Author: Lina J. Potter
Date: 2020-11-02T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy

A Medieval Tale

Book Nine

A New World

By Lina J. Potter

Translated by LitHunters

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A Medieval Tale: A New World

Contents:

Welcome

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

From the Author

Book Recommendations

About Lina J. Potter

A Medieval Tale: A New World

Once, she did what seemed impossible. Still, her happily ever after is yet to come, as a new struggle arises. A new fight for her life, freedom, and happiness has already begun. A new place, new people, and a new world - and nothing in her hands. She has to start from the very beginning.

Lilian Earton has traveled a long way from a modern medic who found herself in the body of a medieval countess, lost and powerless, to a strong, independent, and powerful woman. Caught in the middle of royal conspiracies, takeovers, and intrigues, she has earned her right to proudly stand next to kings, be happy, and never be afraid of anyone.

***

A new page in the struggle that is the life of Lilian Earton begins with A Medieval Tale book 9: A New World. A bestselling Amazon series by Lina J. Potter starts with a new page to prove that Lilian is strong enough to fight for her place in the world and her happiness no matter what. A #1 Amazon bestseller series in multiple categories continues with a new twist.

Prologue

The man slowly licked the blood from his blade. It was red and hot, so alive and real—unlike him. The only thing others could see was the shell: handsome and charming but dead and empty for the last few years.

Why? That's what that girl had screamed.

Why...the perennial question that nobody knew the answer to.

Why had it happened to him, then? Why was he killed? What had he done to deserve it? He could walk, talk, even smile, but all of that was fake. Everything inside of him was long dead.

His head started to hurt, and the man licked the blade once again. It helped. The taste of blood on his lips, either someone else's or his own—it didn't really matter, as long as it quelled the terrible pain, made it unclench its claws.

The next morning, the man would look the same as he looked the day before, and nobody would notice anything different about him, but the time until then was his and only his. Nobody could infringe on the couple of moments when he could reveal his true self—the minutes before pain sank its jaws into his pliant flesh, when he didn't have to wear a mask, when he could relax and smile. Half of Ativerna would have turned gray at the sight of that smile, mad and chilling. The killer relished the sight of the body spread before him, trapped in an ecstatic orgasm-like state.

Did he feel sorry?

No, not for anyone. Nobody had felt sorry for him, after all. Let them pay for their crimes!

The time was running out.

"Your Grace, your carriage awaits."

The man nodded and left the dark alley, walking down several streets and climbing into the carriage.

They would remove the bars from the windows when they reached the central streets, not before. The killer had his confidants. They knew much and helped him corner his prey. Funny.

It was as if he was hunting with a pack of his loyal dogs, his prey the most delicious and sweet of all: a human. That thought amused the killer so much that a single giggle escaped his lips: bitter and acrid, like the bark of a fever tree. He would never take another liberty like that again.

Nobody would hear that other than the three people he trusted the most.

The killer was returning to normal life. His beast was sated, gorged on fresh meat.

For how long would it last?

Nobody knew.

Chapter 1

“Mama!”

Lily pried herself away from her book and looked at her daughter.

"Yes, sweetie?"

Miranda Catherine Earton, a charming teenage girl with large eyes and a mane of black hair, seemed upset, Lily was sure of that. After all, it had been a while since her daughter had thrown her arms around her, burying her face in her mother's dress. She was all grown up; soon, she would have to get married, so she knew all about presenting herself.

"Mama!"

But something had happened, and Lily was busy pressing her child to her chest. Yes, she was still a small child to her, her sweetie, and she was to be protected at all times.

For parents, their children never really grew up.

"Mirrie, what's wrong?"

Lily was patting her daughter on her head, her thoughts simple.

All of them were alive and well; there was nothing tragic going on. Actually, there was only one man for whom Lily was genuinely worried and whom she couldn't watch all the time. There was no need to be concerned about others, as she saw them every day.

That person was His Majesty Edward. The king was fading away. Nobody lived forever, and his heart had been giving out for quite a while. Oh, how many years had it been? Mirrie was still so small back then, and Lily was a completely different person...

Her thoughts didn't prevent Lilian from caressing her daughter and trying to comfort her. Let her cry her heart out and then explain what had happened.

The old method worked, Miranda wiped her nose off and said, "Riana was murdered!"

"What?" Lily was aghast.

She knew her daughter's friend well. Viscountess Dilahn had been a sweet girl of seventeen, betrothed to marry the next fall. Being almost four years older than Mirrie didn't prevent them from spending time together. The viscountess often visited the Earton estate, and Lily had talked to her more than once. How could she be dead? Murdered, even? Who could have... Why? How? It boggled the mind. It seemed impossible, monstrous, unimaginable...like any loss of someone close to you.

"I don’t know...she was found in the town today..."

Mirrie was sobbing.

"Here, drink this...do you want stewed berries?"

Lily pushed her tea set toward her.

Ativerna clearly had a long way to go before getting actual tea, so she was forced to use a special mix: marjoram, mint, raspberry... Herbs were something she knew well.

Growing up during hard times meant learning them by heart, and later, when pharmacies had started to sell counterfeit drugs...those bastards! Now, they were people whom Aliya would have shot without any mercy! Fake currency was one thing, but medicine? People's lives depended on it! Ugh!

As she drank up, Miranda calmed down.Lily slowly distracted her with smooth talk, calming her down, and then started to question her.

The story was weird. Riana Dilahn had been engaged. As usual, her fiancé was chosen by her parents. Lily knew that thirty-four-year-old handsome marquis. Still, such a large age gap...

Of course, Riana, not to mention Miranda, saw him as a dinosaur. Love? What love could there be in an arranged marriage? Maybe if the husband managed to grow it out of a seed of respect... And if he couldn't, well, he would probably become a cuckold: far from the first one and definitely not the last.

The marquis was smart enough to come to an understanding with the girl's parents but not smart enough to talk to her directly. Riana had always cared more about books than jewelry, and she never liked sweets, either, preferring salty delicacies. The marquis, however, chose the standard approach: trinkets, flowers, candies...nothing she was interested in.

He also started to get handsy. By local standards, it was nothing out of the ordinary—a betrothal usually turned into a marriage, after all. Riana, however, had a different opinion. At first, she tolerated it, then started complaining to her friend, then stopped complaining, and Miranda was sure that she fell in love with someone else. Who, though? Riana didn't tell, although she did mention that her beloved wasn't free.

"Was he married?"

"Riana said he had certain obligations."

“Hmm.”

Miranda had covered for her friend a few times, not knowing where she went to. And then...

Mirrie felt guilty for everything. Lily sighed. The girl was right to feel that way, but what would you expect of a child who hadn't even turned fifteen? It couldn't be helped. Could she reason like an adult who knew everything and never did anything wrong in his life...did people like that actually exist? Lily wouldn't mind getting a specimen like that for her museum of anatomy, down the road. Everyone did stupid things, every last one of us. Lily knew she was no exception, either, but how was she to explain it to Miranda?

"Sweetie, you do realize that both of you were wrong?"

Mirrie nodded. She had expected her mother to try and alleviate her guilt, but...she really was to blame, wasn't she?

"It would have been simpler if you've told me everything right away."

"Why?"

Lily shrugged.

"I would have never told Riana's parents, you have to know that, and I wouldn't have gotten involved. But we should have learned the name of that mysterious lover of hers."

Mirrie buried her face in her hands.

"Riana never mentioned it."

"Did she call him anything?"

“N-no."

"What about nicknames? Like 'honey' or 'love'?"

Mirrie shook her head again.

"No. She only mentioned that he was older, although not by much."

Lily sighed.

"Mirrie, I'll ask Hans to visit us this evening. Talk to him, all right? Recall everything that Riana told you, what she did, where she went, what she bought... Maybe she once bought a ribbon when going home from a date; maybe she mentioned a weathervane or a fence gate she liked..."

Mirrie nodded.

"Mama...I could have stopped her, couldn’t I?"

"You couldn't," Lily cut her off bluntly. "Both of you are guilty of being reckless, but you're not to blame for her death. She couldn't have known, you couldn't have predicted, but you could have taken precautions and forced her to do the same."

"Like what?"

"To tell you where she was going and when she would be back. Write down the name of her lover in her diary, warn him that others know about him..."

"Oh..."

Mirrie turned pale.

Lily wanted to give her a shake.

“What's wrong?"

But somewhere deep inside, somewhere where foreboding feelings dwelled, she already knew what was wrong. That realization made her cold, an icy needle stuck in her belly, all but stopping her from breathing.

"Mama, Riana really could have told him something like that."

"Why do you think that?"

"I suggested it myself. I said that she didn't have to say his name, but she could at least imply to him that..."

The desire to shake the girl gave way to the urge to box her ears and then, to protect her. Like, say, lock her up at home or, even better, in a panic room. Or maybe a walk-in safe? Too bad the witness protection program wouldn't be invented until several centuries in the future!

"I won't let you even peek out of a window without an escort, got it?"

Mirrie nodded.

"Lou-Lou is always with me, anyway."

"Wonderful. Never part with her, all right?"

Miranda nodded.

Lou-Lou, who had grown up large enough to weigh more than her mistress, would see that no harm came to the brat. As for the rest...

Lily felt grateful to all the gods for her own providence. Mirrie was supposed to get married in the Khanganat; what would one expect of a harem?

Nothing good.

Lilian had no experience with it, but she suspected that in a harem, she would be eaten alive in just a few days. That's why she taught her daughter every skill that might come in handy, like identifying poisons by taste: primitive toxicology, not especially detailed, but still.

Tasteless poisons didn't exist yet; the chemical industry had yet to come up with replacements for cyanide and belladonna. Each poison had taste or smell, as well as an antidote and symptoms. It was possible to notice it, figure out the reason, and survive. Aldonai willing, the girl wouldn't need any of that, but it was better to know everything.

Fighting was another useful skill. The Virmans took Lily's request seriously enough and did their best to train the young viscountess. Miranda wasn't really good with swords, but knives seemed to be her weapons of choice, and she threw them like nobody's business. She could also handle a crossbow and a sling.

Was that enough? Absolutely not, but what else could Lily do?

Nothing. Children always grew up and eventually left.

You couldn't hide them, lock them up, or make them stay; they would never forgive you for that, anyway.

The only thing left to do was what had been done for Aliya herself: give the girl knowledge, skills, and abilities that allowed her to survive in any situation so that Mirrie could stand up for herself. Whatever happened to her parents, she would survive on her own without counting on anyone else.

Had Lily succeeded in that? Time would tell.

Her conscience clean, Lily started writing a note for Hans Tremain. Over the years, the leir had gotten a title, becoming the head of the Royal Investigation Service: the first follower of Sherlock Holmes in Ativerna, a detective.

He wasn't always successful in his endeavors, but a pioneer could be forgiven many blunders. Maybe one day, they would create an order in his name or put up a memorial plaque on a building telling about him. Lily kept egging him on to write memoirs or at least leave case notes to his wife, so she'd chronicle everything. It would help him pass down the experience to others, too.

But who had killed Riana?

Lily already had her suspicions. Strangely, in any world, most women were killed either by their husbands or their lovers; money came second. But was it sex, blackmail, or...

Maybe Riana had gotten pregnant and wanted to keep the child, while the father was against it?

Alas, Lily was no M.E. and had no desire to master that skill. She knew Tremain well enough to realize that as soon as she did, she would have to dig through corpses until the end of days, and he would never let her rest.

No, thank you. She might be able to crank out simple operations, but thoracic or brain surgery was above her level.

Postmortem studies would have to be left to the future generations, if anyone would want to take up that line of work.

And so, she wrote, Honorable Tremain, would you care to keep us company for tonight's dinner...

***

The atmosphere during dinner was warm and cordial. Hans had arrived without his wife, who was about to give birth again. The other attendees were Jerisson, Lily, Miranda, Eric, Leif, Ingrid, and even Ingrid's nephew Torv, who was planning on returning to Virma soon. Tahir had stayed behind at the hospital.

Both dogs were with their masters, of course, sitting by their side and watching the plates. They weren't begging for scraps, of course, but what if someone's hand slipped and a tasty morsel fell on the floor? Things happened! They just had to seize the moment.

Unsurprisingly, the conversation was far from the easiest, especially for Miranda.

"I knew that Riana was in love, but I never expected it to get this far..."

"But it did," Hans said with a sigh. "Mirrie, your friend was with child. I talked to her maid, and she confessed that her mistress was two months pregnant. She hadn't realized it right away..."

"Riana never told me."

"But she must have told it to the baby's father. You must try and recall everything she mentioned to you."

Mirrie nodded. Hans rubbed his nose.

"That's not the worst thing, however. This is the fourth body so far."

“What?!”

"How?!"

"It cannot be!"

Several voices joined together. Hans lowered his eyes, grim.

"Exactly. This isn't the only death. The first victim was a merchant's daughter, then two girls from craftsmen families..."

"Why do you think they're connected?" Lily asked firmly. "What do they have in common?"

"Bad things," Hans replied. "Are you sure you want to hear it, ladies?"

The ladies exchanged looks and snorted. Those who attended surgery weren't scared by stories, and Ingrid was a Virman with a different view of pain and death.

"Their looks. All four were blondes, tall, pretty, from good families."

"Looks aren't enough. What else?”

"Mementos. Each girl had her pinkie cut off. Each had a kiss on her cheek."

"A kiss?"

"A lip print, bloody."

Lily winced.

"Is the...memento the only thing missing in each case?"

"It seems that some of their personal effects are gone, too. Hair ribbons, rings, but it's unclear. Their parents didn't know all of their trinkets."

"Hmm."

"Yes, I thought about that, too. Still, I think it's a madman. A maniac."

Lily sighed.

Jack the Ripper was the last thing she needed in Laveri.

"What about the murder weapon?"

"A knife, in all cases."

"Were the girls killed right away, or were they tortured first?"

Jess shook his head. He genuinely didn't think that women should talk about things like that, but it was Lilian, his Lilian, a completely different case.

She was unique, and if it didn't ruin her mood, why shouldn't she do it?

Before meeting his wife, he had thought women gentle and fragile, unable to discuss any serious matters, let alone crimes.

Help? Support? From a woman? Aldonai forbid! Women were incapable of that, no question about it.

As it turned out, he was wrong, and his wife became the one to prove it to him. She could do everything it seemed: start a production of lace, operate on a wound, calmly pull several arrowheads out of a man, escape from a riot-hit city, even kill a person.

Jess couldn't say that he admired every facet of her personality, but there were lots of other women and only one Lilian. If she wanted to discuss blood and viscera, let her, especially since he was curious as well. In other circumstances, he would have to wait for the dinner to be over and politely ditch the women, but it was impossible with his wife. She would question Tremain, discuss everything, and look quite surprised if anyone told her that such behavior was unbefitting a countess. It was quite fitting, she'd say. Why be a countess if you couldn't break the rules?

"Not right away," Hans replied. "The murderer took his time..."

"Was he torturing them or playing with them?"

"The second, I think, but I doubt it was all that different from the other option." Hans seemed unfazed by the questions, making short work of the boar meat in front of him.

Lily nodded thoughtfully. Such issues never ruined her appetite, either. Still, the presence of a serial killer in Laveri bothered her.

Why couldn't he go threaten Wellster or even Avester?

Such thoughts were wrong, though. Lily felt sorry for all girls, everywhere. How could such bastards walk the earth, really?

There was only one consolation: with no "innocent until proven guilty" clause and no lawyers, the murderer would get his just rewards as soon as he got caught with no way to escape the punishment. Most likely, he would be broken upon a wheel or maybe even worse.

Served him right. In a world like that, where human lives didn't cost a penny, there was no point in wasting the government's funds on a lowlife like that, risking more victims if he ever got free.

Avester

The man sitting on the throne was handsome; there was no doubt about that. Blond, well-built, with a charming smile... Truly, the crown on his head was far from the only reason why his mistresses dreamed of warming his bed.

Still, few of them had gotten to see him in such a state, with his gray eyes turning almost white like ice covering a dirty puddle, his lips pressed in a thin line, his cheekbones making his face look like a death mask. Few got a chance to see His Majesty Entor like that, and praise Aldonai for that. Otherwise, they might not have gotten to sleep at night, tormented by nightmares.

The man standing in front of the king, however, felt no fear. He wasn't guilty of anything, but he knew that he was still of use. There was no need to worry beforehand.

"Ativerna prospers."

Baron Lofrayne bowed. He wasn't going to argue with that. So what if it did?

Still, he had already realized the reason for the king's ire. So many years had passed, more than a generation, but his hate... His hate remained.

That hate bore the name of a beautiful woman: Imogene. The poor queen of Ativerna, unloved by her husband, unwanted, humiliated and scorned. A queen replaced by a woman barely above a streetwalker!

Leonar had loved his sister, and he hated Edward of Ativerna. He passed on that hate to his son, not caring a bit about the consequences. And then, another grudge emerged: this time, for his daughter, Larissia.

She might not be the prettiest of girls, but she had fallen in love with the handsome prince Richard, and his father didn't even think about her as a prospective bride, didn't even look at Avester. They were close relatives, true, but the aldon could have granted a dispensation. It would have been a good match, with a good dowry, not to mention Larissia's own feelings. More than enough for anyone.

But no, for the second time, another girl was chosen over a queen from Avester!

Leonar wasn't wrong, either. Viscountess Earton might have truly loved Edward, but morality condemned a woman who seduced someone else's husband.

That's right, and don't even say that rules were different for kings. Decency and integrity were the same for anyone. Jessamine and Edward had been in love, but a promise made is a promise kept, and he broke it.

Was it really any fault of Imogene's? No. Her treatment was deplorable and dishonest, and feelings were no excuse for that. Men weren't animals to be ruled only by their emotions.

And then there was Anna of Wellster who was chosen instead of Larissia. Now that was a slap in the face!

Not everybody knew the whole story, but His Majesty Leonar managed to make inquiries through certain channels. A maiden, really? That girl had gotten involved with her teacher even before the wedding and then disappeared Aldonai knew where. The epitome of virtue!

If she was like that, were any of her sisters any better? And that's who they picked over Larissia? What an insult!

At least, that's what the late King Leonar and Entor both thought. Maybe the former wouldn't have started anything if he were still alive, opting to keep the status quo. Better a lean peace than fat victory, especially in politics. Entor, however, was nowhere as wise as his father: young and reckless, he wanted revenge. He didn't even need a reason. Just because.

King Leonar's death had come at the worst possible time. The cause was simple, and there was nothing unusual about his death, either. Lily would have diagnosed a ruptured ulcer. Even in the twenty-first century, something like that couldn't always be treated: often, patients died before reaching the hospital. Bad things happened; nothing to say about that.

Alas, the man was dead, but his hate remained. It got worse, too. Hate could be tolerated if the enemy was unhappy or grieving, but Ativerna was more than fine. Richard was married, his wife was probably already expecting, and the kingdom grew richer and richer, famous for its mirrors, laces, glass, and healers. Lately, an Ativernan doctorus had become a seal of excellence. That hurt a lot.

Why did Edward have access to the best healers, while His Majesties Leonar and Entor had nothing? Why did Ativerna have it all while Avester didn't? It felt insulting...and could make one go to great lengths to fix it. What lengths, you would ask?

Simple. Take it away and split it. If you take just a little from a rich man, it wouldn't be robbery—just redistribution. Having decided that, His Majesty Entor started to make inquiries. He found out a curious detail. All the new inventions came from Castle Taral and County Earton.

Healers were taught in County Earton. Actually, whenever he looked, he found one person: a certain blonde countess. His interest piqued, Entor ordered a more thorough investigation and realized that if Lilian Earton wasn't behind everything, she was at least involved. She was also married to the dastardly Jerisson Earton and friends with His Majesty and His Highness.

The informant assured Entor that Lilian Earton knew a lot. Even if someone else was in the foreground, she was there as well. She was the source of all the new inventions, too.

And she was a woman. Weak, pliable, used to obeying men—a man could scare her, intimidate her, even force her to do anything...

At the very least, her disappearance would hurt everyone whom Entor hated, and it meant one thing. It was time to act.

The baron received a mission: find and abduct Lilian Earton. Deliver her to Avester. Do it in secret so that it couldn't be traced. If he succeeded, he would become a count. If he failed...well, he shouldn't, or he wouldn't become anything, ever.

The baron listened carefully but didn't think much of it. An abduction? What would be so hard about that? Especially if he was to abduct some woman. People might be all complimentary about her, but in the end, a woman was a woman.

The baron bowed and agreed to fulfill His Majesty's task. Of course, it wouldn't take too much time and effort. All he had to do was to go to Ativerna.

The baron had more than enough reason to be confident. Prince Richard and Jerisson Earton might be the most well-known lady-killers in Ativerna, but in Avester, that title belonged to Baron Lofrayne with his dreamy looks.

Dark brown curls, green eyes, thin black eyebrows, a firm chin, high cheekbones...he looked like a fallen angel or a sultry demon. His body was no less attractive: tall, broad-shouldered, with narrow hips and long legs, he had bedded more than a few court ladies. The baron's respect for women had vanished back after two dozen of them, and his belief in their honor even before that.

Lilian Earton? He genuinely didn't expect her to become a problem. He would ride there, seduce her, convince her to elope—all in a month's work, two months in the worst case. Nothing complicated, really. Why not go to Ativerna?

He bowed to the king once again and assured him that the mission would be accomplished...at any cost.

***

Anthony Lofrayne had never been refused in his life. The oldest son of Hans and Amanda Lofrayne, he was adored by everyone around him since childhood: his sisters, as upon receiving a long-desired heir, their father stopped getting drunk as a skunk and throwing everything at them; his mother, as his birth made Hans fall in love with her all over again; and, of course, his father.

For Hans, his son was everything: the continuation of his bloodline, his hope and strength, pride and joy. He had dreamed about a son for years, but alas, his wife only bore him girls.

He had bastards from maids and servant girls, of course, but who cared for them with their dirty peasant blood? No, Hans wished for a legitimate heir, but Amanda gave birth to one girl after another six times straight.

Hans was desperate. He started to drink and beat his wife, hoping (silently, of course, but Aldonai saw everything) that Amanda would die in childbirth, maybe together with another girl she would bring into the world, leaving him free to marry a woman capable of producing a son.

That might have happened eventually, but Amanda's seventh attempt finally resulted in a male child.

Finally getting his heir, the baron, with all the enthusiasm of a neophyte, proceeded to educate him.

There was no point in paying attention to the girls—sooner or later, they would leave the family. But his boy, blood of his blood... His son.

As a father, Hans was utterly insane. He put the crib in his own bedroom and handpicked the wet-nurses and the nannies. If the baby cried, he took him in his arms and lulled him to sleep. Unthinkable! Yet the baron didn't care.

However, Hans was nowhere as thrilled at the birth of his second son Rufus. All of his love and adoration went to Anthony. Rufus, by the way, turned out to be the only person who bore no love for his brother. As for the others... People only saw what they wished to see: a handsome face with chiseled features, a head full of chestnut hair, sparkling green eyes, a stunning smile, good manners... In his velvet suit with a frilly collar, the boy was irresistible.

He never lost his charm, either, being equally graceful and polite while atop a spirited stallion on a bloody hunting party and sitting in a parlor with elderly court ladies. He smiled at everybody but loved no one.

Early on, Anthony realized that he was the one who was supposed to be loved. In his reference system, it was well and good. The only thing that bothered Rufus, however, was that his brother didn't even dislike him—he didn't see him at all.

For Anthony, Rufus didn't exist. Why would one care about some trifling nonsense? Anthony Lofrayne definitely wouldn't, no sir.

Unlike his brother, Rufus was a momma's boy. No, he wasn't spoiled or entitled—the baroness didn't have the energy to coddle him, as after giving birth to Rufus, the doctorus strictly forbade her from having any more children, saying that the next labor would kill her. The baron took it well, already having an heir and a spare, and left his wife's bed for the maids.

The baroness breathed out in relief and proceeded to bring up the children, or rather, her daughters and Rufus.

Hans was all over the eldest son, while the youngest grew up to be a calm and quiet boy who loved reading.

He spent most of his time in the library, rummaging through manuscripts and trying to learn how to manage the estate.

In the meantime, Anthony shone in society, attracting everyone's attention.

Rufus fell in love at sixteen, smitten head over heels as if knocked down with a hammer, courtesy of one Melinda Weiss.

Anthony, in contrast, changed girls like socks, although good socks were harder to come by for him than women.

One more, one less... He didn't get Melinda into bed simply because she was a neighbor's daughter, and good relations with one's neighbor mattered more than untied breeches. It's not like she had something different between her legs compared to other girls. There were many other women, and he was in no hurry to get married and listen to their endless complaints, anyway.

And so, the Lofrayne house became the scene of a classic love triangle. Melinda was making eyes at Anthony while Rufus pined after Melinda. The baroness saw everything, but what could she do? Only talk to her youngest. Rufus could still remember that conversation, his mother's soft fingers on his cheek, her sad smile...

"Don't marry Melinda, son. Please.”

"Mama..."

"I know you want to propose."

Rufus did. Marry first, and love comes afterward, right? After they had children, everything would turn out well, he was sure of it.

"Don't marry her."

"Because she loves Tony, right?"

“Yes, sweetie."

"It will pass like a dream."

His mother smiled bitterly, understanding in her eyes.

"It won't pass, dear. You will take Melinda into the house where Tony will always be in her sight. Being married, she won't have to preserve her maidenhood anymore. She'll be free to seduce and be seduced. Sooner or later, you will hate your brother and your wife for what will happen, and who knows how that will turn out?"

"This is the worst option, Mama. Melinda might get over Tony and stop loving him."

"This will only make it worse. The thing women hate the most is what stayed unfulfilled. Our broken dreams."

Rufus slowly nodded.

"I understand, Mama. But I can’t promise you..."

"Don't, then. But wait a year."

"I can do it."

"And don't talk to her during this time."

"All right, Mama."

A year passed, and the baroness turned out to be right. A lot had changed; Melinda married a rich widower and, as Rufus later found out, managed to seduce Anthony.  She simply slipped into his bed one night. Accustomed to having a woman next to him, he didn't bother to check her face before doing the deed. Famously, when the candles go out, all cats are gray, but in the daylight, some of them turn out to be purebred.

A scandal broke out, exacerbated by the Weisses believing Anthony over their own daughter, who claimed that Tony had raped her. Tony, in turn, screamed that he would never do anything like that.

The case was solved by the maid. Pale, she came to her masters and confessed that young lord Anthony had told her to come that night, and she would have, if not for Lady Melinda, who stopped her on the doorstep, gave her a coin and ordered her to get out, then entered the room instead.

That story earned the maid a slap from Melinda and later, when the drama was over, a good sum in gold from Hans and Anthony Lofrayne. She bought herself a small inn in town and got married. The baron knew how to be grateful.

Rufus gritted his teeth and tried to forget his love. He got busy with the estate's affairs and soon became its manager. He learned everything about Lofrayne: its population, the number of sheep in the fields, the number of forks in the dining hall, the cost of his sisters' dresses, the investments and the profits... But despite truly loving Lofrayne and knowing it inside out, he understood that the estate would never be his.

Still, his brother wouldn't abandon him and kick him out. All he had to do was find a girl who didn't care about Anthony, a girl who could love Rufus for himself. Alas, he hadn't succeeded yet, and considering that in looks, the youngest Lofrayne was a pale shadow of the eldest, he would have to wait a long time, seeing as the potential bride needed to be immune to Anthony's charms. Tony was quite capable of seducing his brother's wife, and Rufus wasn't exactly anxious to become a cuckold. Melinda was still heavy on his mind. No, he would rather bide his time looking and find the perfect woman.

Rufus really looked like his brother's blurred photo. The same green eyes and chestnut hair, but with softer and weaker features, a thinner build, a timid expression on his face, a lack of confidence... Compared to Anthony, he was a candle next to the sun.

As the two brothers sat on the couch in the dining hall, that contradiction was especially pronounced.

"Ruf, I need to leave."

"For how long?"

"Half a year, I think, maybe less."

"Are you going far?" Rufus had a reason to ask. Hans Lofrayne had passed away ten years before, and Anthony inherited the title. All documents needed his signature, and all decisions, his permission.

"Yes. Prepare the papers. You'll be my proxy while I'm gone."

"Where are you headed?"

Anthony fell silent for a few minutes.

"To Ativerna, Ruf."

"We aren't friends with them."

"That’s right, but I'm not planning on staying long."

"May I ask why you are going? What's the matter?"

"You may ask, but I can't answer. It's royal business."

Rufus fell silent.

The king was not to be trifled with.

"Is it...dangerous?"

Anthony laughed, merry and carefree.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning on dying. But even if anything happens, I think you can handle Lofrayne. Just find yourself a spirited woman who can bear you children capable of having fun. Aren't you bored with sitting there like a bump on a log?"

If Anthony paid attention to other people's feelings, he would have noticed his brother's eye light up in anger. Rufus really hated him at that moment with all his cheerfulness and levity. Ten, even twenty years later, he would keep blaming himself for that cruel thought. I wish you were dead, wretch!

Ativerna, Laveri.

"You're my snuggly-wuggly sunshine..."

Lily was cooing above her son.

She would have spoiled the baby rotten, but thankfully, she didn't have anywhere enough time. At least she could nurse him herself, even if it caused a shock among her circle.

A noblewoman nursing her child? How scandalous! Her breasts will be ruined; it's unseemly, and then...

Lily didn't give a damn, especially since, unlike the real Middle Ages, nobody was forcing her to abstain from sex during nursing.

Lily had nursed the baby for a year and didn't regret a thing. Afterward, the milk dried up, and the child started teething. His bites were painful and sudden, and Lily wasn't planning on feeding blood to the young cannibal. She'd rather use gruel and goat milk—the latter, thankfully, was in good supply in the county.

The Virmans would serve as his mentors and trainers; Lily liked how they brought up children. She would arrange for the baby's rooms to be clean, and the rest would be history.

From the cradle, her son would learn to fight, a sword and a shield as his toys together with tiny ships and ponies. After all, this was the world he would have to live in. Let him grow sharp teeth: the planet was full of predators.

"How is our sunshine doing?"

Jess came in quietly and watched Lilian for a few minutes. It was beautiful, his woman playing with his son. He adored Miranda, but a son was something else. He didn't love any of them more than another, but it felt different, having an heir, the continuation of his line. Jyce Alexis Earton; his personal miracle brought in from Wellster. His father's spitting image, by the way. Lily even grumbled sometimes that he had nothing of his mother's. She wasn't serious, of course.

"Oh, our sunshine's really bright today. He's just tried to kick me in the eye, actually," Lily said with a chuckle.

Jess took up the baby and threw him up, then caught him and threw him up again. Not far, of course.

You're my little miracle...

"Do you think Mirrie might like another sibling?"

"I'll think about that," Lily agreed. "But I have to mention that the honorable count is due to visit the palace soon..."

"So, we don't have the time?"

"I'm afraid so," Lilian replied with a sly smile. "Let's wait until the evening."

Jess kissed his wife's neck and smiled. His son reacted immediately.

"Wah-wah!"

Why was his Papa kissing his Mama if he had him, the unparalleled and beloved Jyce Earton? It was he who was supposed to be kissed!

Jerisson burst into laughter and then left for the palace, while Lily returned to fussing over the baby, abandoning the bad thoughts until later that night.

***

"I don’t like it, those murders."

After making love, men wanted food, and women wanted to talk. Not necessarily about murders, of course, but that was Lilian Earton for you.

Jerisson snacked on a piece of ham and mumbled something. Knowing her husband, Lilian had made sure that the bedroom had plenty of food and drink. Sated in more ways than one, Count Earton was eager to talk.

“What?"

"I don't...yum...like them either."

"Riana was a sweet girl, but who knows what she said of Miranda?"

"Do you think that our girl might be in danger?'

“I am scared for her. Serial killers might be fixated on specific looks, but what if..."

"Hans will find that bastard."

"I hope so."

Lily couldn't tell him about her own world's experience, or she would have said that even there, serial killers sometimes weren't found despite the advances of criminology, the experts, computers, and other useful things. What could Ativerna hope for?  Here, they had only recently learned to take fingerprints, and the method was far from precise.

Lily couldn't quite believe in the impending triumph of justice.

"We'll have to place Mirrie under guard, absolutely."

"Of course, Lily. As you wish."

Lily sighed.

Whatever he said, she was still worried. That heartache... Was it age? A hunch? Damned if she knew; she couldn't put that feeling into words. She was just concerned for Mirrie, Jess, Jyce, and everyone dear to her.

Love was a wonderful feeling, but it always made one miserable.

Avester.

"Lady Seinel."

“Your Majesty!"

The aforementioned lady made a low curtsey, demonstrating the tantalizingly deep cut of her dress. A sapphire pendant sparkled in the cleft, beckoning all men around to pull it out.

Twenty years old, she was temptation personified. She was of medium height and had wheat-colored hair, huge blue eyes, perky breasts, and a thin waist. Her only flaw was her crooked legs, which she hid under her skirt. Otherwise, she was enchanting—the incarnation of innocence.

Entor had no doubt: Irida would get hers. Her charms were irresistible. The sixth daughter of a landless leir, she had arrived at court with only one dress on her shoulders and got married almost immediately. Her husband might have been fifty years her senior and weighed four times as much as she, but what did it matter? He was rich!

Lady Irida was thrilled to put on the sapphire wedding bracelet, undeterred even by being the same age as her husband's grandchildren. He died of a stroke three years later, and the young widow became a fixture of the court. Everyone knew of her situation. All she got were a dower and a house; her husband's children inherited the rest of his fortune.

What would a woman do if she had no money but wanted everything at once? Irida chose the path of a court damsel and never regretted it. She was admired, bedded, given jewels as a gift, but alas, nobody wanted to marry her. Who would take home a rug that every dog had already rolled on?

So far, that didn't upset the lady much. She cavorted around at court, generously bestowing her affection to all willing men, and didn't seem tired of it in the slightest. Entor had never availed himself of her services, by the way. It didn't befit a king to become the latest in a long line of suitors with no guarantee that he would become the last. And then there was the issue of safety: who knew what he might catch from her?

Still, she was gorgeous. Top class, really.

"Lady Irida, I have a mission for you."

"I'm all ears, Your Majesty."

As if accidentally, she ran her finger up her neck. Entor disregarded that and moved on.

"Lady, do you want to become independent? There is a nice estate right next to your house. It belongs to the crown. I'm talking about Aklayne."

The lady pulled in and gave the king a careful look.

"Your Majesty, what am I to do?"

She wasn't stupid, that one. Seeing that the king didn't care about her charms, she realized that she hadn't been called for relieving his base urges and decided to talk business.

"You will go to Ativerna."

"Ativerna, Your—"

"Quiet. Listen to me," Entor cut her off.

The lady bowed, indicating that she would comply.

"You will go as a part of an ambassador party. Baron Lofrayne will go with you. His target is Countess Earton, and you will take care of Count Earton."

"What should I do, Your Majesty?"

"At the very least, get him into bed. Better yet, make him forget about everything, abandon his family for you at least for a while, start spending his time and money..."

The lady bowed a second time. That didn't seem hard.

"Ideally, become his mistress for the next few years. You'll learn the rest later."

"The Eartons...they own the Mariella Trading House, don't they, Your Majesty?"

"Yes."

The lady's eyes lit up. Offers like that didn't just come out of the sky. Lace, glass, jewelry...GIFTS! The count would definitely shower his mistress with presents, wouldn't he?

The countess was incidental. She was supposed to be older than twenty-five, meaning old, and also fat and ugly. How could she compare to Irida? What a silly idea!

"Upon your return, you will be rewarded with the estate."

"Your Majesty, you're so generous..."

"If you don't understand something, talk to Baron Lofrayne. He's up to date on everything," Entor said, finishing the briefing. "Obey his every word."

