Please. Please.

His face warped into rage.

The blow slammed her into the floor. She heard him flutter out of the room, cane clacking frantically, echoing behind. She laid there, eyes leaking, gasping for breath. She pulled her dress closely to her chest.

It’s over, she thought, it’s over for now.

Please let it be over for now.

—————-

The next week brought news of Rosetta’s great triumph. She was to be engaged to the crown prince.

All sorts of festivities were held in her honor, and there was nothing for Maxi to do but watch from a distance as her sister received honors and praises and gifts.  Rosetta played the part of the perfect princess-to-be. Her expressions were always perfectly crafted, her tongue always smooth and sweet.  Her appearance only grew more beautiful, more magnificent by the day. She practically dripped in jewels, with clothing always perfectly tailored to her perfect body. There was not a hair astray, not a fold out of place. Her jewelry caught the light, and Maxi watched from afar as she shined.

Maxi longed for the days they could sneak off somewhere to play and laugh together. As they grew older, it was increasingly difficult for them to meet. Fathers growing scrutiny of Rosetta’s progress and punishment of Maximilian left them little time or energy to devise plans in secret.  The elder could not help the bittersweet satisfaction of knowing she was right. The more Rosetta treated her with disdain, the more she followed father, the more powerful and cunning she grew to become- the safer she was from his rage. Maximillian would take every beating silently knowing that her sister was spared. She was the outlet for father’s anger.

If I am to be a thing, she thought , Dragged around and used, I wish to be a shield. I will be the buffer, until my job is done.

Rosetta would be leaving soon, and nothing gave her sister more joy.  Nothing would keep father from fulfilling this most advantageous union. Rosetta would be free. Maxi smiled at the thought.

At the same time, despair ate at her insides, as she pondered her own fate. What would become of the sickly Croix daughter, locked away alone in the castle?  Maxi couldn’t breathe when father was there, but she worried every second that he was gone. At least when father was with her, her sister was away from him.

Thankfully for this party, father had been distracted with all the praise and adulation he had been receiving. Maxi stood at the edge of the room, hiding behind a pillar. She plucked at the flowers dangling down by her face and tried to disappear.  She could not reach even the nearest blossom.

Maxi sighed shallowly, her ill fitting gown pulling her arms and shoulders painfully with every movement. She could not wait to get it off. The servants had clucked at her as they put it on, as if it was her personal fault she did not fit.  Glancing to the side, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, despising the reflection.

The crowd was slowly thinning out. Maxi peeked around the pillar, searching for a familiar face. During the whole of the evening, there had only been one scare when a large knight nearly spoke to her. Maxi had been surprised.  No one had tried that in quite a long time.  Thankfully, she had been able to skirt to this side of the room before father saw.

Maxi took a step out of the shadow. Rosetta caught her eye briefly from across the room, and Maxi smiled wide, reassuringly. Briefly, the blonde’s grin grew sincere, before her attention was caught and she was drawn away.

That was a mistake. Maxi spun around, but father had already caught her hideout. He was coming over. Maxi straightened as much as possible. Profanities raced through her mind. She tried to dart away again, but he caught her.

“Don’t worry, no one is going to see us here,” he murmured.

She froze as his hand ran from her shoulder down her back, and farther. Shame burned her face red.  There was nowhere for her to go, nothing for her to do as his hand moved. She was stuck against the pillar. Any sound would draw attention. Maxi knew he was smiling that smile again, loving the power he had over her body. She hated herself deeply.

“I shall dread the loss of my perfect daughter very much,” he breathed into her ear.  She flinched away, begging anything in this world for someone, anyone to look this way and stop him.

Unaware, or uncaring, he continued. “Thankfully,” he smiled, teeth bared. “I will have you to console me.”

She stood frozen in self loathing as he continued toward a nobleman getting his coat, giving his farewell and receiving endless praises, as despair scratched her insides raw. She tried not to throw up.

—————

Rosetta could only feel relief when she received the news. Now she truly was the perfect daughter. The actual husband barely registered, she had achieved a great success. Of course, she knew every detail of Elias’s life.  She knew what father demanded of her role.   She knew exactly what strings she was expected to pull, where to put pressure and where to assuage. She was to be her father’s arm in another court, to allow his influence to permeate even into the future king’s bedchambers.  But this also meant distance. And distance meant that Rosetta had a chance.

It really did not matter to her who the man was. Elias was about to give her a new start; he might as well be her knight in shining armor.

Rosetta was tired.  Every day, from dawn to dusk she was forced to be perfect. Every word, every test, every move, every look had to be to father’s pleasure. If not, it was back to the mirror room.

Father had only grown more cruel, with more tools for causing her sister pain. It seemed the colder Rosetta became, the more he sought to undo her. He was creative with his threats of what he would do if Rosetta failed or betrayed him.

It was all her fault.

It was her errors that father used as an excuse. So she had to be perfect. She could do everything exactly how he liked, she alone could smooth his edges and prevent more pain.

Rosetta had no choice. She would even turn against her husband if she had to. But this marriage meant a change. It meant power. Rosetta had come to speak this language demanded of her, and she would play her part perfectly. And maybe, just maybe, if she planned everything correctly, she could make some choices for herself.

—————

Maximillian almost never dreamed anymore.  But when she did, she dreamed of him. Of the crinkles under his eyes when he smiled. Of the way his young hands were already calloused by the forge and the hardships he endured. Of the way his arms felt around her. He had been the only one to make her feel safe.

“One day, I will come back,” he had told her solemnly, tears in his eyes with all his belongings on his back. Maxi had reached for his face, drinking in the sight of him for the last time.

He had made so many promises he could never keep. That he would come back and steal her away. That they would have a house full of flowers. That he would keep her safe. That no child would ever have to cry there.

He was going to fight the monsters of their world, to make something of himself, he had said. Maxi hadn’t understood.  He was going to brave the world, become something great, and come back.

But he never did come back.

Maxi prayed for him each day, until she could not bear the pain of thinking of him, of that life he put into her head. She had never dreamed before him, and the loss of a never-future hurt more than her acceptance of reality.

And yet, he came to her in dreams. And she would wake up holding the band he gave her, hands glowing golden. She cupped her hands close to her face, daring to feel her magic’s warmth just for a moment.

Then she let it go out.

—————

Maximillian Croyso’s rapid engagement and wedding shook Rosetta deeply. But it was all over so quickly. Everything went back to normal.

Nothing changed.

That was the worst part. That there was no salvation for her noble sister. That there was no end to her pain.

Rosetta could believe her father would sell off his daughter to a man renown for his violence and cruelty. She was not altogether shocked at his lack of noble birth, as the king considered the man one of his favored tools. Father would seize any opportunity to undermine the king for his own interests.

But Rosetta could hardly fathom that her father sent her sisters husband away to die.

Maxi would be a widow. There would be no second marriage, Father bragged to Rosetta during her lessons. No man would ever want a used woman, especially one used by such a lowly man. She would stay at Croyso Castle forever.

“I disposed of one roach, and spared us both the shame of that wretch being discovered,” he chuckled at his genius.

In some moments, Rosetta would feel wild with rage.  How dare that brute of a man marry her wonderful, loving sister then leave her here in this filth. She could only imagine the pain he must have caused her. Maximillian did not leave her room for nearly a week after her wedding night. If Rosetta ever had the chance, she would make that man bend to her feet in forgiveness. She would make him feel pain like never before, and she would enjoy it.

At night, she dreamed of pushing her way into the mirror room, of beating her father with his own cane. She thought of forcing him to feel pain and fear like he did to all those around him.

Anger walked with her throughout the day, when she saw how crudely the servants treated her sister. She had half a mind to smack them, but that would get back to father. Instead, she learned what they held most dear, from wages to pleasures to family. She found ways to intimidate them, make their days harder. She felt a sick satisfaction when they saw her as one worth fearing, the woman in control. They bent to her will.

When the anger dissipated, Rosetta felt absolutely nothing. There was no joy in her engagement. It was all futile.

She was already a ghost. Maybe she would never leave, either.  Father was so powerful, he practically owned her, owned them both.

As Rosetta watched her father beat her sister senseless, she felt dullness in her heart.  “Get up Maxi!” She wanted to yell. “Get out of here!” But she could not.

She only watched silently as he bent over her bloody body. She watched as he toyed with her hair, lifted her skirt. She watched as he smiled at his work. She watched as Maxi sobbed.

Rosetta hated herself. She couldn’t watch anymore.

———-

There was nothing Maxi looked forward to more than her dear sisters wedding day.  Truly, she thought of the date with great joy.

After all, as soon as Rosetta left, Maxi was going to kill herself.

She smiled. It was a nice thought. Her job would finally be over.

In between moments of haze, sharp thoughts would try to press into her consciousness, but they became easier to dismiss each time. Hopefully her husband would not be too upset. He had been kind to her, in his own way. But he was better off without a worthless wife. Memories of his soft touch gutted her more than she could bear. He left her after just one confusing night, and father claimed it was to die on her behalf. The servants whispered cruelly of the type of woman she must be.  And Maximillian believed them.

Hopefully Rosetta would understand. She would likely not have time to be to upset, as she would have her new life to take care of. She would be off in a better place, and Maxi wanted no reason for her to return. This was practically tying off loose ends, the best wedding gift she could give.

These moments of clarity were brief, and her feelings would fade. It made perfect sense. Her job would be over.  She could finally rest.

So Maxi woke up. She did not eat. No one could force her. No one cared that she didn’t. No one even noticed. She couldn’t stand to force anything inside her mouth.

She spent her days moved around like a doll. A doll-woman, she thought, dressed by others. Moved by others. It was so much easier to be a doll.

Maxi spent more and more time in her head, in that empty sort of nowhere. It helped when she was being acted upon as doll-woman.  It angered father sometimes that she didn’t react, of course, but she could not find it in herself to care.

She was counting down the days until it was all over anyways.  Maybe she would see her friend again. Maybe there would be a warmth again, and her body would not constantly be wracked by hunger and cold.

Maybe there would be nothing at all.

But Maxi did not worry. She drifted away, leaving her body far behind.

—————————-

Rosetta was getting desperate. Something was very, very wrong with her Maxi. Rosetta was taking more and more risks to see her, but her sister barely reacted if she even noticed her at all. She kept finding her starting blankly at a spot, unmoving.

“She’s so much easier to deal with these days,” an older servant remarked as Rosetta passed the kitchen.

She thought she was going to puke.

On day at breakfast, Rosetta got up when her father left the room. She flew to her side, and grabbed her hand.

“Maxi!” She hissed. “Wake up!”

Maxi looked at her, but her eyes were too far away to tell what was going on.  She was so thin. Somewhere along the way, her soft frame turned gaunt. Her hands held no warmth.

In the dark of her room, Rosetta sobbed for hours.

———————

Rosetta sat in one of the lavishly decorated sitting rooms, pouring over the day’s materials on managing estates within the guidelines of the church and proper decorum.  As if father cares about that , she thought, staring at the embroidered tapestries and furs scattered throughout the room.

A servant knocked at the door. Rosetta rolled her eyes, not bothering to answer. The servant poked her head in, looked around, then opened the door wide. Now this was interesting. Rosetta watched, puzzled.

“You won’t get up to any trouble in here,” the servant mumbled, pulling Maxi into the room and sitting her down by the fire.  Rosetta enjoyed the way the woman startled as she turned around.

“Oh, my lady!” She exclaimed. “I had not seen you at work. Don’t worry, she will only sit here and watch the fire for hours. She is so sickly, she could use the heat. It’s all that brings color to her face.”

Rosetta stared, unimpressed.  The busybody began to fidget under her gaze. Good.

“She hardly makes a noise these days,” the woman fretted. “But if she bothers you I can move-“

“Go,” Rosetta dismissed her with a wave of her hand, and she ran out of the room.  Maxi stared unmoving at the flames.  As much as she wanted to go to her, Rosetta had to study. She knew her father would be back soon demanding a test.

…

An hour later, he came, clacking his cane and clucking with distaste.

“It is time, my dear,” he snatched the book away. “Time to see what you have learned.”

Rosetta sat perfectly straight.  He stood in front of her, flicking through pages languidly.  He enjoyed this far too much. He would do what he always does, Rosetta was sure. He would look through several pages, stop on one, ask a question. She would give him the right answer. He would toss the book onto the table bored, and continue with his day. This was routine, and she was prepared.

“What is an appropriate amount of funds to allocate for the council in one year?”

Rosetta answered, copying the words right out of the book.  He grunted. Rosetta smiled coldly to herself.

“What is the appropriate amount of money to pay a mage with only two years experience?”

Huh, she thought, that information was in a much older book.