"As you command, Your Majesty."

The king released her and fell into thought. That seemed to be all, yes. If one wished to build a new bridge, he had to do it from both sides—a trap for Her Grace and a trap for His. Let's see which of them is better at resisting temptation.

Entor really wanted to spite Ativerna, and where there's a will, there's a way.

Ativerna.

Angelina touched her belly with her hand and was immediately rewarded with a kick—their son, their child. Bran followed suit.

The Virman man had no idea he was supposed to sleep away from his pregnant wife; that wasn't how it was done in Virma. Angelina didn't care either way and hadn't insisted. It was all right with her.

She had someone to embrace her and caress her stomach; whether a boy or a girl, their father's hands and voice calmed them down almost immediately. It mattered.

Children...children brought happiness, of course, but being kicked in the liver at three in the morning was something that even a mother's love couldn't always outweigh. That's what had happened a second before.

Angelina curled up next to her husband, like always.

"How do you feel?" Bran asked, worried. His wife was about to give birth any day...to his child.

Bran had already heard many times that his physical issues probably weren't hereditary; he had simply gotten unlucky during delivery, which tended to happen to unskilled midwives, but that wasn't much consolation.

Even if the baby turned out all right, were the doctoruses experienced enough?

He was guaranteed the personal presence of both Tahir Djiaman din Dashar and Countess Earton, even more than presence—they would perform the delivery itself. They would never allow anything bad to happen.

Still, he was afraid. Even while standing before the face of Kholosh, Bran hadn't feared anything, even while fighting alone against two dozen warriors; even when he was caught in a storm on a boat small enough to be turned upside down by a breeze.

He didn't fear because he didn't value his life. It would be over in an instant, after all. The thread would snap, and he would go to Kholosh. His loved ones were a different story. His wife, his children... While they were safe, his heart kept beating. If he lost someone, a piece of his heart would die. How could a man live on if his heart was dead?

He could not. That was worse and scarier than any torture devised by man, worse than any nightmare. And that is why Bran was afraid, both for Angelina, whom he loved to no end, and for the child.

Personally, he had decided long ago that if faced with a choice between them, he would choose his wife. After all, he wouldn't know the child at that point, but without Angelina, he had no reason to live. She had a somewhat different opinion but tried to calm down Bran's fear as much as she could. Angelina knew Lilian Earton and trusted her more than herself, especially when it came to the healing arts. She had seen Lilian drag her father and Jerisson back from the death's door, watched her save Maria from postpartum fever almost a year before.

The countess was swearing like a sailor the whole time, but she did it, staying up nights, sitting by her side, and spoon-feeding the princess so much that she barely stayed alive herself. However, she succeeded.

Lily would never let anything bad happen to Angelina, either. But how would she convince her husband about that?

And so, she simply pulled Bran's hand to her and put it on her belly.

"It's all right. The baby's actually quieter today."

"Isn't it...bad?"

"No. Lily says the babies always go quiet right before the labor, gathering their strength to crawl out."

Bran nodded, stroking her full stomach.

"Do you want some water?"

"No," the princess said moodily. "Actually, my back's aching, and I have a cramp in my leg..."

"Let me massage it."

"Yes, just a minute..."

Angelina needed some solitude. Pregnant women needed it thrice as often, after all. She stood up, took a step, then another...

"Oh..."

Something popped inside, like a thin film tearing apart. Angelina felt drops of water run down her legs, one after another, turning into a rivulet.

"What's wrong?" Bran shot up from the bed.

"My water just broke," Angelina said, realizing the truth. "Darling, send the servants to the Eartons, please."

***

To Bran's credit, he even put on his pants and his shirt before rushing out of the bedroom barefoot. Angelina giggled as she watched him leave.

Still, even without shoes, he hadn't forgotten his dagger. Her husband had almost fused together with his weapon. Even an attempt to take away his pillow could result in a nasty cut, as underneath it, he always had a few knives. He even used a special silken cord instead of a ribbon—in a pinch, it could serve as a great garrote. A priest of Kholosh, that sums it up. They didn't part with their weapons even in their graves—what if someone tried to rob it? What a nice excuse to offer their god a living sacrifice!

Ouch! A light spasm told Angelina that no matter how amusing it was, her labor was imminent.

For starters, she would do well to leave the pool of water on the floor, change into a new robe, clean and ironed, specifically prepared for the occasion, and order the servants to change the bed as well. Time to get moving.

And that's what Her Highness did. At least it would be a nice distraction from panicking—with this being her first childbirth; her nerves were taut as a string.

***

Lilian Earton came in an hour later.

Bran had already worn a hole in the carpet while pacing back and forth and met Lilian's arrival if not with joy, then at least with relief. A midwife who had been staying at the castle until labor was already running circles around Angelina, helped by several maids, but Lilian made him feel safer.

Jerisson watched that scene and went to pour Bran a drink, deciding that Angelina wouldn't want her husband to be beside himself with worry the entire time. Lily would deliver the baby, and he would try to save its father and keep him sane, safe, and sound. Otherwise, the poor bastard might get a screw loose.

Jess preferred not to think about his own behavior when Lilian had been giving birth. He was sure, however, that he was calmer and more confident...probably. As his friend, Richard had gotten him drunk so much that Jerisson simply didn't remember that day at all.

When the aforementioned prince appeared at the doorstep, the men had already emptied two bottles of fortified wine and looked a little better. Angelina's screams didn't seem as loud in the library, too, although Bran still turned pale and twitched every time.

Richard looked at the sight in front of him: Bran wearing only a shirt and pants, bare-footed, with worried eyes, and Jess, dressed up in a haphazard manner, disheveled and unshaven, together with Eric, Leif, and two dogs. The only thing missing was Tremain, really.

He waved his hand.

"Do you have more wine, or have you drunk all of it?"

***

By morning, the number of empty bottles increased to fifteen, and five of them had been poured into Bran. It helped, although not quite. The Virman man was unable to pass out, but he didn't seem to be aware if he was still alive. They had overdone it.

When the library door swung open, a golden-haired vision stepping out of it, half of those present took Countess Earton for an alcohol-induced hallucination. They recognized her only later.

"Ugh..." the "vision" drawled out and headed to Bran, casually kicking aside the empty cups and bottles. "Congratulations, Pop. You have another son."

The wine was counterfeit.

That was Jerisson's only idea when he saw how quickly Gardren sobered up.

“Angelina?”

"She's fine. I've already said, it's a strong, healthy boy fit for the army, really. Your wife's doing great, too."

"And—"

"You can see them, but only now and while she's nursing the baby."

Bran was gone at the drop of a hat, not even reeling as he ran. That kind of dexterity was beyond Jess's reach. Lily looked at him and shook her head.

"Oh well. You really should have eaten something."

"A-as y-you sa-ay, da-arling..."

Lily would have said something else, of course, but she decided to let them live. It was an appropriate occasion, after all.

A new person had been born!

***

"He's so icky!"

Joliette was looking at the baby with a barely concealed disgust. Lily chuckled.

Children weren't born pretty, of course. If anyone expected to see a plump cupid with golden curls five minutes after labor, they should think better. Children were born ugly, ruddy, shriveled, and screaming their lungs out. Really, it made sense, considering where they had just crawled out of. Anyone would scream in their place.

Still, Lilian opted to disregard the young woman's remark, smiling instead.

"All children are like that. In time, he will look better. Are you thinking about having your own?"

"No," Joliette said, wincing. "After that, I probably won't."

Ivar Edward Gardren opened his tiny mouth to let out an incomprehensible grunt. Lily deftly snatched the bundle and gave it to Angelina.

"Nurse him, Mommy."

Angelina obediently untied her robe. The smacking was energetic enough to remind Lily of a vacuum pump, although she was the only one who could understand that comparison. Even Lily herself was starting to forget things like that, really. It was only a passing thought.  Meanwhile, she watched Joliette.

The girl had disgust written on her face, although that was understandable. When Angelina had returned from Virma a couple of years ago, it was only thanks to His Majesty that everything had gone peacefully. Still, the nobles were furious. They had it all figured out—the marriages, the dowries, new acquisitions. It was a real insult!

Bran Gardren turned out to have sharp teeth, too. Lily had known a guy like that back in her own world. He had spent forty years serving in the KGB. Times changed, and so did countries and organizations, but such people were the same: smart, cruel, with cold piercing stares capable of dissecting you into atoms and taking their time to put them back together.

Would she risk going against a man like that? God forbid! Instead, Lily chose to extend him a friendly hand and pushed her husband to do the same. Go visit the new estate, invite him to go hunting, look at the wharf and the ships, get him chatting with August... Bran appreciated the gesture, and the Gardrens and the Eartons became fast friends.

As for the nobles who dared to bare their teeth... Lily had only her suspicions. Nobody would probably know the truth, but after two accidents, everyone fell quiet. The countess didn't doubt that Bran had something on many other people at court. Blackmail always worked, whether in the Middle Ages or the Twenty-first Century.

Angelina was happy, but the dogs still needed their bone, and Joliette became it. The second princess had to be married as well, and she was—to Duke Leroix. Alas, there was no love in that marriage. The duke was almost thirty years her senior; even his youngest son was older than Joliette. Yet such was politics. If Edward still retained his authority or if Richard had already established his, they would have reined the nobles in, but the timing was unfortunate. The first one hadn't stepped down yet, and the second still wasn't in power; it was better to avoid rocking the boat. And really, was that so bad, being married? It happened to everyone, especially princesses, sooner or later, for the sake of their country. Such was their fate.

So it was a loveless match? Too bad, really. Few princesses got to marry for love, so few that one could stuff them and put them up for exhibition. Lily genuinely suspected that if not for the mutiny on Virma and the Ativerna-Virma alliance, Angelina might have become a widow in a few months and gotten another match.

After returning from Virma, Richard was lost. Once, he and Jerisson got blackout drunk, and Lily—something that she would never confess to her husband—eavesdropped on the conversation. She felt sorry for him. Poor Richard. Poor Tira.

What was better, to love and to lose or to have never loved at all? Writers and poets had agonized over that question for centuries, minstrels and playwrights couldn't solve it, but it still hurt in both cases.

Maybe that's what made Richard fight for his sister and her love tooth and nail. He had lost his, yes, but at least she would be happy for both of them.

As for Joliette... Lily knew that the second princess wasn't in love, and if so, why not marry? She was a princess; she would always be respected, appreciated, and cherished. What else did she need? Love? In arranged marriages, one usually looked for it on the side. In any case, she didn't have anyone yet; if she did, that would have been an issue. Lily knew all about double standards and saw the cruelty, but what could she do? Who would have listened to her? Nobody had asked her, after all. Take your husband and make your peace, like it or not. It wasn't that bad, either: at least, Joliette was given a choice, and she picked her husband out of several other men.

Who knows what kind of hopes she had held, but either she wasn't strong enough, or he wasn't wise enough, as it was clear that the girl wasn't happy. She didn't love her husband and had no desire to bear him children. What could happen next? If anyone knew, it wasn't Lilian Earton.

"Angie," Bran said, coming into the room, and Lilian once again realized that at least those two were a good match. The Virman's blue eyes lit up at the sight of his wife, her putting the baby aside after nursing, and her smiling at her stepson and stepdaughter. Bran's children lived with him and Angelina, and she was doing everything to become a friend to them, if not a mother. It had worked with the boy almost right away—at first, Ian was wary toward his stepmother but quickly started to treat her like an elder sister. As for Hilda, she hadn't known any other mother, and she wouldn't, either. She had called Angelina Mama and treated her as such.

When the three of them had presented Angelina with a gorgeous set of jewelry—blue topazes in gold, incidentally, designed by Master Helke Leitz—love surrounded them like a cloud. Lily wasn't jealous. She had everything, too: Jess loved her as much as he could, and she loved her husband just as much and wished for nobody else.

Joliette, however... Lily made a mental note to discuss it with Jess, or, even better, a certain other person.

Really, that was a much better idea.

***

She only got the chance to talk to Bran Gardren a few days later. He came to Taral to order a baptism robe for the child—made of lace, of course.

Lily received him in person, discussed the order, suggested a few more articles...and slowly drew him into the study. There, while drinking honeyed tea, she got the opportunity to talk about what truly bothered her.

"I think Joliette is jealous of her sister."

Bran narrowed his eyes.

"I haven't talked to the duchess much. She doesn't see me as equal and tends to leave before my arrival."

Lily nodded.

"I haven't mentioned it to anyone yet, only to you. Still, jealousy is a beast that can eat away at everyone."

Bran slowly nodded.

"I'll keep an eye on her, I promise."

"Who knows what might get whispered to Angelina's ear or what she might be urged to do..." Lily mused. "As a doctorus, I can say that after giving birth, women sometimes have a very...particular way of thinking."

Bran chuckled.

"I see what you mean."

It was hard not to.

"Somehow, I'm worried. I'm not even sure why," Lily said, shrugging. "I hope I'm wrong, but..."

"I will take care of it. Thank you for the warning. I've omitted that issue," Bran replied, sipping his tea.

Lily had offered her herbal brew to many people, but Bran was the only one who liked it and was currently enjoying the fragrant drink. Even Jess preferred berry juice, but tea...

They exchanged understanding looks.

It might be a woman's intuition or paranoia, but as they say, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you. It was better to worry first than get hurt later.

After the conversation, Lily banished the issue from her mind. Bran, however, never forgot anything, ever. As a rule, priests of Kholosh had good memories, just like their god did. Such was their faith and their service.

Chapter 2

The sea.

Lady Irida Seinel was happy and content, and she a good reason to be.

First, His Majesty himself had need of her. It was some task, but it was the king's will! If she did everything right, she would get the royal blessing, which meant a lot. Specifically, she would get honor, probably a nice husband, an estate, and most likely a hefty amount of money.

Second, she was leaving the court. At some point, she had become a little bit careless in her choice of men, and word spread around Avester. A gossip here, a rumor there, and not much was left of her reputation.

Of course, a woman could take quite a lot of liberties if she was a widow, but there was one thing that she could ill afford. She could never become a slut. A courtesan, a mistress, a confidant, maybe even a whore, in certain circumstances, but never a slut, and Lady Irida had crossed the line just a little too far. She needed time for everyone to forget about her blunder, but how would she arrange that interlude? Leave for the wilderness? Forget about entertainment, men, and getting enough money to live decently?

Irida hadn't devised a plan yet, thinking mostly about finding a lover and convincing him to go away for a few months, but the solution fell right into her lap. She was offered the chance to leave for another court, where nobody knew her, where she could make a new start, where...where she would have to carry out His Majesty Entor's order.

Still, it's not like she was forbidden from taking care of herself, was she?

His Majesty had already lent her a helping hand in the form of a new wardrobe and a certain sum of money, and as for jewelry... Wasn't there a generous man around willing to gift a pretty girl with a trinket or two?

Inconceivable!

Irida had the greatest faith in her charms, and incidentally, fate gave her just the opportunity to try them. Baron Lofrayne came out on the deck, and Irida's attention turned toward him. They hadn't arrived at Ativerna yet, so all bets were off. The baron was young, handsome, and, most importantly, unmarried. He was also rich and owned a lot of land and a good fortune. Not enough to compete with dukes and counts but more than enough to provide for a young wife.  Why not try her luck? Not to mention that in bed, a man like that was bound to be capable of more than croaking, Irida was sure of that. And if so...

She adjusted her cleavage and stepped forward. The voyage promised to be interesting.

"Baron Lofrayne?" A curtsey showed off her breasts.

"Lady Seinel." A bow in turn and a look aimed right where she wanted.

"Unfortunately, we weren't introduced..."

The game had begun.

Ativerna.

His Majesty Edward was dying. Lily could tell how many days he had left: one, two at most. Any good healer could see it, the stamp of death right on his face. The king never got out of bed and barely talked, spending most of his day in reverie.

The court was quiet. The king is dead, long live the king was what everyone was expected to say, tears for the former and rejoicing for the latter, but the truth was different. Any shift in power caused upheaval. A new broom, so to speak. Some of the officials would be replaced; the ranks would get purged; new assignments would be made... They all knew Richard and could predict most of his actions, but even despite that, people were anxious. Nobody was sure what would happen.

Jess and Lilian all but relocated to the palace, as did August and Alicia. Angelina and Joliette never left their father's side, and Richard stayed with him day and night.

Still, nothing could last forever. Lily knew that if not for her, Edward's life would have been over five years before during the mutiny when he had sentenced his own daughter and grandchildren. She managed to thwart Death's efforts, but the Grim Reaper never left for long. In his current state, Edward couldn't be saved even in the Twenty-first Century's hospitals. After all, death couldn't be cured.

Edward kept slipping into his dreams and going back. Sometimes, he talked in his sleep, calling for Jyce and Jessie,
talking to Edmund, Imogene, trying to explain something to them...but he never mentioned Amalia, cutting her off for good, as if she had never been his daughter. As if he had never passed that sentence. Maybe it was easier for him that way. It allowed him to live on.

Lily was by the king's bedside, watching him. She couldn't entrust that to anyone else. If Edward wasn't delirious, she could have called a servant, but in a state like this, His Majesty might say too much. No stranger should get the chance to overhear that. The throne had too much dirt, secrets, pain, passions, and doubts.

"Jess...my son..."

Lily held the king's hand in her palms.

How many years had she spent in this world? How many threads connected her to Ativerna? There were good and bad days, but His Majesty was a good man, even if he was king first and foremost. But he was a good king, too.

“Lilian?”

Edward snapped out of his delirium and watched her with a solemn look.

"Your Majesty."

"How long have you been here?"

"A while," Lily replied, nodding.

Edward smiled.

"You're a good girl, Lilian. Don't leave him, please."

Lily slowly inclined her head.

"I'll stay by his side as long as I live."

"Thank you. Thank you for my son."

They knew the truth, both of them, but they couldn't say anything aloud. Those weren't the secrets to be voiced.

"My son is lucky, just as I am."

Edward closed his eyes again. Lily sighed. It was more than a confession; it was acceptance. For Edward, she was as much his daughter as Jess was his son, and it meant a lot.

She stroked his withered hand wrapped in parched skin, yellow with age.

"I won't leave him. I won't leave any of them. As long as I'm alive, I will keep my family safe and protect them. I swear."

Edward couldn't hear her anymore. He was back in his own world where he was young, dancing with Jessie Earton at a ball, her blue eyes sparkling right next to him, and happiness seemed so close, no pain or dirt in sight...

Lily sat and watched the candles burn, unable to notice the tears rolling down her cheeks.

Why was she crying? She didn't know.

Several hours later, she took a closer look at Edward and stood up. It was almost time. She had to tell Richard and the others. They needed to say goodbye.

***

His Majesty departed at dawn.

He opened his eyes, saw daybreak, and smiled a warm and happy smile. The people he hadn't seen for so many years were walking down the first ray of the sun as if it were a road, and they looked just as they used to, young and cheerful, yet to accept the burden of time and worry. His Jessamine, as full of light and joy as at their first meeting at a ball, and Jyce, cocky and brave, ready to take on the whole world to protect his sister.

Edward's heart pounded like crazy. He wanted to touch them, walk up to them, at least call out to them, and he reached out, trying to stand up.

"Jessie! Jyce!"

His beloved and his best friend exchanged glances and reached out to him in turn, together.

"Go to us, Ed! How much longer can we wait?"

Somewhere on the sunbeam, a happy blue-eyed woman threw her arms around the young king, while her brother patted his shoulder, as loyal a friend as ever.

Back in the real world, Edward fell back, his face graying as something elusive left his body behind. Lily touched his hand and sighed.

"His Majesty is dead."

Angelina sobbed on her husband's chest. Joliette stepped back into the shadow, but Lily could see the tears on her face. The princess loved her father, unlike her husband, who wasn't even present.

Richard froze next to the late king's bed, an image of grief.

Maria touched his shoulder, uncertain, but Jess shook his head, took her hand in his, and unceremoniously forced her to squeeze her husband's palm.

"Hold him tight. He shouldn't be alone, not today."

His informality went unnoticed—on the contrary, Maria gave him a grateful look.

Lily walked to Jess and hugged him. He didn't think of Edward as a father, but he loved him anyway, and losing someone close always hurt.

For several seconds, everyone was silent, coming to terms with the idea of Edward no longer being with them. Then Richard straightened his shoulders, as if accustoming himself to the burden of the crown, raised his head, and sighed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to leave me alone with my father. I will return soon. Jess, please make the arrangements...well, you know."

Jerisson nodded. Everyone stepped out of the room, leaving Richard alone. Maria wanted to linger, but His Majesty...yes, he already was His Majesty...shook his head.

"Don't, Maria. Let me stay for now."

"I'll wait," Maria said, glancing back at Jess and getting a smile of approval. As she closed the door behind her, she stopped.

It didn't bother her to ask someone else for their opinion, even if she had just become the queen. Jess knew Richard for longer than she was alive. He loved His Majesty, appreciated him, and wished only the best for him. He would never give her a bad piece of advice.

In the meantime, Jerisson went on to make arrangements.

The king's death was more than just tragedy. It also meant a funeral and a coronation...a lot of things to be done. If Richard needed a few minutes to pull himself together, he would get them. Tough times were ahead for him—just as for Jerisson himself.

***

Lily had to wait for her husband for a while that evening.

He came late, tired, his eyes sunken, his clothes reeking of wine. Still, Countess Earton didn't scold him, even if she usually discouraged such behavior.

Without a word, she helped him undress and held him close under the sheets, squeezing his hand. Sex was the last thing on her mind. Jess was clearly not in the mood. Her reasons were simpler. Sometimes, a person shouldn't be alone, under any circumstances.

Jerisson was on the verge of a truly hard challenge, and all Lilian could do was to support him: comfort and console him just as her father was currently comforting the "Old Viper" Alicia or Maria was fussing over Richard.

She was a smart girl, that one. Like Jess, Lily had given her a few pointers, and after Wellster, Maria was quick to trust the countess and accept her advice, especially since Lily was acting in her interests.

Richard would never forget Tira; that was impossible. Like his father, he could only love one woman his entire life.

Still, Maria could carve out a place for herself. She could become a wife, a friend, a confidante, an aide. If she did it right, Richard would pay her back with gratitude and appreciation. Was it a bad replacement for love?

It could have been worse.

Fire danced in the fireplace, the dog was snoring on the rug, and Lily kept staring out the window. As she lay holding Jess's hand, she thought about the trials ahead. Still, no matter what happened, they would be together, wouldn't they?

She had promised to stay by his side, as well as Mirrie's and the children's.

Everything would work out. As long as they were together, they could handle anything.

***

Call it schmaltz, call it whatever you wish, but when Lily finally managed to fall asleep, she dreamed of His Majesty Edward. He was walking down the royal park with a pretty, young girl on his arm, dark-haired and blue-eyed, and a young man with the face of a cheerful rake followed them, his rapier hanging from his belt. All three looked shamelessly happy and content.

"Your Majesty," Lilian called out to him.

Edward noticed her and stopped.

"Lily?"

"Yes."

Lily automatically curtseyed.

"I'm glad to see you, Your Majesty."

"I'm... Oh, right! Lily, dear, tell the boys that I'll be watching them, absolutely."

Lily nodded.

She couldn’t help but blurt out,

"So, there is something over there, right?"

Edward's smile was very unkingly: cocky, self-assured, debonair, as he was just a boy next door who had just snuck an eel into the dress of a girl he liked, or maybe put a frog into her slipper.

"You would know, Lilian."

Then he left.

The young man behind him winked at her, mumbled something about his son being lucky, and followed suit, leaving Lily to stand alone in the middle of the park, gawking like a fool. Slowly, the park turned into a forest, which turned into a field, which turned into a heap of colorful images, and when she woke up in the morning...

Had something happened?

Not really.

There was nothing to talk about, period.

***

A dance, deadly and bloody!

The man was leading it as if he were inside a ballroom. Blood sprayed, and a scarlet flower bloomed on the white fabric of the shirt. Screams, pleas... It had been a long time since any of that touched his soul.

All he was doing was trying to feel warm, trying to find something for himself, catch hold of something on the edge of the precipice he was rolling into.

It was pointless.

A drop of blood fell on his lip. The man licked it clean and continued to dance.

A stab. A slash. A stab again. It was all so boring, his prey falling on its knees, begging him for mercy. How dreadfully dull! Why would that wretch ruin the thrill of his hunt? Resist, vermin!

The man gave the woman a hard punch, but she was unable to flee anymore, skulking into a corner and whimpering.

A fit of dismay came over him like an avalanche, blurring his bright eyes with a chalky haze.

Another punch. The body stayed lying in the corner. The man kicked it with the tip of his boot, cut off the pinky finger and a lock of hair, collected a few other mementos...

"You bitch!"

More and more often, he recalled the face of the only woman whose blood could sate him. She would have whined so sweetly under his dagger... But they kept dying, all of them. What if he killed himself together with her?

The man hadn't solved that riddle yet, but time was running out, as was his patience.

Avester.

His Majesty Entor smiled as he read the letter. It had been slow and gruesome, Edward's death. Finally, the king was no more.

Good riddance.

His Royal Majesty loathed the king of Ativerna. It wasn't fair, really. Everyone was gone: his father, Aunt Imogene, Edmund, but Edward kept idling his life away as if hoping to outlive everyone around him. No more, though. So what did it feel like?

Entor listened to his heart. Was it pleasure? Yes, absolutely. His enemy had died without even realizing that they were enemies.

Disappointment? Indeed. His enemy had never learned the truth.

So what else? Was it satisfaction, anticipation, thrill?

All of them. The game was beginning, only just, but Aldonai willing, Edward's children would see all of their father's undertakings crumble into dust. Now that would be a triumph.

In the end, what does death entail? Nothing! Less than nothing. After death, a man couldn't suffer or feel any pain. He just didn't exist. He couldn't be hurt.

There was only one way to destroy a man—to rid the world of his deeds. Kill what he had put his heart and soul into, leaving no memory of him or only bad memories. Only after that would revenge be complete.

Entor was taking his first step toward that vengeance. As he smiled, content, he envisioned a long game and an inevitable victory. There was no other way. He would win. Ativerna would fall at his feet; there was no doubt.

Still smiling, Entor sat and plotted in the throne room. Good thing that nobody could see him other than a curious sundog. But even the spring sun shivered as its ray touched the king's face twisted in a hateful grimace.

In the end, humans were scary.

Ativerna.

Hans Tremaine kicked the wall with the toe of his boot and cursed strong enough to wither the flowers in the planters.

The wall responded with a burst of pain in his foot.

Bastards, scum, swine... Oh, those vile rascals!

But who was it? If only he knew...

It was far from the first body, or even the tenth. The girl was lying in an alley, huddled like a baby in its mother's womb. Her knees were pressed to her chest, hiding the gash on her dress and the horrible wound on her stomach. She was pretty enough, fair-haired, seventeen, at first glance—barely older than a child with an entire life ahead of her.

Hans was furious at his inability to figure out who was doing it. He had nothing: no witnesses, no clues... The bodies were dumped out of a carriage, brought from somewhere else.

He had learned about that carriage, even: it was black, its windows nailed shut. If there was a coat-of-arms, nobody could see it. Aldonai, please let me find the culprits! I will pray for a fortnight and donate a fortune in the temple, just help me...

Hans thought about talking to the parents of the latest victim, and his heart ached. He was no snotty child, but he felt sorry for the girls. That was just wrong.

What if something like that had happened to his daughter? For that, he would do more than just kill.

His fists clenched on their own accord. No, that deserved more. If Hans got his hands on that bastard, he would beg for death for a long time and never get it.

Fine. It wasn't the time for rage, not yet.

Hans forced himself to calm down and started to examine the body. He needed to take note of its position, the clothes...it was only a body, that's it. The hands, the stains on the fingers, the pockets...

Sooner or later, the wretch would make a mistake, and then, Hans would have him.

He absolutely would.

***

Whether kings and countries were friends or not, ambassadors were a necessity—a dire one, in fact.

How else would you learn the news? Where would you send your spies? How would you harm your opponents? An embassy was the only way. It was also a handy opportunity to send away those you didn't wish to see at court. Hopefully, they would make a mistake grave enough to be put to death. Well, there was a chance of that, at least.

Any embassy was a nest of vipers, yet diplomacy required one, so all countries had to make use of them. Ativerna had an embassy in Avester and vice versa. The ambassador of Avester was Count Horatio Alden: a tall blond man in his forties, rather handsome, even if somewhat balding, which was a cause of his slight embarrassment. Horatio avoided combing his hair back, instead styling it in various ways, using special treatments, and wearing wigs, but whatever he tried, his hairline kept receding. Nothing worked.

For this reason, Horatio wasn't exactly thrilled by the appearance of one Anthony Lofrayne. So, this dandy just waltzed in to steal the show? But there was no arguing with a letter written by His Majesty.

"Baron—"

"Count," Anthony replied in tune.

The two men looked like two cats that crossed paths in a dump: needing to fight for the territory but unable to actually go through with it, as the owner of the dump would throw them both out. The only option left was to resolve the dispute peacefully.

In a situation like that, cats usually stared each other off and shrieked. The count and the baron weren't going to do the latter, but they were pretty good at the former.

"His Majesty requested I deliver this letter to you," Anthony spoke up first.

"Any command of His Majesty is law for his subjects," Horatio retorted.

Yes, the king's will is law, but who says that it makes you any smarter?

"I am tasked with a rather difficult mission, the success of which also depends on you."

Just like failure. If you don't help, Entor will learn everything, and he won't forgive that.

"You have one mission, and I represent the whole of Avester in Ativerna," Horatio countered.

It's your mission, so do it yourself. I have my plate full as it is.

"Hmm." Anthony's tone clearly indicated derision. "Unfortunately, over the last ten years, the relationship between our countries didn't seem to improve."

What kind of plate do you have here? All you're doing is taking up space and living off the royal salary!

The count narrowed his eyes.

"It's hard to improve that which doesn't exist, but at least I can deliver reliable information to my liege. Trust me, Baron, even collecting it is hard as it is."

Definitely harder than partying and carousing.

Tony winced.

"In part, it was that information that sparked my visit here."

"In part?"

"What do you know about the Eartons, Your Grace?"

Horatio sighed, nervously adjusted his lacy Mariella ruffle, and looked out of the window.

"It's hard to tell for sure, Baron."

"For sure?"

"I'd break the history of the Earton family into two parts, maybe three."

"Really?" Tony asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes. I was just starting my service in Ativerna when Count Earton decided to marry. I didn't attend the wedding, but there were certain rumors about the count's property being combined with the fleet of his father-in-law, Baron Brocklend."

"The shipwright."

It sounded like a nickname. Actually, in a way, it was a nickname. How else would one call August Brocklend?

A shipwright, both in mind and in body.

"Anyway. Count Earton was a common socialite and womanizer, and his wife, an ordinary girl who was promptly sent away by him to his estate, so she wouldn't prevent him from socializing. He didn't even produce an heir...or maybe he did, it's hard to say. The countess was rumored to be pregnant, but she lost the baby."

"I see."

"Yes. That was the first part. The second...the second started when the count left with His Highness to make calls, and the countess arrived at court. I can say that everyone was shocked."

"By what exactly?"

Horatio smiled with the corners of his lips.

"Young man, you will understand when you see the countess."

"Still, I would like to hear something right now."

"The countess is a rare kind of woman: smart, pretty, confident, but the most interesting thing about her is that she never makes you want to get rid of her. Do you know how obnoxious are those women who get their hands on even a little bit of power?"

Tony shrugged. He didn't, and he genuinely thought that a woman's place was in his bed. At least so far, that's where they had ended up, all of them. As for their feelings, hopes, claims, and self-esteem...they were women. Really, the khangans knew the best way to treat them, seeing any woman as a beautiful flower created to grace our lives and make them brighter. That was it. They weren't supposed to dictate anything or order anybody around. Who would obey the commands of a rose in a vase? Nobody would, rightly so.

And that's what Tony did. Women graced his bed and his life, but giving him orders? No broad was capable of that!

Horatio smiled.

"The countess is learning healing arts under the guidance of a famous healer from the Khanganat, Tahir Djiaman din Dashar, and she's quite adept at them, too."

“A woman?"

"A very unconventional woman, honorable Lofrayne. Trust me, when she returned from Earton, nobody was able to recognize her. She was a changed woman with a very different family and a different attitude to people."

Tony shrugged, not noticing the malicious spark in the diplomat's eyes. Horatio Alden was already imagining the countess making short work of the arrogant boy. Lilian truly was one of a kind. She never flirted, she wasn't interested in other men, she didn't emphasize her looks...all she did was offer her friendship or accept the others'.

The results were...interesting. Horatio wasn't her enemy or her friend, simply one of the faceless mass of courtiers, but he liked watching her from the sidelines. With strangers, Lilian Earton was sweet and calm, with her friends, she radiated charm and charisma, and with her enemies... She didn't really have them. People here envied her. Still, lately, the courtiers had decided that the countess wasn't to be crossed. The royal family valued her too highly.

As he looked at Lofrayne, Horatio suspected that the arrogant fool would charge blindly at the fortress walls, inevitably running into trouble. It would be curious to watch it, really.

In any case, Horatio had warned him; the rest wasn't his business.

"What exactly do you want from me, Lofrayne?"

"Introduce me to the countess, Alden. I'll take care of the rest."

"Fine. Tomorrow is His Majesty Edward's funeral and the coronation. I can get you an invitation."

"And also for my companion, Lady Seinel."

"Of course."

"All right, then. And Alden...where can I find a good tailor? I see that in Ativerna, style is different. I don't want to look old-fashioned. Not to mention that I’m not prepared for such large-scale events as mourning and a coronation."

Horatio shrugged.

"I'll call up my dressmaker. You'll have a suit by morning."

"Great. I'll be waiting."

"Then by your leave... Oh, and one more thing, Lofrayne."

"Yes?"

"My advice: take a bath but don't use scented oils."

"Excuse me, Count?"

"If you want to talk to Countess Earton, then listen to me. She doesn't like the smell of an unwashed body."

"What does she like? Or whom?"

"Her husband. Her children."

"Count, you know what I mean."

"Honorable Lofrayne..."

"Just Tony."

The two cats were tired from hissing, had gotten used to each other's smell, and the youngest offered to share the dump between them.

"Fine, Tony." Horatio decided to show his good will as well—it's not like he had a choice, really. "His Majesty says I should assist you. In what? Seducing Lilian Earton?"

"That, too."

"It's a bad idea, Tony."

“Really?”

"She's impossible to seduce."

Anthony shrugged as if saying, I haven't tried yet, but I'm sure that there are no faithful wives, only unskilled seducers.

Horatio mirrored his gesture. Talking sense into cocksure brats wasn't his job.

"Have it your way, Baron, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"I will try."

"Are you hoping to seduce Her Grace and get access to Mariella's secrets?" Horatio guessed.

"Yes," Tony said, not bothering to hide the truth.

"It's a waste of time."

"I understand that she cannot know too much..."

"Oh, no, Baron. Only Lilian Earton knows everything. Mariella Trading House is her creation, and she's the one in charge. But it won't help you."

"We’ll see."

"We will."

The men parted ways, each unconvinced. Tony had to wait for the tailor, while Horatio went into his study and poured a glass of wine.

He wasn't lying; he remembered the past and knew Lilian Earton pretty well. He had concluded that it was she who was behind Mariella's business and gave that information to the king. But for His Majesty to enter the game in such a way? Introduce that pretty boy and hope that the lady would melt?

All Horatio could do was shrug. He didn't believe in the success of that project. But whatever; he wasn't the one in charge of it. Lofrayne was, and he would get what he deserved. That is, of course, if the countess didn't add anything on top of that. Served him right.

The count hated self-assured brats. But really, who didn't?

***

The aforementioned brat was currently lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

Lilian Earton. So what was she like? His Majesty had shown him a miniature painting, but a portrait was hardly enough to understand anything, especially since painters usually flattered their customers.

The countess was blonde and green-eyed, that was clear. She also seemed good-looking enough. Still, what was she interested in? What did she like and dislike? How was he to approach her? What did she dream of?

All women were different, but at the same time, all of them wanted the same thing—a strong man whose back they could hide behind. Tony had used that many times before. Would it work with Lilian Earton? He didn't know.

Some ladies wanted poems and ayres, some roses and diamonds, others aggression and force, others yet, games and secrets. Only one thing was the same: sooner or later, all of them ended up in Anthony's bed. Lilian Earton wasn't going to become an exception. And afterward, he could figure something out.

He might convince her to elope, blackmail her, or... He would see. Time would sort things out.

Lilian Earton would have sneered at that, saying, "When the time for action comes, stop thinking and go in.” But that world had no Napoleon, and that quote never became known to the public.

***

Lady Irida Seinel was basking in a warm bath. It felt so good, so wonderful...

She leaned against a small, embroidered pillow and stared dreamily at the ceiling. She was in Ativerna. In the evening, a seamstress would come to take her measurements, and in a day or two, she would visit the Mariella salon to find herself a truly unique dress. After all, she had money, and society was hard on those who looked worse than others. Over the recent years, Ativerna became the trendsetter, and Laveri, the mecca of fashionistas from all over the world. Mariella had something for everyone.

Oh, and Irida would need a few lacy undergarments. That looked...exciting. Whom would she demonstrate them to? Oh, she would find someone. Definitely not Lofrayne, though.

A cloud came over Lady Seinel's pretty face. Yes, Baron Lofrayne...

She had met her match. Unfortunately, her charms didn't seem to work on the baron. True, he didn't mind taking her into his bed, and was quite good at it, too, but that was all. No gifts, no confessions, no praises—nothing. Lady Irida realized that none of that would come later, either.

Anthony would avail himself of her body, but taking her seriously? Marrying her? Even giving her an expensive present?

That was not an option. The baron was too self-involved for that. He thought that access to his body was a reward in itself, and any woman who fell into his bed was supposed to duly appreciate that fact.  If she hadn't, well... He would find another instead of that fool.

Irida wondered if he would find success in Ativerna.

On second thought, however, it didn't matter. She felt insulted and wished for him to get a sound punishment. Maybe the countess' husband could teach him a lesson.

A true woman scorned, Irida wasn't going to forgive and forget, even if the "perpetrator" wasn't really guilty of anything in the first place. He had never forced himself on her, and as for her not getting what she wanted... Worse things happened.

Tony, by the way, didn't think that he had offended her in any way. Really, what was it he had done? He hadn't promised her anything or sworn that he loved her. They simply made each other happy and parted ways; that was all. Lady Seinel was no innocent maiden; she knew what she wanted, and she got it.

Alas, that wasn't enough for Irida. Too bad, she would have to dedicate all of her efforts to Count Earton in Ativerna. Otherwise, she might have found herself a good match, why not?

But the will of His Majesty Entor was paramount. Or...was it?

Irida thought some more. On the one hand, the king's will was law for all of his subjects. On the other, what was stopping her? If she found a man interested in her, rich and noble enough and not too old...why not try? She might have her cake and eat it.

That wouldn't be a betrayal, not really. Just insurance, in case something happened.

Irida stretched her long leg out of the bath and admired it. What a beauty! She was gorgeous, and nobody was immune to her.

As for Lofrayne... Well, what about him? She simply hadn't had the time to go all-in on him. If she truly wanted, Lofrayne would fall at her feet. She just had to find a key to his heart.

Irida threw her head back and closed her eyes. She was dreaming of a bright and prosperous future.

***

The funeral of the late king and the coronation of the new one, were far from intimate events. Those were ceremonies with a strict set of rules.

A merchant or a carpenter might be able to bury their loved ones in private, grieve together with their families, and never show their feelings to anyone, but the king had no such opportunity.

He was a sovereign. All he did was for the good of his country. The kings who thought differently never stayed on the throne for long. The king had no personal life, only politics. Getting married, falling in love, living, dying—all of that happened according to protocol, the international one.

Politics was a nasty beast. It bit, barked, tore your soul to pieces, but you had to toe the line and please everyone, especially your own subjects.

And thus, His Majesty Edward's funeral became a spectacle. His coffin was carried through the streets so that the people could say their goodbyes to him. Richard and Maria were the first in line behind the coffin, followed by the princesses. Jerisson Earton and his wife came next—an unprecedented honor—and were trailed by dukes, counts, barons...

Nobody seemed to be jealous of Jerisson. Everyone knew that it was Lilian Earton who had summoned the famous healer that gifted His Majesty with a few more years of his life. They also heard about the alliance with the Virmans, about the trading house, about her inventions... Truly, the countess was a useful person all around. There was no point in crossing her. As for the truth—that Richard was simply giving a son the chance to say the final farewell to his father—Jess didn't know that. He might have a hunch, but he never voiced it.

Alicia and August were walking in their own places befitting the dowager Countess Earton and Baron Brocklend. They still weren't married, despite the protests of Pastor Vopler, who still hoped to steer them in the right path. How could they live in sin? Aldonai didn't approve of that!

The guards escorted the coffin on both sides, hoping to prevent people from diving under the feet of the procession or the horses while throwing generous piles of coins everywhere: copper, silver, even some gold.

People weren't fighting over the coins, not even picking them up until the cortege left.

Edward was loved. During his reign, there had been no wars, only peace and calm. No hunger, no disease...what else would commoners want? Nothing, really, aside from low taxes, although Edward had never raised them, either. He even abolished a few, while salt dropped in price, which was as good a cause as any to love the old king. Nobody was sure what would happen after Richard's ascension.

For common people, it was all very distant. The king was on his throne, but their turnip was right there and needed to be sown and harvested, while bread had to be reaped and ground. Everyday work was much more important than any king whom they might never get to see in their life, and even if they did, they might not like it.

On the other hand, who knew what would happen? The country froze on the edge like a coin on its ridge, but where would it land? Heads? Tails? Even Richard himself had no idea. He wanted to be a just, peaceful, and wise ruler, but everyone knew where a road paved with good intentions led. Richard, at least, did. He had been told.

The green ribbon wound around the houses until reaching the temple. Aldon Roman was already waiting to start the service. Later, Edward's body would be lowered into the dungeon into the tomb shared by all kings of Ativerna from the very first one.

Such was the custom, and it would continue while the country itself existed.

***

Lily wept, not hiding her tears. They ran down her face, soaking her lacy handkerchief. Jess held her up, which was quite convenient for both of them. It comforted Lily and allowed him to distract himself with caring about his wife. After all, she was a woman, weak and fragile, prone to tearing up...

Lily could have said a lot to her husband, such as about women carrying enough on their backs to kill a horse or about "female hysterics." She could, but she didn't. Such were the rules of the game in that world, and she couldn't truly break them all by herself.

Her husband did know very well what to expect from her, their marriage being as equal as possible, basically a partnership. They respected and appreciated each other; what else could she want?

It didn't really matter what they pretended to be in public. The people saw Count Earton supporting his wife, so what if, in reality, Lilian allowed herself to crack to keep her husband from breaking apart? That was par for the course. Who cared about that?

Lily surveyed the temple from behind the veil attached to a coquettish green hat with a white ribbon. A funeral was a good excuse as any to watch people, after all. His Majesty would have approved of that, too. The dead had only their graves, but those still alive needed to know about traps set for them by others. If there was a way to foresee or escape them, they should do it.

Act, Your Grace!

Lily examined the courtiers, noticing every little nuance of their behavior: the way they stood, the way they listened, the fact that some were waiting for the ceremony to end while others kept shifting from foot to foot...

A good doctorus knew people well and knew how to talk to them. How else would you get the anamnesis? How else would you establish the right diagnosis? Such was her job. After all, the prototype for Sherlock Holmes was a doctor.

Richard was genuine in his grief, just like Lily's own husband. Maria supported him, although her expression was harder than Lilian's. It made sense. The queen had to be her husband's pillar of strength. Richard was the sword and the shield, and Maria, the tent and the plate of hot food. A warrior wouldn't last long on pretty words. Anyone needed rest, protection, and peace of mind. So far, the young queen was good at providing it.

All right, she was still a princess. She would become queen a few hours later after the coronation.

Yes, it would take place the very same day, even at the same place. After His Majesty Edward's body was lowered into the grave, the aldon would hold the second ritual. Such was the Ativernan tradition. The country couldn't go without a king for longer than necessary—a day and a night, not a minute more.

Angelina cried tears of sadness, and Bran held her by the elbow, replacing the wet handkerchiefs. Angelina didn't even notice it, but Lily knew that the girl was in good hands. Men like the head of Clan Gardren rarely fell in love. Even white ravens and black sheep were rarer. But if it happened...

Lily wasn't worried about the princess. She would be all right. Even if she didn't know everything about herself, Bran would, and he wouldn't let a hair fall from her head.

Might their love fade away? Disappear?  Not really. A man like Gardren wouldn't lose a treasure that had fallen into his hands. They would be fine.

Joliette, however... Duke Leroix was standing so straight as if he had something stuck where the sun didn't shine. His face was inscrutable. He was a conundrum, a man in a mask, and nobody knew what the real one was like. The duke wasn't touching his wife, who was frozen like a statue. The princess's face, however, was twisted in a grimace of genuine pain. She had truly loved her father.

At last, the body vanished under the lid of the coffin. The final words were delivered, the servitors pushed the stone slab aside, and the coffin was lowered into the tomb to the sound of music.

Lily once again regretted not knowing physics. Otherwise, she might have built a winding machine or something.

Too bad, really. It just wasn't her thing. Now, medicine, biology, chemistry—she knew them all well enough to answer a question even if woken up in the middle of the night. She was versed in arithmetic, too, although not advanced math. Why would a doctor need integrals?

Physics, however, had always been beyond her.

***

The coronation. Richard and Maria, anointed with consecrated oil. The crowns put on their heads, one dark-haired and one blond. The aldon's blessing. It was all beautiful, bright, and majestic.

Green was the color of mourning, but it was also the color of life, and life went on no matter what. The procession left the temple.

They walked back into the palace on foot, too, without any carriages or horses. The people, however, didn't complain. Being a part of an event like that was an honor. Richard had even removed several persons from the list for various reasons.

Lily once again praised herself for wearing comfortable shoes and took her place next to her husband. What a day... Too bad, she couldn't eat anything. It had been so stupid of her, not even putting a sandwich or a piece of cheese into her pocket! Or maybe a handful of nuts, like in the old times. In college, she used to buy peanuts and pour them into her pocket so she could eat them in class when she got hungry. College students, after all, were generally pretty poor, even if her parents tried to help. Peanuts were cheap, nutritious, and didn't damage teeth.

Yet she hadn't thought of that. Well then, go ahead and starve, you idiot! Or wait for the reception. What choice did she have, though?

Lily grimly called it a fasting day and once again wiped tears from her face. She wondered how women wearing "organic" make-up made from soot, beetroot, and ceruse fared. They probably didn't cry, unlike her.

Goodbye, Your Majesty. Farewell.

***

In the palace, everything was ready: the hall where everyone poured into, the throne, the musicians...

Per tradition, the first toast was pledged to the late king, Aldonai take his soul. The second was given to the new one. The third, if it was possible, was to the queen. Afterward, it was a free-for-all.

Lily wasn't going to drink at all, and she had mastered the art of emptying her glass on the sly back in her college years. Oh, those golden days! Who hadn't gotten drunk under the table on a dare? Who hadn't been provoked into drinking at a party, sometimes with hostile intentions? Lily knew her limit well, but drinking on an empty stomach after a whole day on the move? She would have gotten hammered on yogurt!

And so, three rounds of drinks were safely poured under the table, while Lily dedicated her undivided attention to the meat cooked in a complex sauce.

Servants slipped around the tables, bringing food to the noble guests. The musicians played quiet tunes.

Richard and Maria were sitting at the head of the table, as custom dictated. They had to stay there for an hour before they were allowed to leave.

In fact, nobody really needed the king on that day. There were better things to do, like dancing, resting, or eating various delicacies—the cooks had outdone themselves, really. There was even a special coronation menu.

Lily wryly thought that the entire tradition had been designed by a really smart person.

The kingdom wouldn't go bankrupt on festivities, seeing as the funeral was combined with the coronation, while the courtiers, dead on their feet after a hard day, would quickly get drunk, allowing one to figure out their true opinion. After all, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, and calculating your limit after such a day was quite difficult. Lily could bet her boots on the room having lots of Hans' guys, which she approved of. Who knew what could happen? Any ruler needed blackmail material, and those circumstances were no worse than any other.

As for the next day... In the morning, everything would go on like always, only instead of King Edward, the people would have King Richard, no other difference.

It would be the same for Richard himself, too. He had been taking up his father's affairs for a while already, basically all but ruling the country over the last two years. Alas, medicine wasn't all-powerful, no matter how Lily wished for it to be.

She glanced at her husband and realized that they would have to spend the night at the palace. Jess was already tipsy. A few more glasses and he would be wasted.

No, she wouldn't drag him home, not that night. Thankfully, Richard had given them rooms in the palace. Currently, they contained all of their children, whom Lily had brought to say goodbye to the king. After all, he was their grandfather, even if none of them knew that. Edward would have loved that, too.

Mirrie even sobbed quite sincerely. She loved the king.

Ah, whatever. So what if the children were there? No matter. They had once spent a night in a tent, all seven of them, and survived. Six rooms were quite enough for two adults and four children. That wasn't a problem.

Well, and also dogs and mongooses.

Lily sighed and pulled Jerisson to the dance floor before he poured himself more wine. He really needed a break.

***

Horatio Alden pulled Anthony Lofrayne aside behind a pillar.

"I assume that introducing you right now would be too premature?"

"Y-yes...is this Countess Earton?"

"Yes. The man with her is the count."

Tony feasted his eyes on the blonde.

Aldonai! Thank you! That woman was definitely worthy of his attention. Tall, well-built, with amazing breasts and a figure barely hidden by the luxurious dress, golden locks, and a lovely, even if tear-stricken, face...

Well, the last thing made sense. His Majesty had died, and nobody was sure about the new broom. The count was supposed to be friends with Richard, but what if he wasn't? Tony had to make some inquiries.

What else could he say about Lilian Earton? Her green dress fit her ridiculously well, as did her hairdo and the small hat on her head. Her emerald jewelry showed off her wealth. A lacy veil, a lacy ribbon in her hair...

The count was right next to her. Tony took a closer look. How about that? Her Grace was seemingly chaperoning His Grace, holding him by the elbow and watching his movements. She wasn't stopping him from grieving and getting drunk, wasn't pushing her sympathy down his throat—she was just there for him. Interesting.

"You were right. It's not the time or the place for introductions."

"Yes. Later."

Alden disappeared, and Tony kept watching her. He liked the countess, although something about her bothered him: maybe the way she turned her head, or gazed from under her long eyelashes, or maybe...no, he couldn't quite figure it out. Still, it was going to be a thrilling hunt with a worthy prey. What else did he need?

Nothing. Let us begin!

As if sensing a close stare, Lilian shifted her shoulders, fending off an invisible fly, and Tony almost gasped in admiration. Her bosom was something else, indeed. A woman with such breasts could be forgiven a lot.  The baron's fingers twitched as if sensing a supple warmth. Gorgeous...

He wondered what she was like in bed. Was she quiet or a screamer? A huntress or prey? He would love to find it out. What a rare opportunity—being paid and given the king's favor while receiving pleasure.

He got really lucky this time. What a woman!

***

"A break, dammit..."

"D-darling! H-honey..."

"Ugh, why do I feel like the wife of a miner instead of a countess?" Lilian asked, addressing the air.

Jerisson didn't notice her sarcasm and reached out to kiss his wife, missing the target and almost collapsing on the floor before Lily caught him.

"Let's go, dear."

“Y-yes! M-maybe we c-could d-dance some more?"

"Absolutely," Lily promised as she dragged her husband to their chambers.

The noble count was so drunk that his consciousness had gone fishing, leaving only the scraps.

His legs, praise Aldonai, still obeyed him. Otherwise, Lily would have been forced to summon servants—a real faux pas.

Fine. He would have to fetch some cucumber brine at the kitchen later. The cooks would pour him some no questions asked; they knew how efficient it was at curing a hangover.

She couldn't really blame Jerisson. Edward had been like a second father to him—officially, a loving and beloved uncle, but adjectives were what mattered here. That's why he kept drinking. He needed to forget.

Lily pondered naming one of their children Edward unless Richard and Maria beat them to the punch—although she had a good reason to believe that they might not.

Finally, the chambers. Lily unloaded her husband on the bed, pulled off his boots, and freed him from some of his clothes. He didn't really need a doublet or pants... Here we go. It looked all right.

Having medical education also meant knowing the basics of nursing—caring for sick people. A full-fledged doctor or not, Lily had learned them well. She could move heavy bodies, change the patients' clothes without throwing her back out... There were tricks for everything.

And so, she did what she had been taught. Still, she didn't come for the brine by herself, sending a lackey instead. She was tired enough as it was. The boy turned out to be as quick on his feet as he was quick-witted and got a coin as a reward. He vanished, but he would come back if called.

Lily put the pitcher on the bed stand next to Jess, lay down by his side, and fell asleep.

***

Maria was sitting on the bed in her room.

She wasn't quite sure what to do. On the one hand, the thing that had just happened was even more important than the wedding: the coronation. A king had no obligation to crown his wife. Indeed, few of her father's wives had been crowned.

On the other hand, her and Richard's wedding had happened back when she turned sixteen. Maria remembered herself sitting at the head of the festive table, people escorting them into their bedroom, singing and dancing as they walked, being undressed and laid down on the bed, Richard being pushed into the room after her...

Yet they had spent that night playing backgammon! Richard refused to lie with her. Maria still remembered his words, "I don't want to risk you. You've become a dear friend. I know that early pregnancy and labor is dangerous for a woman. We might be already married, but we can only lie together when you are eighteen. Don't get me wrong, you're a beautiful girl, and I...I wouldn't mind doing it right now, but I don't want to lose you. I've lost too much already."

He had said a lot that night. Maria understood it and embraced it.

And then, Richard cut his hand to leave blood on the sheets, and they played dice until the morning. They also snuck honeyed fruit from the big platter, drank wine, laughed, and joked...it was a very intimate night, very personal. Maria still blushed at the memory of it.

For some reason, she considered lying in the same bed to be very shameful, and the way Richard looked at her... It couldn't be faked; his look made her feel wanted and attractive, but nothing ever came of it.

They had shared chambers with adjacent bedrooms and trusted servants who kept their mouths shut about everything that happened in those bedrooms.

Maria was certain that Richard didn't have a mistress in the palace. Something like that couldn't be hidden. She knew that, and it made her happy. He respected her.

Since that night, Richard visited her bedroom on a regular basis. He always brought something: pastry, a piece of cake, fruit... They shared them and laughed, playing a game or another and talking. Still, Richard never went beyond kissing.

Maria wanted him to. She did know about what happened in bed, thanks to Lilian Earton, and she wasn't afraid. Well, maybe a little. Just a tiny bit.

But Richard was in no hurry, and how was she to seduce him? Maria had no idea, and Lily refused to teach her, saying that it was her husband's prerogative.

Would he do it, however? Maria was unsure.

A clatter came from Richard's bedroom, startling Maria and making her rush there, forgetting everything.

"Richard!"

His Majesty was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the shards of a vase.

Maria loved that vase, but whatever.

"Are you hurt?"

“N-no."

Richard was drunk just enough for his feet to still work while his head refused to. Maria realized that and decided that it was time to act.

"Let me help you up."

"I c-can d-do it!" the king of Ativerna flared up and tried to stand on all fours like a proud lion.

Maria almost giggled but realized that laughter would be inappropriate and offered Richard her hand.

"Get up."

Somehow, she got Richard to his bed and knelt in front of him.

"Let me get your boots off."

Richard leaned back on his elbows and watched Maria pull off one boot, then the other... Her nightgown flew open, revealing a thin shirt underneath. Lily launched the production of such items as the first thing, knowing that both men and women would buy those products, and one of her pieces was currently gracing Maria's body.

Crimson silk with black lace perfectly matched her dark hair and matte skin. The low cut demonstrated her breasts, her skin shining through the thin fabric, while her eyes looked dark and full of mystery. What man could resist her?

Maybe if Richard had drunk a little less... Maybe if Maria decided differently...

But seeing the way her husband looked at her, she squeaked, embarrassed, and blushed, sealing her fate.

Richard deftly caught her hand.

"My wife, will you abandon me?"

"Um—"

"Alone, sick and grieving!"

Maria doubted the sickness bit but decided to touch his forehead...with her lips. Somehow, her lips made their way to his nose, then his cheek, then...

And then, everything worked by itself.

***

Late that night, an hour before dawn, Maria lay sleepless.

Richard was right next to her, not truly sleeping but not quite awake, somewhere in between. The young woman, however, was trying to listen to herself.

She hadn't really felt pain, maybe just a little bit. It wasn't scary, either. It felt nice, and Richard promised that it would only get better.

Richard, her husband, loving and beloved. And to think that Milia had told her that drunk men were so much worse than sober! That they never listened to women or thought about their desires...

Maria didn't have such an impression. Richard took care of her, and it meant that later, she would feel even better.

She touched the strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead.

Richard turned over on his side and put his hands around her. His eyes were closed.

"Sleep, Tira. Sleep, my love..."

Maria didn't start a scandal; she had no strength left to do it. She felt numb as if surrounded by a cloud of mist that she couldn't scatter. Tira? His love? Who could it be?

Fine. There wasn't much time until dawn, and then...she knew who could answer her questions. Several people must be in the know.

Who was Tira?

***

In the morning, the servants who clean up after Their Majesties smiled at each other, their smiles calm and knowing.

Finally, it had happened.

If Aldonai willed it, soon, they might get to nurse the royal children. Everyone knew that power was secured by heirs. Hopefully, it would happen sooner than later.

***

In the morning, when Lilian woke up, Jess was nowhere in sight, and neither was the brine in the pitcher. Instead, she had a huge dog sleeping by her side.

"Nanook, you furry swine!"

"Rrr," he said without waking up and licked clean Her Grace's face from the chin up to her forehead.

Then he turned around and snored, just like any man would.

Lily laughed, ruffled up his thick fur, and went to wash up.

A new day was beginning.

***

Jess turned up an hour later at breakfast.

"Lily, Richard asked us to stick around. Do you mind?"

"No," Lilian replied. "I'll just send the children home and fetch a few things."

"Get me something to wear, too. There's another reception today..."

Lily nodded.

Officially, His Majesty was to introduce himself to the ambassadors of neighboring nations.

The day before was the time to meet his own subjects, and the coming night, with the others. Everyone already knew him, of course, but protocol wasn't to be refused, only followed.

"I will."

"You're a treasure."

"It's nice, being duly appreciated."

Jess smiled, kissed his wife, and left, most likely, to visit Richard. The king had probably an even worse time during night and needed a friend. Lily decided to stay for as long as the friends needed and turned her attention to munching. After finishing the meal, they would go home.

Miranda didn't mind, and the toddlers were all too little to care. It would be better for them to stay home, anyway. There, they would have the entire garden to themselves, not to mention the huge house, and what could they get in the palace?

Only a few rooms.

No, home was the only way. But even there, work found Lilian.

***

Post-mortem report. Composed by Hans Tremain.

A girl (a woman?)

Fifteen to twenty years old.

Blond hair, gray eyes, medium build.

Body found in an alley lying on the back spread-eagled, left leg tucked, right leg stretched out.

Dressed in a brown dress, white apron, bonnet, shoes, and stockings.

Wrist cuts, rope marks, cut marks on the body, dress ripped. Suggested murder weapon: long dagger.

Belly cut open.

Pinky finger taken.

Kiss on the cheek.

Merge with cases 1-5.

H. Tremain

Records 1-5 had been lost, but this particular document had been kept in the Ativerna police museum for a long time.

Chapter 3

Her Majesty Maria stared at Lilian Earton, calm but resolute. She expected a serious conversation and had a good reason to. Lily returned the look.

Her Majesty visiting a day after the funeral was odd. She hadn't ordered Lily to come or summoned her to the palace—she came by herself after waiting for the countess to leave, following her while ignoring all the balls and receptions. The palace clearly had far too many ears for her liking.

The Eartons, however, had only four: two of Lily's and two of Nanook's, and anyone who dared to eavesdrop on the latter might find themselves in possession of extra legs. That dog was much more than a cute smile, adorable eyes, and thick fur—he also had a lot of sharp teeth.

“Lilian...”

"Your Majesty," Lily said and tried to curtsey, but Maria stopped her with a sharp gesture.

"Stop it!"

Lily obediently nodded.

Yes, Maria had changed a lot since leaving Wellster. She was no longer a scrawny teenager but a pretty girl in her prime, tall and statuesque, with dark hair, smooth white skin, and huge eyes.

Her Majesty Albitta had been a stunner in her youth, and her daughter was on par with her, maybe even exceeding the late queen in some ways—after all, there was a reason why her father Gardwig had been once called the Lion of Wellster.

Maria took the best from her parents, and Lily thought she and Richard were destined to have gorgeous children. Not yet, of course—a little later. Richard had decided to wait with intimacy until Maria came of age, and with children, until she turned nineteen.

The monarch's sexual education wasn't Lily's handiwork. It was all much simpler: after Tira's death, Richard didn't want anyone or anything, as if he had been frozen.

Sex with another woman after losing her, his one and only? Richard was incapable of that, and thus, he seized the excuse granted to him by Lilian. Nobody was sure what would happen. Early pregnancy was known to be harmful to women, as well as having sex too early. Some things shouldn't be rushed.

Edward hadn't insisted, either. As far as Lily knew, Angelina shared certain details with him, and His Majesty opted not to push, imagining himself in his son's place and retreating without saying a word.

"Something's wrong?" Lily asked, not bothering with formalities.

"Yes," Maria said, nodding. "Lilian, who is Tira?"

Lily bit her lip, hoping that it didn't make her look stupid. How had Maria learned that name? Who dared?

Apparently, that question was all but written on her face, as Maria paced the room, threw her fan on the couch, and turned back to the countess.

"Richard mentioned her last night, in his sleep."

"He did?"

Maria cast her eyes downward.

"Lilian, we..."

Lily threw her hands up.

“I get it. No need to continue."

Nothing strange about that, really. His father's death had probably become a trigger for Richard, and he wanted comfort. Why not from Maria?

He wouldn't run away from the palace, and he had no official mistress, either.

"In his sleep, Richard tossed and turned, begging his father not to leave. Then he remembered Tira and started calling for her... I tried to wake him up and succeeded, but..."

"But? Your Ma—"

"Lilian!"

"Fine, Maria." Lily gave up, knowing that it wasn't the queen who asked her that question but a girl who had no idea what to expect—girl who was scared.

Who wouldn't be, in a situation like that, when any decision you made would last a lifetime with no chance of fixing your mistake?

Her Majesty lowered herself into a chair and stared at Lilian.

The countess capitulated and headed to a small bar.

"Pick a liquor. Raspberry, cherry, plum, lingonberry?"

"Cherry," Maria replied. "Will we need it?"

Everyone knew Lilian's aversion to alcohol. She would only drink in a moment of turmoil, no other way.

The only exception was a severe bout of cold that could be prevented by a dose of spirits and a good deal of warmth, allowing one to wake up hale and healthy in the morning. That clearly wasn't the case, however.

"It's for you. I'll just...keep you company."

"It's so bad?" Maria asked, trying to feign a smile.

"Oh, yes." Lilian nodded and poured the drink into shot glasses, her hand unflinching. That, by the way, was also a source of revenue for Mariella Trading House: liquors, special bottles, glasses of various shapes...

It wasn't a question of taste but prestige. That bottle cost so much that sometimes it scared Lily, but if you had exclusive products based on recipes from another world and prepared using top-quality materials...

The drink was delicious and barely tasted of alcohol, but Lily knew that even two shots would be enough to knock her brain into a cherry haze.

She poured herself only a few drops but filled Maria's glass to the top, then laid out the refreshments: nuts, dried fruit, and sweets, nodding at the shots.

"Let's go."

Maria obediently made a few sips, and Lily started telling the story.

"Tira's dead. She was already dead when you met Richard."

Her Majesty breathed out with clear relief.

"Good."

"Yes. The problem is, Richard loved her."

Maria made a few more sips.

"He did?"

Lily shrugged.

"I didn't want to speak of that, but that's the truth, and I can't change it."

"And he still loves her?"

It was Lily's turn to take a sip.

"I don’t think so. It's more like...a treat you haven't gotten to eat, you know?"

“N-no?"

"Imagine going to dinner and seeing a pretty and tasty cake. You want to eat it, but someone does it before you, or you get distracted before you can taste it. Even after ten or twenty years, you'll still remember that cake and regret never getting to eat it."

Maria slowly nodded.

"You think that's what it's like for Richard?"

"Yes."

Lily mentally apologized to Richard for that lie. She would talk to him later, or better yet, to Jerisson. Fine, she would think about that some more. For the time being, the only thing that mattered was the girl sitting across from her with Bambi's eyes and asking for help or at least comfort. Even a few soothing words would go a long way!

Maria breathed out and finished the glass.

"But what should I do?"

"Ignore it," Lily replied firmly. "Put on a brave face and never mention it. Trust me; it will pass."

"But, Richard remembers her."

“So? She died, and the rest is history."

Maria slowly lowered her gaze.

"Thank you, Lilian."

Almost like a mother, Lily patted the dark hair done in an elaborate hairdo. That was improper, of course, unacceptable. Still, the moment called for it. For Maria, Lilian Earton had become close enough to feel like family, which wasn't all that surprising, really. Her saving Milia and the children, the journey from Wellster when Lilian and Mirrie were the only ones to help the princess adapt while the other ladies were busy recuperating from everything that had happened, and then her assistance in Ativerna...

Lily hadn't done any of that to benefit herself, and Maria knew that. In the end, Countess Earton became an older sister or an honorary aunt to her, someone she could always confide in.

The current conversation only proved that. Maria knew that everything she had said would be between them.

Meanwhile, Lily watched the queen and kept thinking that it was a good thing that she was still so young. She didn't understand the most important thing, and Lily didn't want to explain it to her yet. It would be better for her to give Richard some pointers, so he would know what to focus on.

You couldn't compete with the dead.

In their lovers' memory, they would always be perfect. Even if Maria moved Heaven and Earth, she wouldn't eclipse Tira for Richard. Never.

He would never be able to love her the same way, either. Such was the law, and such was life. All too often, it was cruel.

***

Angelina rarely felt guilty, but talking to Joliette was hard. It was as if her own happiness was built on her sister's misfortunes, and everyone knew that. Nobody blamed her, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. It's not like it was Angelina's fault; she hadn't done anything wrong, but still... It was all so awkward and uncomfortable.

Once, before Angelina's marriage, the sisters had been close. Not anymore. Joliette hated Bran Gardren at first sight.

"Angie, what do you see in him?" Her Highness flared up, resentful.

Angelina only shrugged. What could she answer to that?

She remembered the fairy tale about the Beauty and the Beast who would die without her. But had anyone ever thought about what was going on in Beauty's head?

Ugliness was a mask covering a soul, but so was beauty. In a way, it was a perfect disguise. If you were beautiful, you had plenty of opportunities. You were admired, courted, loved, befriended...but what was inside of you? Did anyone care? When we see a pretty picture, we never think about the model depicted in it. She might be tired or hungry or have problems at home, but no, we only see her looks.

The Beast fell in love with Beauty when he saw her soul, disregarding her looks, and that's why she returned his love. The lesson of the story was that beauty and ugliness were two sides of the same coin, and people usually looked only at the side that glittered more. Sometimes, Angelina felt like that beauty in the story. A princess, pretty and smart...but so what? Had any of her suitors ever cared about her heart? Nobody.

That's why she liked Lilian Earton and her strange tales. She was good at listening and hearing. She didn't see princesses, but two girls left without a mother and could understand them. It annoyed Jolie but always comforted Angelina. At least someone could see her as a person.

And Bran... Bran saw the real her: not a princess, but a woman who could be loved. Few could boast that, and Angelina wouldn't trade it even for the royal title. Joliette simply couldn't understand it, and her words once again proved that.

"He's so...homely."

Angelina shared the sentiment about her baby, so she nodded and smiled.

"I guess so. No worries. He'll grow up to be as handsome as Ian. Right, sunshine?"

Ian, who was playing with Hilda in the corner, nodded and smiled at his stepmother.

At first, he had been a little scared of her, to tell the truth. A stepmother... What culture didn't have stories about evil hags who married men with children only to ruin their lives?

And so, he was wary. Not just for himself—after all, he was a man, almost an adult. His sister was different. Hilda couldn't really say anything or look for help, and the nanny wasn't much of a protector. He wasn't sure what would happen.

But Angelina turned out to be well-adjusted. If she tried to win his trust, if she squealed with delight while cuddling with his sister, if she swore that she would love the children until the end of time, Ian would have never believed her. However, she did none of the above. Angelina truly wanted to become friends with her stepchildren, for her husband's sake, and thus, she was wary as well. After all, if she made a mistake, she might never get a chance to fix it, and she had to build a whole life with those children. She would never get rid of them.

Love? She didn't love them, not yet, but who knew what would happen later? The important thing was not to lose any chances. But what was the right approach? How was she to avoid making mistakes? Angelina had no idea. She stumbled about as if in the dark, careful and cautious, slow and wary. It was the same for Ian, too. When one is afraid, it's easier to notice someone else's fear. And so, step by step, several lives entwined into a knot called family.

Ian didn't develop a mindless love for his stepmother. He wouldn't give his life for her—his sister would need that later. But he did acknowledge her, and he would gladly kill for her—that wasn't a problem, considering his father. The Gardrens never had a reverence for human life. All Ian did was accept Angelina and agree to share his space with her and his life. That was much more honest than pretty words about love.

Angelina did the same. She loved Bran, and he adored his children. He had barely survived the death of his eldest.

If she couldn't smooth things over with the children, her husband would be...uncomfortable. She had to try, and both she and Ian did so—successfully. It wasn't love yet, like with Lilian and Miranda, but it was friendship and mutual understanding. That was a lot.

She couldn't explain all of that to Joliette. She barely understood it herself, but Angie felt that with time, if everything worked out all right, Ian would call her the most important name in the world: mother. That was worth it.

Her sister, however, couldn't see it at all. As she looked at the boy, she shrugged.

"Angie, maybe the child could go for a walk, look at something?"

"Ian doesn't bother me," Angelina replied. "I have no secrets from my son."

"Your stepson."

"Son. Jolie, we've discussed that already."

Joliette winced.

"Fine. Tell me, are you going to sit here in the country all summer?"

Angelina raised her eyebrows.

“Of course. I have three children."

"Hand them over to nannies. The ball will happen soon, and I want you to be there. You've become a real homebody with that Virman."

"I love my husband and being with him," Angelina replied, unfazed. "Sorry, sister, but I don't want to go to the ball."

"You still haven't recovered? Although..."

"I'm all right. I just want to stay home."

"Angie!"

"I'm sorry. I had to say goodbye to Father, but otherwise... Lilian advised against going to the city too often. It's hot, there are flies and sickness going around, and I have little children. I don't want them to catch something."

Joliette winced.

"A house, a husband, children... It's so boring, Angie!"

"I don't mind."

"Angie, just forget everything and come!"

"Forgive me, sister, but no."

Joliette spent an hour trying to convince her sister, then sighed and said goodbye, clearly disgruntled.

Ian snorted and climbed on his stepmother's bed.

"I don't like her."

Angelina sighed, tousling his soft hair.

"Jolie's nice. It's just that I got lucky: I have your father and you. She doesn't have anybody."