Nonetheless, Rosetta answered accurately.

Her father tossed the book on the table. She silently let out a breath. But this time, he did not walk out of the room. He did not turn around or dismiss her.

“I will not have another daughter humiliate me with her failure to keep a husband.” His face flushed angrily as he grit out, “How will you please your husband most?”

Rosetta blinked at him. She wracked her brain. That information was not in any book.

He arched his brow, distain lining every feature. “Do you not know even the most basic information?”

Rosetta saw that his step stuttered on his way to her. This was not part of the routine, she thought, body turning cold.

“Are you going to answer, or are you distracted?” He became agitated, slamming the table. “Are you looking for a chance to embarrass me, hm?”

Rosetta smelled alcohol on his breath as he leaned very close. He had been in the study- the study! That jogged her memory to the last time he called her there for instruction. Maybe, if she could just parrot him-

“Answer me!”

“I am to provide an heir and to-“

“You whore!” He shrieked, grabbing her by her hair. She could not breathe. What was going on?

“You’re thinking about your husband, aren’t you, you little wretch? Just looking for a reason to become a tramp like your sister.”

Rosetta pushed herself up, to the other side of the settee, but he grabbed her arm. He threw her onto the couch, stood over her with his cane.  Rosetta raised her hands to protect her face.

“Don’t you realize you’re mine, you little-!”

“Father be wise,” a voice says clearly.

No , Rosetta begged. No, please, no.

“What are you-“

“Any-any harm to her is an a-affront to the king.”

Rosetta looked up. Maxi was a vision, a halo of wild red curls glowing around her. Her noble features soft and tranquil. Her arm raised, like a magical rune of protection.

Paintings of reason and justice herself would never come close.

He slapped her across the face so hard, she fell to the floor.

“This is my house!” He yelled. The light was blinding. He grabbed her beautiful hair and yanked. She cried out, head hitting the table. Blood began to fall down her pale face.

“Guards!” He screamed. Rosetta reached for her sister.

Crack.

She opened her eyes to find herself on the floor, dazed. Her head throbbed. She couldn’t move. She could only watch as they dragged her sister back to her room. She could only watch as her father followed. She stayed and she listened to her fathers yells and her sister’s cries.

No wizard came to stop him. The guards stood by. The servants rushed away.

This whole house deserves to burn, Rosetta thought. Hot tears fell, and she did not bother to wipe them away.

Rosetta crawled under the couch as her father came back through, breathing heavily and completely disheveled.  He was an ogre, an ugly monster.  And she was terrified.

She watched as the sun dropped lower and lower into the sky.  She lay on her belly and thought of every way imaginable to kill him. She thought of jumping into the fire. She thought of falling out of the window. She thought of her sister and stayed still.

When all was quiet, she crawled from under the couch. She removed her shoes. She crept to her sisters room silently in silk stockings. She turned the brass knob down and slipped inside.

Rosetta did not cry as she cleaned up the aftermath of her father’s sins. Rosetta threw the bloody dress in the fire, cleaned her sister’s skin with a wet cloth. She dressed her in the softest clothing she could find in her own drawer. Her sister was far too thin to fill it.  Rosetta did not cry as she lifted her into her bed, as she drew the sheets around her. As she brushed her hair back, Rosetta could not help but think that fair Maximillian looked like a cursed princess, one far too good for this story.

Maxi was somewhere very far away, and could not be brought back, though Rosetta tried. That night, she did not leave her side. She did not cry.

That night, Rosetta found a way out.

——————-

Maximillian came to, her body in so much pain that she could not bear to move. Her soul in so much pain she could not bear to breathe. The words of her father’s mage echoed in her ears

She was cursed.

There would be no children.

For the first time in a long time, Maxi truly felt. She began to weep.

But Rosetta was there. Rosetta held her in her lap. Rosetta brushed her fingers through her hair and kissed her face sweetly. Rosetta stayed as she cried herself to sleep.

————————-

“Start with what you want,” her teacher had said.

Rosetta knew what she wanted. She wanted to be free. She wanted her sister to be safe from that monster of a man.

“Then consider what they want. “

Her fiancé wanted a noble, unstained, perfect wife. She was that. It was demanded.

“Consider what you can give up.”

There was something he wanted that she could leverage. A wife completely free of her family’s political hold. One completely devoted to her husbands will. A victory for the Reuben family over the Croyso family.

Rosetta considered her dreams of freedom, of making her own choices. She considered the repercussions of handing over everything to her husband. Then she looked down at the skeleton in her arms.

Rosetta thought about the consequences of completely denouncing her family’s name. This deal was a heavy risk, relinquishing control from one man to the next, the devil she knew to the devil she didn’t.

Even if Rosetta could never see her sister again, it would be better than continuing to watch her become a walking corpse.

Maximillian had given up everything for her safety. She withheld nothing, like she always did, loving completely in one direction.

Rosetta could be the sacrifice this time.

She drafted a letter. 

Chapter Text

Lightning struck the fields of the Croix estate.  Heavy rain scoured the earth. The beautiful white flowers, pummeled and stripped from their plants, mixed with the dirt as they drifted away from the castle to the road below. Villagers stood at their windows praying that the destruction would be limited. Everyone in their right mind was indoors, waiting for the storm to pass.

The young Croyso knight shook his head, flicking his drenched cape over his shoulder. He would rather be outside.

“Excuse me, your grace,” he called. The door to the study creaked open.

The Duke of Croix sat at his desk, the glowing fire casting him into a shadowed silhouette. A faint trail of smoke clouded the air. The Duke’s sunken eyes glowered, embers crackling behind him.

Like a ghoul from the netherworld , the knight thought, a cold sweat forming on his neck.

“What brings you here, boy?” He growled.

“There is a visitor at the gate.”

The duke’s scowl deepened, and he flicked over a page on his desk. “I do not recall inviting anyone. Turn them away.”

The knight took an intentionally steady breath, “Your grace, he demanded entrance. He is already in the castle.”

The embers in the fireplace crackled. The Duke gripped his quill and teeth, black ink flicking over the table.

“I am sure that there is a very good reason,” the dark figure rose, eyes reflecting red, “that you let visitors into my castle without my permission.”

The sweat trickled down his back.

“Yes, your grace.”

“Spit it out, boy!”

“It is the crown prince, his royal highness Elias Reuben.”

The Duke paused. Shock was not a look the knight had seen on him before. Though he quickly covered it with disdain, the knight could tell he had been caught off guard.

“He and his men came from the capitol. He is awaiting your audience at this moment.“

The knight watched as the Duke sat back down, tapping pensively on the desk. “Of course, the crown prince is to be welcomed at Castle Croyso.” His gaze shifted toward the window. The water came down in torrents, snaking paths across the glass.

“Where is their carriage currently?”

“It has been moved to the stables, your grace, to protect it from the rain.”

“Why don’t you send them to gather their belongings. Then I will greet them into my home.”

The knight gave a slight bow. “I shall bring the carriage to the entrance.”

The duke’s eyebrow arched. He picked up his cane, fondling the topper absentmindedly. “I do not recall giving any orders for my men to go outside in these conditions.”

The knight’s eyes snapped up, wary of the duke’s wrath or deceit. “What are your orders for our involvement?”

The Duke sighed deeply, fixing the knight with a look that made him feel like a particularly dense child. “Show them the door, tell them to gather their belongings, and let them know that I shall be there to greet them soon. After all,” he opened his ledger, “they must be understanding of the fact that we were unprepared for visitors. It will take time to prepare rooms.  These… royals understand that my time is valuable.”

The knight smiled wickedly. He put his fist to his chest and bowed deep and low. “It shall be done.”

“Good, good, you are dismissed,” the Duke waved him away, not bothering to glance up from his work. He ignored the knight as he walked out and shut the door.

“I will not be intimidated by that bastard’s boy,” he murmured to the empty room, finger tapping in an ink puddle.

—————-

Nothing traveled faster than gossip. Soon the news of the prince’s arrival had been heard in every corner of the estate.

“Did you see who has come to the castle,” a young maid murmured to her two companions, as they tucked away to eat their mid day meal outside the kitchen.

“He’s so handsome I could hardly breathe,” another groaned. “Oh, what I wouldn’t do to spend some time alone with that man.”

“I wouldn’t mind any of them, as long as they paid,” said the third, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“You couldn’t get a drunken farmer to pay you for your services.”

“And you could only get a drunken farmer to care about yours!”

In the kitchens, the cooks scrambled to prepare a proper menu.  Vegetables were chopped, dough was kneaded, and fires were cranked higher and higher. A young servant snuck bites of fruit from behind a table.

“You there! Stop standing around! I can’t feed all these wealthy ingrates with a lazy staff!” The portly chef grabbed the boy by his shirt back, sending him scrambling for potatoes.  “Somebody get me a proper goose!”

Two servants bent over steaming vats of water, scrubbing bed linens for their guests.

“Oh, my friend, did you see how he looked at me? I think I must be dreaming.” A voice said in a fake falsetto.

“Knock it off, Helga,” the other grumbled.

The broad girl laughed, head tossing back a thick braid. “Are you telling me that you haven’t been at least a little bit entertained by how dramatic the people in the castle are?”

“I don’t have any idea what you mean.”

Helga pressed a hand to her temple, “Those dimples, his golden hair- heaven has a name and it’s Elias,” she sighed, slumping into the side of her companion, who elbowed her away.

“We’ll be doing washing for a week straight if you don’t pick. up. the. pace,” the other enunciated, scrubbing hard with each word.  Intending to scold the other into listening, she only succeeded in eliciting a giggle.

The girl leaned against the wood, resting her face against her hand.  “I know what would make you happy, you old crone.”

“A little help around here for sure.”

“Heaven also happens to have very deep pockets. With all this uproar, don’t you think it’s be really easy for some things to… go missing.”

The older woman stopped short, glancing up at her companion. “You’re happy to see the crown prince because of his pockets?”

“Not just his. I appreciate many things belonging to many people. He’s just the one everyone will be too busy looking at.”

“You want me to do your dirty work?”

Helga grinned, “More like a look out. Are you telling me you wouldn’t appreciate a little extra with your wages?”

The older woman pushed back her hair with soapy hands. “Now that is the best thought you’ve had in a good long time. Maybe since you broke that vase and blamed it on that red haired brat.”

Helga huffed, “Are you in or not?”

“If you want my help, get back to work. We won’t have a chance to do anything until this is done.”

The knights laughed together in their quarters.

“They looked like wet rats, dragging in their things all the way from the stables.”

“The Duke sure has a way of getting under that priss’s skin,” one roared, drinking deeply from his goblet.

A young, curvy maid swiped the glass from his hand. “You’re not the one who has to clean the hellcursed floors later. I’m going to go home filthy,” she grumbled, downing the rest of the cup. The knight grabbed her hips, dragging her close.

“I’d love to get filthy with you later if you require any assistance -“

“Shut it, Fortin, no one wants to hear you undress your wench.”

“Both you orc spawn should can it now. You’ll be at this for hours, and I don’t want to miss the show that’s about to happen when they come back in.”

“Oh I can go for hours and hours and hours -“

“Funny how you get worn out after a half hour of training.”

“It’s not my fault we haven’t had anything to do for forever. That’s our royal pervert’s orders.”

Monster nests grew in number on the outskirts of Weden. The Duke denied any aid, hoping to weaken Dristan slowly and steadily. Money and lives would be spent until the Duke could capitalize on their weakness.  The knights, of course, had various opinions on the matter.

A dark eyed man, new to the castle, slammed his cup down on the table. “What I wouldn’t give for even a monster to kill.”

“Go join the Remdragon campaign then, enjoy the beautiful Lexos scenery.”

“How can you stand to work for this bastard?”

“I can stand the coin in my pocket and the warm quarters quite well.”

“Not to mention the maidens.”

“ Maidens don’t accept coin or drink in exchange-“

“They’re close enough, all I need’s a warm body.”

“Hey, has anyone seen those half-swine wizards lately?”

“Oi, Cabron, they’ve locked themselves in the west wing until those royals leave.”

“Shouldn’t they be begging for more funding or something?”

“Don’t you have half a brain, or did you kill it all with ale? They’re scared of an investigation. They’d hate for the counsil to catch a whiff of their work, or their part in the duke’s… family affairs.”

Fortin snorted, grabbing another round. “We’d all be screwed if the counsil came snooping, hornface.”

The chatter continued, and the dark eyed man gnawed the skin of his fingers.

—————-

“My deepest apologies for keeping you waiting.”