"What about that...shabby guy?"

"Duke Leroix?" Angelina couldn't help but giggle. Truly, children hit the bullseye, always. Life hadn't taught them to lie or be disingenuous yet.

"Yes, him."

"Jolie doesn't love him, and vice versa."

"I don't like her either. She seems...evil inside. Not like you."

"She's good, too. She's simply unhappy."

"No. Unhappy people are different. She's just wicked."

Angelina waved her hand and decided against trying to dissuade the child. Ian was his father's son: if he was being stubborn, convincing him was impossible. She saw no point in trying to argue with him. Later, she would talk to Bran...

She had told the truth about the ball, too. She had absolutely no desire to go anywhere, whether a ball, a boat tour, or a picnic. Angelina had taken after her mother, Jessamine, who hadn't wanted anything other than her children, her husband, and a peaceful life.

Joliette was different.

Ian curled into a ball next to his stepmother, her hand around his shoulders, and thought that he needed to talk to his father, too. He didn't like that woman; he couldn't help it.

Could she never come to visit?

***

Aldonai knew how much Richard wanted to avoid that conversation, but wishes weren't horses, and he didn't want for them in any case.

Maria was his wife. Whether he liked it or not, still loved another woman or not, Maria would stay with him forever, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death did them part. She would share his throne and his power, become the mother of his children, his pillar of strength. If anything happened to him, she would become regent—well, probably together with Jerisson, as the nobles wouldn't tolerate a woman reigning alone, and she would never manage it anyway. Just like her mother...oh, wait.

Richard still couldn't imagine his wife as a rebel queen's daughter, only the stepdaughter of Milia of Wellster: sweet, gentle, and domestic. That's what she was like, and the story told by Jerisson only confirmed that. Richard saw that himself. Hurting that girl was like kicking a kitten: something really nasty and vile.

Yesterday, however... He had drunk too much. Honestly, in his place, anyone would have. But how was he to explain to Maria that they needed to wait? How was he to avoid hurting her?

There was no answer.

Richard pushed the door. Maria was sitting on the bed, dressed all in white. She looked almost like a child, her hair braided, her face clean and fresh, but her eyes were full of anxiety and worry.

“Richard?"

"Maria, darling..."

He sat down next to her and took her hand but never got the chance to speak.

Maria licked her lips.

"Richard, please, hear me out."

"Yes?"

Could he have offended her? Hurt her?

A drunk fool!

But the way Maria looked at him...it was odd. She didn't seem offended.

"Richard, I'll always be by your side."

"Maria?"

"I won't abandon you. You're my one and only, and I will always love you. Don't push me away, please."

Her thin hands were on his shoulders, her lips against his. Who would refuse that? Richard wasn't made of iron. He still didn't remember calling Tira's name, but Lilian had advised against bringing that up.

One had to tell something like that by themselves and never regret it, or that shadow would hang above them their entire life. Maria didn't want that. She wanted to emphasize that the other woman was dead and she was alive. That she loved him and he was free to love her in turn. And sooner or later, one way or another...

She couldn't compete with memories, but she could replace them with new ones, and that's what Maria was going to do.

Let the past bury its dead. She would build the future.

***

Social life carried on as usual.

The courtiers, not being stupid, did notice a change in Their Majesties' relationship.

Everyone saw how they touched each other and talked. There was a certain warmth between them, an intimacy. Something like that couldn't be hidden.

Richard wasn't trying to. He might be a one-woman man who knew that he would never forget Tira. Until his death, when he looked at the moon, he would see her platinum hair and her blue eyes.

Two girls couldn't be more different than Maria and Tira. They didn't have anything in common: their hair, their eyes, their build, their behavior, their personality... But that was for the best, really. Looking for a replacement would only tear his heart to pieces. It would be easier just to say that none existed, and any other woman was completely different.

Maybe Aldonai would take mercy on him, and, when his time came, Tira would run down the moonbeam and give him a hand, smiling invitingly, allowing Richard to leave hand in hand with his one and only love.

But that couldn't happen yet. He had a duty to Ativerna. He had to bring up a son, an heir, give him the throne and make sure that he wouldn't fail. Then and only then...

How long would it take? Forty years? Fifty? He didn't know how many years Aldonai would give him, but whatever happened, he wouldn't waste a single minute. When he appeared before Aldonai, he would look him in the eyes and say, "I didn't love my wife, but I didn't make her unhappy." Richard remembered his father's mistakes and learned from them.

Maria, however, was in love. She was young, happy, and hoped for the best.

They will make it. They must. Richard will come to love her!

Nobody had ever told her that love could be different.

***

Lily threw a disgusted look at the invitation. Still, the royals weren't to be refused. Well, she could do it, in truth. She could avoid going and stay home, and really...

She didn't want any balls, absolutely! Less than two weeks had passed since His Majesty's funeral. But high society had its own laws, and life didn't stop even for a day.

It might slow down and get dim a little with all its mourning gowns and bowknots, but it never stopped. Edward had realized long ago that Lilian Earton was more useful staying in Castle Taral than in the palace and didn't take advantage of her too much. Still, some events simply had to be attended, or everyone would think that you had fallen into disfavor, which was bad for business. Thus, she and her husband had to come.

There was also a short countryside trip planned later on the occasion of a famous poet's visit. Ugh. Lily didn't like the local poets. In truth, she hadn't particularly admired those from her own world, either. It seemed that God hadn't granted her either the talent or the love for poetry. Latin was different, though. Lily loved studying it as it felt clear and logical, unlike poems. That just wasn't her thing.

Now, fairy tales...fairy tales were fine, but Lilian never remembered caring for poems. The local writers with their madrigals, ballads, and various other rhymes made her teeth ache, and Lilian hated toothache to the point of hysteria. She was no dentist. She might notice a problem, but ripping out a tooth was quite beyond her skills.

Trusting local quacks, though? Never!

That's why she brushed her teeth six times a day, sometimes even eight, and regularly examined them, always delighting at not finding any cavities. Dairy products had become a fixture in her diet.

If she couldn't cure something, she would prevent it.

She kept a close eye on the rest of the family, too. At first, Jerisson grumbled, but eventually, he gave up and even started to somewhat enjoy it. He wanted his wife to taste nice, didn't he? He didn't wish for her to smell of yesterday's patty or morning eggs.

They would ride out to the country, have a seaside picnic while the poet read his verses. Oh, to hell with it! But they had to go.

Richard had promised to go easy on them, but if he sent an invitation, there was no refusing. Such was the unspoken bargain. It might be fine for Jerisson—with him having grown up at court, it was his element—but what about Lilian? She hissed like a cat thrown into water, but there was no escaping it!

They had to go.

Lily winced and went to pick a dress. Thankfully, the Earton family colors were green and white, so a mourning knot would perfectly match her outfit. It would have been so much harder if they were pink and violet. Lily shuddered, imagining designing attire in those.

***

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

William Shakespeare

Lily whistled a tune as she approached the palace.

There was no avoiding it. The ball was inevitable. Still, it didn't make her any less frustrated.

"Mama, don't yawn," Miranda said, winking at Lily and getting an annoyed stare in return.

"It's nice for you, Mirrie. You like all of that."

"We've been through this already, Mama. Relax and try to enjoy it."

"I'd rather enjoy something else," Lily grumbled.

Beaming, Jess pulled his wife closer, and Miranda gave them a cheerful smile. Parents.

"Such as what, my love?"

"Such as a quiet evening next to the fireplace, a book in my hands," Lily couldn't help replying.

"We can discuss that," Jerisson said, his eyes sparkling. "The evening, the fireplace, the book—everything. Absolutely."

Parents. That said it all.

"It won't be long. Just five hours or so, and then we can go back," Miranda said, "comforting" her mother.

Lily closed her eyes and, while nobody was watching, discarded her shoes inside the carriage.

She would put them on later while dreaming about a minute of peace.

Why was she required to do all of that bothersome stuff?

She had never dreamed of social life, balls, and receptions. She'd rather get three night shifts in a row! Even four!

Destiny smiled slyly as it watched Countess Earton. So she wanted a peaceful life? Medical practice?

Here, have a few dancing parties!

***

The guests finally arrived.

Before welcoming them, Their Majesties had to wait for all latecomers and give everyone time to greet each other.

Then came the dancing. Richard and Maria were the opening number, followed by the courtiers. There was no dinner planned—just the dancing. In the next hall, the guests gambled, in the third, walked around while conversing, in the fourth, sat in the chairs, sipping wine, the fifth was occupied by gossiping ladies...

Everything was thought out. A ball was a complicated system skillfully controlled by the masters of revels. Nobody would leave slighted. Every taste and every preference were accounted for. All single men and women got appropriate suitors, while each couple was written down in special ball books, a recent invention.

Servants ran around the rooms, serving drinks and snacks. Guards made sure that nobody would start a drunken fight. The plan was foolproof. Everything was accounted for, and any surprises would be taken as a personal offense by the organizers.

Her Majesty Maria watched the dancers, charming in golden velvet. She knew the real point of the ball, having been told that on the king's orders, but arranging something like that was beyond her. She knew her limits. Later, in a couple of years, she might become capable of doing that by herself, but until then, she would learn. She would become her husband's rock and protect her family.

As if guessing his wife's thoughts, Richard gently kissed her hand.

He got lucky with Maria, he absolutely did.

***

“Finally!"

Anthony Lofrayne was genuinely happy, and he wasn't to blame. Imagine going hunting and not finding any prey. You pull the bowstring, nock the arrow, but no deer comes, no matter what you do.

Lilian Earton might not be a deer, but she was just as good at hiding from him. She never visited any balls. She never came to the palace. Even when she did, she immediately headed to Their Majesties, and it was impossible to guess how long she would stay there. Often, she left together with her husband. How was he to introduce himself to her in a situation like that? He would only succeed in making a fool of himself.

Tony knew that and was in no hurry. He waited, and his wish finally came true. Lilian Earton was there, although with her husband. She was wearing green and white, and he, white and green. A gorgeous couple...at least for the time being.

Tony smirked and went to find Horatio Alden, giving Lady Seinel a nod as he left.

The time for waiting was over. They needed to act.

***

Alden greeted Lofrayne—who was all but tingling with impatience—with a curt nod.

"Lofrayne."

"Alden. She's here."

Horatio looked around.

"You know, Lofrayne, I won't introduce you to Her Grace."

“What?"

"I'll take care of Lady Irida. The shipwright will introduce you to the countess."

"Her father?"

"He's here, too, together with his viper."

"Whom?"

"Alicia Earton. The widowed countess is a real snake, but she adores her daughter-in-law. I'll say that you're interested in Mariella's products, and the rest is in your hands."

Anthony slowly nodded.

“I suppose. Let's go."

Horatio stood up.

Alas, he had no choice. He would introduce the young man to the Eartons and Brocklend...and enjoy watching the countess pluck out his feathers.

He had it coming.

Alden didn't voice his opinion, of course. After all, he was a diplomat.

***

The reception was in full swing. Ladies and gentlemen flirted, played charades, talked, while some kept watch over their offspring, training them to go after one person or another. Social life went on, following its rules.

It had been hard for Lilian at first, but with time, she grew accustomed to that. At that moment, she was sauntering around the hall allocated for conversations with a glass of wine in her hand. She didn't want to drink, but she had to send out a message—the lady's occupied, she's not dancing.

"Lily, dear..."

It was Alicia with some guy at her side.

"Mother," Lilian greeted her warmly. "What's the matter?'

"I'd like to introduce this sweet boy to you."

It occurred to Lily that August was a bad influence on the "Old Viper." Her mother-in-law had become too soft and nice. But she couldn't very well provoke her into becoming angry, could she?

“Your Grace."

The man bowed before Lilian Earton. Lily looked at him, not especially interested.

Yes, he was handsome. So what? She had seen even better men. Auburn hair, green eyes, a strong build... Her husband was just as good-looking, just a bit older and with different coloring.

Lily snickered, but gave him a gracious smile, abiding the rules of society. Alicia was watching with a strict look: don't you dare to be difficult, dear daughter-in-law, or you'll regret it.

"Honorable Lofrayne."

Lily dropped into a curtsey and smiled sweetly.

Alicia looked at the young people with a favorable expression.

"Lilian, dear, the baron is quite interested in the latest products of Mariella Trading House. He begged me to introduce him to you."

Lily inclined her head.

“My pleasure. How may I help you, Baron?"

Tony bowed, throwing the countess a look full of burning passion—just as a test.

No reaction. Odd.

"Your Grace, I know that it's shameful for a nobleman, but I'm not very rich. My family is dabbling in trade..."

"As is mine, Sir Lofrayne," Lilian replied and shrugged, unwittingly drawing the baron's attention to the voluptuous breasts in the dress' cleavage.

What a bosom! Now that was truly scrumptious. He could hardly keep his hands to himself.

With an effort, Tony remembered the topic of the conversation.

"I would like to discuss importing Mariella wares to Avester."

"That's not a conversation for a ball," Lilian said, although she didn't mind discussing trade.

Their products weren't widely sold in Avester. Both the Eveers and Ativerna weren't well-liked there, but losing such a market hurt. Maybe she could try to make arrangements? A sale fee was better than a big fat zero.

"I'm ready to talk business at any time you'd like."

"The day after tomorrow at Mariella. I'll be there in the afternoon. Come when you like."

"Thank you, Countess."

Tony bowed, deftly grabbed the countess' hand, and imprinted a passionate kiss on it, also releasing the lady of her glass of wine.

"Could I heave the pleasure of a dance?"

He hadn't been walking around the room without a plan; he was leading Lily toward the dance floor. The music swelled, and the baron offered Lilian his hand. Lily didn't like dancing, other than maybe with her husband. After all, she hadn't studied it since childhood, and Countess Earton's body wasn't especially nimble, either. Good partners such as the late Duke Falion, Jerisson Earton, or His Majesty, could smooth things over, but others... No, Lily hated dancing with strangers, but how could she refuse? What if she managed to lock in a lucrative contract?

As ill-luck would have it, Jess was nowhere to be seen.

Baron Lofrayne watched her with mild amazement. He wasn't used to a reaction like that. A handsome and well-mannered nobleman...what else could women want, whether married or not? Nothing! Just show them the prey, and they would rush to trail it, hot on its scent.

But Lilian Earton didn't seem especially enthusiastic. Actually, she seemed to pull back; the baron saw that. But why? He was curious. Could it be he had finally found a worthy catch?

Finally, Lilian put her fingers into Anthony Lofrayne's palm. The baron couldn't help but admire her hands. Narrow wrists, long fingers, well-manicured nails, an emerald ring—an Earton family heirloom—and an elaborate bracelet on the other arm linked to the rings by a fanciful plaiting. Was that Mariella's production? Most likely. It looked nice and emphasized her white skin and delicate hand. The other ladies seemed interested, too, as they watched it with keen interest.

Well then, Countess Earton clearly knew how to match jewelry.

"Baron—"

She was a good dancer. However, to the baron's surprise, she did nothing but follow the motions. During a dance, one could tell a lot with simple movements. A smile, a suggestive glance, a gesture, a lingering touch, hot fingers that slid just an inch above where they should have stayed... A dance was the perfect way to show one's genuine feelings! To hint, to invite, to ask your partner...

Indifference was the only feeling radiated by Lilian Earton. She was calm, cold, and impassive. She smiled because she was supposed to. After all, if the lady didn't, it meant that her partner was bad, which could be construed as an insult. She danced like a wind-up toy—no unnecessary gestures, not even a look. Her green eyes, so bright, were hidden under her thick eyelashes. She wasn't playful in the least. Not a chance.

The baron tried giving her a scorching look, but what could he hope to achieve? She didn't seem even to notice him. Even his charming smile had no effect. Maybe he could try talking?

But Lilian Earton beat him to the punch.

"Nice weather today, isn't it, Baron?"

“Yes, Your Grace."

"This spring is unusually warm. Do you think we're in for a hot summer?"

"I hope so, Your Grace."

"We'll have a good harvest..."

Polite phrases that meant nothing. It took some time for the baron to realize that he was being ridiculed. Or was he? Maybe that wasn't her idea of mockery? Everything seemed quite proper. She was keeping up a civil conversation, but still, he felt taunted. How could she do that to a man who...hmm?

Actually, what was he to Lilian Earton? Just a man. Just a person. The baron realized that his charm didn't work on the first try and decided to increase the pressure.

So what did women like best? Exactly. Talking about themselves. Let's offer such an opportunity to Her Grace. The baron perked up and started talking about the weather.

***

If Lilian had a dream, it was ridiculously small. To sit down, remove her horrible shoes (even the best of them were fated to start chafing at some point), and take a few minutes' rest. Usually, during balls, she fled to a balcony or the garden and stayed in a gazebo.

In Ativerna, one's privacy wasn't to be infringed upon; she wasn't scared of anything. It should be clear that if a woman was alone, she wasn't just feeding mosquitoes but waiting for a suitor. Of course, some loved eavesdropping, but Lily never actually expected anyone to come. If people wanted to look at her sitting and relaxing, let them.

But what was she to do in the middle of a dance? Why the hell had that baron latched onto her? They had already agreed to meet later. Beat it! The lady's tired. Begone!

In her head, Lily wished diarrhea on him, but alas, it didn't work. Worse, the baron bowed and seemed intent to continue getting on her nerves.

"May I offer you refreshments, Your Grace?"

"No, thank you," Lilian said, brushing him off.

Those wouldn't be refreshing as much as bladder-filling. Famously, water would always find a hole. It might be unromantic, but she had no desire to sweat or start looking for a privy. That said, lately, things had changed, and ladies and gentlemen could look forward to chamber pots in lavatories with helpful maids and manservants to adjust their outfits.

Ativerna had already reached that level, but it still had a lot to be desired regarding hygiene, and Lilian had been squeamish enough to dislike public toilets even back on Earth.

"Maybe you'd like to take a walk in the garden?"

She would, but alone. Why was he so hell-bent on bothering her?

Lily stared closely at the pretty boy. What do you want from me, buddy? Or are you just trying to start a business conversation?

Well, she wasn't going to start talking about that at a ball. It didn't make sense. She would have to show samples, arrange a demonstration...that would give her an advantage.

"Thank you, sir. This dance was a true pleasure."

Etiquette said that after hearing something like that, a man should understand everything and take his leave. This one didn't. He kept offering her sweets, a walk to the balcony, another dance...

When Jerisson returned, Lily almost threw herself at him. At last! She almost wished diarrhea on Richard, too. How long could they talk? Didn't they get enough chances to talk? They had no shame!

***

Jerisson looked at the woman with a measure of interest. She gave him a charming smile.

A backwards dance hadn't been known in Ativerna before, but Lily suggested the idea to Angelina and Joliette, who introduced it to the society.

Each ball always had a few dances where ladies invited gentlemen, and Horatio Alden had made use of the opportunity by deftly intercepting a lady headed to the count and pushing Irida instead.

Unfortunately, Lily was nowhere in sight, and the lady had already curtseyed, demonstrating her ample breasts, and gave him a suggestive smile, fanning herself and hinting at furthering the acquaintance. He had no right to refuse.

Jess let out a sorrowful sigh (fine, it wasn't that sorrowful—he was only invited to a dance, not having his ears cut off) and gave the lady his hand. A slow, beautiful tune played, and couples floated across the floor.

“Count Earton."

"Forgive me, my lady, but I don't know your name."

"Irida. Lady Irida Seinel."

"Are you from Avester?" Jerisson smiled, keeping up the conversation.

"Oh, yes, Count. I'm from Avester. I decided to unwind after my husband's passing and came to Ativerna with the ambassador party."

"I hope you like it in Ativerna," Jess said, tiptoeing around the reason for the lady's arrival. A random stranger never came with the ambassadors. She was either a spy, someone's relative, or a slut, no other options. In any case, getting involved with her would be unwise, even if he wanted to.

But he didn't, not in the least. She did have nice breasts, hair, and eyes, altogether reminding him of a cute fox, but... He felt no desire for her. He could look her over, even with some interest. After all, being full didn't preclude one from examining the menu. But anything more? No, thank you.

Next to Lilian, Irida looked flighty, dull, fake, and artificial. Rather dumb, too. A smart woman was a rare catch, and if Jerisson had been lucky enough to find one...would he trade her for a half-wit only capable of praising his intellect?

That would be just vulgar! No, Jess would never stoop to that, and Lilian would never forgive adultery, either, if she learned about that...and she would, he knew.

In the meantime, the lady kept chirping. Jess kept the talk going, but no more than that. Any woman knew when a man was interested in her, no exceptions, and also when he wasn't. Irida understood that Jerisson wasn't, but she still kept on trying. Or she would have, if she hadn’t lost her chance.

It was Jerisson's turn to invite her to the next dance, but he politely escorted her to her place and disappeared to Her Majesty. Apparently, the queen needed urgent counsel...

***

"Who is that shaggy cat?"

Jess winced.

"Your Majesty, what kind of language is that?"

As her savior and friend, he could take certain liberties. Maria never took offense—she even liked it. After all, she wasn't just the queen but also a girl missing her family.

In a way, Jess and Lilian became the replacement for the latter. Edward had only encouraged that, knowing that he was mortal and needed to leave Richard to someone else.

Let a brother watch his brother's back, but the queen needed a friend, too: loyal and incorrupt.

Lilian Earton was just like that. Why not use an opportunity when it came knocking?

"That's right; I shouldn't insult cats. They are cute and smart creatures," Her Majesty agreed. "So who is she, Count?"

"How should I know? She's from Avester, and she keeps giving out hints..."

"Good thing Lily didn't see her."

"That's right."

Lily would never make a scene, but what kind of revenge could she plot? Jerisson wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to find out. An international conflict was the last thing he needed.

"I've already asked Cantar to occupy her."

Jess beamed. Elon Cantar, a leir and a member of the royal guard, was a renowned lady-killer. Being refused only emboldened him. In all fairness, he never blabbed about his conquests, but he always got his way. Well, almost. He never preyed on his friends' wives, sisters, and daughters, and he also knew who shouldn't be approached. That's why he still was healthy and unhurt, without any bits missing, despite the husbands who wished to strip him of his most important parts numbering in the hundreds.

Jess was glad that Elon had never set his sights on Lilian. He wasn't worried for his wife, but Elon was a good guy, and he had no desire to learn what part of him the countess would cut or rip off. The only thing certain was that no good would come of it.

Maria had just unleashed the lady-killer and alluded that he could get away scot-free. One could only feel for the Avesterian girl. In the meantime, Jess really needed to find his wife. He suspected that Lilian was deathly tired of the ball—and he wasn't mistaken.

***

The baron saw Lilian Earton all but jump at her husband. The smile he had gotten during the dance turned out to be only a pale shadow. Back then, she was smiling only with her lips, but when she saw the count, the woman lit up.

She smiled at her husband and the king and dropped into a curtsey, from which His Majesty immediately raised her up, looking at Jess.

“May I?”

“Lilian?”

"Your Majesty, we're all your humble servants."

They forgot the baron as if he wasn't there. He, however, observed and took notes. That clearly wasn't the way one treated royalty. Maybe she was Richard's mistress? Hmm...that was possible, and it also explained her paying no notice to Lofrayne. Who'd risk their status at court?

Or maybe she wasn't. The baron closely watched them on the dance floor, but there were no signs of intimacy. Yes, Lilian Earton seemed much more at ease with His Majesty compared to the baron, but that was all. No touching, no signs, no flirting...the baron had seen women trying to attract men's attention many times and could recognize that automatically. There was nothing between them.

Her Majesty was calm as she watched them, too, and easily accepted Jerisson Earton's invitation to dance. It didn't seem like there was anything between those two, either, at least, at first glance.

Could she be a former mistress? That was possible, but it also meant that Lofrayne had a chance. Or did he?

The baron pondered his prospects, then gave up and decided simply to enjoy the evening. Unfortunately, he couldn't simply pick himself a pliable woman, focused on Lilian Earton as he was. If he set his eyes on anyone else, she would learn that in a heartbeat.

No, no need. He could find a woman somewhere else, and the embassy had its share of accommodating maids, too. He could be patient for the title promised to him by His Majesty.

He could wait.

***

If the baron knew Lilian's opinion about him, it would have brought him down a peg.

Upon entering the carriage, Lily immediately sat next to Jerisson and hid in his warm, comfortable embrace.

"What did you talk to Richard about?"

"He saved me," Jess snorted. "I was attacked by a crazy hen."

“Really?"

"Lady Irida Seinel from the Avesterian ambassador party."

Lily frowned but couldn't remember her at all.

"Does she have a death wish?"

"She's not local; she doesn't know about you."

Lily chuckled.

For the embassy to send someone uninformed? Inconceivable! But she decided to remain on the Avesterian king's conscience or simply remember history. He had no reason to like Earton, neither father nor son, nor her, considering her role in revealing the Ivelien conspiracy.

Speaking of which...

"And I was attacked by a feral rooster."

“Who’s that?”

"Some Baron Lofrayne."

It was Jerisson's turn to frown.

"Hmm...that tall man in gray and blue?"

Lily shrugged.

"I guess. I didn't pay him much attention. He said he came on business. He's interested in Mariella Trading House."

"Lofrayne...I don't remember him."

Lily stayed silent, but the words, "I doubt you know all merchants" hung in the air.

"I'm trading luxury goods that include your products, and I know many people in my circle, if not everyone."

"Friends and competition?"

"Exactly, my love."

"Then what does Lofrayne need of me?"

She didn't call him a spy outright, but...

"No need to think ill of a man right away. Maybe he's carrying out someone else's bidding..."

"Yes, it looks like that. I'll find out when I talk to him."

"Where will the conversation take place?"

"At Mariella, of course," Lily said with a chuckle.

The majestic building of the trading house had opened only recently but already won popularity in the capital. People visited it to make purchases, socialize, and taste exotic dishes. Inviting a lady there became a sign of good form. Of course, Lily had her own office there.

"You haven't invited him to our house?"

"As if!"

Jess gave her a knowing nod.

Lily might be nice and hospitable, receiving any guest with a smile on her face, but she never invited anyone herself other than their closest friends. Her home was her fortress, and she wouldn't permit just anyone to enter it, period.

At first, Jess had laughed at her conviction but gradually started to find it attractive. Really, it was his house, his children, his family...why would he need strangers there?

"I'll talk to Hans, have him probe that Avesterian."

"He already has enough on his plate with those murders."

"Right. Let him delegate it, then. I don't like it."

"Don't be jealous," Lily said, waving her hand. "You know that I don't need anyone else."

"I do. I'd like to be jealous, anyway."

Chapter 4

As usual, breakfast at the Earton house was tasty and eventful.

Jerisson was taking care of a huge piece of meat while Lily was chewing porridge, not especially pleased. She would have preferred meat, but restraint was important. She had to be moderate in her desires, especially in food. Diet was a way of life, not a one-time affair, and her body wouldn't thank her for eating everything she laid her eyes on.

And that's not including recovering after giving birth. There were no control-top belts in that world yet. She had to urgently invent them and start selling through Mariella. Lily had never thought that there weren't any tightening clothes around, but she could only find corsets, which wasn't the same thing.

The belts sold like hotcakes. The porridge, however, still tasted like sorrow. Maybe she should feed it to the dogs? Yeah, right. Those two traitors had moved closer to Miranda, who was feeding them ham snatched from the table.

“Mirrie! I can see everything."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Am I supposed to believe that? You wish!"

Miranda didn't have time to find an excuse, as a servant entered the room.

"A messenger to Her Grace."

Lily nodded.

"Let him in."

Messengers and couriers weren't a rare sight at the Earton house and arrived at all hours, whether early in the morning or late in the evening. A few times, they had come even at night. Lily never refused anyone requesting medical aid and always had an emergency bag prepared. She never knew what to expect.

A real doctor never limits themselves to healing in perfect conditions. Try working in the field, in the ER, or on the go where each second means the difference between life and death. Then and only then can you call yourself a professional.

That didn't apply to dentists, however. Lily would have preferred if she were treated slowly and with enthusiasm. Alas, there were no dentists around, and barbers who also worked with teeth could have made passable torturers.

In Lilian's opinion, a file against the teeth was a more merciful option.

A young man with a bouquet of roses entered the room. The huge scarlet flowers all but challenged everyone sitting around the table, sharply contrasting against the pale walls and pastel clothes. They seemed vicious, predatory, and inappropriate. Apparently, more than one flower bed had been hurt that morning.

"For Her Grace."

Jess knit his eyebrows together.

Lily nodded, indicating that the flowers should be put on the table, and continued her breakfast.

The servant slipped a few coppers to the messenger and pushed him toward the doors.

Dismissed.

Lily reached out for the bouquet and pulled out a small envelope, disgustingly pink.

What was inside, though?

Oh, my. It had been a while since she saw something like that.

A madrigal!

"Ahem?"

"Yes, dear," Lily said, passing the letter to her husband. What else could she do?

If the flowers arrived at another time, she would have thrown the envelope away and forgotten about it once and for all. But how was she to get herself out of that?

To the fairest one of my heart

I am singing this song of my soul.

Will I drown, forlorn, in your eyes,

As I look for my love that you stole?

When your voice calls for me, it's a gift

That I'll treasure for once and forever...

"Hmm?" Lily finally asked.

"I'd like to know who's writing to my wife," Jess remarked.

"You know, so would I," Lily confessed.

Her husband's look was full of suspicion, but before anyone said anything, Miranda spoke up.

"Papa, give me back the poem."

“Mirrie?"

The girl...or, rather, almost a woman straightened her shoulder, demonstrating that she already had breasts and everything.

She was so pretty! When had she grown up all of a sudden? Her black hair fell on her shoulder, her blue eyes shining, matching her light blue dress... That's how children became adults. You'd think they were still crawling around on all fours, but they might be on the verge of having their own offspring!

"Papa, think! How can the sea be green? The sea is blue."

Jess tossed his head.

"Wait, Miranda, but—"

"It says, 'To Her Grace,'" Miranda said, wrinkling her nose. "But I'm also Her Grace, am I not?"

Jess paused, genuinely trying to think.

"But...you're still a child."

"Papa!"

"And you have a fiancée, by the way."

“So? Does it mean that nobody can admire me?" the girl retorted, her nose up in the air.

Lily laughed out.

"Take it, seductress."

She pushed the flowers to the girl.

Miranda accepted, all regal and dignified but not for long.

"The girls will die of envy!"

It was Jerisson's turn to laugh. The tense moment was over as if nothing had happened.

***

"Mama?"

"Yes, Mirrie?"

"So are those flowers mine or yours?"

Lily considered the question.

"I don't know, honey. I really hope they're yours."

"What if they aren't?" Miranda was serious. "I said it so Papa wouldn't be jealous, but you know..."

"I do," Lily replied, also turning serious.

She couldn't say that Ativerna was especially puritanical, morals-wise, but...

A bouquet and a madrigal could mean only one thing: the lady had given an excuse. Made advances, so to speak.

For Miranda, light flirting was considered acceptable. (When would a girl charm men if not before marriage?) But for Lilian...

A married woman must be above such suspicions.

Lily bit her lip.

"I don’t know, sweetie. What can I say? It's a problem."

"A severe one, too," Mirrie added.

She evaluated the situation the same way as Lilian: someone was trying to hurt Countess Earton. Screw her over, drive a wedge between her and her husband, who was bound to be jealous... And jealousy meant suspicion, anger, arguments, and fights, as keeping an eye on Lilian was all but impossible, considering that she was on the move half of the time.

"I wonder who is that snake," Lily said, preoccupied.

Even if Jerisson knew that he had no reason to be jealous and that Lily didn't want anyone but him, jealousy didn't play by the rules. It never had.

"I'm curious, too," Mirrie said, nodding. "Let's talk to Hans."

"No. We'll talk to the Virmans."

Miranda nodded. That was the right decision. Let them take the flowers if they continue being delivered, but not the letters. If Jerisson didn't see them, he wouldn't get angry. And Miranda could get the flowers to make her friends jealous.

But who could be the sender?

That didn't sit well with Lilian.

***

"Your Grace, Baron Lofrayne is here to see you."

"Let him in."

Lilian was sitting in her office inside the trading house building.

"Arf?" Nanook asked from the carpet.

"If anything happens, don't kill him," Lily commanded the dog. She wasn't sure what might happen. Dogs, especially Virman ones, didn't get jokes. He would tear the man apart first and bury him later.

Anthony came in, shining like a summer day. Or was it a flower bed? A big, bright one...and full of lilies, colorful and majestic.

At that, the romance ended, as even if Lilian shared her name with the flower, she had a certain condition. Lilies smelled, and their fragrance was rather pungent, especially when there were a lot of them. And so, the first and the last word said by Lilian was...

“ACHOO!”

It was repeated around twenty times. Anthony froze in the doorway, filling the office with the smell of lilies and stripping it of the remaining oxygen. He had no idea what to do, never having been in a situation like that on a date. He remembered being embraced, slapped, being fainted on, but sneezed at? What was he supposed to do? Lily realized that she was about to black out and forgot all decorum.

"Nanook, achoo, out! Achoo, achoo, achoo!"

The dog wasn't allergic, but he didn't like lilies either. The confused baron was knocked down by the huge Virman hound, all two hundred pounds of pure muscle, and Lily fled to her freedom, still sneezing. She only managed to pull herself together on the first floor, in the salon, after drinking water and washing up.

It was a while before Anthony Lofrayne came down. Nanook was a pesky beast; he hadn't simply knocked the baron over but also stepped on him, picking a specific area usually not discussed in the presence of ladies.

Anthony howled, but nobody could hear him anymore—definitely not Lily with her sneezing.

Who says that dogs aren't intelligent? They are quite smart and wise, not to mention their sense of humor—a particular one weighing two hundred pounds. Therefore, the baron took his sweet time getting down, covering his codpiece with his hand. The paw print was quite conspicuous, considering the dog's size and the thin velvet pants.

The flowers had been left in the office.

“Your Grace."

Lily gave Lofrayne a mistrustful look, suspecting Avesterian sabotage. She asked something else, though.

"Baron, are your flowers still upstairs?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Tony replied, throwing his hands up.

They were, ripped apart and stomped on first by Nanook and then by Lilian herself. Tony also hadn't been particularly picky while writhing around on the floor.

"Iris," Lilian asked one of the girls. "Could you go upstairs, gather everything, throw it away, and ventilate the floor? I hope the baron doesn't mind."

Tony didn't. He shrugged.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I had no idea..."

Lily shook her head and sneezed once again—fortunately, not triggering a fit.

Actually, lilies didn't grow in Ativerna. The local climate didn't favor them, apparently. They were imported from the Khanganat and cost so much that she had never gotten a gift like that. Her husband preferred to give her jewelry, her suitors quickly realized that they had no chance, so there wasn't much point in giving presents, and her friends showered her with books and scrolls from all over the world. It was her first experience with lilies, and it was quite unsuccessful.

"I didn't know myself. I hope that in the future, you won't give me any flowers."

In the future? Tony perked up. Had it worked? Did she want to see him again?

In truth, Lilian meant that he would have to come a few more times. He couldn't examine all of Mariella's product line in one go, after all. And then, they would have to sign the agreement, ship the goods...they would have to see each other again, and there was so little time.

Still, he was a nobleman, and she had no nobles on her payroll. She would have to do it herself despite her lack of desire and time.

The man and the woman exchanged looks, not understanding each other, but smiled.

"Well then, Baron," Lily said sweetly, "let me show you what Mariella can offer so you could pick what you like."

Hot tea had converted her into a reasonable mood, alleviating her running note and the redness of her face, and her voice was calm.

That will do. In a state like that, she could work, show him the products, and haggle.

Really, it was nothing compared to sitting in class with a hundred-degree fever, stuffed with pills, all because of the exam next week that she was bound to fail if she missed even one lecture.

"I'd appreciate that, Your Grace."

Lily stood up from the couch and led him on a guided tour. There was no getting around that: conquering a new market required work.