The Duke stood at the end of the foyer, watching bags get piled onto the rather expensive carpet while the last of the travelers staggered inside.  They were completely waterlogged, clothing and hair sticking to nearly a dozen weary men. They thought themselves so powerful, yet here they were so entirely at his behest. The Duke smiled to himself. He was quite clever. They must be incredibly uncomfortable.

One man threw a bag, and it skidded across the white marble floors, leaving a brown trail. The duke’s lip curled in distaste.  He hated to see a mess, but the humiliation of the royal assuaged his anger. Surely, the prince will show deference now. He will come to the Duke with his tail between his legs, asking forgiveness. He straightened his silver cuff links, smirking at his reflection.

He could not believe he had no former warning, not even from the border. Someone would pay for leaving him in the dark.  But that would be dealt with later. First, he had a cockroach under his foot to deal with.

The doors opened letting in one last gust of wind and rain into the foyer, before they fell back with a boom. The small company parted to reveal their leader with more respect than any child deserved. The Duke assumed they must be quite faithful to the king not to usurp his vexing brat. The crown prince clapped his hands, walking forward through his men. He smiled cheerfully, an odd expression considering the mud that soaked up past his knees and the wet hair plastered to his face. His shirt stuck to him, the white fabric nearly clear, betraying the strength below. The Duke thought him a vain man. A future king had no need for such exercise except for looking in the mirror. Despite his glare, the prince carried himself with an optimistic swagger, one that created an ever growing puddle in his foyer.

The Duke grit his teeth.

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, your grace,” Elias called out. “As you might imagine, we are grateful to be able to be welcomed here as a stop on our journey!”

The Duke tapped his cane on the ground. He frowned.

“What journey do you speak of?”

“Your grace.” Elias sat his filthy self onto one of the duke’s upholstered chairs. The duke’s eye twitched. The fabric had come all the way from the north, a hand embroidered brocade so expensive he had to guard the shipment with half of his guards.  Water dripped from Elias down the chair’s arms.

“What?”

“Your grace. That is my title after all. Though handsome or darling work just as well in a pinch.”

The Duke openly glared at Elias’s men, who barely tried to hide their grins. That pompous brat crossed his legs, flicking mud onto the adjacent chair.

“What journey do you speak of, your grace ,” he grit out.

Elias’s smile widened. “Of course, we will have plenty of time to discuss all this later, once we have properly rested and eaten. There is no need to dive into such topics so soon, especially with such good friends of the crown- oh!”

He wiped his hands on his trousers, then looked in shock at the muck as if noticing for the first time. He shrugged, pushing up to stand. As the boy walked over, the Duke glared at the handprints on his white upholstery. He even managed to get some on the walls. Damn that boy.

The prince reached out, and the Duke impulsively drew back. Elias smirked.

The grandfather clock ticked. One second. Two.

The Duke grimaced, but reached out to shake his hand.

Elias gripped him by the elbow and hauled the older man in. His other hand reached behind him for a full embrace.

The Duke froze. Before he could even curse, the prince released him.

“Ah, what affection do I hold for my future father in law,” he sighed, gazing with near sincere affection for a moment.

Damn the boy.

“Show them to their rooms,” the Duke yelled, spinning around and lurching toward his office.

His clothes dripped, and he nearly slipped on the mess before righting himself. Smothered laughter followed him down the halls.

Damn that boy!

—————————-

Helga tiptoed silently out of the servant’s passageway, abutting the hallway to the stables.  The sinking sun shined through the window, bathing the castle in an orange glow. Helga had waited until she saw the Duke headed to the foyer. The other busybodies gathering to watch the encounter with the prince created the perfect opportunity for her to slip away unnoticed.  She was great at going unnoticed, the young maid thought as she slipped further down the corridor, shadows twisting to life around her.

Helga froze, staring at an upraised claw. The scratching of a tree came from the window, and the claw broke into a clump of branches.

You coward, she berated herself. Her mind was wandering too much. The image of her mother, intoxicated and angry, hung between her eyes and the world.

Helga wiped her sweaty hands against her wool skirt. She’s not here, she reminded herself. Focus, you idiot!

Her mother was not the one she had to be worried about right now. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the carefully folded paper.

“ Please, my lady,” she had called, shutting the door behind her. Lady Maximillian lay on top of her bed and the covers staring unseeing at the ceiling. Her hair lay spread out behind her, a tree of golden red branches. Helga had washed it for her that morning, combing out the knots as gently as she could. Now it lay dull and listless against the slightly damp pillow. The lady had not moved in hours.

Helga had had to bribe the usual maid with half a day’s wage, citing the convenient excuse of getting out of the washing for the day. She found the lady on the ground of her room in clothing that was clearly several days old. Helga just couldn’t understand how the others could be so terrible at caring for such a gentle person, how they just stood by and watched her become a ghost.

Helga approached slowly, held the woman’s hands and knelt to her level. She felt the barest squeeze on her palm. Hope beat in the maid’s heart.

“Please, my lady. I need your help.”

Maxi’s gray eyes drifted over. Recognition flickered in her clouded mind.

“My lady, if you squeeze my hand, I will show you how to help me.”

A squeeze.

Helga smiled brightly, rubbing the lady’s cold hands.  “There’s my lady!” Helga kissed her pale knuckles.

…

For Lady Maximillian , Helga thought. She clutched the letter tightly to her chest, picking up the pace. She had to do this, for the gentle woman who was being slowly destroyed by this festering shithole of a castle, for the only person who had ever showed her any sort of gentleness in this world, for the angel that swept her out of a pile of glass, saw her, saw her her bleeding fingers, pressed a radiant kiss against her bleeding fingers, healed her with a kiss, seemingly without notice, looking so gently at her like she was worth this, held the shaking child that looked at her like a mother and a friend and a devotion, a saint whose touch glowed warm and golden as it caressed her face- a thin girl who hid her behind the couch, who pretended to knock down that stupid vase, who was beaten and cried and bled  to protect this ugly, stupid, worthless wretch that not even a mother could love-

Helga whirled around the corner.  Tears ran down her face. The voice of her mother in her head grew to a crescendo. In a blurry haze, she reached for the door, sweeping it open, letter on her heart like a promise.

The world froze to a stop at the terrible glare of lady Rosetta Croix.

——————

Maxi lay on her back, arms crossed over her chest. She stared at the ceiling.  She counted the grains of wood on the crossbeams over and over. She put them to words. She put them to prayers.  The world drifted and pulled like the tides. Sometimes a voice echoed down the hall. The ringing in her head drowned them out. The tapping of rain fell on the window. How long had she been here? Where was here?

Oh yes, her bed. In this room. She would probably die in this room.

Soon enough, she promised herself, too weak to get up. She felt sore. And tired.

She counted the grains of wood on the crossbeams.

————————

“Elias, are you really not going to tell me why we’re here?”

“Did you tell me when your wife got pregnant?”

“It was like a month, you over dramatic tea cup,” the man said, a bright grin lighting up his face.

Elias put his hand over his heart and signed deeply. “I shall never forget the way you forsook our brotherhood, John. I may find it in my heart to forgive, but never to for-“

A roll of bread hit the prince squarely in the face.

They laughed, falling back over the table to continue their meal. The rest of the company had retired for the night, leaving the two to enjoy the empty hall and the slowly fading sun.

“Seriously though, brother, you don’t keep secrets like this from me often.” John scratched at the tight curls at the base of his neck. “I know sometimes your father has secrets, but this is different. You’re off.”

Elias stared at his cup.  “I haven’t had time to talk to you since this all started. There’s been ears everywhere. You know that my father sent a couple of people to keep an eye and an ear on me.”

“I know I swore allegiance to that king, but sometimes…” John shook his head in annoyance.

The blond turned his face toward the window.

“Out with it, Elias.”

“I got a letter from her.”

“A love letter or a break up letter?”

He sighed, clutching his arms and hunching over the table. “It was an ambiguous letter. Something is wrong, and I…”

John watched him struggle for words for a moment, jaw clenched.  He pinched off a piece of bread, kneading it between his fingers before tossing it on the table.

“She asked for help,” he said, voice soft.

John frowned, tossing another piece. “You don’t think this is a trick from the Duke, do you?”

“No. It was clearly snuck out of the castle, and she gave far too little information to be a trick.”

“So, what is going on here?”

Elias turned to face his companion. “I don’t know. But if the wicked Rosetta Croix was willing to beg, something must be truly wrong.”

John tore off another piece, squishing it between his fingers.

“I’m not sure we want to be getting tangled in the duke’s family affairs.”

“Speak for yourself, I resigned myself to that fate.”

“The things a pretty face does to a man,” John shook his head.  “I’m glad Marianna’s family is normal.”

The last orange notes of the sunset hummed in the air, passing off their watch to the stars.

“Thank you for coming, John.”

“Yeah, well, someone had to watch your back. The crown prince decides to create a roaming band of monster hunters, and you expect me to trust some royal guard to keep you in check?”

“I’m just too handsome. No one can argue with a face like mine.”

John laughed, a loud, booming thing.

Elias had missed this. He had missed being outside the castle walls, away from his father’s ever present gaze. Doing something worthwhile with his hands.

They had spent the last three months traveling and pursuing monsters, tracking down their nests and keeping the roads clear. With so many knights and mages gone to the dragon campaign, Elias has managed to convince his father of the necessity for an interim company, a defense force to tide the kingdom over until the rest of their forces return.

Elias had not expected John to come, but he was glad he did. There was no one he trusted more. A talented fighter, a strategist, and his best friend whose council and confidence was invaluable.

John tossed another piece of bread on the table.

“Are you trying to summon geese?”

“No, ducks. I like their stupid little quacks.”

Elias chuckled as exhaustion settled into his bones. He pushed himself up from the table. “When you write your letter tonight, give Marianna and the baby my regards.”

“Of course.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

Elias walked through the empty hallways. Beautiful, sharp Rosetta Croix. What did she need from him?  What could he give to her?

Chapter Text

Part 3 with love

Helga’s heartbeat thundered in her ears.  The stunning Lady Rosetta looked down her nose at her, teeth bared.  

“What do you think you are doing here?”

Why was SHE here? Did the Duke find her out somehow? Did he send his daughter to intercept her? He must have. Why else would she be here. Did Rosetta know-

Rosetta’s eyes flicked to the letter.  Entirely too late, Helga put it behind her back.

Great thinking.  

Lady Rosetta’s face contorted into something of a cruel smile. A mirror image of the duke looked Helga up and down. 

 “I don’t know where an uneducated brute like you got that note, but I suggest you give it to me before I lose my patience.”

No.

No, no Helga couldn’t.  She couldn’t let her have this.  The letter would go to the duke, and the duke would recognize the writing, and then she would have made everything worse, even worse than before.  She couldn’t, she couldn’t-

Helga ran. 

———

Agnes stormed out of the meeting tent, leaving the opening to catch the howling, biting wing. She heard shouts from inside. Good . Let them freeze. 

She couldn’t calm herself down. Her anger radiated recklessly through her veins. Her head thrummed with the cacaphonous pounding of heat. Her whole body was aflame, even as she marched through the frozen clearing. Snow whipped around her and the men sullenly camped around small, struggling fires. The morale was abysmal. Trees centuries old and untouched loomed above them from all sides, enclosing their camp. Or, perhaps more accurately, surrounding them, for just beyond the tree line were hoards of monsters waiting to attack.  And here they were waiting to be attacked, because the royal knights couldn’t remove their heads from their own -

Agnes roared, throwing her arms out and releasing her blaze. 

“Watch it,” a red haired Remdragon grumbled. “I’ve been called smoking hot, but this is too far.”

Agnes threw herself down next to him, panting and sweating. 

The man leaned over kindly, grabbing her armored shoulder with his massive hand. His smile was wry, but the dark patches were unable to prevent the twinkle in his tired eyes. “Go ahead and let it out, princess, I’ve seen worse.”

She yanked off her helmet and with a yell threw it as hard as she could into the snow. They sat in silence, her blond hair whipping around her face as snow fell around them, stealing the warmth and sound from the world. Not for the first time, she cursed this dragon’s blasted mountain. She cursed the royal knights. She cursed the Nornui mage division. The chapped skin of her face stung. Not for the first time, she wished her brother were here. Of the two of them, he was by far the better negotiator.  Agnes was the brawn, he was the brains, and together they were a force to be reckoned with. 

Now, she felt alone and incapable. And she missed him. 

She fell back into the snow with a groan. 

Elias was likely losing his mind back at the castle, as well, Agnes knew. He confided in her at length of his frustrations of the careful handling and restrictions that came with being the heir to the throne. Agnes treasured her freedom, which allowed her to pursue her own life, to craft her skills as a sorceress and engage in battle throughout the kingdom for the kingdom, carrying the banner of the lion to every corner. Elias felt caged under the guise of the necessity of protection, declawed by the insistence that he shall never see battle. 

He turned 18, just a month ago. Any celebrations were postponed until the end of the dragon conquest, as it would be in poor taste to celebrate the king’s son while a good portion of the nation’s armies left their homes to fight in a barren wasteland, losing their lives in a campaign that seemed to lengthen and grow more dangerous with each passing day. 

“Sorry for the temper tantrum, Nirta.”

“Eh,” he  shrugged his massive, plated shoulders with a clink. “That was nothing. You travel with the commander long enough, you’ll see what I mean.”

Agnes snorted. “That’s a bull headed man if I ever knew one.”

“Bull headed, bull shaped, entirely willing to charge into battle with nothing but his own rage to protect him…”

Agnes laughed, watching him count off comparisons on one hand, then the next. 

Calypse was certainly a complicated man to work with. Everyone, including her father, had written him off as a man of insignificant birth altogether not worth spending time considering. He was knighted, and promptly written off as another not altogether bright but vicious Remdragon. A dog to call on if a fight was to be had, but to be kept outside and nearly forgotten otherwise. Then he had risen quickly through the ranks of those crazy Remdragon knights and demanded the court’s attention. He was a wild card, a potential danger to stability, and so her father threw a bone to satiate the dog in the form of a small fief in the south of the kingdom. Calypse took this land of little prospect and steadily increased its worth and stability over the last few years. A gruff and wild man, he was both lusted after and despised in the courts of the nobility. Yet he consistently walked through them unscathed. 

Agnes frowned. Until now. Her and her father racked their brains, but could not figure out how the Duke managed it.  It was just like that worm of a man to find some way to wriggle out of his responsibilities. But for Calypse to take his bait? That was the truly shocking part. He accepted a backwards deal in which he received neither money nor land nor even the prize daughter to risk life, limb, and all of his company in a multi year long campaign in a barren wasteland. The only thing he received was a marriage to the duke’s sickly daughter. Agnes had heard all sorts of rumors, from that she was simply so self important and spoiled that the Duke allowed her to avoid dealing with any other lesser people, to that she was in fact so frail and sickly that she couldn’t even stand for long enough to attend a dinner. Agnes believed any child takes after their parents, and so she was never a fan of any of his offspring. All seemed to agree that this Maximillian Croix was a beloved daughter and that the Duke doted on her greatly. So why would he marry her off to the man he called an “insufferable bastard and brute”? And why would Calypse stand to marry a woman who was either incredibly weak or the epitome of a snobbish aristocrat when he had shown so much disdain for both qualities? 

Nirta poked between her eyes, startling her. She punched him in the chest. 

“Ouch,” he pouted, rubbing the bruise. “Touchy.”

“What’s wrong with you? Why would you do that?”

“You had a weird look.”

“You’re a weird look.”

“Excuse you, I am exceedingly dashing.”

“Piss off.”

Nirta poked her face again. 

“I hate you,” Agnes laughed. 

Nirta guffawed loudly, until a snowball hit his head. 

“Shut up Nirta!” Uslin yelled over. 

Nirta grinned wickedly.  “He’s just jealous I made you laugh.”

Agnes would have replied, had a man not flown out of the meeting tent with a yelp. Cries of anger followed. Snow puffed up around him and into the air on impact. He groaned.  Lumbering out of the tent came Calypse, eyes dark and deadly. 

“To arms, men!” He shouted, deep and commanding.  The response of the Remdragon was deafening. 

“KILL!”

“Prepare to move!”

The man on the ground scrambled out of the way of Calypse’s boot. The air of the camp changed immediately, bodies running to and fro, extinguishing fires, hollering to comrades. 

“Calypse!” Agnes called, crossing over to him through the swarm.  He tossed the saddle onto his horse, back to her. 

“Prepare the mages. Ensure they are protected.”

“And the royal knights?”

“Can choke on a goblin’s hook.”

“You can’t keep solving conflicts by ignoring them, Calypse. I won’t have disunity in our ranks when there already aren’t enough soldiers!”

He finally turned, eyes glinting crimson as if ablaze with Hell itself. “Any coward not man enough to fight I will strip of his weapon and send to feed the werewolves.”

With that, he pulled himself atop his horse and left. 

“What a raging lunatic,” Agnes grumbled. 

——————

Helga panted as she sprinted down the hall. You idiot, she thought, now you’ve made everything worse!

The hallway split, and she scrambled toward the servants passageways, knocking into a table. She didn’t have time to look back at the crash she heard, because Lady Rosetta was running after her. 

Helga nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but she needed to concentrate. 

She could lose her in the servants quarters.

Damn the Duke, but bless his pompous castle. There was a maze of servants' passageways that gave shortcuts throughout the castle, on account of the fact that he thought that maids and servants should not be allowed in public hallways. And given that Helga had been beaten several times for disobeying, she came to know these passageways well. 

There was one route Helga knew that could throw off any straggler. 

She grabbed the banister, and used it to propel herself around another corner, her skirts swooshing behind her. Rosetta was getting a little farther away with each turn.  She was so quiet, it was unnerving. Helga was just grateful she hadn’t called for the guards. 

Just one more turn!

This passageway twisted in 8 potential directions with 8 separate doors, one leading directly outside. The lady was more than half a hallway away now, there was no way for her to figure out where she went!

“ Wait !” The lady whispered harshly.

Not a chance. Helga grinned as she pivoted once, twice, three times, ducking through a doorway and slamming it shut. 

——-

An orange sunrise broke through the darkness as a chain of men carried stretchers through the trees. Exhausted healers stumbled along with them, mana depleted enough that they were half carried, half dragged by the knights supporting them. 

The battle was over. They made it to another summit. A wake of bodies trailed behind them, the dark bridal veil of their victory.  Agnes watched from her post outside the officers tent as one of her subordinates, a young and slight healer, collapsed into the snow. She set down the report in her hand, but before she could cross the field, a Remdragon hoisted him into a carry.  The mage didn’t protest, hanging limply off either ends of the man’s shoulders. The Remdragon staggered toward the mage’s tents. He didn’t seem capable of taking even a single step more, and yet he marched on. 

Agnes groaned as she fell back onto the frozen ground. She was exhausted. The dull pounding in her head called her to rest, but there was too much to do.  She glared down at the report and willed the haze to lift. 

All and all, they suffered minimal casualties. In no small part was that due to the organized chaos of the Remdragon knights. 

If asked a short time ago, she would have said that Calypse and his company showed no deference to any man, and certainly no respect to any wizard. The traitor was among them, of course, and Nornui held no esteem for him. However, having fought by the side of this commander, she found a different account true. He had immediately sized her up as a leader with a clear view of all her strengths and weaknesses, as well as those of her mage division.  And he had certainly come to a very clear understanding of the royal knights. 

“Your highness.”

Agnes glared up at the intruder. 

“What, Serbel,” she said. Her voice was wrecked from hours of screaming commands. Speaking felt like gargling nails. She could taste the blood in her throat. 

The traitor snorted, tossing his hood down over his shoulders. His white hair contrasted the dark circles under his eyes. The report he held gave away a slight tremble, and Agnes would have felt bad, except for the impish look directed toward her. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but I have the updated list of-“

Suddenly, the tent flap opened and struck Serbel. Agnes fought to restrain her grin. 

He yelped and rubbed his arm as an officer of the Royal knights strutted out.  

“Excuse you,” Serbel muttered. 

The man in question only shrugged his shining pauldrons higher, red cape flickering behind him. 

“Wizard,” he called. “Where is the list of supplies I ordered from you?”

Agnes frowned. Sir Fragg could pull rank on any of his men, but to give a direct order to either a mage class or a member of the Remdragon order was expressly prohibited. It was a crucial part of their precarious cooperation that had been respected so far. If he wished to have this list, he would have to make a request to the commander, who Agnes greatly doubted would authorize such an action. 

“I’m sorry,” the white haired wizard bit out. “I must have misheard you. I was busy stopping half a dozen of your men from bleeding out.”

Fragg frowned. “Were there not other wizards to administer to them?”

At once Agnes’s rage burned through all her exhaustion. She jumped to her feet, hands tingling. 

“Last I checked-“

“FRAGG!”

A booming voice cut through the air. Everyone scattered around the encampment snapped to attention at the sight of the commander. The air seemed to chill as his dark eyes honed in on their position. 

“Fragg, where were you?!”

The man in question removed his polished helmet with a sigh. 

“Enough of the theatrics, Calypse. I’m not one of your grunts.”

“Where were you?”

“On the same wasteland as you.”

“Then why was it that none of your men could find you?”

Fragg harrumphed, face reddening. “What would a half breed mercenary know of leadership?!”

Agnes leapt forward as Calypse closed the distance, grabbing Fragg roughly by the shirtfront. 

“Young men lay dead from your incompetence and cowardice!”

“Enough!” Agnes yelled, shoving them apart. 

Calypse turned, the chill in his eyes deadly.  “This imbecile broke past our formation with two of his youngest soldiers. When he got there, he turned from the front lines, and left them at the mercy of a dozen werewolves. They lay face up getting covered by snow, because this gutless weakling abandoned his men!”

“Mind your own troops!”

“We were advancing! Why would you charge before our line just to piss yourself?”

“You are nothing but a bastard and a cu-“

“I said enough!” Agnes yelled, tearing Fragg away before he gave Calypse a reason, though it would please her greatly to see it. “Go account for your men, the both of you!”

Fragg grumbled as he trekked back into the officer’s tent. 

Calypse ground his teeth, hatred hot enough he seemed to steam in the frigid air. “I see you entertain these morons just as your father does.”

“What would you have me do? Alienate a third of our forces? Where will that leave us, Calypse?!”

“Stronger.” 

With that he turned and stalked away. He grabbed a spare log with one hand, heading toward the group of young soldiers attempting to start a fire. Their red insignias gleamed in the rapidly rising sun. 

“He’s always been like this, in case you were wondering.”

Agnes’s eyes flickered back to the shadows, where the traitor seemed to appear out of.  “Give it time, you’ll see the utility in his thinking.”

Agnes cursed. “You all give me headaches.”

With that, she stalked away to the mages. 

————-

The door slammed behind Helga.  A dairy cow raised their head lazily from the floor, ears flicking. Helga briskly walked through the wooden stable off the kitchen. This was where a few animals were kept for butchering and preparing the coming week. Wooden beams stretched in zigzag patterns from the entrance to the servants passage, to a back entrance that lead to the kitchen. A steady rain echoed off the walls and the roofs, but inside it stayed dry. 

Act natural. She thought to herself. If I was can figure a way to get this letter to someone else, there’s still hope. Maybe I could change clothes and sneak back in. Maybe I can cut my hair and pretend to be someone else.  

Helga knew she couldn’t disappear into the kitchen. The kitchen staff were notoriously gossipy, and the cook would immediately recognize her. She rounded the corner, then hesitated as her foot went straight into mud. The window was open, and bits of rain dropped through onto the dirt floors. 

Helga hitched up her skirts. Chickens clucked around her as she skirted her way around the puddle. 

She approached the window, the pouring rain spitting through. Helga really didn’t want to go out there, but it would be far worse to be caught by a guard or another servant.  With a wiggle and a jump, she pulled herself up onto the ledge.

“You can do it Helga. You’ve got to do it Helgaaaaa-ouch!”

Helga yelped in pain. Her braid was yanked back, and she tumbled off the windowsill.  Her back hit the ground hard.  The mud splashed up around her. It’s in my eyes! She panicked. Someone pounced on top of her. She slipped in the mud, trying to push them off. She rolled. They grabbed her by the shoulder. Helga opened her mouth to scream, but a hand slapped over her mouth. 

“Please be quiet!” The voice whispered. 

Helga stilled. The taste of mud in her mouth was far less shocking than the sound of Lady Rosetta’s staccato breathing in her ear. Suddenly she noticed the clanking of armor coming closer. 

The castle guard! She thought in horror. They were going to find her. They were going to beat her and throw her into the dungeon. They were notoriously cruel and vicious, but even worse would be if they told the Duke about the letter. He would kill her. 

The clanking grew louder, louder. Helga willed herself not to cry, not to tremble too loudly. Lady Rosetta was as still and cold as ice. 

Clank, clank, clank.  

Helga was so afraid. If she were caught now, there would be no escape for her or her lady. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, eyes stinging and watering. The grit on the lady’s hands stung her face. 

Wait, is she… helping me?

Why was she not calling for the guards? Why was she hiding in the mud?  

Questions swirled in Helga’s mind, as she listened keenly for noise outside. Eventually, she heard the clanking of feet retreat until the silence of the stable returned. 