***

Tony was impressed by the lingerie, the tools, everything. Yes, all of that reached Avester, too, but not as much and not as high-quality, either. They were deprived of the best goods.

If he really dabbled in trade, he would have leaped at the proposal. As things stood...it was still a good excuse to develop their relationship.

"Your Grace, may I look at the prices?"

"Of course."

Lilian ordered a catalog to be given to the baron. Wholesale prices, retail... Tony promised to study everything and wondered if he could come the next day.

Lily sighed. So soon?

She didn't really want to see the man again. She had never loved such peacocks, even in her youth, when they strutted around the college, proudly wagging their...tails. They annoyed her to no ends. It was ironic that she had ended up married to Jerisson, who could take the place of honor among the "peacocks." Still, at least she was training and educating him so that they could adapt to each other.

Why would she tolerate a narcissistic idiot, and so often? God, give me a break!

"If you think that you can catch up on all the numbers in one night, then you're welcome, Baron."

All of that was said in a calm tone with nary a sign of passion. Had she swallowed the bait or not?

Tony wasn't sure, but he was going to find out the very next evening.

***

Another bouquet arrived. This time around, the flowers were yellow with a scarlet center: an expensive sort with a romantic name, Heart of Passion. Lily, however, felt no passion—just frustration.

She knitted her eyebrows and looked at Mirrie.

"Honey, we need to find out who this is."

"Absolutely," Jerisson nodded. "After all, you're betrothed."

"I remember. I won't cheat on Amir with anyone!" Mirrie exclaimed, her nose in the air.

Lily sent her daughter a tender smile.

"I don't doubt it. Still, we have to find out this arrogant suitor's identity and tell him what's what."

“Yes, Mama."

Jess nodded in agreement. He was starting to get annoyed, too. Maybe it wasn't his wife who was getting the flowers but his daughter, but she was his daughter! What the hell was that stranger thinking courting her? He might get his legs broken if he kept it up!

Later, the Virmans gave the letter directly to Lilian Earton. In several lines, the mysterious suitor praised her sun-blessed locks, the eyes the color of the sea, and her smile, dreaming of meeting his beloved.

Lily shook her head. What a bad time!

At least she could reassure Miranda that she wasn't the target. But who was the sender? And most importantly, why was he doing that?

Lilian had been occasionally given flowers—but only as a polite gesture. For example, Altres Lort sent her a bouquet each month, and then, there were His Majesty and her own husband... But to do it like that, so arrogantly and audaciously? That person was bound to know that he was bringing discord into her family; he must! Those luxurious flowers and anonymous letter dripping with implications...

No, Lily didn't like that at all. She needed to find the sender and stop it before Jerisson started to be jealous.

***

Baron Lofrayne looked stunning, and he knew that. A gold-embroidered doublet the color of unripe nuts that showed off his eyes, a cloak made of heavy emerald-green velvet with a bronze lining, a golden sash... Even the tops of his boots were woven with gold.

Tony looked in the mirror, adjusted his curled lock, and smiled. Absolutely ravishing. He was drop-dead handsome and irresistible to women. Nobody could stand a chance against him.

Finally, the Mariella Trading House. It looked truly spectacular, with its glass windows, dishware made of spatter glass, the mannequins... More than just pretty, it was both pretty and rich.

Tony threw the reins to the stable hand and entered the building.

"I'm here to see Countess Earton."

One of the girls gave him a low bow, demonstrating nice breasts inside the cleavage.

"Please wait a minute, sir. She will be informed of your arrival."

Lofrayne nodded and graciously agreed to wait while examining the mannequins dressed in lacy underwear. It looked...well, impressive.

Lilian wasn't long in coming. She was wearing a simple white dress with green stripes, her breasts hidden under a lacy inset. Emeralds sparkled on her hands, both in her rings and her count's bracelet.

Lofrayne bowed, giving her a sultry look, then took her hand and marked it with a fervent kiss.

He knew how to make a lady feel his passion with just a kiss, to embarrass her, and to let her know she was desirable.

But this time, there was no reply. Even her fingers didn't twitch.

Tony straightened up, looked Lilian in the eyes with a piercing gaze, and smiled.

"Your Grace, I'm happy to see you..."

Lily snickered under her breath. What a pathetic act! But then, how was he to know that in the Twenty-first Century, such hijinks would rather make a lady cringe instead of embarrassing her. She might appreciate the cuteness, but become flustered? Blush? Tremble?

Yeah, right. If the baron pulled out and demonstrated something important or even tried to have his way with her on the closest table, it would have, at least, succeeded in getting her attention (although probably not of the type he wished for). But looks? Sighs?

A medical student would never be impressed with those. They weren't even enough to make her laugh.

Lily listened to the complements with a completely serious face and gave him a token smile.

"So, Baron, have you decided which of our products interest you?"

"Well, yes..."

The next hour was very fruitful for Lilian and absolutely horrible for Anthony. Lily went through the entire list of articles, specifying the number of orders, the price, the color, the size... Any attempts to deviate from the topic came to nothing.

"Yes, two diadems. You know, I think that you'd look amazing in a green amber diadem. It would favor your skin, your clear and deep eyes..."

"Yes, I wash up every morning. So, two diadems. How many pendants, sixteen?"

"Right."

"Four of them with red amber, four with gold, four with green, and four with gems of all colors."

"Exactly. Lady, may I?"

A light touch, a pendant placed right on top of her chest...

"How it scintillates on you! It's not the gem that adorns you—you eclipse any jewels..."

"I'm not demonstrating them. Sixteen rings, right?"

"Yes..."

By the end of the hour, Tony was ready to howl. Lilian hadn't fallen for any of his tricks. No flirting, no fibs, nothing. Only her work and business. If Tony didn't know how ordinary women reacted to him, he would have started to doubt himself. There he was, all but jumping out of his own skin, but the countess hadn't battled an eyelash. Even heavy artillery produced no result.

"Your Grace, I marvel at your intelligence. How did it all ever occur to you? You’re magnificent.”

What was the favorite subject of any woman? Herself! Let her boast about her smarts or talent, and she wouldn't stop until the morning. But even in this, Lilian proved to be an exception.

"Baron, we're discussing the goods rather than me. Let's stick to business..."

And it was back to the catalog: the prices, the terms...

Tony didn't know that Lilian couldn't simply talk about herself. What would she say?

I haven't truly invented anything. All of that, I've learned in another world, at college...

Instead, she didn't even try to explain herself, simply stating facts and keeping to the point. She had realized she was being "hit on" almost immediately and tried to avoid showing her reaction. Business came first, and feelings... Well, actually, what feelings could she have for that boy? None!

What about him, then?

Lilian didn't really believe in love at first sight—at least when it came to the Avesterian. With looks like that, women probably fell for him in droves. For him to get smitten with her...

Lily had a healthy self-image. She knew that she was pretty, true. Was that enough for a man to become weak in his knees at the very sight of her? Not really. She could tell the truth from an act. Anthony was a spirited performer, but what was his true goal? A discount?

Fat chance! All she was prepared to do was cut the price a little bit for buying in bulk, just a tiny rebate.

Tony tried, exerting himself as he had never done before, but alas, it was pointless. He didn't achieve anything.

At last, the negotiations were over, and it was time for him to leave.

"Your Grace, will I see you again?"

"Of course, Baron."

"When?"

"Soon. I'll be at court."

"I’m looking forward to it.”

Lily gave him a tantalizing smile. Thankfully, her next visit to the palace wasn’t scheduled for two weeks. Maybe she would get lucky and the baron would go home before then?

A girl could dream.

***

Tony was extremely displeased.

No, not with himself—he had given it his all, brought his A game, so to speak, almost turning himself inside out. But Lilian Earton just didn't seem to react.

Well then. At least, it broke the monotony. Usually, ladies gave up quickly and easily. This one would make him work for it. That was interesting.

Tony smelled prey. That woman would be his. She would writhe and moan underneath him. She would ask and beg, chase after him. Her, not him.

Tony felt like a hunter, for once, anticipating a thrilling duel with Lilian Earton. Was she truly so shy or cold, or did she just love her husband?

He would have to find out at their next meeting.

***

After the second bouquet came the third, then the fourth and the fifth. Jess could only shake his head as he looked at Miranda's happiness.

Lily, however, was sullen. No, she still smiled in public, but the notes were never far from her thoughts. Thank Aldonai, the first one had been so confusing: the rest were far from that.

They had everything, speaking of her golden locks that would look so fetching while strewn on a pillow—clearly, not her husbands, who had seen enough of them already—as well as her swanlike neck, her elevated breasts (exact words!), her hips, the swinging of which could drive a man insane...

That was the last straw. Lily thought that upon meeting the mysterious stranger, she would enjoy performing on him a craniotomy using improvised tools such as a log, a pan, or a poker, and wrote a note to Hans Tremain. She didn't want to bother her friend, but the problem didn't seem to be going away anytime soon.

Hans came to visit her that same day and took Lilian's request quite seriously.

"Your Grace, did you ask for this in any way?"

"Hans!"

"Forgive me," the king's envoy smiled. "But still..."

Lily shook her head.

"How can your wife love you, with you being such a pest?"

"I suppose it's a miracle of Aldonai," Hans retorted. "But..."

"I never asked for this," Lily grumbled. "I swear it."

"I believe you. Whom did you cross, then?"

"That's a long list," Lily said with a sigh.

That was correct. A few years before, when Princess Maria had started forming her entourage, there was only one person who got included right away: Her Grace Lilian Earton. The princess's judgment was strict, too. She would remove any lady who ran afoul of the countess, but Her Grace would stay. Nobody really knew about Lilian's adventures in Wellster.

That incident didn't win her any points, no matter how the Roivels and the Elonts strove to smooth things over. Back then, Lily didn't care. She thought it didn't matter. Was it still true?

With the princess turning into the queen, someone might have decided to start their revenge.

Someone...or anyone, as Lily told Hans. Tremain shook his head and, for starters, arranged for a gang of urchins to follow the messenger.

***

Of all the residents of a city, who knew the most of its goings-on?

Beggars, thieves, and street urchins: the first two categories by virtue of their jobs, and the third, out of simple curiosity.

Just give them a few coins, ask a few questions, and they would tell you so much you'd get tired of sorting out that information.

In less than three days, Hans returned to Lilian with a report.

"My people followed the messenger."

"There are several of them."

"But all of the flowers are of top quality. Only several florists in the city can arrange anything like that."

"I didn’t know that."

"You, Countess, have no need of giving flowers to anyone. They're given to you."

"Pah!"

"Indeed. But the florists aren't to blame."

"Who is, then?"

"The flowers aren't grown in the city but rather on the farms in the countryside."

"So?"

"That's where a certain charming fellow with fair hair and green eyes made an order for delivery..."

As Lily listened to the description, she was reminded of someone she knew.

"A ring with a baron's sapphire, the coat of arms..."

"Wait—"

"Exactly."

"Lofrayne?"

"That's the one."

"Why would he need that?" Lilian wondered aloud. "He got the wares; I even promised a discount. What else could he want?"

"I can't answer that," Hans said, shaking his head. "I suggest we keep looking. For the answer, that is, not the baron."

"We could simply ask him," Lily retorted.

"What if he doesn't reply?"

"What choice does he have?"

"Lilian, I can't grab him and drag into the interrogation room. He's from Avester. We must be more careful."

Lily chuckled.

"I wasn't asking you for such measures, although I absolutely will. Why would he want to sneak his poison into someone else's soup?"

"I don't know, either."

"Let's find out. Together."

"What if he's simply courting you? What if he likes you, Lilian?"

Lily shook her head.

"I don't believe that, Hans."

“Why?”

"I've seen him. I looked him in the eye when he came for the wares. Maybe that's what his love is like; I can't be sure. Maybe he can love someone else besides himself. Still, I don't believe that."

"You are a beautiful, smart, and charming woman. Isn't that enough?"

"For those like Lofrayne, it is. Still, Hans, I don't think this is love or even infatuation. There is something behind this...something bad."

"If you think so, Lilian, then we must investigate."

"Let's do it. Together."

Hans smiled and nodded.

A woman defending her nest...

One could only feel for the baron. Well, not for long. Just for the short time he had left to live.

***

Lilian hadn't changed her opinion about balls since the last one she visited, but work was work. She wasn't just Lilian Earton but also the face of Mariella Trading House, and she, of all people, had to demonstrate her wares.

And so, she tried. Her visits to the balls weren't frequent, but she regularly showed off the new models that immediately came in vogue.

The latest time was no different. The countess looked as usual, in her comparatively plain emerald silk dress only decorated by embroidered maple leaves, but her shoes... The almost scandalously short skirt ended at the ankles, allowing everyone to see the exotic footwear that made her feet look amazingly elegant.

The shoemaker hadn't quite yet mastered stiletto heels, but he was already close, the idea of an arch support already resonating with him. One would think that it was a simple concept, yet nobody had thought of that before. Cothurni and platform shoes were one thing, but stiletto heels, so graceful and so modern-looking, were something quite different.

Remembering Earth, Lily ordered him to paint the soles green. Let it be her signature mark! Really, was Mariella any worse than Louboutin? Nope! Even better!

I wonder, does plagiarizing ideas from another world deserve a punishment?

Lily effortlessly handled the heels, and ladies watched her, green with envy. Soon, very soon, Mariella would get a full crowd of visitors.

Jerisson, as usual, danced only with his wife, never letting anyone else step in. The court was already used to that. After six dances, Lily asked for mercy, and her loving husband escorted her away from the dance floor, gave her a glass of water (no wine in public—she drank only when she was sure of the company), and left, summoned by Her Majesty Maria.

Lily smiled with the corners of her mouth.

Her Majesty had a good reason for distracting Jerisson. Lily needed room to for maneuver, and how was she to have it with her husband always hanging around her? That was just impossible.

Maria, incidentally, had already appreciated the look of the new shoes. Lily had promised her the first batch. The queen was supposed to come first, after all. Lilian was just a model.

And yes, she would give Maria certain pointers about heels. Using them was no easy task. The right manner of walking—a straight back, slight swaying of the hips—made the stilettos look very alluring. Overdoing that might make a woman into a wannabe streetwalker. That clearly wouldn't do. Heels were a complicated kind of footwear and required special skills.

Lilian didn't have to wait long. She had planned to finish her glass of water and find her quarry, but she didn't have to search long. Lofrayne came to her himself.

“Your Grace...”

His bow was more than respectful. Too bad that his eyes were glued to her cleavage, making Lilian want to cover it up with a shawl. On the other hand, why should she? Yes, she had a nice pair of breasts, but it was no excuse to leer at her. She dressed like that for her husband so that everyone would envy him. And the cut wasn't especially deep and covered with lace, anyway.

Or was the man trying to embarrass her? Oh no, Baron, you shouldn't. A medical student couldn't be embarrassed even by a nudist parade or an orgy. In the latter case, they might even make a remark about STDs, ruining the mood.

"Baron," Lily said without trying to stand up. She had no desire to.

"You're the true queen of this ball, Your Grace. You've eclipsed all women..."

"Sir Lofrayne, due to my forgiving mood, I'll give you advice," Lily purred.

“I’m listening, Your Grace.”

"I don't recommend that you call any more women queens. It's not a thing at our court."

"Is Her Majesty so jealous?"

"No. His Majesty doesn't understand stupid jokes."

Lofrayne bowed.

"As you wish, Milady."

"Oh, it's just a piece of advice," Lily said, smiling blissfully. "Decide for yourself what to do with it."

"I will take it into consideration, same as any words coming out of your lips..."

He wasn't supposed to look at her lips that way, either.

Lily sincerely hoped that Maria would deal with her task and went on the offensive.

After all, the baron wasn't the only one allowed to do that.

"Thank you for the flowers, Baron. They are charming. Writing, however, isn't your strong suit. Your letters are a real shame..."

Lofrayne was the picture of shock. Well, he asked for it. He might be a baron but also a moron! However, his confusion didn't last long.

"Your Grace, I..."

"Yes, Baron, you. Please don't waste my time on silly excuses!"

The baron realized that excuses weren't going to cut it and decided to take the horse but its horns. The results were the same. After all, horses had no horns. No matter how much you try, you'll never find what to grab onto.

The attempt had no success, but watching it from the sidelines would be quite entertaining.

Lily didn't even notice being led away from the hall. A second ago, she was in control, but the baron was helped by assertion and a great deal of experience. Instead of standing in a quiet nook, they moved to the doors of the hall and then, to the sound of endless compliments, teleported to the corridor. Fine. Let's consider this a show for one person only, not for the public.

It all looked so romantic, though, so poetic!

A stunning man, desired by half the women in the ballroom, fell on one knee, grabbed Lilian's hand, and put it next to his lips. Got you.

Gloves were everything. Fingerless, lacy but thick—Lily had woven them in her free time to avoid losing the skill.

Did you think that needlework was easy?

No. Any medic had to have nimble fingers, and that's why Aliya had been studying lacework and macrame and having piano lessons (she might have a tin ear, but it did wonders for developing manual dexterity). All of that enhanced her fine motor skills, too, not to mention her general development. Aliya's fingers were amazingly flexible, and somehow, it had passed on to Lilian Earton.

Although, in this world, girls did needlework from childhood...

The baron didn't show his surprise and instead tried to touch the tips of her fingers with his lips, but Lilian wasted no time in turning her hand in such a way as to present the count's emerald to his nose, reminding him of her stature.

It didn't stop Anthony.

"Lilian!" You're more than the queen! You're a miracle woven from the rays of the sun! You..."

Lily enjoyed listening to the compliment. She was curious. It was just like in a drama show! But what would come next?

Next came even more compliments and the culmination. Thankfully, they were well-isolated in the alcove the baron had managed to push the lady into without an ounce of resistance. (Why would she kick up a fuss? It was the last thing she needed! She'd rather rip off his limbs quietly and backstage).

"I'm crazy over you! Crazy in love..."

Her thin hand slipped out of his fingers.

Anthony prepared himself to throw his arms around her and cover her with kisses or shield himself from a slap. What he didn't expect was a round of lazy ovation. He froze like a statue.

“Umm...”

It looked stupid, but how was he to react?

Lily snorted.

"Baron, how about you get to the point?"

“Umm...”

That looked even sillier. But what point was she talking about?

"I don't believe in your feelings. The delivery agreement is signed. What else do you want from me?"

Anthony pulled himself together.

"You, Lilian, and nothing else. You awaken the strongest feelings in my heart..."

"Tachycardia?"

"Forgive me?"

"Aldonai forgives," Lilian said, snorting, and promptly moved to the door. "Baron, don't waste time—mine or yours. I didn't believe a single word, although I have to admit that your performance was rather entertaining. My daughter would have bought it, absolutely. As for me—come when you're ready to be sincere. And no need to give me flowers or compliments, either. It won't work, anyway."

"Lilian, you misunderstood—"

"Misunderstood you? Oh no, Baron, I understood everything. But you, for some reason, don't want to level with me. Is it the king's will?"

The baron's green eyes seemed to flash with worry.

Or was it the wind blowing at the candles, making their fire reflect in his pupils?

Damned if Lily knew!

"Lilian, why don't you believe me?"

"Because you're lying?" Lily suggested, smiling with the corners of her lips. "Ask for His Majesty Entor's permission and speak frankly. Then we might come to an agreement. Avester is a good market."

The baron could only open his mouth.

He knew that Lilian Earton was an extraordinary woman, but just like that?

"Lilian...wait!"

"Yes?"

"You might disbelieve me—"

The curtain that covered the door shifted, hiding a woman's silhouette. The baron chased after her, but the door was already locked from the outside.

Lily walked away at a leisurely pace. In a few minutes, she would send a servant to release the baron. She didn't want anyone to chase her around the palace or continue the scene. What a bother.

Lily didn't think of herself as an expert on human souls, but it was clear that the baron was lying. She could see right through him.

But why was he lying, and why to her? She would have to ask Hans to investigate everything.

Where did all of that lead to?

They would have to wait and see.

Finally, the servant—Lily produced a gold coin from her wrist purse.

"My friend, could you do me a small favor?"

The coin disappeared without a trace, and the servant went to the alcove. The baron would be freed in around ten minutes, just enough time for Lily to return to the ballroom. She really should have bricked him up in there. What a lady-killer! Pfft.

Why did men think that women loved with their ears?

They only used them to listen, and sometimes, they even believed what they heard. But sooner or later, the information reached their brains to be thoroughly analyzed.

With Lilian, this process was a little faster, thanks to having grown up in the Twenty-first Century, where one was used to living faster, thinking quicker...and not trusting just anyone.

***

Anthony didn't have to sit behind a locked door for too long. In less than half an hour, he heard steps along the corridor, and the lock clicked. That wasn't Lilian; in those shoes of hers, she moved in a completely different manner.

Oh, how beautiful were her feet!

She was gorgeous, really.

Tony was in no hurry to leave the alcove. He waited for his savior to retreat and only then came out. As he looked himself over, he smirked.

So you wish to play, Your Grace? Make a fool out of me? Refuse me?

Why are you so stubborn, lady? I don't want that, but I will have to play it...rough.

Chapter 5

It was time for the trip to the countryside.

Lily loved picnics—nature, forests, rivers, peace and quiet. The birds would sing, the wind would whistle, the water in the river would shine with silvery light, reflecting the sun, and the pines would send forth their fragrance. Heaven!

Just stretch on the blanket, watch that beautiful sight, and be at peace, relaxing not just with your body but your whole essence, the primeval part of your soul.

Or you could lie back, your arms spread out, and look at the sky. After a while, you'd start feeling as if the trees, the sky, the clouds, and yourself all moved in the same rhyme, and you were one with the earth, the world, the wind... You were a part of it, and slowly, the world would slip inside of you and remain there, so cozy and serene, and when you’d go home, you would leave with a tiny fragment of that woodland inside your heart. You’d become stronger, wiser, better, and purer. You’d become someone else.

And with you, the whole world would change.

Alex had understood that. Together, they went camping, sitting by the fire and watching the sunset, waking up to meet the dawn.

Jess? Jerisson was trying to understand, too. For him, going to the country wasn't the same as rest; it was often connected to something else, such as hunting. Lilian had taught him fishing, and it caught on. But simply sitting and listening to the silence, absorbing the peace and quiet with each fiber of your being? The count was yet to learn that.

The Ativernan style of going to the country, however, was nothing like camping. Those were serious public events, complicated and very formal.

At first, the entire court was gathered in one spot. Then the cavalcade crossed the city to the previously set destination—a forest or a clearing. A royal picnic deserved no less. There, half of the courtiers went hunting the poor animals, while the rest hunted each other, making alliances, probing each other for options...

Rest? Admiring nature? As if! They had to scheme while they had the chance, or someone else would beat them to the punch, outstrip them, unseat them...

All of that didn't exactly thrill Lily, not to mention the poet who accompanied the party. Of course, he was famous, acclaimed, highborn, and overall the belle of the ball. Borran of Eleval (Lily suspected that this name was the poet's own invention), a charming golden-haired man in his twenties, was a hit with the ladies. If you asked Lilian, he was too metrosexual and fragile-looking, and his curls didn't do him any favors, but that was just her opinion. The other ladies swooned, all of them. Later that evening, he was to entertain the courtiers, and then, the royal family.

Lily sighed and climbed on Lidarh's back. She had to demonstrate her new riding habit, even if she felt no desire to go anywhere.

Jess, knowing his wife's mood, kissed her hand.

"Cheer up, sunshine."

"Don't call a woman sunshine if you don't want a kick up where the sun doesn't shine," Lily grumbled, but what could she do? She had to go whether she liked it or not.

She touched the reins, and the clever horse obediently followed Jerisson. Truly, Avarians were something else. He wasn't just a horse, but a piece of the sun, a speck of light, a shard of pure rapture that somehow took the shape of an equine. He was Aldonai's miracle personified.

That's what Lilian once again told Lidarh, treating him to a bread heel with salt.

The animal gobbled up the goodie and snorted. Yes, he loved his mistress, too, and he also liked being admired.

Love him! Scratch him, feed him, and praised him—that would only be right. He was perfection!

***

Riding with the procession to the destination was impossibly dull. Miranda hadn't come at all—it happened to women sometimes. They just didn't want or, really, couldn't go anywhere, in a state like that, with their aching paws and hurting tails...

Lily stoically suffered, smiling, gossiping, and never letting on how bored she was. When in Rome, do as Romans do. She had no choice. She would have to discuss the poems, the children, the foreigners... Oh, Sir Lofrayne is so handsome and gallant! And Lady Seinel, the one who also came with the ambassador...she's so...shhh! It might be improper to discuss that, but she seems to be looking for a husband or adventures...she doesn't behave how a real lady should.

Yes, the Avesterians were there as well. Where could they go, really?

Lily bit her lip and decided to improvise. Still, the baron would have to answer for the flowers that kept coming, day after day.

Finally, the clearing.

It was a wonderful place, by the way: a pine forest, its floor laden with needles and overgrown with moss, and almost no undergrowth. Nobody could get lost there; you could see each other from a mile around.

A forest like that was perfect for taking a walk, doing a BBQ, or simply relaxing...but only in a small company, not with several hundred people wandering in the pines.

A crowd like that left nothing of nature's natural charm.

Lily dismounted and started unsaddling her horse, not trusting it to the servants.

"Darling, shall I go hunting?"

Jess kissed her cheek and disappeared. Lily didn't mind. If he wanted to chase foxes, he should. Let him do it.

Both His and Her Majesties were big fans of hunting, but Lily always felt bad for the animals.

Of course, if faced with a life-or-death, kill-or-be-killed situation, Lily would have chosen herself without any hesitation. Killing an animal for food or skin was quite acceptable, and so was fur, as long as it was the only way to get warm. But simply for appearance?

It made sense to eat meat if you already wore leather boots and washed your hands with soap. No part of a cow was to go to waste. But to kill animals just for sport without even eating them? Ew! wEspecially when it came to drive hunting, with dogs, beaters, and weapons going against animals armed with only their fangs and claws.

That was wrong, bad and wrong. Thankfully, they at least observed the hunting season in Ativerna, and hunters who killed in the off-season, especially if they preyed on a mother and cubs, could be hanged, even if they were noblemen.

That was a good thing, at least.

Still, the only right way for Lily to hunt would be one on one. If you wanted an animal so much, track it yourself, run it down, and kill it, fair and square.

"Allow me to assist you, Your Grace."

The baron appeared right by her side, out of thin air.

"Thank you, Milord Lofrayne, but I prefer to take care of my horse myself," Lily said in a sing-songy voice.

Nobody thought that surprising, by the way. Yes, she did.

But that was an Avarian!

That was only natural. Now, if Lily were to abandon him to his fate, nobody would have understood her. Taking care of a trusted friend was par for the course. And so, Lily unbuckled the final clasp...

"Still, I insist."

What a naive fool.

After that, everything came spontaneously.

Tony pulled at the saddle. Lily decided against fighting him and let it go. Lidarh shifted on his feet, and the girth slid off his smooth skin.

Nanook saw that. Who said dogs didn't have a sense of humor? That son of a bitch accomplished a classic tackle maneuver worthy of being included in instruction manuals, walking up to the baron from behind and headbutting him.

Once was enough. Tony collapsed into the grass, the saddle on top of him.

"Oh...forgive me, Milord!"

"Arf!" Nanook said as if apologizing.

Unfortunately, he had done so right next to the baron's ear and at top volume. Tony jumped up in the other direction and froze, realizing the obvious.

You can be anything: evil, cruel, apathetic, exotic, arrogant, prideful...but you cannot be a laughingstock. How can you hope to seduce a lady if she's laughing at you?

Lilian Earton, at least, wouldn't be seduced—only amused—as she stood before him, smiling, her eyes sparkling with laughter...and not just hers. The servants seemed to be of the same mind.

Some of the servants had seen that, too—and those lips wouldn't be sealed with tips.

Tony almost groaned, but he had no choice—he had to stay and continue making advances. The opportunity was too perfect: nature, a hunting party, and an chance to go somewhere private...

As for the mutt, if worse comes to worst, Lofrayne would take care of him, even if he was a Virman hound. Just wait, Your Grace. We will talk later; I am patient, and I can wait.

***

By the evening, Lily had invented a string of the most elaborate curses for the entire day.

She had no complaints about the scenery—the location was great, with a forest on one side and a river on another. The mosquitoes were nasty, though, but Lilian had brought clove oil imported from the Khanganat to deal with it.

She had rubbed it on herself and on certain other people, too.

Full skirts had an advantage, too—no mosquito could bite through those layers.

Lily considered starting a trend for mosquito head nets for camping trips, the ones with wide rims and muslin or lace; she had one at home on Earth. Of course, back there, it was made from cheap gauze. So what?

She would make a luxurious version, exclusive to Mariella. Nobles only.

Lily made a mental note to talk to her laceworkers.

She had no beef with the servants, either. The roasted meat was exceptional, as was the service and the drinks, which were cooled just right—enough to refresh but not enough for anyone to get a cold. They even had ice kept in thermoses.

Lily smiled, pleased. It was her invention, after all...well, her recollection.

The rest, however, wasn't anywhere as nice.

The weather was far from the best—heat and no wind. On a day like that, she would rather stay submerged in a river, not even leaving to get dinner. Alas, she couldn't even go for a swim.

That just wasn't proper.

Lily dreamed of escaping the whole caboodle and getting into the water anyway somewhere in a secluded spot. Saddling Lidarh wouldn't take long, and neither would taking a dip.

But Baron Lofrayne hung onto her worse than...a certain thing that always stuck onto the sole of the boot.

It was clear that if Lily tried to leave, he would follow the lady.

Maybe a helpful crocodile could help her get rid of him?

The baron was her second grievance over the day.

He entrenched himself right next to her and kept droning on.

Of course, he was sure that all he was doing was making compliments and entertaining the lady, but that only succeeded in making the lady dream of drowning him in a lake, or better yet, a swamp so that he wouldn't swim out.

The other ladies saw everything, too, causing a lot of jokes at Lilian's expense. That could be expected. Usually, Countess Earton didn't give an excuse to mock her. That wasn't the case with a lovelorn Avesterian at her side.

How could one miss that show? That was impossible.

And that poet! Lilian wished for him to get covered with acne.

Listening to ballads and poems wasn't her favorite pastime even on better days, but she had to suffer through it with no way to escape—and then listen to everyone's praise.

So smart. So delicate. So elegant.

What the hell?

Finally getting enough of that, Lily stood up and went looking for the magical bushes where she planned on staying for at least half an hour. Maybe that would allow her to relax.

The court ladies noticed Baron Lofrayne disappearing somewhere soon after Countess Earton's exit, but they never expected what would happen later.

***

Lily found a spot away from people.

Hiding behind a bush, she did what had to be done and, afterward, decided to take a walk along the river, breathing the fresh air and maybe even harvesting some reed. Fine, there was no reed, just cattail: thick growth with large brown ears on top.

Little Aliya had loved them.

She would gather a pile, take it home, and put it into a vase. After a while, she'd fray the edges, and her mom would use the plants to stuff pillows. Sleeping on them was amazing!

Lily pondered it and finally decided to step into the reeds to pick a few. Thankfully, she had her dagger with her, so she wouldn't have to pull, although the latter didn't seem that bad, for old times' sake...

Cattail, incidentally, was a pretty tasty treat. Aliya had munched on it in her childhood. Not the stem, of course—just the leaves next to its base, as long as the seed ball was still intact.

It tasted almost like new cucumbers.

Old cattails had edible roots.

They could be peeled and baked on an open fire, just like potatoes.

They could also be dried and ground into flour or roasted and brewed into a coffee-like drink that was so much healthier than actual coffee.

Really, it's amazing what one can learn if they were hungry with no money for food!

* The author personally baked, ground, and roasted cattail, curious about the results, which were quite delicious...or, at the very least, unique.

And that was in the Twenty-first Century when not all rivers still had fish. In Ativerna, with its pollution-free grass (except for stray bird droppings), one could experiment to her heart's content. And so, Lily lost herself in harvesting reed.

One reap, then another...

Whoa!

You bastard!

That wasn't the cattail, which Lily treated as tenderly as she could. That was hogweed.

* Heracleum, a weed widely prevalent in Russia and not often encountered in North America. Also known as Bärenklau (German) and cow parsnip. It can be poisonous but also useful.

Devil take it!

Lily remembered her mother cursing at that weed once when the children got too invested in playing pirates.

Hogweed's long hollow stem seemed perfect for a spyglass.

As soon as one of the kids put the spyglass against his face, he got burned so much he went blind in one eye. The local army brats knew that it was dangerous, but those were newcomers whose fathers had been reassigned to that area only recently and brought their families with them.

They would have to remember that one game for the rest of their lives.

Lily stepped closer to the hogweed and looked it over.

It seemed to be hogsbane, specifically, but she was no expert, knowing just enough to treat the burns if anything happened. That's why she had taken pains to learn about the poisonous plants so she could heal or discourage overly curious people from messing with them.

So, was that one poisonous, too?

Apparently, it was, and it could also cause burns. Would she risk plucking it?

Lily looked at her gloves. The lace they were made from was pretty thin. The sap was bound to hurt her skin. That wouldn't do.

She had no desire to risk her hands. Maybe a handkerchief would help?

The plant was a pest, but she needed it. It could be used to treat gallstone disease, digestive issues, even toothache.

While a cup might be poison, a teaspoon might be a remedy. Lily knew several dozen recipes of potions made from hogweed, as long as they were prepared just right.

Ugh, that one was a real giant.

She supposed she could get servants to harvest it for her. Let them cut it and give it to her with all due respect.

Maybe that was the best idea. Really, she was still far from a true noblewoman. A proper countess wouldn't have even gathered reeds, either. Okay, time to memorize the location. A river bend, a cliff, steep but small... It was just tall enough for her to reach the water if she lay down on her stomach. Actually, if anything went wrong, she could wash her hands immediately to get the sap out.

Hmm, come to think of it, burns and blisters didn't make a woman any prettier, and her hands were something she treasured, too.

Lily cursed but didn't get the chance to deal with the hogweed, as a new character appeared on stage—Baron Lofrayne.

"Your Grace, finally, I've found you!"

"You have," Lily agreed, still thinking about the hogweed.

She wondered if there were any other useful plants around. It would be good to prepare them for medical use. She would have to talk to Tahir. Although hogweed probably didn't grow in the Khanganat—maybe she should ask Jamie, he might know about it, being a local.

"Your...Lilian!"

Lilian turned to the baron, who was already standing right next to her.

"Lilian, I implore you!"

"For what?"

"Can't you see my torment?"

As if Lilian paid any attention to his appearance. Well, maybe his health?

"If you have abdominal pain, I can suggest an enema. A bucket-sized one," the cruel countess informed him.

Tony gritted his teeth and decided to carry on.

"Lilian, don't you care about my feelings even a little bit?"

"Not in the least," she assured him. "Please leave them to yourself and let me be in peace."

Tony realized that the countess was hopeless and decided to go all-in, and by that, he meant grabbing her and kissing her senseless. What if that would finally impress her?

After all, it had always worked in the past with other women. His favorite technique couldn't misfire, could it?

But it could, and it did.

"Lilian, I beg you, just one kiss..."

And then, it would be another, and one more after that, and when the lady came to her senses, her skirts would be already over her head. What could she do after cheating on her husband? Cry her heart out...or do it once again.

At least she would enjoy it.

Those thoughts were all but written on the baron's face, in huge letters.

Lilian knew that she was in a precarious situation.

Alone Aldonai only knew where, unable to kick up a fuss... What the hell, really?

Someone was trying to assault her, and she couldn't even yell, "A rapist! Help!" She had to think of her reputation.

Nobody would care that he was at fault; they would think that there must have been an excuse. And she had children, maybe more of them in the future, and a husband prone to jealousy. She wanted to avoid risks.

So, she couldn't cool the baron's ardor?

Well then...

Lily deftly pulled at the string in her skirt.

Anthony stopped, shocked. That's why Lilian Earton's riding habit was so great. With a flick of the wrist, the skirt transformed into a rag to be thrown off and discarded. That left the countess in short leather breeches designed to protect the wearer from the horse's sweat that could easily penetrate simple fabrics. Unwilling to deal with skin rash, Lily had decided to play it safe.

The skirt ended up in Lilian's hands, and she waved it in the air.

"Toro!"

Why did that occur to her?

Most likely, it was a half-forgotten childhood memory when kids were pretending to be bullfighters and taunted the local rooster. Honestly, that bird was just as dumb as a bull, and he could charge in just the same way. He even managed to get his beak on some of the "matadors."

Tony, who hadn't expected anything like that, froze.

Lily wasn't going to wait for divine providence.

She skillfully wrapped the skirt around the huge hogsbane and pulled at its stem with all her might, easily breaking it.

Then she swung the entire bush at the baron.

Tony, apparently, was familiar with local flora. He was quick enough to shield his face with his hands, but it was rough on his arms, which were bare.

One lash, another...

"Lilian!"

She jumped a foot back, still holding her improvised weapon.

"I suggest you get into the river and wash your arms before you get burns!"

So what did the baron reply?

Such words weren't said to respectable women or even disrespectable ones. Words like that one could only say to a cat...if you tripped on it in the darkness and fell down the stairs.

Lilian snorted and threw the remains of the hogsbane on the ground, shook it down, and...

In a minute, the skirt took its rightful place, and Lily grabbed the pile of reeds.

Tony was already lying on his stomach on the cliff and washing his arms, all the while cursing violently.

Really, who would blame Her Grace?

She couldn't resist. Nobody could, in her place.

The baron's position seemed perfect. He wouldn't get hurt; the water was deep enough, she had seen that—the river had no algae or overgrowth in that spot, only becoming shallow several feet downstream.

Lily made two movements.

The first was a slight push, and the baron fell into the river headfirst, never stopping to swear as he flew down. Then she snatched up the reeds and took flight as if the Devil himself was chasing her.

Yes, she had helped Tony. Really, that was an act of mercy!

That way, he definitely wouldn't get any blisters, yet something told the countess that the baron wouldn't thank her for that.

***

Apparently, true masters of gossip were connected to the noosphere and got all their information right over there. It couldn't be explained otherwise.

Lily had been missing for only half an hour, and the baron, for an hour more.

She entered the camp from one side, and he, another.

Lily brought the reeds and defiantly started to peel them right in public; the baron didn't bring anything.

Still, someone, somehow, had managed to start a rumor that the baron had started making advances on Countess Earton, and she pushed him into the water!

Who did it?

How did they know?

Nobody witnessed their encounter; Lily was sure of that!

Yet they still managed to get it right. Damnable telepaths.

Lily could only hope that Jerisson would ask her first before having it out with the baron.

***

In the evening, Lily sat next to her husband.

Jess had wrapped her in his cloak and looked shamelessly happy and content. He had managed to ride down a deer, so the meat Lily was chewing on had been procured by him. There was really something quite primeval about all that.

The venison, by the way, was pretty tough. Lily suspected that the deer had been a lover of sports and wanted to die of old age, but she wasn't going to tell that to her husband. Instead, she would praise him.

He was a hunter! A breadwinner...well, meatwinner,

Even if a cat brings you a dead rat and puts it on your pillow, he shouldn't be scolded for that. After all, he tried to provide for you, took pains to bring you food. The husband also deserved praise. Let him keep providing for the family.

Nanook was lying by his mistress' feet. He was rather upset, having missed the opportunity to tear apart the arrogant bastard because of the hunt. Really, he could have eaten a whole Avesterian instead of those animals!

Naturally, Lily had told Jess the entire story. He had just come back from the hunt and was washing himself above a basin inside the Earton tent. That's when Lily came in.

For a second, she froze, stunned. Her husband was a really handsome man. The way his muscles flexed under his smooth skin when he moved, the way his black hair curled when moist, his smile... It was so defenseless, so sincere. When he looked at her like that, Lily knew that he truly loved her. How could one risk a feeling like that for a fleeting intrigue? People were funny.

“Jess..."

"Come to me, honey..."

Lily shook her head. Then she smiled.

"Oh, no."

“Why not? Lilian?"

"Because the tent isn't soundproof. I don't want people to mock me later," she explained.

Jess snorted.

True, Lilian was incompatible with being quiet, and the tent... She was right. It was better to wait until they were home. Their relationship was nobody else's business.

"That's all right. I'll think of what interest I will take for waiting."

Lily smiled in turn, but her eyes remained serious, and Jerisson stopped smiling, too.

“Lilian?”

"Jess, please give me your word that you won't do anything before talking to Richard."

"Lilian?!"

"I'm fine; everything worked out; nobody even laid a finger on me."

"Who dared?" Jess stressed what was important.

"Your word!"

"The name!"

"Your word, honey, and don't raise your voice if you don't want everyone else to hear you," Lilian pushed.

"Lily, either you tell me the name or I—"

“What? Will you turn me upside down and shake me until you get the name?"

Jess pictured that and laughed. The fit of anger dissipated, leaving only clenched fists in its wake.

“I won’t. But Lily, please tell me."

Lily sighed.

"Your word, my love, or I'll tell the whole story only in Their Majesties' presence."

Jess ground his teeth. Still, if his wife refused to budge...

“Fine. You have my word.”

“Great."

Lily didn't drag it out further and told everything about her encounter with Lofrayne: the start, the finish, even the flowers for good measure.

As Jess was listening, his fists kept clenching so much that Lily had to do something. She walked up to him and sat in his lap, hoping that he wouldn't push her off right away.

The story of the baron's flight into the river seemed to appease her husband. Jess imagined that and burst out laughing.

"Lilian, you're a monster."

"Me?"

“You."

"Then, you're the monster's husband."

"I'm the hero! It should be obvious!"

"Some hero you are. I thought they were using spears of another type to fight monsters."

"Well, who knows? Those are stories!"

Lily snorted.

"Oh yes, I can just see a knight chasing a monster and yelling, 'Wait, villain, I'm going to impale you!" The monster would cry for mercy then, 'Help me, people, get this pervert away from me! Kill me, just let me keep my honor!"

That prompted another laugh from Jess.

"You monster."

"You hero."

Blue eyes met with green.

Oh, to hell with soundproofing! Let them be jealous all they want!

***

Anthony bit his lips.

Well then.

If Lilian Earton didn't want to play nice, he would have to do it the hard way.

He would discredit her and get her into his bed.

Rape?

Oh, come on! She would love every second of it!

After all, everyone always had. Why would she be an exception? Impossible!

That arrogant bitch would beg him to continue!

Her butt... Her legs...

The way she did that with her skirt...

Tony wasn't quite sure what exactly he felt, but there was definitely a dash of admiration in his frustration. What a woman!

Jerisson Earton and Ativerna were lucky, and it wasn't fair. Time to share.

Of course, after everything that had happened, he couldn't stay at the picnic. Everyone laughed, even, it seemed, the horses. Although the people snorted just like the horses, anyway.

Those hooved bastards...

Wet and sulky, Anthony Lofrayne rode back to Laveri, thinking about his plan.

Lilian Earton would be his, and there was something else he could try... Let's see if she would still be laughing when one of her loved ones was in danger!

He would get even. That bitch wouldn't get away with it. She would come to him herself and beg for it, and he would wait and see. Oh, yes, he would.

***

Jerisson was quite calm when he went to see Richard. He told him everything, fair and square.

His Majesty could only shake his head.

"What did your wife say? Milord Count, your wife fell into the sea, and there are sharks swimming around?"

"Why would I save your sharks?" the count finished the joke. Maria, who was also present, giggled.

"Yes, poor sharks."

"Actually, Lilian saved that Avesterian. He would have gotten burns all over his face if not for that river. At least now, he'll survive."

"He already has. He asked me to let him leave, and I did."

"For Avester?"

"No. For Laveri."

Jess chuckled, thinking. Richard wagged his finger at him.

"Don’t even think about it!"

"About what?"

"I know what you're thinking! No duels! I forbid it!"

"Can he just fall down somewhere by accident?"

"He can. In Avester."

"Hmm...I'll mull this over."

"All right," Richard agreed. "Lilian is a smart woman. She didn't start a scandal. Our relationship with Avester is bad as it is, and we don't want a war on top of that."

“I know."

"Then listen to my promise. This Lofrayne will get his accident; I will even help. Got it?”

"Yes."

"Then go to Lilian. We'll deal with this bastard, I promise."

Jess nodded and left. When the tent flap closed behind him, Maria glanced at Richard. His Majesty put his finger on his lips, and she got the hint. She walked closer and whispered into his ear, "Richard, is this the truth?"

"I'm certain of it."

"What a scoundrel... Will you deal with him?"

"I promise, dear."

Maria touched her husband's cheek with her lips.

"I don't know what I would have done in Lilian's place... I would be lost."

Richard ground his teeth.

Yes, he didn't love Maria the way he loved Tira and probably never would. Still, she was his wife, and it wasn't right that she was scared of someone in his own kingdom, especially when that someone was some pretty-boy foreigner.

"Maria, I promise I will teach that troublemaker a lesson. And everyone will know the reason why."

"But there will be no evidence?" Maria beamed, realizing his point.

"Exactly."

"Darling, you're so smart!"

Richard pulled his wife closer and gave her an affectionate kiss.

"You're such a smart girl, dear."

Her Majesty lit up. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she was going the right way.

That's the spirit!

She would never become that woman, but she could still be irreplaceable for her husband, and it was already something, wasn't it?

***

What would one need to get intimate with a lady?

Your own house, so nobody would infringe on you at the worst moment.

Servants. Well, the embassy had enough of them.

And then, the lady.

Unfortunately, that presented a problem, as Lilian Earton had no wish to associate with the baron anymore or even pretend to.

Well then. If he couldn't approach the mother, why not try the daughter?

At the very next ball, Anthony invited Miranda Catherine Earton to a dance. The girl hadn't yet started to officially come out yet, but she was a regular fixture at the palace as Her Majesty Maria's lady-in-waiting and friend and as a friend of Joliette and Angelina.

Being the Eartons' daughter...well, Mirrie could entertain herself as much as she wanted, and her parents didn't mind. Lilian trusted her daughter and knew that she wouldn't get into any trouble.

After all, what awaited Mirrie?

Let her dance while she could. Lilian trusted Amir and believed that he would love and cherish her daughter, but in the Khanganat, women were treated differently. They didn't dance with men, but for a man. Only one man.

And so, Lilian wasn't going to place any restrictions on her daughter's behavior. Mirrie was a kind and smart woman; she could figure it out.

And so, the meeting between Miranda Earton and Anthony Lofrayne was only a matter of time.

Miranda wasn't even surprised to get an invitation to dance. She hadn't planned on paying the baron any attention, but wasn't dancing a ball's whole purpose? She could grant one dance even to an Avesterian.

“Viscountess?”

He bowed, looking at her with his green eyes under thick eyelashes.

How could she refuse?

Miranda didn't intend to, anyway. Let her friends be jealous. She put her slender fingers into the baron's palm and floated to the sound of music, enchanting in her dress the color of a pigeon's wing. Her lacy fan folded and unfolded back.

"You're a wonderful dancer, Viscountess."

Thankfully, the dance allowed a conversation.

Miranda gave him a sweet smile.

"Thank you, Baron Lofrayne."

"Have you ever been told that your eyes look like a stormy sea? A man could drown in them," the baron said, going in for the attack.

He wasn't going to exert himself—she was just a brat. A few minutes would be enough for her to swoon at an adult man's attention, and then he could invite her for a walk in the garden, ask her about her mother...

The baron knew one thing for sure: women loved talking about themselves. Indulge them, listen, and you could learn everything and more about the woman, her affairs, and her family, even the things she didn't want to tell anyone.

Words were traitors. The choice of them, the emotions in them—all of that often gave people away completely.

Miranda was supposed to be an easy mark.

But her blue eyes betrayed nothing.

"I have."

"It's no wonder. A beauty like you should be surrounded by admirers..."

"You're mistaken, Baron." For some reason, Miranda's eyes radiated humor. Unfortunately, Anthony didn't pay any attention to her expression.

"Could it be that young men in Ativerna have no eyes?"

"They have brains," Miranda retorted and stepped back in a complicated dance move.

Anthony watched her spin around to the music, her arm raised, and his thoughts took a different turn.

Miranda...he could seduce her, too. Why not?

She was a beautiful girl, grown up in all the right places.

It could also become leverage for pressuring Lilian Earton. She wouldn't want her husband to know about such a blunder, would she?

The couples converged again, and Anthony continued.

"I cannot believe in the intelligence of men who would leave such a pretty girl alone."

"Oh, you should." Miranda's lovely lips curved into a sneer.

"If I were your father, I would be scared someone would abduct you."

"Thankfully, you aren't my father," Miranda shot back.

"Oh, I think it's quite fortunate, too. You're so charming..."

Miranda barely stifled a yawn.

Alas, Anthony had chosen the wrong tactic of seduction. Miranda had no need to assert herself—her family already took care of that. She was loved, respected, and her opinion was held in high esteem.

She didn't have to complain to others about her fate—she didn't mind it.

As for compliments...

Have mercy!

She had heard a great share of them, although they weren't given to her but rather Their Highnesses.

Each and every foppish courtier had thought it his duty to hit on the princesses, hoping that it would be he who would become the king's brother-in-law.

But those dreams never turned into reality.

Still, Miranda had heard enough sweet words to be nauseated by them. It was so much easier for her with Amir.

Yes, he occasionally had similar fits of eloquence, simply because such was the Khangan tradition. Flowery words, gorgeous expressions, poems and hymns, those were everywhere. But Amir had moved beyond that.

He accepted Lilian Earton as equal and later, although with an effort, did the same for Miranda. Aldonai only knew how hard it was for him.

In the Khanganat, women weren't simply considered unequal to men—nobody saw them as even capable of thinking. Miranda appreciated that Amir treated her like a person. Lilian opened her eyes to that. She helped Miranda realize the importance of that step. The girl couldn't say that she was head over heels in love with her fiancé, not yet, but there was a certain understanding, mutual respect, and interest on both sides, both personal and political. Was that a bad start for a relationship?

Passion, tenderness—all of that would come later. Miranda wasn't old enough yet...although, for Ativerna, she was almost of age. Girls as young as her were sometimes married off, and sometimes, those marriages were even consummated, resulting in a pregnancy. But Lilian gave her daughter a chance to stay a child for a little bit longer, and Miranda appreciated that.

At that moment, flirting with Lofrayne felt boring. His smiles were laden with mold. Miranda might be young, but she was no fool.

Meanwhile, the baron kept droning on about her pink lips and wonderful smile.

Once again, she suppressed the desire to yawn and permitted him to escort her back.

"May I bring you refreshments?"

"Thank you, but there's no need," she replied politely.

"Still..."

The baron took a cup from a servant's tray and gave it to Miranda. Out of courtesy, she touched its edge with her lips and smelled alcohol. She didn't even take a sip of it.

Alcohol was to be drunk only at home with people you could trust.

It was said that wine made a man foolish and a woman loose. Lilian repeated it often and also pointed out all cases of drunk behavior, so Miranda wasn't going to take any risks. Lofrayne, however, didn't know that and gave her an anticipating gaze. And now, the silly girl will get drunk, and then...

Then she was supposed to become pliant and easily controlled, as the wine was strong. She was hardly used to such drinks.

"How about a cupcake?"

"No, thank you," Miranda said firmly.

"Maybe you'd like to take a walk in the garden? Such a beautiful night out there, and the weather is amazing, too..."

Miranda was sick and tired of that.

As if she was going to take a drink from a stranger's hands! Ridiculous!

Lily would rip her head off for doing something like that and tell everyone that's how she had been born: headless!

Lilian had done her best to teach her daughter how to be safe, just like her own parents had once done to her.

Never take anything from strangers, never go anywhere with them, never trust a word. If anything happens, call your parents. Well, Miranda couldn't exactly do the latter at a ball, but she was quite sure she could manage without them.

And if she couldn't, there was a special man tasked with watching over her in the same room. She knew that she wouldn't stay unattended. Still, why escalate things? Why worry her parents?

No need.

"Baron, what do you think about leopards?"

Anthony blinked, dumbfounded.

"They're all right, I guess...but Viscountess..."

"You probably know that I'm betrothed."

Anthony gave her a patronizing smile. As if a betrothal would scare him! That was so childish, so naive!

"I’m aware of that. But how can that be an obstacle? Viscountess, to give a northern flower to a barbarian would be—"

At last, Miranda grew angry. She didn't show it, however. Her expression became deliberately calm, and a sheet of ice fell over her blue eyes.

"I like leopards too, Baron. That's why I'm warning you: you have talked long enough. In the Khanganat, they would set leopards on you for such behavior, and they would be right to."

"But, we're not in the Khanganat."

"Of course. That's why I'm not siccing any leopards on you," Miranda said, her eyes narrow. "But I urge you to leave me alone and never approach me again."

"You're so scared of your fiancé?"

"I respect him, and I don't want to cast a show on his name."

Anthony almost gasped in surprise. He hadn't expected anything like that. Curious, he decided to push her a little further.

"And how deep is your loyalty to your fiancé, Viscountess?"

"Deep enough, Baron."

"Viscountess, would you summon your parents to moralize to me?"

Lofrayne wasn't going to escalate things any further and would have stepped back after that question, but for Miranda, that was the last straw.

"No, Baron. I'm quite capable of dealing with you myself without dragging my family into this. Therefore, I strongly urge you to leave me alone, once and forever."

That did it. The baron wasn't going to take any threats.

How arrogant! And from whom? This girl? What a heroine!

"And what exactly are you going to do to me, Viscountess?"

Miranda narrowed her eyes.

"Last warning, Baron."

Anthony should have taken her seriously.

As soon as Lily started raising Miranda, the girl realized one thing: threats were pointless. All one could do was promise, and promises had to be delivered on. Making threats without being able to make good on them was pathetic and helpless.

No, she made no threats, only promises. Only something she could do.

"You're so charming when you hiss and protract your claws, Viscountess. Just like a kitten. I'm almost tempted to pet you and put you in my lap..."

He shouldn't have said that.

Furious, Miranda used the fact that she was sitting while the baron was standing. One quick gesture...

That's when the wine came in. Thankfully, it was white rather than red.

Anthony wasn't quick enough to step back, and even if he was...

A large wet stain swelled on the baron's light blue velvet pants around his crotch.

"Baron," Miranda said, not raising her voice, but somehow stressing his title. That resulted in almost theatrical speech, where a person talked not really loud but could be heard across the hall. "I promise you I will talk to din Dashar about your unfortunate malady. Don't worry; they can treat it in the Khanganat..."

Everyone's eyes fell on Lofrayne.

The baron, who hadn't yet realized what was going on, moved, looked down...

And almost cursed out loud.

You...brat! You say they treat it?

Three seconds later, half of the ballroom was certain that the baron had a bladder control problem.

Anthony had never been so humiliated.

Miranda kept smiling at him behind her unfolded fan. When had she hidden the cup?

That bitch...

Crimson with anger, Anthony ran toward the exit.

No, he had never been in a situation like that before. But what could he do?

He would have loved to snap that nasty girl's thin neck, but at a ball?

He couldn't do anything, not yet.

Miranda pushed the cup further under the chair and feigned confusion. Really, he shouldn't have tried slipping her white wine, especially fortified. He hadn't even asked her what she preferred!

She wondered what else that slime wanted from her. So he had been sending her mother flowers; was it her turn?

Miranda stood up, resolute. She had to find her mother and talk to her.

***

Miranda found Lily in Her Majesty Maria's chambers. The queen was in urgent need of advice.

Alas, becoming a woman didn't always happen like in romance novels. Shyness, worry...there were lots of problems, and Maria really needed to discuss her intimate love with someone. Whom, though? Milia? Her stepmother was too far away.  On top of that, even if Maria loved her like her own blood, treating her like an elder sister, she was still the queen of Wellster. Would she really give blackmail material to a queen of another country? One day, their nations were friends, and then they might become enemies. Politics: there was no getting around it.

But Lilian Earton, she would do, or Angelina Gardren. The latter, however, was at home with her child. Lilian would listen, help, and give suggestions...and she would never tell anyone Her Majesty's problems. Maria was sure of that.

She would also never use that knowledge for ill.

"Mama?" Miranda asked, making sure to knock and immediately curtsey. "Your—"

“Mirrie!"

Her Majesty, dressed in a charming cream-colored velvet dress, waved her hand. She loved Miranda like a niece and easily forgave her for any blunders. Lily, who wore a bright yellow dress with green trimming, frowned but didn't scold Miranda, noticing her distress. Her child was fine; the rest could wait.

But the child was clearly perturbed, too. Who dared to wrong her baby? Who had a death wish?

"Maria, I'm sorry..." Miranda corrected herself.

"Mirrie?" Lilian asked, frowning.

"I just can't wait, who knows what might happen with Papa or—"

"What's wrong with Jerisson?" Lilian got to the point. She grew worried.

"I..." Miranda hesitated but finally dismissed her doubts and told everything about Lofrayne: their conversation, the dance, even her prank.

Lily and Maria had a good laugh but eventually stopped and grew serious.

"Ugh. He clearly wants something from us," Lilian concluded.

"And we'll hardly like that," Maria agreed.

"I don't want to involve our men," Lily said with a sigh. "And our relations with Avester are bad enough as it is..."

"Yes." Maria was of the same mind. On top of everything, the trade route to the Khanganat went past Avester; any controversy was undesirable.

"And if Papa gets angry and challenges this baron..."

"That's the last thing we need," Lily replied, gritting her teeth.

She hated duels. A duel might show who was the better fighter. But showing who was right? How was that supposed to work?

She didn't want to risk her own husband, either. She'd sooner kill Lofrayne herself: slit his throat or maybe poison him...

***

Was being scorned humiliating?

Of course, especially when the perpetrator was a girl less than fifteen years old. Anthony was fuming, but the baron was smart enough to know that Miranda was untouchable.

His target was another woman, a completely different one. If he stopped to talk sense into the brat, he would lose any chance to get to Lilian.

So what would he do? Grin and bear it? Aldonai hadn't blessed the baron with patience and self-control, and so, Anthony started to plot revenge. Soon, he identified Miranda's weak spot.

Her mutt—the huge beast that always accompanied her mistress—loved her and adored her. Really, whose idea was making a Virman hound into a fur rug, a toy for a spoiled child?

Although Miranda had worked a lot on Lou-Lou's looks, too. Usually, Virman dogs were huge, powerfully built, and broad-chested. Lilian probably shouldn't have told her daughter stories about poodles, because that's how Lou-Lou ended up looking. She had pompoms, a lion's mane, a huge pink bow on her neck, and well-groomed claws. Her body was decorated with a golden belt. That said, Miranda didn't go overboard: despite the pompoms, the rest of the fur was only trimmed, not shaved off.

Lily didn't mind. Why not? Let her be a poodle, even if a giant-sized. The girl had a right to enjoy herself. After all, what mattered the most about a dog? Its ability to defend its mistress, and Lou-Lou was quite capable of that. As for the rest...

She might look funny and harmless; it wouldn't help those caught in her teeth. Actually, the less threatening a dog looked, the better. It gave it an edge.

That night, the Eartons were woken up by loud barking. Jess looked out of a window.

"What's going on?"

Instead, she heard a few obscenities.

"What's wrong?" Lily had already jumped out of bed and was quickly dressing. She never knew what to expect.

"I'll come down and look. Stay here for now."

"Pfft," his wife replied and started pulling on shoes. "I'm not going to abandon you here."

Jess went outside together with his wife, somehow quite satisfied with the outcome.

It was already quiet, and the dogs had stopped barking.

"What happened?" Jess asked again.

"Here," one of the Virmans said, giving a hearty kick to a ragged boy about fifteen years old. "This rat.."

"Let me gooo!" the urchin whined, not really expecting the armed guards to have mercy on him.

"Yeah, after I flog your hide, maybe," the Virman said between his teeth. Lily remembered that his name was Elm. "What did you put in the courtyard, scum?"

"What did he put?" Lily asked, curious.

Without a word, the Virman pushed something toward Her Grace with his leg.

Lily bent over, looked closely, and shivered.

It was meat.

Back in her childhood, their town had a stray mutt called Buddy.

He was a shaggy black mongrel but incredibly smart. Some bastards poisoned him, and no matter how doctors and veterinarians tried, they couldn't save him.

"You..."

The Virman's humble cursing couldn't hold a candle to Her Grace's violent outburst, and the snarl accompanying those words could have intimidated even the strongest of Khangan leopards.

The urchin whimpered and crawled back, his pants growing darker in the front.

"Who gave the order?" Jess didn't waste time swearing, even if he was just as angry as his wife.

Of course, all of their dogs were trained not to take anything given by a stranger, but if someone tried to poison them...

"It's not my fault!" the culprit whined. "He gave me a gold coin!"

"Who was he?" Lily asked, deceptively soft. Still, that softness fooled nobody; she was ready to kill.

"I don’t know! He was wearing a cloak, a large one!"

“Hmm.”

Going by the boy's story, a man approached him on the street, gave him the meat, a coin, and ordered him to throw the meat into the courtyard of a certain estate when everyone was asleep.

The boy followed the instructions to the letter.

"What if I make you eat this meat?" Jerisson asked sweetly.

The boy started kicking and tried to escape, but his attempts were stopped by a sharp jolt from the Virman. They didn't like poisoners either.

Lily glanced at her husband.

"So, what are we going to do with this weasel?"

"What can we do?" Jess shrugged. "Is your father going to set The Lidarh sailing?"

"Yes, you know that. So?"

"Let's send this fool there as a cabin boy. I doubt he had a good life here if he had to earn his living this way. Do you have a family, dolt?"

"I do," the boy replied sullenly, knowing that they wouldn't kill him. In the first minute, they might have, but they changed their minds.

"Elm?"

"Yes, sir!"

Jess spent a few minutes thinking.

"Give the boy a few cuffs and lock him down. Tomorrow, ask him about his family and go there so they won’t look for him."

"They won’t," the boy grumbled. "Father's in his cups, and Mother died last year."

"Any siblings?"

"I'm the youngest."

"All right, then. You'll be the youngest on the ship, too." Jess concluded and gestured to the Virman

Elm took the boy by the scruff of his neck and dragged him away.

The Eartons turned around and returned inside.

In the bedroom, Lily walked up to Jess and hugged him.

"What's with you?" Jess froze for a second, as such sentimental fits were out of character for his wife, but finally scooped her up.

"Lily..."

"Jess...I'm so proud of you."

"Come on," the count said, embarrassed, as he knew that for his wife, those weren't simply words.

"I am."

Lily wasn't lying; she felt proud of her husband. Jess had accomplished a noble deed, even if it might not be obvious. Five or six years before, he would have simply ordered the men to flog the boy and kick him out. Instead, he gave him a chance for a good and honorable life.

After all, being a cabin boy was only the beginning. Some of them, with time, even made captains, and The Lidarh was a wonderful ship with a good captain and, in all likelihood, a good crew.

Lily would talk to her father, and Jess, to the captain. The boy would be fine.

***

Horatio Alden was calm and full of contempt.

Tony was pacing the room and fiddling with his handkerchief, making knots and untying them, while Horatio sat in his chair and watched everything like a cat from the top of a closet.

Humans might be all fussy and noisy, which is curious, but get into that squabble? Give me a break. I'd rather just wait.

"That bitch!"

Another stream of insults followed. Alden winced and shook his head.

"Could you omit the unnecessary details?"

His reply was another series of expletives.

Horatio sighed.

"What are you trying to say, Anthony? That your mission failed?"

“Yes! No! Aldonai, and..."

"It failed, but you aren't ready to accept it," Alden said, summing it up. His tone was calm and melancholic.

"I...you don't understand..."

"What don't I understand? I warned you, Lofrayne. Lilian Earton only needs her husband. Nobody else, even Aldonai himself, is of no interest to her."

Tony ground his teeth.

"And her stepdaughter."

"Miranda Earton? I hope you didn't—"

"No." Tony's teeth seemed to be on the verge of crumbling into dust from the force of his bite. "I didn't touch her; it was she who—"

"Made you look like a bedwetter? I know," Alden assured him.

Tony gave him an angry look.

"The little rat."

"I hope you remember her fiancé?"

Lofrayne did.

"Mind that we have a good relationship with the Khangans...so far. I hope it won't change."

Lofrayne rubbed his forehead and returned to whining about his misfortunes.

"Alden, it's impossible!"

“Really?”

"I could have understood everything! Let's say Lilian Earton is afraid, doesn't want to have anything to do with me, doesn't like me...but that is unbearable! She looks at me as if I were a child! Do you understand, Alden? A child!"

"Really?"

"Baby's naughty? How cute! Baby's misbehaving too much? Whip him with a rod and go back to your business. You don't pay attention to the children's antics, do you? It's the same with her, too."

"I didn't think it was so serious."

"It's even worse, Alden. She's not even trying to keep me at a distance. She just doesn't take me seriously at all."

“Hmm.”

"Alden, please understand that we're in the same boat. If I drown, I'll take you with me."

"What about your lady?" Alden changed the subject. He didn't mention that Lofrayne would never be able to drag him down with himself. Tony might spit poison as much as he wanted, but Alden had secured himself against that a long time ago. He had everything written down with separates notes for every single sneeze. If His Majesty asked, Horatio would know what to answer. As for Lofrayne...

Those were his own problems.

Anthony winced.

"Lady Seinel is falling all over herself trying to get to her target, but it's just as pointless."

"Really, she can't seduce him?" Alden asked, genuinely surprised.

That seemed odd.

Jerisson Earton had never been loyal to his wife both before marriage and after, entering every door that let him in. And suddenly, he developed a strict moral code?

"She cannot. She's running circles around him, giving out hints...but he hasn't even given in once."

"Oh."

"We can't find our way into the Earton family."

“What are you suggesting, then?"

Tony threw the remains of the long-suffering handkerchief into the corner.

"I'll talk to Irida. Let her try one more thing. If it fails, then..."

“Then what?”

"We'll be left with only the hard option," Tony stressed.

Alden sighed.

"Lofrayne, how do you expect this to work?"

"I have an idea about what exactly I need. After that...we'll see."

"Yes?"

“Yes!"

What else was Alden to do?

Only pray to Aldonai for help, although that seemed just as useless. After all, lots of people prayed, and there was only one Aldonai. If he started to answer each and every prayer, he would be long torn into souvenirs.

***

"He's not interested in me."

Irida Seinel gave Baron Lofrayne a sad look.

“Really?”

"I couldn't kindle Count Earton's interest. I can sense such things."

"What does he want, then?"

"I don't know. There's something about me he's not satisfied with."

"What a lout! The entire court is satisfied, and he isn't!"

Irida flared up. But what could she say? He was telling the truth.

She had agreed to come to Ativerna to seduce someone else's husband, after all, throwing herself at him and making overt passes. No need to pretend to be Aldonai's bride.

Irida tried to perk her nose up and shrug, but Anthony didn't even notice her claims to independence.

"Try again."

"Yes, Tony."

"I'll arrange an opportunity for you. You don't have to make him fall in love with you or anything, just shag him a couple of times...even once! I'll figure out how to present it to his wife."

The nerve!

That was the only thought in Irida's mind, but she didn't say it out loud. That might result in a slap, and she didn't want her face to get bruised.

"I don't mind."

"Great. And for now, come here..."

"Tony!"

"Get down on your knees."

Irida glared at him but obeyed the command. As she stroked his tense flesh, she simmered with anger.

She might be a slut, but throwing that flaw in her face was too much. The entire world was flawed, really.

The baron soon achieved release, pulled on his pants, and left, leaving her alone in the room. She threw a pillow at the wall, then another.

She would have preferred a vase, but she would have to pay for it, as Entor was stingy with the embassy expenses. Too bad; a pillow couldn't relieve any stress.

Irida kicked a pouf, hurting her toes, sat down on the couch, and cried.

She felt awful. What kind of life was that? One man loathed her, another neglected her, the third treated her like a whore, the fourth courted her, but she'd rather he didn't...

It was no life at all. It was a nightmare.

***

"Blecch!"

Lily cursed and bent over a bucket once again, throwing her golden braid back.

"Blecch!"

She was vomiting in a big way, but why? She hadn't eaten anything stale, but the sickness had chased her since morning. Wait. Food might not be the reason. Where was her calendar?

Somehow spitting out all bile amassed overnight, Lily ran to check her periods. Soon, her suspicions proved true. It seemed she really was pregnant.

So what was she to do? It seemed obvious: tell her husband the good news and be happy. Nothing confusing about that, really.

Still, it meant no more rides with Lidarh and... Fine. She would wait and check a few weeks later, not telling anyone yet.

***

Jerisson Earton was sitting in his chamber inside the palace. He felt great. Peace, silence, and a bottle of wine on the table—what else did one need to be happy? Nothing!

Jess loved his family, adored them, could go to the end of the world for them, but rest mattered, too. The Earton house had long since become a crazy whirlwind of people, events, and opinions. Noise, ruckus, scurry, shouting, conversations, someone looking for something...

All of that was wonderful—no argument there. But it was so tiresome! Impossibly tiresome, in fact. Sometimes, Jess missed the days when Miranda was the only child in the house, sitting in her chambers under the watchful eye of nannies. Lily could take a break from all of that in Castle Taral, but he... He fled to the palace.

Lily didn't protest. Let her husband rest and relax for a night; it would only make him appreciate them more later—and Jess did. Still, an evening like that, with a bottle of wine next to a fireplace, was perfect. Maybe Richard would come later, too...

The fireplace gave off pleasant warmth, the fire danced on the resinous wood, crackling, and the wine, with its notes of cherry and light bitterness of wormwood, felt amazing on his tongue.

Silence. Peace. Count Earton. What a great combination! Yet as soon as Jerisson thought about picking a book to read, someone knocked at the door.

Ugh, what the...

But who could it be? Richard had keys, and the others...he had no idea.

He had to stand up and open the door, discovering none other than Lady Seinel behind it.

"Lady?" Jess asked, dumbfounded, and got almost knocked over.

The lady threw her arms around his neck, choking with tears and snot.

"I beg you! Count, you're an honorable man!"

Jerisson realized that his evening was ruined, closed the door without locking it, and dragged the lady to the nearest chair. She had latched onto him strongly.

"Please! Only you! As a noble man..."

Sobbing was interspersed with mumbling. Jerisson sighed again and poured the lady wine—incidentally, it was 20 years old and imported from the Khanganat. Such an elixir would really be a waste when given to that idiot. Why was she crying, anyway?

The lady moved from sobbing to whimpering. Jerisson tried to clear the air and was told a rather banal story. She had been making advances (well, she called it living the court life) to all men, but the one who took the bait wasn't interesting or useful to her. However, he was influential enough to get rid of Lady Seinel for good. That's why she turned to Count Earton. As a powerful official, dignitary, and nobleman, he must be able to understand her—and help, of course.

If only the count allowed her to announce that she was under his patronage... She would be so grateful, so thankful...

According to her, the count was the only real man at court...well, aside from His Majesty.

Your eyes, your shoulders, your lips...

Her dress kept slipping lower and lower, demonstrating the depths of her cleavage. Jess woke up only upon seeing her bare breasts and quickly pulled the dress up.

"Lady Seinel, what if this story reaches the ears of my wife?"

His reply was another series of sobs.

You're such a noble lord, and your wife's a lady, she's so lucky...could you take pity on poor Lady Seinel?

Jerisson didn't have much in the way of patience. His Grace watched the plunging cleavage once again (nothing special, Lilian’s was so much more appetizing) and concluded, "Lady Seinel, I will solve your problem."