The frigid hands left her face, and their owner fell to the ground next to her with a shuddering sigh. Helga wiped the mud out of her eyes, and confirmed what she thought she heard. 

Their breathing filled the stable. The animals began to move around again. Helga felt so relieved, she started to cry.   

“Cluck,” the chicken by her head said. 

Rosetta’s eyes met hers, and they started to giggle. Their laughter turned hysterical, the subsiding panic leaving cottony giddiness behind. 

“You should see yourself,” Rosetta laughed. 

“Are you kidding?” Helga guffawed. “You’re no better!”

“We’re the castle pigs!”

Helga snorted. Rosetta laughed so hard, she slipped face first into the mud. Helga helped her up, and they scooted out of the mud together. 

“What is happening right now?” Helga asked as Rosetta wiped her face off. At once, the lady seemed to realize herself and sat up straighter. Her demeanor changed completely within seconds, and she was the frigid witch Helga was terrified of. Except, they were on the stable floor soaked in mud, and Helga just watched her blow it out her nose. 

“Are you working with my Father?” She demanded harshly.  Helga fought back the urge to dump her back into the mud. 

“No. Are you working with him?”

“No.”

Helga stared at her incredulously. “Then why were you in the prince’s bedroom?”

Rosetta’s cheeks reddened. “I could ask you the same thing!”

“But I asked first!”

“And I kept you from leaping onto the castle guards!”

Helga grimaced. That certainly wasn’t a good look. Rosetta looked her up and down critically.  Helga would have bowed her head as she did to the Duke, but the look was… off. Not as sharp. Not as cruel. 

“Can we agree that we are both avoiding my father?” Rosetta asked, with only a slight demand this time. 

“Yes, my lady.”

Lady Croyso extended her hand. “In that case, we are allies. You must call me Rosetta.”

Helga decided that her life had turned upside down, and that she liked Rosetta Croix. She shook her hand, grinning wickedly. 

“I am Helga. And I promise not to tell a soul you were trying to sneak kisses from your betrothed.”

“I was not!”

“Hmm,” she nodded. “Very believable.” 

Rosetta glared at her. She was far less scary with a streak of mud across her face. She opened her mouth to retort, until her eyes flickered down to the ground. Helga gasped. 

Her letter, her only way to help her poor lady lay soiled and soaked by the window. She tried to lift the paper out of the mud, but it tore to pieces in her hands. Shame enveloped her. She felt hot all over. Tears began to blur her vision. 

Absolutely useless. You’ll never do anything right. 

A gentle hand was placed on top of hers, interrupting her mother’s voice in her head. Helga was frozen at the sight of the dainty, messy hand on top of hers. She looked up, and was struck by the genuine concern in Rosetta’s blue eyes.  She was not soft and warm, like her sister, but there was no cruelty of the Duke present either. Her eyes were sharp and soothing, a thawing lake. 

“If you tell me what was in the letter, perhaps I can help you,” she said. 

Helga hesitated. She didn’t want to trust this information to anyone. But, now that she had nothing at all, she didn’t see any other option. Who knew if Lady Maximillian would be well enough to do that again any time soon? How could she even get back to her room without raising suspicions? And, after all, Helga knew Rosetta was far smarter than she was. But…

“You may not like it,” she warned. 

Rosetta quirked her brow with a look of superiority, though without any bite. 

“Now you must tell me,” she said. 

Helga took a deep breath, angling her face away while monitoring the lady’s face carefully. 

“It was asking that the prince take Lady Maximillian away from the castle,” she said in a small voice. 

Rosetta’s face became indiscernible, blinking back in shock. Helga curled into herself, waiting to be yelled at or smacked. 

“You… care for my sister? You did all this for her?”

Helga looked back up warily. She didn’t want to give too much away. Nobles could change their minds, after all, and who would believe the words of a peasant? Who would care?

Still, Helga could not bring herself to lie about her lady. 

“She is good, ma’am,” she murmured. “And she is very sick.”

Rosetta nodded. She opened her mouth, then shut it. Helga had never seen her disheveled before this evening. She had always been more of a statue than a person. Rosetta rubbed the drying mud on her forehead and it crumbled away.

“That is the same reason I was there.”

Now it was Helga’s turn to be surprised. Her mouth dropped open. 

“You’re kidding me.”

“I am serious.”

A shout from down the castle burst the bubble of the moment. They looked at each other. It seemed that the fanfare associated with the crown prince was coming to an end, and soon the staff would be coming back to their quarters. 

Rosetta’s mouth set into a firm line as she stood, hoisting her stiffened skirts along with her. “Let us get back inside before we are discovered. We can discuss what to do next once we are in a secure location.”

“How secure, exactly?” A man’s voice called from the other end of the room.  

The women froze in terror, turning slowly as a stall door opened. From the pen came a dark haired man wearing the uniform of a castle guard. 

Chapter Text

Rosetta’s blood ran cold at the sight of the castle guard, stepping out of the stall door.  It was so dark, and she had been so preoccupied with those outside that she hadn’t thought- She cursed herself.  She hadn’t thought.  

She observed the young man quickly, head to toe.  Hair unkempt, hay on his shirt, freshly shaven, strong stance.  He had bags under his eyes and dirt under his nails.  He was alone, in the stables, in the dark, half unkempt.  Proud, hiding from the other guards. Was he sleeping here?

Rosetta snapped back to herself in an instant.  She should never have let her guard down.

“How secure exactly?” he asked.

 Helga shuddered beside her.  Rosetta instinctively stepped forward. She considered him cooly.   He twitched under her gaze.

Good. 

“With guards so dedicated to duty, it is no question how secure my father’s castle is,” she sneered, sarcasm dripping heavily off her tongue.  “Why don’t you get back to your nap.”

The guard snorted.  “I just watched the duke’s daughter mud wrestle a maid.  That’s the kind of thing that wakes you up for good.”

“Why don’t you go tell your friends- oh wait,” her head tilted to the side, finger tapping her temple as if in deep thought.  “You don’t have one of those, now do you?”

The guard set his mouth in a thin line, glaring back at her.  Rosetta forced herself to smile.

“That’s right.  And I doubt anyone would believe you, even if you told them.  Now, isn’t that right?”   Rosetta hated herself for the malice in her tongue, but she couldn’t stop.  Her heart pounded in her chest, and she prayed he couldn’t see the fear in her eyes.  “The duke’s servant, sleeping in the stables because no one could stand being around him.  What did you do to make you worse than all the other guards?”

He crossed his arms, eyes set to a dark corner with the same resoluteness as his jaw.

“What sins must you have committed?” Rosetta punctuated, as if she were the judge and tribunal, twisting it in deep.  

The silence of the stables echoed.  Rosetta hoisted up her skirt, grabbing Helga harshly by the arm.

“That’s right.  I’ll leave you to your misery.”

Her fingers dug into Helga’s arm as she dragged her past the guard. They had to go before the guard shook himself out of his shame. Shame would turn to anger, and anger was unpredictable. 

“My sin is one of omission.”

Rosetta halted at the softness in his voice.  

He gnawed at his finger, eyes still at the floor.  The moonlight illuminated his slumped shoulders. This was not the violence Rosetta had imagined.

“What?” 

The man dropped his hand, exhaling deeply.  Rosetta could feel the guilt rolling off him in waves.  He behaved like no other servant of her father.  The guards she had always known did only his bidding.  They certainly never showed remorse.  She still wanted to flee, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

The dark haired man turned slowly to face her.  

“I know this is wrong, and I have done nothing.”  

His eyes met hers, the honesty piercing straight through her.  He knew enough.  Her shame spread hot throughout her body.  

“Please, my lady,” he said, bending to one knee in the hay, gazing up at her.  “Allow me to fix this.”

“Why?” Rosetta asked, bewildered.  

His dark eyes were filled with raw emotion.  “How can you expect me to live with myself otherwise?”

Helga’s hand dropped to hers, giving it a squeeze. 

“Who are you?” Her voice shook, despite herself.

“Jurek,” he answered, “ your servant, from tonight on.”

—-----------------------------

“What have you done?!?” The old woman screeched as Helga wiggled into the washing room, shutting the door behind her.  She dumped the wasted dress into the dirty pile, as the old crone admonished her with energy far beyond her years.  

“How can you expect me to clean all this?” she shrieked, waving her arms wildly, following her around the room.  “I have had enough of you-”

Helga rolled her eyes, and tossed a parcel at her.

That’ll shut you up.

The woman looked at the object in her hands, hurriedly wrapped in a piece of cloth.  Greed glinted in her eyes. She dug into the covering, unwrapping a bejeweled goblet.  Her cackle grated against Helga’s ears.  

“Do I have your attention?” Helga asked, leaning against the wall.

The woman nodded quickly, displaying her missing teeth. 

“You get the other half when you’ve held your end of the deal.”

—------------------------------------

“And I’ve won again!” The old woman cackled, pulling the cards and coins toward herself.  The kitchen was well lit by candles and the fires keeping the stew pots boiling.  The table where she sat was surrounded by cooks, maids, and several guards.  Goblets of beer pilfered from the prince’s reception were emptied several times over by all.  

A young maid pushed her chair back clumsily.  “I’m out of here,” she grumbled, attempting to stumble away from the table.  

The old woman pulled her back down, kicking her feet out from under her.  “Don’t be a spoil sport,” she said, dealing out the next round of cards.  

“We’ve barely started,” a guard jeered, reaching for another swig of beer.

“We’ve had a long enough day,” the old woman nodded.  “We ought to ignore our duties for a little while yet.”

The room echoed their agreement.  The kitchen door stayed shut.

—-------------------------------

“Jurek,” Rosetta said as she ducked into one of the castle’s sitting rooms.  The man followed her with steady steps.

“Yes, my lady.”

“You say you are my servant now.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Are you willing to follow my orders tonight?”

Jurek nodded solemnly.  

Rosetta gave a small smile.  “I will bring you great trouble.”

“My trouble has been great these past months.  Any order you give me, I will gladly fulfill.”

Rosetta inclined her head.  She had warned him.  She gave him her orders.

—-------------------—---------------------

Another day had passed as the Lexos expedition clung to the frozen mountainside.  They made camp for the night in a clearing, much like every other clearing they had been in so far.  The days were blurring together, and Agnes felt as if she were trapped in her own personal hell reliving the same day over and over. 

She stumbled through the trees and the fog, making her way to the stream. The canopy blocked the light, and in the dark she couldn’t seem to protect herself from the thorns and branches.  Her breath dissolved over and over in the air as she trudged through the snow.  Not even a fire mage was foolhardy enough to attempt to bathe in these conditions, but Agnes needed to at least wash some of the grime from her face before she could sleep.  

The last report she had sent to her father, flown on the wings of her messenger hawk, had not been good.  The bodies of her men were ever before her eyes.  She hadn’t seen the wyverns coming.  Their ranks had broken.  They could not take on this whole mountain on their own.  She tripped over a root, unable to see more than a few feet in front of her through the dense foliage.  She cursed, over and over, placing one foot in front of the other blindly. She followed the sound of rushing water.  

Agnes broke through the treeline. The light blinded her, and for a moment all she could see was harsh white static. She glared at the light and willed herself to see.  The static faded, the stream appearing as it snaked its way down to a sheer cliff face a stone's throw away. The wide, clear water rushed headfirst down to its fate. The sky opened up before her, and the glorious beauty of the sun stole the breath from her lungs.  Red and orange hues broke through the gray fog, sparkling against the snow and the mist rising from the falling water.  Agnes nearly cried, gratitude filling her, warming her from the inside out.

Movement at the edge of her vision alerted her that she was not alone. At the other side of the clearing, the dark figure of Calypse stood illuminated in gentle golden rays.  He was more relaxed than Agnes had ever seen him, standing at the forest’s edge and reaching toward the puffy red clouds scattered in the sky.  In a patch of sunlight even this damned mountain could not stop, he outstretched his hand with closed eyes and a tender smile.  The golden sunlight seemed to glow against his hand, as if it were a gift only for him. The edges of his fingers were stained.  Agnes recalled the letter he demanded she tie with her reports to send.  It had not been the first letter.

Suddenly Agnes felt as if she was seeing something that was not hers to see.  The grime on Calypse’s face betrayed matching tear tracks.  His armor was abandoned in the snow by him, leaving him with only an undershirt.  And his smile.  Agnes had never seen him smile that way before.  She beheld a man transfixed in adoration.

Feeling like an intruder on an intimate exchange, Agnes snuck back through the treeline.  She could wash her hands in the morning.

________________

The long, dark halls of Croix castle echoed with footsteps.  A pair of castle guards stood their post outside of the wing where their guests slept.  