"Yes?!"

"I'll ask His Majesty to find you a husband."

The normally beautiful lady turned into a fish, blinking and looking blankly at him. Apparently, she didn't expect that. Jess grinned and landed the finishing blow.

"I just happen to know a leir who's looking for a wife. He has a lovely estate on the border, although his income's not especially big..."

Tears streamed from her eyes at such force that Jerisson grew alarmed. What was it Lilian had been telling him about dehydration? How much water could a human lose without dying? Or were women different from humans?

Ahem!

He should never say that in front of his wife. But the tears kept flowing, and Jess became curious—how long could it last?

As it turned out, not long. Lady Seinel realized that tears didn't help, wiped off her cheeks, and went on the offensive.

"How can you—YOU!—offer me something like that? You...you..."

The main thrust of her sobs was that Jerisson was the best man in the world, and the lady had fallen in love with him at first sight. She had never met such a handsome, smart, sensitive...

Jerisson was in complete agreement: he was a true miracle. It felt nice, being appreciated. The thing was, that admiration could be strictly platonic, as Jess wasn't going to cheat on his wife, but the lady pressed harder and harder.
Jess almost felt like a maid pinned in a corner. Fortunately for him, there was a knock at the door.

Lady Seinel twitched, and Jess happily yelled, "It's not locked!"

His Majesty entered the room.

"Jess, you're... Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all. The lady was complaining that she can't find a husband," Jess reported.

"Really?" Richard asked, curious.

Irida realized that she failed and decided to flee, quick on her heels. She jumped up, bowed, and rushed out of the door, leaving only a gust of wind in her wake.

"What did the lady want?" Richard asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I suspect that was me." Jess made himself comfortable in the recaptured chair. "Come in, sit."

"What's the wine? Oh, Khangan Gold!"

“Help yourself. There are nuts on the table..."

"Now that's a loyal subject if I've ever seen one. No expense spared for the king, huh?"

Jess gave Richard a smile.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"And by 'you,' you mean..." Richard made a rude gesture.

"Yes, in that exact sense," Jess agreed. "But her reasons are unconvincing."

"What are they?"

"She assures me that she loves me and can't live without me."

"Yes, you're right," Richard agreed. "That's not convincing in the slightest."

Jess snorted—thankfully, not into the cup, as spilling such wine was blasphemous.

"Something bad is going on. That scraggy cat is chasing me, and that Avesterian stud, my wife. Richard, could you take action?"

"I'll try."

And His Majesty emptied the glass in one gulp.

Chapter 6

"What's wrong, Angie?"

Bran Gardren found his wife...well, not quite sobbing, but clearly distressed. She had a sad look about her, a labored smile, but the happiness in her eyes and the love she felt for him were real. The small wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, however, were new. He had to know who dared to upset his wife.

Lying to Bran was pointless.

After fidgeting a bit, Angelina confessed.

"Joliette came.."

"And what happened?" Bran kept pushing.

His wife sighed.

What could she say?  How would she put it into words? When your beloved sister looked at you with such eyes...

Did she say anything special? No, she hadn't. She simply patted Ian's head, smiled at Hilda, and gave a rattle-box to the baby, although Angelina didn't let him take it yet, as it was too heavy and he was too little.

But her gaze, her tone... Angelina felt awkward and uncomfortable in her sister's presence. Something was off.

"We used to be so close, and now...now, there's nothing left."

"Ask her not to come."

"I can't, dear. Jolie's so unhappy..."

Bran shrugged. He didn't like that gesture, as it drew attention to his hunched back, but next to Angelina, it was different.

Nobody else looked at him with those eyes. She loved him, and she didn't care about anything else. Even if his back were thrice as hunched, she would have looked at him the same.

"I'll talk to her husband," Bran said, finding a decision.

"What for?"

"So he would talk to her, or better yet, get her pregnant," Bran suggested.

In truth, he wanted to talk to Joliette himself, but Angelina didn't need to know that. Nobody had the right to upset his wife. Nobody, or it would end badly—for Joliette, of course.

Bran thought some more and decided to first talk to Lilian Earton and then, Her Majesty. He didn't want to mess things up. In any case, Angelina was his wife, and he would never let anyone upset her—even her own sister.

***

Another dance started, beautiful and deadly.

The knife touched porcelain skin, making it bloom with scarlet flowers. The roses were everywhere—on the floor, on the clothes, on the walls, on her lips... The scarlet roses of blood.

The man savored every minute, every second of the experience. He moved swiftly, playing with his knife. The blood on her underwear was scarlet, too. Later, it would grow darker, turning brown, but until then...

Nobody was going to wash her things anyway; they would simply throw them into the fire.

"Please! Have mercy!”

They always begged. It was so dull.

The knife touched the skin one more time. A stab, then another...

She was a fiery one. She was still holding on. The man felt better and better. As the girl lost her strength, he became filled with power and energy, absorbing the departing life, satiating himself with it like a leech sucking blood, feasting on every second.

Finally, she broke. Holed up in the corner, she knew that she would have no mercy. It was time to move in for the kill.

Broken toys had to be destroyed; there was no other way.

The man came closer to deal the coup de grace. But suddenly...

In a sweeping motion, the woman leaped at her opponent. She had bet everything on that attack, and she would have succeeded...but no luck. The man gripped the knife in just the right way, and the stupid bitch impaled herself on it, immediately giving up the ghost.

Her hand clutched at his handsome purebred face and fell limp.

Filth. The man could barely restrain his anger. A drop of blood crept out of the scratch on his face... His face! What a bitch!

The man fell into a frenzy. Swearing himself blue, he kept kicking the lifeless body. Well then.

That girl had gotten lucky. She fought to the last, reached her enemy, and died in an instant, still believing in her victory.

Was that enough? Hard to tell.

The man kicked the body a few more times and proceeded to collect the mementos.

That fool might have disfigured him.

Wretch! Scum! Swearing helped, but the scratch still hurt.

***

"Jess, I have something to tell you."

“Yes, sweetie?"

Jess pulled his wife closer and embraced her. They were lying side by side, the wind blowing over their naked bodies. Lily threw a shawl over herself to avoid catching a cold.

"We're going to have a baby."

For a second, Jess froze.

Then he turned his head to his wife and slowly touched her lips with his in a long kiss.

"Are you sure?"

"I know my body. I'm late, and everything else is the same as last time. I think it's another boy."

"Lilian!"

Jess radiated happiness. If she put a lightbulb in his mouth, it would get enough energy to last a year. Lily gave him a smile.

"I hope you aren't disappointed."

"I'm happy. You're the best."

"I think Mirrie will be delighted to get a new brother, and so will Roman, Jacob, and Jyce..."

"I don't doubt it! I'm so glad, Lilian. You have no idea."

"I can imagine." Lilian didn't want to mock her husband. "I'm happy, too."

She stroked her still-flat stomach. Jess bent down and pressed his lips against it.

"You're a miracle. Lilian, I've read so many books and poems, and I know that I can't express my love to you. There are no words. They haven't been invented yet..."

"They have. I love you too."

"No. I don't just love you. I live and breathe you. You're my heart."

Lily bit her lip and gently palmed her husband's face. She didn't expect such feelings from him, but it happened. She even felt a little bit bad that she couldn't say it with the same degree of certainty.

"Without you, my life would be completely different, I know that...and I wouldn't want to live in a world without you. You're the best, most wonderful husband a woman might wish for. You're a dream come true."

Was it a lie? In a way, but Jerisson heard what he wanted to hear. People in love are easy to please. Just don't argue with them.

But Lily wasn't truly lying. By a quirk of fate, in that world, she became linked to Count Earton, and she didn't regret it.

Did she love him as she had once loved Alex? No. With Alex, she shared a soul, a mind, a heart. It was as if she was ripped apart, a piece of her left in another world. She would never have anything like that with Jerisson simply because they came from different worlds and eras. But they would have something else.

She would live with Jess, give him children, love them all, and keep protecting her family—against the whole world if need be. She would die for them and still be happy. Was that enough?

For Lilian, it was. She would rather leave the pretty words to poets; that was their job.

“Jess..."

“Lilian...”

A long kiss, followed by a short trip taken by their hands.

"Can we still do it?"

"Yes, but slowly and sadly."

Jess smiled, made a dramatic face, and sprang into action...while they still could.

***

The library doubled as the study. It had a large desk, a small paper table next to it, bookshelves placed against the walls, an armchair by the window, and a small stand for bottles and cups by its side.

Tony was leaning on the big table with Lady Seinel standing across from him. He hadn't offered her a seat, but sitting while a lady was standing was a faux pas, too. Therefore, both of them remained on their feet. They had a hard conversation ahead of them.

Lady Irida lowered her eyes.

She had just given Anthony the report on her visit to Count Earton. She threw her hands up.

"It's no use. I've done everything short of throwing myself on him..."

"Maybe you should have?" Anthony asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lady Irida recalled everything she had tried and sighed—but didn't blush. She shook her head.

"It's pointless. For any other man, half of what I've done would have been enough to take me right there, but not him."

Tony squinted.

"You didn't try hard enough, Lady Seinel. And I—"

"Will you risk telling this to His Majesty?" Irida said, narrowing her eyes. She wasn't going to become a scapegoat.

Tony gave her a nasty chuckle.

"Why not? You could have seduced Count Earton, allowing me to inform his wife, and the rest would be history."

"And you could have seduced Countess Earton. Did you succeed?" the lady retorted.

Tony frowned.

"You didn't," Lady Seinel triumphantly concluded. "And you'll never succeed. Neither of us can. And if you try to pin it on me, I'll do the same!"

Anthony looked at his lover, realized that she would absolutely go through with it, and backpedaled.

“Fine. Both of us are on edge... Is it true that he can't be seduced?"

"I could just as well try seducing a statue of Aldonai," Lady Seinel snapped.

"Lady..."

"Count Earton doesn't need me. Now, say, if his wife were pregnant and he wouldn't have a woman for several months...maybe then. But now, it's pointless."

Anthony sighed. He sat down by the window and rubbed his temples with his fingers.

“Fine. Go, Lady Seinel. I'll stay here and think some more."

The lady immediately took his permission and disappeared. Tony poured himself some wine and started slowly savoring it, staring out the window.

He had to face it—he was failing his mission. He had been sent to Ativerna to peacefully get Countess Earton out of the country. He couldn't pit her against her husband, tempt her or her husband to cheat, or even manipulate her stepdaughter.

The children were out of the question—the estate was full of Virmans. Thank Aldonai, the boy he had hired to plant the poisoned meat was unable to tell them anything, not knowing his employer's face. They might suspect Tony, but they had no proof.

Did he have any other leverage? No. The only possible solution was dealing with her by force.

Tony sighed, spent twenty more minutes going through any possible options, and went to Alden. If he wanted to leave Ativerna with a bang, he would have to adjust his plans first—and to align them, of course.

Although Tony was sure that Alden wouldn't like them anyway. He didn't like them himself, but what else could he do?

Lilian Earton left him no other choice.

***

"Anthony, you're out of your mind."

Tony shrugged, throwing the ambassador an expressive glance.

Horatio Alden was grim and frowning, and he had a good reason to. Still, Tony had the requisite authority, and winners were not to be judged.

"Horatio, I have no choice."

"You? I'd rather you tell me you haven't made enough effort."

Tony winced.

"Horatio, I've been here for three months. I swear, I've never chased after one woman for so long."

Alden snorted.

Inwardly, he was snickering at the pretty boy who had unexpectedly suffered such a rebuff. He deserved it, too.

So you're used to all the ladies being at your beck and call? The joke's on you! There's at least one woman for whom you're but dust under her feet. Even if you dance attendance on her, she won't even deign to notice you, other than to keep her husband away from you.

“That’s right. His Majesty has already admonished me for your...ahem...zeal."

Tony ground his teeth.

His zeal? The flowers were sent back to the embassy, and so was the jewelry. The Ativernans openly scorned his efforts, and after the antics of the little brat, the countess' stepdaughter, the whispers behind his back grew twice as loud. Nobody said anything to his face, but it didn't make it any easier.

The only thing Tony could do was clench his teeth. He couldn't even challenge Count Earton to a duel—Richard had expressly forbidden that, and not because Jerisson was a coward, either—the count was clearly just as surprised by that as Tony.

His wife, however... She was a smart bitch; Tony couldn't call her anything but that. At times, he dreamed of being in the same bed as Lilian Earton and making that haughty viper pliant like clay, and sometimes, he wanted to snap her neck.

Alas, either dream was unattainable. There was only one solution.

"Alden, I wouldn't have asked for anything like this, but I have no choice. If I don't bring her, His Majesty will be furious."

"And if you bring her in chains? Will that make him happy?"

"Well...at least, his task will be done. Convincing Lilian Earton to cooperate shouldn't be hard. After all, she's a woman. Here, she's being protected by her husband and the king. Alone, she will panic and get scared..."

The ambassador looked doubtful. He had lived in Ativerna for some time and remembered Lilian Earton's first appearance at court. He knew what gifts she gave to the king and the princesses, knew the gist of the events in Wellster... Panic? Get scared? She wasn't someone who would do that.

But Alden had no choice. He wasn't exactly in the king's good graces, and if Lofrayne wrote to His Majesty that the ambassador had been a spanner in his works...

"Lofrayne, am I correct to understand this? You need to rent a ship: not from Avester, so nobody could connect us to it, but a reliable one. You also need to find a mercenary group to abduct Countess Earton for you. During this, at least a third of the group will get killed or captured, as the countess' guards are all Virmans, who have no idea how to give up. We'll need to cover the tracks leading to you and give you time to escape. Am I right?"

"Your wording is as precise as ever, Alden."

"Do you realize that it could start a war?"

Anthony sighed.

"Then, we need to avoid any suspicions."

"This is madness."

"Alden, I have no choice, and neither do you."

Alden paused.

"Give me time, Lofrayne. At least a month."

"I'm afraid we don't have a month. The countess mentioned that she wanted to depart for Earton."

"Won't it be easier to abduct her from there?'

"No. Earton's teeming with Virmans, and we'd have to sail up the river Eart... No, I thought about that, and it's useless. It would make so much noise that a war would be inevitable. The king will never forgive that."

Alden chuckled.

The worst part was, Lofrayne was right. If he screwed up, both of them would get punished. Alden wondered where the king might send him. Loris?

Loris would seem like heaven; after all, there were people living there. Entor might simply stick Alden somewhere far away and forbid him from going anywhere.

What would he do in a situation like that? His own estate wasn't exactly ramshackle and decrepit, but it didn't make enough money. Alden did his best to renovate it, and being an ambassador was good money.

Therefore, he would have to figure out how to abduct Her Grace. Chartering a ship wasn't going to be a problem, but mercenaries... He had his work cut out for him.

"We'll have to hire real lowlifes, rabble and scum."

"We have money."

"Money's only half the trouble. The thing is, we can't be connected to them. They will cut down the countess' guards, and you'll pick up the woman and run to the ship."

Tony started thinking.

"It's possible... See, Alden, Lilian Earton rides to Castle Taral almost every day. We can meet her here," the baron said, pointing at a spot on the map. "It's a small forest far enough away from the castle. We'll set up an ambush, and while the mercenaries fight the Virmans, I'll grab the countess and ride away. If the ship will wait for us there..."

"It can be done," Alden said, looking at the map.

"Let's get to it, then."

Horatio Alden sighed and made the final attempt.

"Tony, think. Maybe you might get her drunk, set her up somehow..."

"It would have been much simpler if she didn't refuse to eat or drink anything outside of her home."

Actually, there was a different reason for Lily's refusal to eat. Morning sickness made sure that she wanted nothing.

Last time, she had barely eaten during the first two months, simply having no desire to do so.  Pickled cucumbers worked well, though. Too bad that the palace kitchen had none of them.

Wine was out of the question; she didn't want any other food, and what was left? Nothing, really.

Tony didn't know that, though, and even if he did, it would have no impact, alas.

"Really? Nothing at all?

"Absolutely. You can check if you'd like."

Horatio chuckled, recalled a few things, and made the wrong conclusion.

"Maybe. A few years ago, Count Earton was poisoned. Tahir din Dashar was barely able to save him, but lightning doesn't strike twice."

"You think she's afraid of that?"

"With women, who knows."

"Makes sense. So, the mercenaries..."

And the men started to plan the abduction. They had a few days of hard work ahead of them.

Stealing a woman wasn't that hard. But doing it without leaving tracks and starting a war was something else. That was a real problem, and like all problems, it demanded a solution.

***

Bran Gardren coldly looked at his sister-in-law.

On the outside, the duchess was charming. She had blond hair, just like Angelina, grey eyes, same as his wife's...actually, the girls had a remarkable resemblance. Their eyes, their noses, their hair...even their figures.

Still, Bran thought that only a blind man could mistake one for the other. His Angie was bright, sunny, genuine, and full of passion. Joliette, on the other hand... Bran's senses felt that something was off about her. He wasn't sure what exactly, but as a priest of Holosh and a consummate predator, he knew that she felt wrong.

He didn't like that woman.

Angelina's copy? Who could ever mix them up? They were completely different. Even her pink dress didn't make Joliette any better. In it, she looked gentle, naive, fragile, and delicate, like a spring rose. Bran didn't care, though.

Was he a Beast repulsed by a Beauty? Next to the duchess, Bran looked like an ugly smudge in his plain black suit, but Angelina was beautiful, too.

No, it was something else. Something different.

"Duchess."

"Count..."

She let out a slight smile.

Joliette was emphasizing that Bran wasn't her equal. Bran, however, thought the same, only inversely. He was a priest of Holosh and the chief of his clan. Who was that girl compared to him, even if she was a princess? Of the two of them, who was the strongest? Clearly, it was he.

Joliette must have realized that, as her smile became even more arrogant. But Bran didn't give her the chance to sting him.

"Duchess, you upset my wife."

Her thin eyebrows shot up.

“I did?”

"You did. After you left, Angelina was distressed. This is unacceptable."

“Really?”

Bran remained unfazed by her irony. He had met predators much scarier than her.

"If it continues, I will have to restrict your visits. They will have to proceed in my presence."

"What?"

Joliette jumped up, almost turning the chair upside down.

"What do you think you're doing, Virman?"

Bran didn't flinch, still sitting calmly in his place, but his smile didn't promise anything good to any potential attackers, whether armed with words or deeds.

"I'm protecting my family. Angie is my wife. She has recently given birth, and I don't want her to be worried. Is this clear, Duchess?"

"Angelina is my sister!"

"That's why I'm not forbidding you to come, Your Excellency. But I'm asking you again," Bran said, emphasizing that word to make it clear that it was an order rather than a request, "to rein in your complaints and preachifying."

Joliette narrowed her eyes.

"How can you know what we talk about?"

"Angie told me everything."

"I don't believe you! You've been eavesdropping, haven't you?"

Bran shook his head. He held no love for his sister-in-law, but to throw out a duchess and his wife's sister to boot...

In Virma, it would have been simpler. He would have talked to Joliette's husband and asked him to explain to his wife that she needed to watch her tongue and keep it in check.

Here, however...

"I don't need to eavesdrop."

“Oh, really? You're just jealous of Angie! You know that you're not worthy of her."

Bran smiled. Her sting had no effect. He was unworthy? He might be—not of Angelina but of simple human happiness with a loving and beloved wife, a home, children... If only everyone realized how much it meant! How important it was!

But if Holosh had given his loyal servant those minutes of bliss, Bran would never miss out on any of them. He would guard them like a dragon guarding its hoard, picking them over, admiring them like precious stones. He could be killed, but his happiness could not. He would do anything to protect his family: lie, steal, kill, die...after all, without them, his life wouldn't mean anything. It would be easier to deal with Holosh.

And so, Joliette ran into his smile as if it were a blade.

"I know what I'm worthy of, Duchess. Do you know what you're worthy of?"

Joliette sat up in her chair like a snake ready to strike, hissing almost like a snake would, too. But priests of Holosh didn’t fear snakes; they were used to dealing with vipers twice as venomous.

“What are you getting at?”

"I'm not getting at anything, Duchess. I'm asking you once again, please step back. Or..."

"Or what? You'll complain to Angie?"

"No," Brain replied simply. "I'll make it so you'll leave for your estate for a long time."

“Oh, really?"

Bran gave her a mocking smile. He could arrange it. He could have arranged something much worse, and Joliette knew that. She hissed even worse, almost foaming at the mouth, her formerly pink and tender lips becoming ugly and disgusting as if living toads sprang from them instead of words.

“You! You snuck into our family, took advantage of my sister..."

It wasn't news to Bran that the princess disliked him, but that hate...that hate, he didn't expect.

Whatever. He would make it worth her while.

Bran shrugged, as if shaking off the cloud of bitter hatred that had enveloped him, and summed it up.

"You will stop upsetting your sister, Your Excellency."

Joliette tried to stomp her foot but realized that it would have no effect and fizzled out.

"Do you think she'll be happy with you?"

"She already is."

"This is just a passing fancy. Later, when it's all over...what do you really have in common?"

Bran let out a dreamy smile. He knew what they had in common.

A quiet evening by the fireplace, children playing on a bearskin rug, Angelina weaving lace, constantly falling out of rhythm, him reciting a poem from a scroll, arguing with her over its lines, both of them laughing together, exchanging glances when their hands accidentally touched...

What could they have in common? Family. Love. Happiness. Bran wasn't an illiterate serf, and Angelina appreciated his desire to move forward, his interest in new things, and his urge to learn. She learned by his side, too. They had shared topics to discuss, common interests. Bran knew that what they had wouldn't go away. Passion was sand to be swept upon by the wind. Love was a sturdy wall. The wind might rage and roar behind it, but to no avail.

"Duchess, let's finish this conversation. You've heard me, and I understand your point."

Joliette flew out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Bran frowned and left for Castle Taral. He had something to fetch from his friends.

***

"Angie, dear..."

"Bran!"

The sight of his beloved's radiant smile once again confirmed to Bran that he had done right.

"This is for you."

"Oh, Bran! They are lovely!"

Two little furry balls were stirring in his hands, one black with white spots and another snow white. Those were Virman guard dogs. A female had recently given birth, and it was just the time to wean the puppies from her tit.

"One for you, and another for our son. Let them grow up together."

Angelina beamed, and Bran was rewarded with a kiss.

"You're the best husband in the world!"

"I know...and you'll have to bring up three instead of one."

"I was already bringing up three, so it makes it five," Angelina said with a laugh. "Even more, if we count Ian and Hilda's dogs."

The children had gotten their puppies half a year ago. Those came, by the way, from Lou-Lou and Nanook. Ian had called his own Storm and was training him as a furious warrior...or trying to. The puppy followed him everywhere, slept with him, ate with him, bathed with him...

Bran didn't mind. Hilda's nannies, however, did mind, as she did her best to emulate her brother and started making scenes, demanding "uppie," meaning a puppy.

Angelina just laughed at that. Let them. A house with children should have animals, anyway. It must! Then the children would grow up as people who knew how to take care of someone, love them, cherish them, and teach them, knowing that others could feel pain, too.

Angelina glanced at the puppies. Which one of them would be hers, and which would go to her son? Both of them were so cute!

The puppies exchanged looks and made the decision themselves. The white puppy headed to Angelina, stepping over the blanket. He sat down, gave out a yelp, got mixed up in his own legs, almost fell down sideways, sat down again, and finally pissed himself out of distress right where he sat.

It made Angelina laugh out once again.

"Bran!"

"How will you call this cocky fellow?"

"Snowball, of course. He looks just like one!"

"A good name. Maybe he'll grow into Snow in time."

"I remember how big Nanook and Lou-Lou are. Of course, he will."

Angelina called the servants to clean everything up and squeezed her husband's fingers.

“Thank you."

Bran kissed her hand.

"My princess."

It felt so good, having someone you loved by your side. It felt amazing.

***

The Earton house. The master bedroom. The masters, however, weren't sleeping at all. Jess and Lilian were busy searching for a compromise. It wasn't going well.

"Lilian, are you sure you want to go?"

“Yes, of course! Jess, I'm just pregnant, I'm not sick."

Jess sighed.

"Lily, honey, at least take a carriage."

Lily winced.

"I don't want to!"

"Lilian!"

When her husband switched to that tone, Lily generally didn't argue. She could try knocking sense into him, being stubborn, or get her own way, but why do it if it wasn't a question of principle?

Yes, she hated local carriages. The people here had no idea about shock absorbers.

Yes, she preferred riding Lidarh.

But if her husband really cared that much, she might suffer a bit. It wasn't a big deal. She would ride in a landau sooner or later anyway. Horse riding was wonderful but not especially good for pregnant women. Really, a month more, a month less... At least this time, Jerisson wasn't trying to lock her at home for the entire duration of her pregnancy. She shuddered, recalling how they had fought last time she was pregnant.

Jess couldn't quite recognize that a pregnant woman was akin to a war elephant: an unstoppable force, quite large to boot. Of course, most doctors would have criticized Lilian to no end, which even made sense, but...

Aliyah remembered her mother's teachings. If the woman and the fetus are healthy, she shouldn't have too many problems carrying it to term and giving birth. It doesn't even matter if the child's coming with his head or legs forward.

But if the woman has any issues, it's a different story. Then there's a risk of miscarrying, exicosis, eclampsia, and lots of other unpleasant words. Still, if the mother and the baby are fine, the woman can even be hung from the Eiffel Tower upside down—she'll give birth without ever sneezing.

Lilian thought herself healthy, and her first pregnancy had confirmed that. She had been running around all nine months like a lynx stung in her rear and was quick enough to do everything she wanted.

Slight nausea? So what? It was easily fixed by eating a bit less and maybe drinking some tea with lemon.

Swelling? That was nothing new; eighty percent of women regularly got it and felt fine. Just watch your health and don't overindulge. Now, if she ate pickles and drank soda all the time...that might be a problem. Lily did watch her health, and there were almost no problems.

For her second pregnancy, she was going to do the same thing. Why not? She was young, healthy, had given birth by herself and easily enough, with no tears and consequences. More than two years passed between both pregnancies, too.

She had recovered completely and could handle another go. Actually, she had recovered well enough to even stop herself from chomping down on all the soured milk in the vicinity.

She wanted it, though. Not plain milk, not yogurt, nor any other dairy; just soured milk. She had been drinking up to four pints when carrying and nursing.

Some people back on Earth had said that milk was bad for adults and that calcium in it wasn't digested well, but Lilian had her own teeth and her own body, and that body wanted soured milk. Sometimes, it knew better than the brain. Sometimes, the person was still thinking, and their body already acted, using the obtained nutrients as building blocks. Just listen to your body and separate its urges from the desires of your brain.

The difference is simple. If you truly want milk, you might have a calcium deficiency. But if you're walking past a soda ad and suddenly get an urge to drink it, it might be not your body's desire, but your brain reacting to the ad.

In this world, however, soda was still unknown. Lily regretted one thing. She had once visited a champagne production facility. It wasn't the real thing, of course, as she had never been to Champagne in France—just fuzzy wine with bubbles.

She remembered the tour guide telling everything about it. But would she handle starting production?

No, that was quite beyond her. Too bad, really.

"I'll ride in a landeau, dear."

Jess kissed his wife's cheek.

"You're a treasure."

"Not just me. There are two of us here now."

Jess smiled and kissed her belly, still flat and toned.

"You are my treasures."

***

The killer was thrashing around the room, swept in a cold rage.

How dare she!

A gorgeous vase was sent flying into a corner, followed by another, then an inkpot, an expensive inkstand made out of lazurite... He was tearing the study into pieces.

"What's going on with you?"

He couldn't reply due to a lump in his throat, but the one who came in didn't need an answer.

"Is it happening again?"

He nodded.

"Let's go, then."

"Where?"

"We'll find you someone..."

"Where?"

"There's an auction at the brothel today. Dress inconspicuously."

"You...will...take...me?"

"Dress inconspicuously. You'll pick yourself a...toy."

"Th-thank you."

"I'll be waiting in the carriage."

The killer darted out of the room and went to dress. A hooded cloak, a mask, plain dark clothes...

Yes, he needed a toy. He needed a death. He wanted to feel blood dripping down his fingers, to feel someone's final breath leaving their lips, he wanted...

That bitch! Ugh!

The killer stopped. He sighed, breathed out, and tried to compose himself.

Soon, very soon, the fire burning him from the inside would be quenched by blood. He couldn't wait.

***

Two men were talking in the embassy of Avester.

A comfortable study with luxurious furniture, expensive wine, a slow conversation...from the outside, it looked picture perfect. But what if you listened to what they were saying? That's what a northern wind that accidentally flew in from a window did. It was still young and didn't know that humans should be kept at a distance.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes. The ship's geared to sail tomorrow or the day after. You can start anytime. I found the men. Tony, are you sure there's no other way?"

"I'm staking my life on this."

Horatio chuckled.

That was right. He might only get to lose his position, but Lofrayne risked his own life.

His Majesty Entor wouldn't forgive failure. Sooner or later, one way or another... Fall from grace?

Entor would simply give him over to the Ativernans, as simple as that, and they would go all the way. Nobody would think anything. The poor soul just died of food poisoning...

"Good. Then let's do it tomorrow. The sooner, the better."

Horatio shrugged.

They had prepared the plan together, but it was Anthony who would bring it into motion; there was no other way. Horatio himself would be somewhere else, in public, together with as many people as possible.

"Tomorrow it is, then. Good luck.”

"Aldonai be with us," Tony replied, nodding.

He wasn't particularly religious, but what if it helped? He decided to light a candle in a temple for good measure. You never know.

The wind snorted, ruffling up the men's hair and the papers on the desk. Such hypocrisy! But then, that was to be expected from the bipeds. Really, hurricanes were so much better.

***

Sollie shivered and hugged herself. It was cold.

Of course, it was, seeing as she had only a shirt on. If she had her way, she would have never left her family's house.

Too bad she had to. It had become so bad for them when her father died. Nobody to till the field, nobody to sow it... And then their last cow passed away, too.

They were broke and hungry, the children crying all the time, their mother dead tired. A new cow would cost a whole fortune. Where would they find so much money?

"You can still change your mind."

It was Tim, her aunt's son, her cousin and childhood friend, who had told Sollie about the opportunity. Tim was Baron Sartre's stableboy, and the baron loved bragging in front of his peers. The clever boy just listened and memorized everything, and finally, it paid off.

The icy floor froze her bare feet.

"No, Tim. Take the money and give it to my family. Let Mama buy a goat, at least..."

"Fine. But Sollie, think again. I can get you money, as much as you need..."

Sollie sighed. He would; she knew that. Her aunt, however, had as big of a family as Sollie's, and they had a hard time earning anything. Sollie realized that if she didn't go through with it, by the summer, her mother and siblings would die out of hunger. Well, maybe the eldest could hold out for longer, but the youngest ones would perish during winter. She couldn't let that happen. As for the price...

What did price matter when it came to the lives of her family? The lives of her brothers and sisters she had brought up, telling them stories every night? Her mother, increasingly choking with cough?

If Sollie could help so easily...

Ah, whatever.

All girls went through it anyway.

"Sollie..."

She waved her hand.

Madam Emma walked into the room—that's what she had ordered them to call her. One look at her was enough even for a blind man to guess how that woman made a living.

She had dyed hair and wore garish make-up and an expensive dress with a low neckline barely preventing her breasts from falling out. Jewelry, nice shoes, laces, but all of that felt...fake, blotchy, vile. Sollie was disgusted at the thought of touching Madam Emma, but it wasn't going to get any better, and the girl tried to suppress her antipathy.

"Ready, girl?"

A nod was her reply.

The woman once again looked Sollie over, pleased. How had a peasant family given birth to a girl like that? One of her grandmothers must have rolled in the hay with a noble. She was slender, with blond hair and innocent blue eyes. Someone was about to get lucky that night.

"Do you remember everything?"

Sollie gave her a scared nod.

"Stand, turn around when you're told to, undress, do what you're told to, don't cry, don't scream. I'll give the money to your brother. My fee is one half."

"Yes, Madam Emma."

"That's what you should say."

"Yes, Madam Emma."

The madame chuckled. What a good-looking girl.

Still, if it were up to her, she would have never given her as much as half of the money. However, not cheating the first time meant increased future gains. If the girl had sisters or other relatives, it would do well to use them, too. And if she told them that she was tricked...

The boy seemed shrewd, too. He had friends waiting for him outside. It wouldn't be easy to beat him up and take the money. Well, whatever. She still would get a nice cut.

Madam Emma nodded and left the room.

The auction was about to start.

***

Yes, the capital had it all, including brothels and auctions. There, highborn lords could easily buy themselves a mistress—for a night, two, a month, a year... For as long as they wanted, really.

Madam Emma was holding one of such auctions. She sailed out on the stage, looking like a queen, and immediately commanded everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like a minute of your attention. Today, we have a wonderful lot: a girl named Sollie. A maiden, as everyone can attest to by asking our doctorus or taking a look."

Sollie stepped forward.She was scared half to death, but she did it nonetheless, standing in front of everyone and crumpling up her shirt that was cut on the back. She had no idea how tempting she looked for the men in the audience, wearing nothing but that shirt and a white rose wreath on her blond hair.

A murmur went through the crowd.

"Starting price is twenty gold."

Sollie almost gasped.

Twenty gold... A cow! Her family would get a cow. They could even fix the house.

"Twenty-five gold..."

And hire a man to plow the field...

"Thirty."

"Thirty-five gold."

"Forty."

Tensions were heating up.

Picking the right moment, Madam Emma deftly pulled off Sollie's shirt, leaving the girl naked as a picked bone.

"Sixty..."

"Eighty..."

"Two hundred," a confident voice cut them off. "And the girl leaves with me."

Madam Emma narrowed her eyes. It was a lot of money, but...

"For one night, sir."

"Five hundred, and she will never return here."

Sollie looked for the source of the voice.

Two men: one tall and well-built, another hiding behind him. A servant?

Let him not be cruel. Please.

"Five hundred!" the madame said, nodding in agreement.

Sollie felt dizzy. The hall, people's faces, the candles—everything was blurry. Tim came up and disappeared. He would get the money: an exorbitant sum by peasant standards. Her family wouldn't starve.

It was time to work off that debt. Sollie obediently walked down the stairs. Someone threw a cloak on her shoulders. The man took her hand, his fingers cold and cruel, and dragged her somewhere. Her feet hurt, but she didn't protest. It was forbidden.

The cold floorboards gave way to the pavement and, finally, the floor of a carriage. Inside, she finally dared to raise her head and look at the men sitting across from her.

"Aldonai, lords..."

"Shut up and sit tight," the eldest told her brusquely.

Both men were wearing masks.

The carriage took off. Sollie fell silent. She didn't say a word while the carriage rode somewhere, didn't say a word when she was ordered to exit, didn't say a word while walking through a garden. Only upon reaching a big room lit by hundreds of candles, did she finally grow brave enough to ask.

"Sir, what do you need all of that for?"

The room didn't look like a place for lovemaking; in the brothel, Sollie had been shown what they might look like.

There was no bed, no toys. Just a huge candlelit hall similar to a ballroom. Pillars, a marble floor...and nothing else.

The eldest buyer silently left the room. The youngest threw his cloak down. Sollie opened her mouth, shocked to see his face. She hadn't expected that.

"And now, we'll play."

Sollie looked at the man walking up to her. Why was he flashing a sharp dagger, long and vicious? Why was he looking at her like that?

Why were his eyes so scary...just like that dagger?

Aldonai, help me!

"Let's play."

The first stab was almost painless, barely more than a puncture.

Sollie yelped and flinched back.

"What are you—"

The second hit slashed her arm. Then came the third.

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

He sounded like a giant hissing snake rather than a man.

A viper.

"I haven't done anything bad!"

"So?"

The blows kept coming, growing stronger.

At some point, Sollie realized that she would never leave that place.