“Long night, huh?” the newcomer stated.  One of the posted guards scoffed, angry. 

“We were supposed to be relieved over an hour ago.  Where have you been?”

The newcomer raised his hands in defense.  “Listen, I can’t even find my partner.  I’m the only one coming.”

“This is corpsebreath,” the other grumbled.  “I’m not staying.”

“Well,” the newcomer reasoned, “There’s another set coming to relieve me before the morning.  As long as nothing’s happened so far, I’m sure no one will notice.”

The posted guards looked at each other and shrugged.  

“Fair enough,” the taller guard stated. 

The posted guards took their leave, and Jurek turned to guard the entrance to the guest wing.

—------------------—--------------

Nirta groaned, his headache worsening.  He just wanted to eat his dinner in peace.  Instead, he had to put up with the squawking of an officer of the royal knights dressing down their subordinate.  The reason?

“Your uniform should be clean at all times! You look like a pig who just rolled in their own filth.  Do you care at all about discipline?”

Nirta hit his head against Ricaydo’s shoulder repeatedly.  

“Do they ever shut up,” Ricaydo grumbled, gnawing at his ration.

The young man glared down at the ground until the officer finally trudged away, satisfied that he saved the image of the royal knights single-handedly.  The young man stood there for a minute longer, shifting on his feet.

Despite the pounding in his head, Nirta still felt worse for the poor kid left standing there.  At least he had comrades to keep him company tonight.  This poor kid lost his friend today, and spent the evening yelled at for not looking good enough.

“Hey,” Nirta called over.  “You there, with the muddy boots!”

The royal knight’s head snapped up.  His eyes seemed far away.

“That guys half an orc and twice as ugly,” Nirta called over.  

The kid snorted a laugh, head falling back to look at the sky.  

Ricaydo, in his infinite wet blanket-ness, mumbled something about not disrespecting their allies.  Nirta ignored him.

“Is he like that all the time?” he asked.

The kid looked at him with uncertainty.  To be fair, the Remdragons hadn’t exactly gotten along with their branch so far.  Still, Nirta figured they both hated that guy more than each other.

“Yeah,” he eventually answered.  “It gets old.”

Nirta waved him over, pushing Ricaydo over to make room.  Ricaydo cursed at him, but made room for the kid by their fire.  

“The name’s Nirta.  What’s yours?”

“Wiscard,” he answered, lowering himself between them.

“I noticed your bravery when facing the wyverns earlier,” Ricaydo noted.  “You stood your ground as others fled.”

Wiscard stared at Ricaydo a moment, stunned.  He inclined his head.  “You have shown bravery yourself.”

Ricaydo put his hand to his breast in gratitude.  “At least I get to follow the lead of another.  You stand your ground even when others have failed you.  That is honorable.”

“And very attractive,” Nirta piped in.  “I’ll be sure to inform any maiden of your choice about your tales of heroism.  You’ll be a married man in no time after this.”

Wiscard laughed.  

As they continued to talk, Nirta thought that if more men had Wiscard’s guts, they just might be able to make it off the mountain alive enough to brag about it.  And he did enjoy bragging.  Maybe Wiscard could write a song about him. 

—---------------—--------------------------------------

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Elias awoke instantly to three gentle raps at the door. Looking down, he realized he had fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the bed. The moonlight streamed gently in from outside, casting a glow across the sparsely furnished room. 

Casting off the bed in mild confusion, his feet padded across the cool floor, stumbling only once. Elias paused and shook away any remaining drowsiness before opening the door. 

“Good evening, your highness,” the castle guard said quietly, standing a few feet away with his hands behind his back. 

This is quite an odd place, Elias thought. His mind began to spin possibilities for this encounter. Had the Duke sent for him? At this hour?

“Good evening,” he echoed, matching the man’s volume.  Elias took the opportunity to glance down the hall. There was no one to be found in either direction. 

Very odd . Elias found his hand twitching toward his hip, where he always kept a dagger. 

“I apologize for disturbing you at this time of night, your highness,” the guard shifted, seemingly having noticed the prince’s distrust. “I have been sent by my mistress to retrieve you.”

Rosetta. 

Elias’s mind skittered to a halt. It was likely safe to assume there would be neither a mind game from the Duke nor a potential assassination. 

No one else knew she sent for him. Otherwise, her father would have been alerted. Unless this in fact was a trick set up by both beautiful Rosetta and that wretch of a Duke, just to catch him off guard. But then, why did the Duke seem so surprised he was coming?

Only one way to find out, he thought. 

Elias closed the door behind him. 

“Lead the way, kind fellow,” he gestured with a grin. 

--------—————-

Elias stood a few feet behind the guard, following him through various corridors as he tried to keep his bearings. The moonlight seemed to bewitch the hallways; what was so extravagant and brilliant in the daytime appeared eerie and grasping, cooperating with the shadows of the night. 

The guard paused several times to check hallways and corridors before turning to wave Elias forward. 

This would be a lot of work if I am being deceived, he thought. I’ll be sure to be impressed by their dedication if that’s the case. 

Eventually at the end of a dark hallway, the guard paused outside one door, looked behind them, and ushered Elias inside. 

The dark, moonlit hallway gave way to a soft, candle lit sitting room. Deep red patterned wallpaper complemented the dark wooden furniture.  Embroidered tapestries and furs were placed throughout, filling any empty spaces. A round table encircled by intricate carvings of vines was adjacent to a chair upholstered in deep red to match the walls. And on that chair sat the most beautiful woman Elias had ever laid his eyes on. 

She sat leaned slightly forward, her soft arm lazily stretched over the table. A delicate hand cupped the gentle curve of her jaw. The subtle pink of her lips quirked up to one side. He wondered if they really were as soft as they looked. The candles on the table played with her golden hair, dappling the subtle ripples with its limited breadth of the rainbow. Elias had never seen her hair with any sort of curl in it before. The very ends of some strands glistened, and he realized she must have just bathed. Heat rose from more than just the candles. 

“Hello darling,” Elias breathed, attempting to bring his rational brain back into focus. 

“Hello handsome,” her magnificence spoke, eyes glinting. 

Oh, her eyes, he thought. 

“I heard that is your preferred title,” she smirked.  

Elias stared a moment, her words not processing. Her eyebrow quirked up, and oh how he longed to place his hand where hers was-

“Or is that title reserved for my father?”

Elias chuckled, attempted to reel in his daydreams as he took the seat conveniently placed beside hers. 

“I’d prefer to never be addressed by anyone else ever again, my dear.”

A faint blush spread across her lovely, lovely cheeks. Like a fool, he’d do anything to keep it there. 

“You know,” he leaned in, cupping his chin to match hers, hand reaching to brush up against her fingertips across the table, “there would be some who would talk about a young, betrothed couple sneaking around the castle at night.”

Her eyes captivated him, the deepening color across her cheeks only exaggerated their crystal blue more. 

She’s so cute when she’s shy, he thought. 

“I do not mean to cause any harm to your reputation,” she said, drawing her hand quickly to herself. Elias instantly missed the feeling of her hand so close to his.  “I understand that I have already asked a lot from you.”

For some reason, his heart fluttered oddly in his chest. 

“You asked me to come, and so I came.”

“And I thank you for that,” Rosetta said, sitting up straight. 

“To business, then,” Elias smirked, adjusting his stance to match hers. 

“You have asked me to marry you-“

“And you have accepted-“

“Of course. But you have asked me to marry you despite the fact, or perhaps due to it, that my father and yours have historically been at odds with each other.”

Elias leaned forward. “Despite it, yes.”

She nodded, a tinge of pink remaining. “You must have understood that my father does not let go of his assets easily.”

“Historically, yes.”

“Then you must understand that my father has no intention of allowing me to truly leave him.”

Elias was confused. But confusion didn’t usually leave him suddenly feeling cold. 

“I do not understand.”

“My father is a very crafty man, Elias, you must know this. He has trained me my whole life to be his asset, regardless of where I was or what my role would be.”

Elias’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his chest. 

“But… you are to be my wife?”

“Elias…” she breathed. “Did you really think he would allow me to leave so easily?”

His brain began reeling, attempting to fit this information into what he thought he knew about this family. The Duke was a devoted and loving father, if a political nuisance. Had he not spent his entire life doting on his daughters? A father marrying his daughter for political gain was one thing, but the way Rosetta spoke… It was deeply troubling. Had she planned this all along?  

“Is this why you asked me to meet with you?”

“Not quite,” she answered. 

Oh great, Elias thought, there’s more mind shattering information coming. 

“I need a favor.”

“Why should I perform a favor for the woman openly admitting that she agreed to marry me so that her father could manipulate me?”

Rosetta spread her arms. “Because I am what I am negotiating with.”

“You love confusing me tonight,” he chuckled without mirth, shaking his head. He turned his face from hers, staring resolutely at the flickering candle. 

Rosetta grabbed his hand, demanding his attention. Her eyes held a steely determination, one Elias had never seen before. 

“If you help me now, Elias Reuben, I will betray my own father to serve you and only you. One favor, for a lifetime of obedience. You would be a fool not to listen to me.”

The room sat in silence for several moments.  Elias’s mind swirled, but all he could do was look into Rosetta’s mysterious eyes. She was grand, she was as powerful and mighty as a titan. 

“What would you have me do?” He asked. 

She gripped his hand tightly, brows drawn together in an anger fierce enough to strike down a city. 

“I need you to save my sister.”

————----———-

Elias was no fool, and he was beginning to understand the dark dysfunction of the Croix family. He was only able to nod at his betrothed dumbly before she set about extinguishing the candle and dragging him out of the room. She nodded to her guard, who led the way through several corridors. They stopped outside a door entirely unadorned in a dark, cramped hallway. 

Rosetta turned around to face him. 

“Give me your hand,” she demanded.

Who was Elias to deny a titan? He extended his hand toward her. 

She grabbed his wrist. 

“Jurek,” she commanded. 

Elias was so lost in her presence and the feeling of her touching him that he didn’t react nearly in time. 

The guard slashed a blade across his hand. 

“Hey!” Elias cried, snatching his hand back in pain. Blood already began dripping down his arm. 

Rosetta opened the door and entered the dark room. The guard roughly pushed Elias to follow. The door shut with a click. 

“Maxi,” Rosetta whispered, caressing her sister's face. 

The room was perhaps the simplest Elias had seen in all of castle Croix.  Whereas every other room was adorned with various displays of wealth, this one could pass for a particularly bare servants quarter. 

Rosetta braced her sister, pulling her into a  sitting position on the bed. The eldest, beloved daughter of the most powerful man in the duchy stared bleary eyed in a ratty nightgown several sizes too small. Her cheeks were sunken, her frame more gaunt and sickly than Elias had ever seen before. Even though blood was seeping into his shirt, the sight in front of him began to nauseate him. 

“Rosetta?” The lady asked pitifully. 

Rosetta took both of her sister's hands in hers. 

“Please,” she said shakily, tears beginning to drip down her face. “You have to trust me.”

Maximillian nodded in a daze. Rosetta turned and beckoned him forward. He approached, bending one knee to kneel by the edge of the bed, in front of the women. Thousands of questions swirled through his mind. 

“Give me your hand,” Rosetta demanded. 

He gave it to her. 

Rosetta kissed her sister’s cheek. 

“Trust me,” she repeated. 

Elias stared in confusion. 

Maximillian blinked her large, gray eyes owlishly as Rosetta placed his bleeding hand in hers. She gasped, running her finger along the edge of the gash, before looking back up at her sister. 

“Please,” Rosetta sobbed. 

Maximillian fixed a determined look at his hand before closing her eyes. 

What happened next Elias could hardly comprehend. 

At one moment the room was completely dark. The next, it wasn’t. Golden light sprang forth from within the emaciated woman. Her puffy red hair seemed to glow, lifting and swaying like clouds in the sky. Rays of gentle, golden warmth spread from her hands, encircling his.  Elias watched as the bleeding stopped and the skin of his hand knit itself back into place. The pain disappeared. 

Elias stared at the young woman in total adoration. 

As quickly as it came, the golden light faded. Maximillian slumped into the arms of her sister, completely exhausted. Elias turned his hand over and over, examining it. Not only was the cut completely gone, but so were several scars on his hand and arm. 

“What…” the guard murmured by the door. 

Rosetta embraced her sister’s small frame, kissing the crown of her head several times before laying her gently back down. She covered her in several blankets. 

“How…” Elias murmured, still looking back and forth between his hand and the skeleton of Maximillian Croix- no, Calypse. 

Why was she still living here?  he wondered.  Rosetta's voice echoed in his ears.

“Do you really think he would allow me to leave so easily?”

Rosetta slid onto the floor, looking up at Elias with desperate eyes. The tears that slid down her face moved Elias’s heart to more tenderness than he knew he possessed. 

“Please,” she whispered, “You have to get her out of here.”

Chapter Text

Part 5

“This sword was given to me by my father, who comes from a long line of noble birth.”

Fragg nodded in appreciation, as another of his officers carefully polished steel, sitting leisurely within their tent. With his crisply pressed uniform and shining helmet, one would have had a hard time telling if he was on a campaign or at court. Agnes pulled off her boots, unwrapping the damp cloth binding and letting her blistered feet dry as she looked over the latest addition to the map. Scouts had been sent ahead to observe the terrain, as well as to investigate a hunch. The traitor had proved his wit, voicing something Agnes had been growing wary of day by day.

There was a curse about.

“The history preserved here within my very hands alone is a legacy far greater than money can buy.”

It explained so much. The odd feeling in her gut was the first sign. The next was variations in her mana. Instead of the instantaneous ignition she had trained and honed over the years (an impulsivity she had to painstakingly learn to control), Agnes found her combat spells particularly sluggish. There was a delay, a split second before the fire should have blazed where she found herself questioning if it would come at all.

It was unnerving.

“It’s a sword,” grumbled a disgruntled Remdragon scout, no older than 19 with a half filled in beard. He was not technically a full Remdragon knight, but rather part of a small group of reinforcements that arrived several months ago from villages in the northern kingdoms. The reinforcements weren’t knights at all. They were an assortment of villagers enticed by reward money and a potential change of opportunities. Due to his appearance and inexperience, this scout was rejected by everyone but the Remdragons. He was lean, and he was fast. His nimble horse riding had saved their skins twice over now by finding their enemies and returning unseen to warn them. He was also the longest living scout. Many died before returning from their first mission, even fewer returned with useful information. This man had returned 14 times.

While the flagrant disrespect probably wouldn’t end well, Agnes was too tired to moderate another interaction today. Besides, she thought as she picked up her quill to note the most recent magical anomaly, officer Mireson was getting on her nerves.

The officer scowled, lips twisted with superiority. “This sword,” he drawled, “has more history than a mercenary like you could imagine. It is a sign of much more than what you see here. Generations of men passed down traditions of honor, of duty, of…” He looked the scruffy young man up and down, smoothing his hand down an embroidered coat with shining buttons. “Dignity,” the officer finished.

The young man snorted, flicking dirt off his wrinkled, stained overcoat with a twisted grin.

Mireson narrowed his eyes. “Is something funny, boy?”

Brown eyes slid over, devastatingly sharp.

Mireson looked far too superior for a man whose family squandered their wealth and opportunity over three generations, trying to outwit and screw over everyone around them, ending with a pathetic grab at power through a position as an officer groveling for the king’s attention. An officer whose dishonesty and reputation for bedding anything with a hole had him sent on this godforsaken mission. There was nothing else he could do to try to redeem himself in the eyes of the court, which he so desperately spent his miserable life trying to please.

Or, at least, this was Agnes’s opinion.

“When that old piece of filth breaks, ain’t nobody coming to save your mongrel hide.“

The officer was on his feet in an instant, his face nearly purple with rage.

“How dare you speak to me! I am an officer-“

The tent flap snapped open. Cold air whipped by. Calypse’s dark figure cut into the room.

“Tyrin,” his low voice commanded.

Agnes did her best not to smile. Tyrin kept getting away with mouthing off, and Calypse didn’t do a thing to curb his insubordination.

However, he straightened up and looked his commander in the eye.

“You're back,” Calypse observed. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a wry twist to his lips that showed he knew exactly what he had been up to. Agnes thought he should probably care a little more, but knew that he didn’t.

The young Remdragon smirked.

Calypse’s face fell into what most people saw as irritation, but that Agnes had learned meant concern. “Took you a while.”

“Well, you know, I was particularly enjoying my stroll, so I took the longer route back.”

“Foolhardy boy didn’t even wear armor,” Mireson scolded. “Or a uniform.”

Fragg scowled at the commander. “You should get that boy under control. You give him far too long a leash.”

Calypse raised his brow, turning back to his scout. “Did you complete the mission?”

“Yes.”

“Calypse!”

The commander turned, his dark eyes seizing the man, shutting him up and holding him in place.

“When I ask my men to run suicide missions,” he growled, “I don’t treat them like dogs. Where were your men when mine were sent into hell? Where were you?”

Agnes signed, pushing herself to her feet, doing her best not to scatter her papers. “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to hear what you have to report. I don’t have the time or the energy for another one of,” she gestured vaguely between them, “these.”

The scout drew near her, pulling a wrinkled piece of paper from the pocket of his overcoat. “Aye, ma’am.”

“That is the crowned princess!”

“Shut it, Fragg,” Agnes said, grabbing the paper. Scratched out was a route, with various landmarks and Xs for locations where beasts were gathered. The scrawl of his handwriting denoted other details. Lizerd men. Trol cav. Fog. Finally, in the center of a mass of beasts, at the heart of the magical anomaly, was a drawing. A circle with squiggles.

“What is this?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. I can tell you that everything started to feel weird around it, and that all the monsters were acting weird, too. The fog got thicker and thicker until you could barely breathe. You only knew the monsters by sound. And then in the middle of them all was this giant stone circle. I couldn’t see the top until I climbed higher. It had these carved markings. I didn’t have time to write everything down. A group of lizard men caught a whiff of me and were starting my way.”

Dread sank in the pit of Agnes’s stomach as she grabbed her quill and drew a basic rune.

“Did it look something like this?”

“Yes, it did, -er…ma’am, but bigger and with more writing carved on top. Carved, or maybe branded? It was darkened, though I couldn’t tell from the height I was at.”

Agnes sat down, cursing. The dread exploded into panic. The others looked at her confused.

“Thank you, Tyrin. You’re free to head back to the fires and warm up.”

The scout shifted on his heels several times before exiting the tent with silent steps.

The muffled sound of the campsite around them claimed the room. The crackling of fires, footsteps, the clanging of metal.

“What is it?” Fragg asked.

Agnes looked up at their expecting eyes.

She felt fear clawing at her throat. Her head pounded. It all made sense now.

“Humans are not the only ones who can use magic.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn broke, despite Rosetta’s dread and exhaustion. She just hoped the scheming of her betrothed was enough.

Thankfully, he didn’t make her wait long. An old butler in a low ponytail delivered the message. There was to be a luncheon meeting with her father’s advisors and the visiting party.

Elias’s next move would be public, then. The duke’s advisors included several members of nobility both from and outside the Croix domain. Anything done in their presence would become public knowledge as soon as the rumor mill began.

Rosetta allowed herself to be dressed, trying to pretend to everyone that nothing was amiss. Her father had selected her clothing for the day, as he often did when she would be seen by others. There was always a message to be sent, and it was her job to determine what it was. A dress of dark, flowing silks, billowing out at the sleeves and the skirts, edged in golden embroidery. A deep red brocade corset cinched her waist, with a matching bolt of fabric to drape amply around her hips, connecting with a gold brooch back at her waistline. Her breasts were pushed up, exposed by the plunging black silk neckline. Her handmaiden only exaggerated this feature, pulling the fabric to the very edge of her shoulders. The golden embroidery swept the eye down to her nearly scandalous cleavage before the eyes were met with the masculine brocade style grasping her waist and hips. Gold and red jewels dripped from her ears, circling around her neck just tight enough to make taking a deep breath uncomfortable.

Rosetta nearly rolled her eyes at how obvious her father was being. The exaggerated feminine figure, the brocade that was sure to match his cloak, the obvious display of control. Like what you see? Her father seemed to mock, She may be your betrothed, but she belongs to me.

Rosetta knew exactly what her role was expected to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

The dining hall was designed for length with tall ceilings and a central table running from one side of the room to the other. Silver motifs dripped in stripes down the light blue wallpaper, matching the fabric down the center of the table. Porcelain plates ladened with food joined silver vessels in a proper feast for the nearly three dozen guests. The clinking of dishes echoed in the room, with servants silently floating in and out of sight to fill every need precisely as it arrived. Rosetta sat next to her wrinkled, ugly father at the head of the table. She felt like a dark scourge against the brightness of the room, with its white accents and sunlight streaming through massive windows.

Rosetta was good and truly angry. Here that conniving snake sat, feasting away like the beast he pretended not to be, totally content in his self righteous conceit. He thought all was a game, a deal he could exploit. A maid came and topped her drink back up again. The duke’s gaze snapped over, criticizing her. Though nearly shaking from the cold, Rosetta steeled herself and ignored the chill across her plentiful exposed skin. Her father did not bother himself with her comfort. Rosetta smiled dutifully and shoved her feelings down along with her portion of food. Not enough to satisfy hunger, nor to make much of a dent in her overfilled plate. But that was the point. That was the image. Rosetta Croyso was the fine, demure lady of an estate so rich that food was not an object. Her appetite was never part of this consideration.

The Duke smiled too wide, caressing her hand as he addressed his chief finance advisor down the table. It was just like that bastard if a man. Rosetta remembered the day he showed off his wealth the king’s council. He held in his hand the most beautiful turtledove, soft and lovely. He tossed it up and the bird spread its wings, flying away just to get yanked back by the string tied nearly invisibly around its leg. None of the councilmen said a thing. And they would not say a thing now.
Opposite of Rosetta at the table sat the dashing crowned prince, dressed in simple yet well tailored traveling clothes. A short cloak draped over one shoulder, purple and red lions roaring down the edges of the black fabric. He had seemingly not packed for a court dinner in his travels. It did not matter, though, for he was still the most handsome man who had ever entered the castle, and he knew it.

Better to have a beautiful master than an ugly one, Rosetta supposed. Hopefully he would be gentler with his demands. She relaxed her grip around her silverware, contemplating if going out as a murderess was better than living a life of a puppet. Desperation bubbled up her throat, wishing to burst forth as manic laughter. But Rosetta could do nothing, as always, except choke herself into the silhouette that was asked for.

Elias had flashed her a cheeky grin as she sat down at the table, late enough to imply she was above the current company of course. Rosetta knew better than to pretend it was anything other than part of the show. Still, she felt herself blush as he took in her appearance, slowly and deliberately before holding her gaze deliberately. Rosetta wanted to be able to feel, for once. But she had a mission, and she leaned forward to kiss her father’s hand. Elias’s gaze snapped up conspicuously, cheeks reddened. It was rather cute, though the duke’s encrypted message did not seem to dawn on her betrothed. Nor anyone else, for that matter. Nonetheless, her father surveyed her approvingly, his eyes crawling across he. Despite her hidden disgust, she passed his test.

By Elias’s side was a broad, dark skinned man who focused all his attention on his plate. Rosetta had seen him multiple times before, always close by her betrothed side. An ally then, hopefully. The nobleman next to him was a different story. His beady eyes stayed glued to Rosetta’s neckline as he drank deeply from his cup, a drop escaping and running down his neck to his collar. A crimson stain bloomed, but his attention did not wane.
Rosetta was used to this type of attention when it came to her father’s company. Her skin crawled, but she refused to give anyone the satisfaction of affecting her. Pigs like Baron Tharpe would always find their way back to the mud.

“Tell me, your grace, were your quarters to your liking?” Her father inquired, leaning forward leisurely against his hand. “Did you rest well?”

It was beginning. Rosetta felt suddenly nauseous. Her thoughts raced wildly. Elias had not told her his plan. But this must be the moment. If it did not work, she had revealed her hand too much to both of the men who sought to own her, in effect angering both and ruining her ability to place any cards on future bets. She had made a mistake. Elias would surely reveal something to her father, and he would have her head. Or worse, Maxi’s. Would he call off the wedding? Would they be stuck here forever?
Elias tipped one of his most disarming smiles. “Yes, of course.”

“And your men? Are they rested?”

“Our journey has been long, but this past night’s sleep has done wonders.”

“Well then,” the Duke cleared his throat, tossing his napkin casually atop a half full plate. The table seemed to lean forward in anticipation. Rosetta stayed still. “Perhaps you are ready to disclose your reason for showing up to my estate in the middle of the night in such a condition.”

Elias’s eyes flicked to the Baron, who leaned conspicuously closer to Rosetta.

Clearing his throat, the prince raised his glass. “First, a toast, to our generous host- to his health and his wealth!”

“Hear, hear,” the call echoed. The Baron was forced to turn from Rosetta to touch glasses with the others. She felt Elias’s gaze watching her. So he was the jealous variety of husband. Maybe he wouldn’t out and tell her father what she revealed. Possessiveness could work in her favor, though it could be difficult to work around. Emotional attachment was tedious, after all, and pleasing an intelligent man would take a delicate dance.
The duke’s eye began to twitch. He tipped back his glass for a long drink.

Surely her father knew she was involved. Rosetta had doomed Maxi.

“Thank you, thank you,” the blond prince called, turning back to his host. “To be strait forward, my mission here is one given to me by the King himself. We all know how affected the seven kingdoms have been in the midst of the dragon subjugation.”
Faces down the table nodded and murmured their assent, the Baron slipping further into his drink and Rosetta’s side. She steeled her gaze onto the prince as her palms grew clammy. She would not inch away, especially not toward her father.

Elias nodded along, face twitching and smoothing back out, dripping honey with his voice. “Every man has felt the effects of this cause. It takes no small logistical feat to continue to provide aid to those noble men fighting each day for our safety and security. I know,” the prince looked around, hand held to his heart and brows scrunched sympathetically,” how much of a sacrifice each of you at this table have made thus far.”

Rosetta nearly snorted. Even she knew of her father’s refusal to send aid. He weaseled out of each request, twisting and spinning excuses while doing just enough to evade accusations of insubordination.
The Baron wobbled, his besotted gaze unwaveringly falling deeper into Rosetta’s cleavage. She felt a chill more deeply, wishing to turn in on herself, to cover herself, but she could not. This was as her father wished. A flinch would be a shameful concession, a sign of weakness that would not go unnoticed.
“As such, the King sends his deepest appreciations and gratitude.”

Polite claps echoed across the room.

The Duke leaned back in his chair, fingering his glass with an aristocratic air.

“So,” he drawled. “You came all this way to thank us?”

Elias’s attention stuttered for a moment between the duke and Rosetta’s situation. He cleared his throat.
“There is more, of course, although the king’s gratitude plays no small part. The dragon subjugation has stalled, due to recent discoveries on the mountain.”

“How so?” The duke droned, pondering his glass with disinterest, though Rosetta could see the curiosity gleaming in his eye. He smugly watched as Elias’s jealousy grew.

The prince was silent a moment, as if pondering what to say. It was convincing, even Rosetta had to admit. He was playing the young and inexperienced card, it seemed, pretending to be influenceable. The duke loved deference. With hesitation, he turned incrementally toward the Duke and spoke in a low voice.

“Well, it’s...”

All fell to a hush, all murmuring and clattering disappeared to hear his voice. Rosetta respected his skills. He dragged them around easier than a dog on a leash.

“What is it?” A man down the table called.

“It seems… the mountain poses more of a complication than we assumed.”

“What do you mean by this?”

Elias looked suspiciously to the doors, as if someone could walk in and catch him. “I am not supposed to disclose this information, dear Duke.”

“The king is hiding crucial information, then?”

“Every man must be the custodian of truth,” Elias reasoned, gesturing down the table. “Even you must choose what to say and what to keep.”

The Duke glared, voice hot. “Do you insinuate-“

“And yet I shall tell you, dear man, as you are to be as tender as family to me,” the prince’s honey sweet voice spread, hand over his heart.

The baron fumbled with his glass, finally tumbling against Rosetta. Dishes crashed, a red stain spreading over the embellished tablecloth. Rosetta’s face burned, as servants came to hoist the man off her lap. Mercifully, his head was yanked off her bosom with a squeak of protest. Rosetta pushed her chair back, discovering that though half a dozen of her father’s cabinet had gotten to their feet, it was Elias himself who threw the baron to the ground.
The baron cried out as his nose hit the cold floor with a crack.

Elias’s face twisted with anger. Rosetta’s arm was grabbed by a raven haired maid, who tried to whisper warnings to come away, but she would not heed. She needed to know how this ended.

Elias stalked over, but the baron pushed himself back, flailing into an ornate side table, scattering a bowl of fruit onto his own head. The broad man from his company grabbed Elias’s arm, whispering something imperceptible. Elias wrenched his arm free, but stopped, fists clenched. Rosetta’s father said nothing, watching the scene with interest.

Elias turned to the crowd, gesturing mockingly to the man on the ground. “Even a suckling babe has less interest in a woman’s bosom, surely.”

The nobles down the table laughed.

“What say you, Duke?” He deferred with effort.

“Take him to his room to sober,” the Duke said with annoyance. “I shall deal with him later. Come now, do not let a fool disturb you. Let us converse like civilized men.”

Rosetta could nearly hear Elias’s teeth grating as he walked her back to the table. A servant hurried to pick up her chair. Rosetta grasped his offered arm as he helped her back into the seat. With deft movements, he removed his cloak, wrapping it around her and clasping it at her shoulder. The fabric encircled her, covering the entire front of her dress up to her neck, though loose enough for her to breathe easily. The twin roaring lion edges fell across her arm, complementing nicely the fabric of her sleeves.

Rosetta was stunned. She gazed up at her betrothed, finally feeling warm. His hair caught the sunlight, glowing golden. His warm hands left her shoulder, but he paused a moment as he caught her gaze. His deep blue eyes held her captive. They were angry, but not at her- for her.

Her father coughed, and Elias returned to his seat. Rosetta felt dazed, grateful no one could see the blush across her skin, and would no take the warmth on her cheeks for embarrassment.
The Duke seethed silently, glaring at Rosetta’s newfound covering. Yet, she knew that he knew that she could not take it off, lest she risk offending the crown. A gift was always to be received graciously.

“What is it you were about to tell me, good sir?”

“I apologize,” Elias said with little mirth, “I fear I cannot complete that thought in the current company. Only that the campaign has suddenly become much more dangerous, and will last quite a while longer yet.”

The duke’s face contorted with rage, but he spoke evenly. “It is simply a beast to be slain, what could possibly be getting in the way? Are the king’s men so ill equipped?”

“Equipment is in fact precisely the issue. The logistical support network is simply an embarrassment to the might of the kingdoms. Other than the crown’s contribution, one would think that the kingdoms were in abysmal financial conditions. I worry that is in fact the case. Your grace, you are such a generous man that I find myself worried about your welfare.”

Smoke could appear from the duke’s ears at any moment. What could Elias be thinking, provoking his anger? Rosetta fumed, dizzy. Didn’t he know her sister was the man’s lightning rod?

“My condition,” he grated, “is excellent.”

The nobles looked at each other skeptically, murmurs breaking out down the table, echoing against the walls, swirling in a mocking cacophony around the Duke.

“In fact, I have been putting together a substantial contribution to send to Lexos myself.”

“Excellent,” the prince said with relief. “I am glad, good man! I shall report this to my father at once. He will be delighted to hear such good news.”

Rosetta’s father held a death grip on the arm of his chair, the bloodless knuckles shaking.

“Hear, hear!” Echoes down the table as the guest toasted.

Elias stood and bowed, gesturing proudly to the man who sat seething below him.

“Ah, what a man, and what a prosperous kingdom! The king is glad to welcome your quota of healers.”
Rosetta felt fear plunge her body into cold once more. He could not possibly be spilling her secret so soon, so publicly. No, she told him it was a secret. He would not, he could not-

“What do you mean?”

“Oh!” Elias shook he head, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I apologize, the exciting nature of this dinner has scattered my thoughts. That was the news I brought from the king!”

“Excuse me?” The Duke growled dangerously.

Elias produced a letter sealed with the mark of the crown, opening it with a flourish. “Each duchy in each kingdom is to provide a quota of healers to aid the Lexos campaign. They shall be gathered and sent immediately upon reception of this letter.”

The prince tossed the paper laxidaisically to the grasping hand of the duke, who devoured the writing. Rosetta knew precisely the momen he found a certain deseable statement. Had Elias missed something? The duke calmed himself, carefully folding the letter, sliding his nails over the edges to sharpen the crisp edges.

“My dear prince, you would agree that it is important to keep a royal healer still, correct? Even the king’s writing dictates this.”

“Of course, your grace.”

The duke sighed deeply, spreading his arms apologetically. “Then there is nothing I can do.”
Elias raised his brow. The room looked on in confusion.

“You yourself must know how scarce it is to find or keep a mage. And it is less common still for any mage to be able to fulfill the role of a healer. As it stands, I am only able to keep on staff one royal healer. One healer, for the needs of the whole duchy.”

“And he cannot be spared, even for a short time?”

“No, my boy, you see with age you will learn and see that I am right. You cannot send all of your talent to any one battle, lest you render yourself defenseless.”
Elias stroked his chin with his hand, brows furrowed in contemplation. “My father will not be pleased to hear such news. While healers are uncommon, we have not heard of a whole duchy containing only one healer.”

That would certainly be ridiculous, Rosetta knew. Though it was true that healers were incredibly uncommon, the Croyso estate employed nearly half a dozen healers. At least three were kept in the castle at all times.

“I can produce for you documents that I have been looking for some time now,” the duke chuckled.

Elias snapped his fingers. “What if there was a mage not trained, but with skills in the healing arts?”

The duke sighed again. “Not so. I have had each tested myself, as that is quite a valuable resource to leave untapped.”

“What about-“

“Your highness, you know if there were anyone I could send that I would,” the old man lied through his teeth.

“Anyone?” The prince questioned.

“Even from my own personal staff.”

“Is that so,” Elias drawled, unimpressed. The nobles down the table looked at each other.

The Duke reddened around the ears. “Even if they were my own friend, I would send them.”

At this, the crown nodded.

“That is generous,” he replied simply. “A friend is hard to part with. I myself had to send my own boyhood friend, though it was painful to see him go. Many members of my father’s court have done so.”
The Duke’s jaw clenched. The nobles looked askance at him again.

“Please, dear prince. Even if it were a healer of my own blood, I would send them.”

At this, Elias looked surprised, impressed even. “One of your own family?”

The Duke nodded, gesturing grandly down the table. All eyes were on him, and he loved it. “Even if the healer was one of my own daughters, I would give them to the King’s cause. That is how loyal I am to the crown.”

Rosetta nearly laughed. She nearly cried. She looked dumbstruck at Elias.

“That is quite the solemn vow, your grace.”

“I quite mean it boy. You all are my witnesses.” The Duke raised his glass on a toast.

“Hear, hear!” All drank deeply from their glasses, sealing the promise. The room seemed to brighten, the sun shining on each silver goblet as they clinked glasses merrily. Rosetta herself lifted her glass timidly, delighting in the sweet drink for the first time.

When the room quieted down, the Duke leaned back leisurely, allowing a maid to fill his glass once more.
“But alas, I have no one to send,” he sighed.

Elias nodded, leaning back to stroke his chin again.
“But what if one comes forward before my time here is up, your grace? You cannot withhold from me this hope I have to aid my father. It would be cruel to crush one’s childhood hopes completely.”

The duke laughed, a genuine simulation. “Of course, my boy. I was once young and eager.”

The nobles down the table echoed the sentiment, chuckling and toasting once more. A dazzling kaleidoscopic rainbow of colors danced around the room through the unwitting cheers of men.
Elias, hand on his chin, leaned back in his seat and caught Rosetta’s eye. Through the serious and perturbed look on his face, he winked, eyes twinkling.

The madman has done it, Rosetta thought.
The Duke stood and clapped his hands twice. A hush fell over the room once more.

“Now that we have discussed our formal business, let us enjoy ourselves,” he grinned triumphantly. As always, he created a deal where he would gain the lion share of benefit through his wit. An unfulfilled promise for all the glory-ha! The king had lost once again. Just like with that beastly half breed. The king declared the brute his champion, so he claimed him as a son in law, to fight for his kingdom instead. The Duke reveled in his victories as the servants flooded the room, cleared the half eaten dishes up and down the table, filled all goblets so abundantly they had to be picked up with grace, and set forward platter after platter of sweet delicacies and fruits.

The Duke leaned forward, selected a single pear tart, and deposited it on Rosetta’s plate.

Pears, for loyalty.

He eyed the cape covering her from the gaze of the crowd with disgust. Still, he strutted down the room, enjoying the praise of all his company.

Across the table, Elias took a bite of the pear tart. He turned to John and gave the grinning man a so-so wave of his hand.

“The cherry tart is much better,” he proclaimed. “You simply must taste it, Lady Rosetta.”

Rosetta smiled. Her father’s back was turned as Elias leaned forward to serve her himself.

Rosetta giggled as he gave his customary wink. He had quite a pleasing face.

Maybe her husband would turn out to be all the more cruel than her father, with a disarming kindness used to take what he wanted. Maybe this was all a show in order to seal her fate with the bargain she made in the sitting room. At the moment, Rosetta didn’t care. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him for the victory he just won, that her father did not yet understand.

His calloused hand reached out and placed the treat delicately on her plate. Rosetta took an eager bite of her favorite fruit.

Cherries, for sweetness.

And romance.