She would die there.

What would happen to her next? To her family?

Mother...

Forgive me. I did what I could for all of you. You'll survive. And I...

The killer had underestimated the girl.

Until that moment, he had dealt with pampered, fragile victims who quickly lost their strength. Sollie was different, however. She might have looked delicate and ethereal, but people like that didn't survive on a farm. How could one be pampered if they needed to work from dawn to dusk?

Her small hands could hold a bucket of pig swill or a stubborn cow; pick up a toddler or a heavy bundle of twigs.

Sollie darted forward, aiming at the handsome face of the murderer that she hated so much, wanting to claw his eyes out.

At last, her nails reached him, slashing his face and drawing blood—her moment of triumph.

The murderer screamed, plunging the blade of his dagger deep into Sollie's chest.

She didn't even feel any pain, simply sinking to the floor, as if she had no bones in her body. She felt cold, and for a second, an image of her village appeared before her eyes: a snow-covered forest, an icy wind blowing in her face...

Accept my soul, Aldonai.

***

The killer kicked the girl's body.

"That skank! What a bitch!"

Still, he bent over the corpse and got his mementos. He was furious. How dare she try to hit him! That hussy! And it wasn't the first time, either. What the hell? He was becoming too complacent.

The door swung open. The second man entered the room.

"How are you? Is the game over?"

"That wench tried to disfigure me."

"Really? Show me your face."

The killer obediently turned his face to the light. The icy fingers touched his chin and bent his head a little to get a better view.

"We need to clean it, or the wound will swell."

"Bitch! Order them to throw her body in the trash!"

“As you wish. And now, let's go. I'll take care of your wounds.

“Thank you."

"Come on."

As he left the room, the second man gave out a few orders.

Throw her in the trash? So be it, then.

Chapter 7

It was early morning, and the road went just along the sea coast.

Lily was sitting inside a carriage. She wasn't allowed to hold the reins, so the cart was driven by a coachman, but she didn't mind. It was one thing to ride Lidarh, who was smarter than many people. Even if she were to lose control for a second or faint, the Avarian would do anything to hold her in the saddle.

Those draft horses, though? Lily had a lot of doubts about their intelligence. Horses weren't fools, but what if Her Grace felt giddy—which was possible early in the pregnancy? Would they be smart enough to stop? And what if they got scared and bolted? What if they got bitten? What if...

Lily didn't want that. She wasn't going to risk herself or her child. She had seen many such cases. A blow, placental abruption, bleeding—and at least a year until the next conception. It was better to avoid such stress.

Overall, Lily was in a great mood. The carriage was rolling on, Nanook running next to it, the four Virmans riding behind. The sun was shining, the birds chirping, the wind blowing from the sea left a salty taste on her lips... Had she ever thought to live surrounded by such beauty?

There was a certain upside to riding in a coach. In a car, she would have passed all of that in a second with no room to admire nature or rest. In a carriage, she got the chance to relax and look out of the window. Pure delight. It was a certain skill, being able to catch those short moments. Soon, very soon, she would see Castle Taral on the horizon.

Everything was so amazing that to Lily's shame, she completely missed the attack. Crossbow bolts flew out of the bushes with a menacing hiss.

Two Virmans fell immediately. The third one was knocked from the saddle and dragged forward. The fourth managed to dodge but got caught in the next volley. As usual, firearms were much more efficient than swords, especially considering an ambush. It didn't even matter that the snipers had only crossbows rather than guns, as long as there were enough crossbows.

“Stop! Stop right here!"

Three masked riders appeared on the road right in front of the carriage. For a second, Lily froze. If she were riding Lidarh, they would have spent a long time catching her with dubious results. But the cart...

This was nothing like the movies, where the hero could gracefully jump onto the horse, cut the harness, and charge forward.

A draft horse wasn't used to being mounted. They were trained for a different thing, and even if Lily managed to do something like that (which was doubtful, considering her pregnancy), she would be chased down in an instant.

There was only one way.

"Nanook, Home! Help!"

Lily barked that so loudly that the coachman squealed and dropped the reins, which were immediately grabbed by one of the masked men.

"Be careful, you'll..."

So, they weren't planning to kill her. That was something, at least.

Nanook moved aside in a giant leap. Several crossbow bolts swooshed right next to him, and Lily gave silent praise to Eric. The Virman had personally trained Nanook as a pup, teaching him commands.

Yes, the latter was beloved and spoiled, but he was also a Virman hound. He knew his mistress' commands and followed them to the letter. Later, he might get back at her for foolish orders such as eating someone's boots or pissing under an enemy's door, but that would be later.

Those two commands were different, though. His mistress had never screamed like that. There was fear in her voice.

Dogs were smart animals. If someone was firing weapons, if they could smell pain, blood, and death, if the mistress was giving a command... It had to be obeyed.

He hurled himself to the side and locked his teeth around the hand of an unlucky sniper, crushing his wrist and moving on. Nanook easily calculated his odds. There were enemies, many of them. He had to fetch help. Like a bat out of hell, he dashed toward Castle Taral.

They were shooting at him, of course. Lily closed her fists and bit her lip, but...

All of the shots missed. It made sense, really: it was one thing firing at a mounted man slowly riding down the road, not expecting an ambush (after so many years, they had grown complacent), and quite another, aiming at a running dog. Nanook was also zig-zagging across the road and used the landscape to his advantage.

Knowing that he was under attack, he had no desire to become an easy target.

"F..king mutt," one of the men cursed under his breath and nodded at the coachman. "Give me the reins. If you're careful, you might stay alive."

Lily nodded slowly, giving her permission. What could one boy do against a dozen bandits, other than to die heroically?

The coachman obediently climbed down, passed the reins to the rascal...and immediately dropped dead. The hole in his chest indicated the reason.

Lily gritted her teeth. Those scumbags...

"Step over, you whore," the bandit said and moved closer.

He shouldn't have.

Lily didn't fear death. True, she didn't want to die, but she wasn't afraid of it, either. What was there to be scared of? She had already gotten a new lease on life. Would she travel into a third world?

She still had her hands free and her head on her shoulders. She would make it. And thus, she chose to act.

Her daggers were always within easy reach. Whether Ativerna or Wellster, she needed a weapon. The blade reached its target, guided by a doctor's steady hand right into the man's eye.

The bandit sunk down without a squeak.

"Nobody has the right to kill my men," Lily said in an icy tone, not moving an inch. What else could she do?

Grab the reins? That was not an option. They wouldn't let her ride away or turn the carriage around. Still, at least she would take some of them with her!

For a second, everything stopped. Then another bandit took command.

"All right... Countess, give me the weapon."

"Take it," Lily snapped.

She had another dagger and wasn't going to waste it—only trade it for another life.

"Countess, don't make me use force."

"Try it." There was something familiar about the bastard's voice. "Who the hell are you? Name yourself!"

The shell of her title fell away as if it had never existed.

The men jumped down from the horse and came up to her, almost getting in her face. Lily braced herself for a blow, but instead, the man lashed the horse with his whole strength. It flinched, tried to rear up, neighed...

The carriage moved, too, and Lily was immediately pulled out of it like a carrot from a garden bed. She was wrapped in a large cloak, her hands tied.

"Behave, and you'll ride. Try to resist, and I'll throw you over the saddle."

"I'll behave," Lily said through her teeth.

She wasn't afraid for herself, but her child clearly wouldn't survive a trip like that.

"Drop the dagger."

"Bitch..."

The man ignored that word. Lily clenched her teeth. The dagger fell down with a loud clang.

"On the horse. Quickly.”

Suddenly, she realized why his voice was so familiar.

Oh crap.

"Lofrayne?"

"On the horse!" Tony screamed. "Or I'll knock you out! Come on!"

Lily hissed something obscene and climbed on the horse.

Unconscious, she would lose any chances to influence the situation; otherwise, she might get the opportunity to escape.

A few minutes later, the only things on the road were a landeau with two horses, five bodies, two of which were still alive, and a few unattended horses. The abductors were racing toward the sea at full speed.

***

Lily quickly guessed where she was being transported. What could she do, though?

Hit a horse? Escape? Not on that nag! Actually, she wasn't that bad, but she was no match for Lidarh.

Kill some of them? They were already down a man. It’s a pity she had chosen the wrong one. In any case, she would get even with Lofrayne eventually; that bastard would pay her back for everything.

So what exactly was his final destination? She didn't want to ask, and it's not like any of them would answer. All she could do was to keep silent. She couldn't even muster up a resistance, considering her state!

Pretty soon, dunes loomed in front of them, confirming Lily's guess. Sea followed, and there...

A boat! A ship! And she couldn't even fight...

You will pay me for this, scum.

Lofrayne helped Lilian dismount.

"Please step inside, Countess. I hope you won't try to drown yourself?"

Lily replied with the words of her father's old military buddy spoken after the soldiers had accidentally dropped a bucket of paint on him. They didn't do it on purpose, but it was a real slam dunk, considering they were on the second floor.

Some of the men listened to her admiringly, including Tony. He let her finish and pushed her into the boat.

"Move!"

She had to obey. In her mind, she was already dreaming of sweet revenge.

The sailors doubled down on the paddles, and the boat all but flew toward the ship, leaving the horses on the beach.

***

Hans Tremain was furious. Another body.

This one, however, hurt even worse than before.

The girl was lying on the ground, huddled down, as if cold. She was so...light, so airy, so beautiful even in death. She had a white rose wreathe on her head.

That wreath did it for Hans. He ground his teeth.

It was that bastard again. He recognized his style. The cuts, the wounds, the missing pinkie... When will you stop, wretch?

But Hans already knew the answer. He would never stop.

Rabid dogs attacked humans until they were put down; that was understandable. Even if you felt sorry for the dog, you had no choice: it was its life versus yours. In this case, it was the bastard's life versus the girls', young and stupid like that one. She had a weird shirt on, though—a robe with buttons on the back.

Hans stopped to think.

A few moments later, he realized that a child's voice was coming from behind him.

"Gimme a coin, please, sir!"

Another beggar.

It was a girl of five years old or a bit older, thin, dirty-faced, and dressed in impossible rags. She was looking at him with her blue eyes, all serious, and Hans gave up.

He fished out a big silver coin from his purse and gave it to the girl.

"Hide it so nobody can take it away. And here are a few coppers, too..."

The coins immediately disappeared. The girl sniffled, wiped her nose with a rag, and sighed.

"You feel bad for her, too, right?"

"I do."

"Me, too. She was so pretty last night..."

Hans all but pricked up his ears.

"Right...what's your name, girlie?"

"Yda."

"Do you want food, Yda?"

"Yes..."

"Let’s go, then. Look, here's a tavern, Crowned Lion. Let's get some food here. Will you?”

Yda nodded.

Hans gave the girl his hand, and she grabbed it with her dirty palm.

"Yda, do you have parents?"

"I had Mama, but she died of fever last year. Papa's drinking..."

"What about siblings?"

"Nobody. I had a brother. He died with Mama."

"I see. What will you eat?"

Hans ordered the girl a large bowl of stew and some meat. She started slurping it down right from the bowl, stopping to tell her story.

Her name was Yda; she was eight. Her father was a harness maker, a good one. After her mother's death, however, he was deep in the cups, unable to work. Soon, they would get kicked out of their home. Her aunt had come from the country to help around the house, but she hated Yda and rode her hard. That's why the girl usually tried to avoid staying home.

The night before, her aunt found Yda some work. The girl hated washing fat off the plates, especially since she barely got any food herself, and thus, she ran away from home to an alley behind the brothel. She liked staying there. Nobody could see her, while Yda watched the ladies and the men. They were all dressed fancy, used big words she had never heard on the street, and inside, it was pure luxury... And so, Yda watched all of it until going home late at night.

That time, she was hiding behind a pile of trash. She saw three people exit the brothel from the back door: two men and a girl wearing a garland. That's how Yda had recognized her later. She was bare-footed, probably cold. Even Yda had boots on.

Hans glanced at the frightening boots tied with a string in several spots to keep them from falling apart and cursed silently. How could one keep drinking hogwash without thinking about his own child, whose life was also pretty crappy after her mother's passing? How? He didn't know.

Whatever, he would deal with it.

So, why had Yda returned there the next day?

Her aunt was hopping mad in the morning. She yelled, she hit her, and so, Yda ran away again. There, at least, the brothel's inhabitants often threw food away—bits of pies, fruits... The other beggars didn't show their faces around, afraid of the madame's vicious dogs. Dogs loved Yda, however. She loved them, too. They used to have a dog before it died. Someone probably poisoned it.

Hans listened to the girl's epiphany, hanging on every word.

"Can you show me the alley where you hid?"

"Of course."

"Please show me."

Yda gave him a serious nod. She had already eaten the entire order and became drowsy with all of the food. Hans had to carry her. She stank like crazy and weighed next to nothing, like a bird. She pressed against him like a cold animal, too—still a child, trusting and uncorrupted by living in the slums.

Hans gritted his teeth.

"Yda, would you like to learn a trade?"

"A trade? Which one?"

Yda wouldn't have approached just anyone, but Hans was well-known on the streets. A royal envoy was to be trusted; he was someone to reckon with.

The urchins often whispered that Tremain might be tough, but he was fair. He paid what he promised and protected them from beatings. Well, he might even punch someone himself if worse came to worst, but he didn't let anyone hurt others without reason.

That's why the girl was brave enough to talk to him. She had wanted to eat since the night before but was afraid of going home to her screaming aunt. Maybe the kind sir would feed her?

And he had, even giving her money to boot, not to mention his offer. Learning a trade! She would have loved to, but who'd ever take her? It cost money! And if she wanted to learn for free, she'd have to spend so many years working as an apprentice, and they might not take her in the first place... Her aunt would never let her go, anyway.

That's what Yda said. In response, Hans simply chuckled.

"Do you want to be a laceworker?"

"Oh! Yes!"

Yda didn't expect that. She had seen lace once, all big and majestic on a lady exiting a carriage. The fabric soared in the air, looking like frozen snowflakes or peach blossoms. So delicate. So tender. And to think that she might get the chance to make it?

"For real?"

Hans smiled.

"For real. Come with me. I'll take you to my wife, you'll wash yourself, eat some more, and we'll go to Castle Taral. There are students there. You'll learn with them."

Hans didn't doubt his wife or Countess Earton. They would take the girl in and teach her everything. That was the right thing to do.

Yda started nodding and showed him the gap between the houses.

"Then, and then to the left..."

Hans finally realized why nobody had seen Yda and couldn't find her. They simply couldn't squeeze through that gap. He would have gotten stuck there for sure, at least. And so, the man sighed and took a detour.

The Rosebud. One of the top brothels in the capital with a very select clientele. Hans let out a slow nod. Oh well.

Had the girl given him a clue or just a lot of extra work? Maybe both at the same time.

"I see. Let's get into the carriage."

Yda nodded. She wasn't walking—Hans carried her in his arms, while she kept pressing against his chest. She had trusted Baron Tremain, and she won.

Hans successfully got her home, told everything to his wife, and asked her to wash the girl and get her some more food.

However, he was unable to bring her to Castle Taral.

A messenger from His Majesty arrived. He was urgently to come to the palace.

Lilian Earton was missing!

***

Tony personally escorted his prey across the ship and into the cabin. Inside, he finally took his mask off.

Lily looked at him with disgust and finally asked the question that she had wanted to ask for some time.

"Is this an abduction?"

Anthony remained unfazed, which made sense. Actually, he even gave her a vicious leer.

"You're absolutely right, Your Grace. It's an abduction."

"And why do you need me?"

Lily kept smiling sweetly while calculating the scenarios. There was no need to abduct if they wanted to kill her. Why do it, then? It wasn't love, no matter what that peacock might babble. He wasn't the man for that, and she wasn't the woman who could make someone smitten at first sight. So what remained?

Someone's task. Pure profit.

Fair enough. Someone smart had calculated the profits made my Mariella's inventions and decided to gain control over the golden goose.

So why would that someone think that Lily would work for them? No surprises there, really. High treason wasn't considered a crime yet. Spying was bad, and so was being caught, but nothing specific.

A noble could pick any sovereign, and that's to whom they owed their fealty. A country didn't matter as much. It was just business: fighting for one side one day and for another, the next.

Why hadn't d'Artagnan switched to the cardinal's side? Not because of honor, valor, and other stuff. I won't be easily accepted there, and my old friends will despise me. My men are on one side, and their men, on another. In any other case, he would have done it without a care in the world.

So what if he served Spain one day, then England, then Greece...nothing special. The baron projected his own values on Lilian Earton, not having a clue that a very different soul resided in the body of a medieval countess.  And to her, Ativerna...

Actually, what was Ativerna for her? It didn't matter. It was not the time for big words. But she had been taught that if she chose her banner, she had to hold out until the end, whether a happy or a bitter one. Otherwise, she wouldn't be human—only a bipedal sapient orthograde. Without honor, without a banner...

The baron stayed silent as well, but seeing as his captive had retreated somewhere deep into her mind and wasn't going to get back to him, he finally spoke up.

"His Majesty tasked me with bringing you to him."

"His Majesty..." Lilian mumbled. "So it is Entor. Why does he need me, pray tell?"

"I suppose he'll tell you this himself."

The baron smiled once again.

Lily replied with a smile just as nasty.

So are you trying to mock me? Me, a garrison girl? I gave smartasses such as you siphon enemas back as a teenage girl!

"So you weren't briefed on that story, were you, Baron?"

"What story?"

Her green eyes looked as innocent as a cat's that had pissed on his masters' entire wardrobe on the sly.

"It wasn't so long ago... While traveling, a young prince saw a girl walking in a garden and fell in love with her at first sight with all the zeal and passion of youth. He had a good reason, too, with her golden hair, her smile, her..." Lily fiddled with the tip of her braid and used her hands to outline her curves. It seemed quite convincing—the baron, at least, opened his mouth in surprise. "Alas, he was unable to win her love. The girl had a strict father and would never stoop to the position of a mistress, and the prince couldn't offer her anything more. They had to part ways. But years later, he remembered his dream. He summoned a loyal servant and commanded him to bring the girl to him..."

The baron was gaping. Lily administered the coup de grace, cruel and vicious.

"After all, the treasury's almost empty, and the girl can make money—all but spin straw into gold."

And then, she couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing right in the confused face of the baron, for whom the pretty story akin to a minstrel's—what if it was true?—suddenly turned into an acidic remark.

"You—"

"Yes, me."

"It's a lie!"

"What exactly? The money, the prince, or the command?" Lily was mocking him and didn't hide it. "Until we get to Avester, you'll keep wondering whether I lied or not, and if I did, then where."

"Everywhere!"

"What if I didn't? And I've really known Entor for a long time?"

Anthony hissed through his teeth.

"You can't."

"But what if I have?"

It was a sore point. The baron dreamed of paying back the arrogant bitch for her treatment...but how could he do it? He might take it out on her in all the positions, she'd complain to the king, and instead of becoming a count, he might...well, get bent over in all those positions.

Anthony really didn't like that prospect. He needed to find out the truth, but how could he do it on a ship?

"You insolent wench!"

The smile on Countess Earton's pink lips became even more poisonous. The baron even thought that he glimpsed a forked tongue behind her white teeth.

"I might be insolent, but I'm no wench."

"Bitch!"

"Woof, woof."

The baron flew out of the cabin, slamming the door shut. Alas, he hadn't forgotten to lower the latch.

Lily cursed and went to the window. Unfortunately, even a cat wouldn't be able to climb through it. It was just big enough to let some air in. She, with her padding in all the right places, would never handle that.

What other options did she have? Umm...sink the ship, perchance?

Lily looked over the cabin. Alas, there was nothing of use there. A bed, bolted to the floor, a desk, a chair... The chair was moving along with the waves, and the desk stood sharp, also nailed to the floor with no way to pull it out. Well, actually, if she had enough time, a crowbar, and a hatchet, or at least only a hatchet...

There was also a chest, bolted shut. Overall, the cabin was clearly designed so that its inhabitant couldn't tear anything apart and hurt themselves. It also had a washbasin, a water jug, and a bucket with a lid, clearly for answering the call of nature. That was it, really.

Could she knock out a man sent to her? Break loose? But what would happen next? She was on a ship in the middle of an ocean. What could she do? Jump overboard and swim back to Ativerna? Ask dolphins for help?

Steal a rescue boat and act the part of Alain Bombard?

She could do that. She could even be Thor Heyerdahl. Of course, Alain Bombard had ended up in a loony bin, and Heyerdahl had something she lacked, namely equipment and a crew. He was also good at celestial navigation.

Was Lilian good at it? Not really. She was also a bad sailor, and the sea didn't care if you were a traveler from another world or an idiot from this one. She'd drown in a second.

But she wanted to live and live well, too. What other options did she have?

Take over the ship? Lily imagined herself as a terrorist and almost snorted. Yeah, right. Terrorism. In the Middle Ages. Ridiculous!

So why hadn't it existed in those times? Wasn't that obvious? Lily immediately pictured some halfwit taking over Castle Earton and trying to dictate his terms to her husband.

Jerisson's reaction would be pretty straightforward. Storm the castle, no matter the losses. Take the idiot alive and shake everything out of him, from information to manure. After he came clean, kill him in the most painful manner possible, and before that, put down all of his family, friends, dogs, cats, and hamsters, so nobody would ever think they could impose their conditions over the nobles.

It was cruel, but so was life in that era. If Lily tried playing a terrorist, nobody would understand that, and the consequences might be...rough.

No, that was not a solution. But what was?

Waiting for an opportunity, simple as that. And using it when it came up.

Lily had no idea what kind of opportunity she might get and what it might look like, but it didn't matter. Whether on the sea or on dry land, with people or circumstances—the most important thing was to play her cards right.

She would definitely need a weapon. It didn't have to be a sword or a dagger; she didn't even need a crossbow.

She might jury-rig a garrote or an improvised shank. She could do it. A sling was a great weapon, too. The most important thing was to make it; her hands would do the rest.

Lily chuckled. A garrison girl, huh?

Some children grew up listening to fairy tales. She, however, had been told stories about World War II: the deeds of her grandparents and great-grandparents and the lessons drawn by their descendants.

Lily sighed.

So, first, she needed a weapon. Then came location, and then—comfortable clothes and shoes. The rest could be improvised. Where had the baron run off to, by the way?

Whatever; he was bound to come back later, or she might ask him for a meeting via servants.

Lily viciously rubbed her hand.

What was the most important thing? Make a decision and stick to it. And really, if they had abducted her, they shouldn't complain. There were no Geneva or Apostille Conventions in effect; she didn't have to follow any rules, and if you heard about a little movie called Home Alone...

Well, they probably didn't, but Lily did, and she wondered what tribute Avester might offer to Ativerna so they would agree to take Countess Earton back. The more, the better, really.

But how would her family go on without her? Lily's smile faded. Joke and put on a brave face all you want, but her nerves were as taut as a string.

Those scumbags. You will answer for this, baron! You will pay me back for everything: my men, my dog... If Nanook dies, I swear to God, Baron, I will water the flowers on his grave with your blood!

Her green eyes flashed with such anger and rage that if anyone else were to see that, the baron would have ordered them to tie her down and put her in a chest for the entire duration of the voyage, if not killed her with his bare hands.

The woman standing by the window wasn't Countess Earton, happy and content with her life. It was Aliyah, one against a hostile world, just like all those years ago. Alone again, or even worse. At least, last time, she wasn't in immediate danger. She couldn't say that anymore. There was nary a friendly face in sight, even loyal Martha, who—thank God—had stayed home to care for the children—Lilian's children, whom she was going to come back to no matter the cost.

Once again, she would have to survive and prevail. But could she make it?

Without a doubt.

***

Castle Taral carried on as usual. The guards at the gates exchanged jokes, the maids laughing softly at them, the Virmans trained in the courtyard, the girls spun lace and kept glancing out the windows, the bravest of them even making eyes at the island warriors.

Everything changed at once.

"What's that running?"

The guards looked at each other.

True, a grey animal was running in a straight line, passing through the hills and the underbrush. Huge, it floated above the grass, barely touching it with its paws.

When it came closer, the guards realized what was going on. It was Countess Earton's dog, but his looks... He was dirty, scraggly, with a bloodied muzzle and a wounded paw that he kept pulling up.

"Aldonai!" one of the guards exclaimed and rushed through the courtyard to the Virman's training ground.

In the meantime, the dog leaped through the gates, plopped down in the middle of the yard, and started howling:

mournful, desperate, and rueful.

Leif was already racing toward him. He fell on his knees in front of the dog, checking him for injuries. The hind leg was wounded, but not severely—something had only scratched him. The blood on the jaws wasn't his...or, was it?

Still, it didn't matter much whether he had torn someone up or stopped for a few seconds to lick his own wound. The important thing was, he had no other injuries.

"Nanook! Lilian?"

The howl turned bitter. Leif didn't have to think long.

"Saddle up!"

He gave an approving look to the guard carrying a bucket of water for the dog.

"Drink, good boy... We're going to clean the wound now."

That guard was a smart one.

They would have to take the dog with them. Leif didn't want to, but they couldn't make do without him. So what had happened to Lilian?

Leif feared the worst. Still, if Nanook came back...

She might be alive and sent the dog to get help. She must be alive!

Nanook emptied the bucket in two gulps and sunk down in the dirt. The guard started washing his wound.

There, there, just like that...

Less than thirty minutes later, a group of Virmans took off from the castle.

***

The road was empty other than for dust, flies, and the dead. The carriage was also there, left by the roadside, the horses wandering around.

There was a trail, too. The Virmans weren't expert trackers—one couldn't track someone at sea—but they also had a few Ativernans with them, who were busy figuring out the trail while Leif tried to bring the lone surviving Virman to his senses.

He wasn't very successful in that, and a crossbow bolt sticking out of the man's chest didn't help.

Two soldiers looked at the road.

"Several men rode out here in front of the landeau..."

"Yes. And there, behind the dune...I think it was an ambush."

"We'll look later. What's here?"

"They rode up to the carriage...see, the countess killed one of them."

It was hard to miss a body with a dagger sticking out of its eye—an expensive one, engraved with emeralds.

"They set up an ambush and shot everyone down. And here are the countess' tracks."

True, Lilian Earton's footprints with her distinctive pointed-toe shoes looked nothing like the abductors' rough square boots, not to mention the size discrepancy.

"She exited the landeau herself, made a few steps, and climbed on a horse."

"They led her away," one of the guards concluded. "There, off the road..."

He waved his hand toward the sea.

The Ativernans exchanged looks. They were thinking the same thing. Really, there was no need to guess. It was nothing new.

If the countess was put on a horse, then she wasn't dead but rather abducted. They could kill her right there; no need to take her anywhere.

If they rode through the country to the sea, then they weren't planning to stay in the saddle long, it made sense. A horse could easily break a leg while going through those gullies.

If they had ridden to the sea, it meant that they had a ship.

"Abduction." Leif finally managed to wake up the wounded man. He didn't last long, but he found the strength to say the word. "What do you have?"

The Ativernans relayed their version of the events.

Leif turned grim. Now that was a problem.

A ship? Which one? Where did it go? How long was it waiting?

Finding a ship in the sea with no information on it seemed like a long shot.

He would have to leave for Laveri, inform the king, find the harbor roll...

He would have to start a search and save the countess.

Virmans were never known for being ungrateful. Lilian Earton had given a new life to them and an alliance, hope for the future, and recognition to their island. How could they not repay her?

If they didn't, their ancestors would curse them, and their gods would turn their backs on them.

To Laveri, at once.

As for the rest...

"You two and Gael! Take a group of ten and follow the trail to the shore. Be careful; don't get into an ambush!"

"Got it."

If there was a ship, the Virmans would hardly catch up to it, but at least they could take a look.

Who said that all ships looked the same? For Virmans, that sounded quite silly. They could recognize a ship anywhere if they saw it even once.

"Nanook!"

Leif looked at the dog.

Normally, he could easily cross the distance to Castle Taral, but in a state like that...

"Ivar, you're the lighter one!"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Put the dog in front of you, got it?"

Nanook got it, at least.

Ivar put his rolled down cloak between himself and the saddlebow and tapped his hand, then suddenly realized something.

"Ren, help me!"

Another Virman lifted the dog and helped him up. Nanook might have jumped up by himself, but his hind leg was bleeding again.

Dogs might be quick healers, but they still hurt a lot and required care.

Nanook sank down on the horse's back, dangling his paws, and relaxed.

They were going to Laveri.

Friends were there. His master was there... He would definitely find his mistress.

***

His Majesty was having breakfast together with Her Majesty when they heard screams from the courtyard.

“Count Earton! Count Earton!"

The cries were loud enough to draw Richard's attention. Jess wasn't at the palace at that moment, but...

Richard looked out the window.

Ativerna didn't have an especially strict etiquette compared to, say, medieval Spain, and Richard himself had done a lot to avoid being bothered by seneschals.

“What’s wrong?”

“Countess Earton!"

The Virman, whom Richard recognized as Leif, didn't say anything else.

"Come to me immediately!"

Maria looked at her husband, fear in her eyes.

“Richard..."

"Darling, you—"

"I'll go with you!"

Finally, Maria looked like a real daughter of the Lion of Wellster. Even if young, a lioness was staring at her husband.

Lilian was a close friend. Something bad had happened to her, and Maria was supposed to stay in her chambers and embroider?

Do you even understand what nonsense you're saying?

Richard nodded.

"Let's go."

The ruling couple left the room, and to be completely honest, the only reason Richard wasn't running was that kings weren't supposed to. In times of peace, it would cause laughter, and in war, a panic.

Aldonai, what could have happened to Lilian?

Richard felt a cold hand around his insides. He still remembered what he had felt when Tira...

He didn't want that for his brother. Aldonai, please, have mercy on Jerisson!

***

The Virman was grim and covered with dirt.

"Your Majesty, Countess Earton has been abducted."

“What?"

"How?"

Richard breathed out in relief.

She was alive. The rest could be dealt with.

"How did it happen?"

"Unknown attackers set up an ambush on the way to Taral. They shot the countess' guards with crossbows, the countess herself killed one of the attackers..."

"Bless her!" Maria couldn't resist exclaiming.

Richard nodded in agreement. Good job, really. Served them right.

"She was taken to the sea, to be put on a ship, we assume. We sent some of the men to the coast and some to Laveri."

"And to the Eartons?"

"That, too."

Richard nodded.

"Then let's wait for Jerisson. And until then... Dear, could you arrange chambers for Miranda and maids for the children? And Alicia would probably want to stay closer to them, too."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Maria said, sending her husband a grateful look and standing up from the throne.

A good decision.

At that moment, she couldn't be of any help, nobody would hide any news from her, as Richard had made it clear, and she needed to keep busy. Absolutely.

Doing was always easier than thinking—thinking about what might happen to Lilian or why she had been abducted.

Goodness, gracious...

Aldonai, help her!

***

But Aldonai was in no hurry to help anyone, least of all Lilian Earton.

Lily was starting to feel seasick.

Yep, that was her problem. She almost didn't want to live.

By the time Lofrayne returned to the cabin, finally calm, Lilian was at her wit's end. She felt a lump in her throat as waves of nausea came over her. There was nothing at hand—no lemon, no ginger...

Dammit! Argh!

Lily glanced at Lofrayne like an unmilked cobra.

"What the hell do you want?"

"You are so rude, Your Grace. I thought you'd extend hospitality to me," Lofrayne retorted, trying to mock her.

"Oh, I'd love to, in due form," Lilian drawled, dreamy, and imagined extending him on a rack. How long would he last? Not long enough, she wagered.

"I brought you something."

He showed her a blanket, a pillow, and a towel.

Lily stared at Lofrayne like he was an idiot.

"How long are you going to be at sea? Until Avester?"

"Err...yes."

"Lofrayne," Countess Earton told him in an icy tone. "You are a halfwit."

Tony opened his mouth. He did not expect that.

A villain, a rascal, an abductor, a murderer, maybe even a rapist...but a halfwit? Why?

"I have one dress. One set of underwear. Are you suggesting I spend a month wearing that?"

His mouth closed.

True, it hadn't occurred to him.

"There are some clothes aboard..."

"Worn by waterside whores?"

Tony hesitated.

He had a flaw in his plan.

"I think the captain has some fabrics. I'll order them to bring them to you..."

"Fabric, thread, needles, scissors," Lily said, her eyes still icy. "If there's any men's wear, I can alter it."

It's not like Lily was a great seamstress. Making a fashionable dress or a suit was quite beyond her. But a plain skirt or one-size-fits-all pants? Those she could cut and stitch without any problems. They wouldn't be perfect, but they would do.

Lofrayne gave her a nasty smile.

"I could offer you my wardrobe."

"I'd rather make do without fleas," Lily retorted. She felt worse with every minute.

Anthony seemed offended.

"Or I might not, unless you show me some latitude..."

He probably shouldn't have stepped forward, and he definitely shouldn't have grabbed the hand of a woman in the throes of seasickness and pulled her closer.

Everything that Lily had eaten for breakfast spilled out right on Lofrayne's chest. Tony flinched back, yelling in anger, but Lilian didn't care anymore. Nausea had already taken hold over her and wasn't going to let its prey go. She fell on her knees next to the waste bucket and continued pouring out her opinion about the baron.

Tony looked at that, gave up, and left.

He hadn't expected his captive to become seasick. Why didn't he, though? After all, Countess Earton was human...or was she?

***

“Holy Aldonai!”

Jess had never been so scared in his life. Well, maybe a few years ago in Wellster, but it was a real coup back then.

What was going on at the moment, though? Everything seemed quite peaceful and nice...and then his wife was kidnapped! Aldonai!

“Who? How?"

"We don't know who, not yet. They stopped the carriage on the road..."

Jess listened in silence. Finally, at home, Nanook lay down on the rug and whimpered.

Miranda rushed into the room, followed by Lou-Lou and the children.

As she heard the news, she clutched at her head.

"Mama! Mommy!"

Jess grabbed his daughter's shoulders and shook them.

"Take care of Nanook! He's wounded!"

"Help me, Lady Miranda," Tahir said, manifesting out of thin air. "Please."

"I'll go to the palace. We'll raise the royal guard and the navy," Jess said, nodding.

"Papa..."

"I'll send a messenger," he promised as he took off. "I swear."

Leif followed the count.

The Virman felt guilty. He should have kept watch, and it didn't matter that it wasn't his task.

It was his fault, and that was it.

***

Three hours later, six men were sitting in the royal study: Richard himself, Jerisson, Eric, Leif, Bran, and Hans. They had already dispatched messengers to the harbor and issued orders to the forts. The only thing left was to figure out what had happened. However, all men shared the same suspicions.

Richard had no idea how Gardren had learned about everything, but when he arrived, he couldn't turn him back. That would be the same as stopping a wave: you could try, but it would still do what it wished while you kept standing there with a fish under your armpit and weed in your ears, dripping wet.

"Avester," Jess concluded.

"I examined the body left by Her Grace." Bran spoke quietly, but somehow loud enough even for the guards in the dungeons to hear him—that's how compelling was his voice. "It's a mercenary from the Black Cats gang, going by the tattoo on his shoulder. Recently, a score of men had seceded from the main group..."

"And of course, they haven't mentioned their possible employer, have they?" Richard harbored no illusions.

"Not quite," Hans said, quiet and delicate. "Your Majesty, it's customary for mercenaries to celebrate being given an advance..."

"Cut to the chase!" Jerisson snapped.

"Jess!" Richard rebuffed him.

"Excuse me..."

"We're all on edge. So, Baron Tremain?"

"One of the mercenaries let it slip that they're going on a voyage to Avester."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

A voyage to Avester...

"It's Lofrayne," Jerisson said, flaring up. "That creep..."

"Too bad we can't prove it," Richard growled.

"Give us time," Bran replied. "We'll prove it."

"We have time, but does Lilian Earton?" Richard narrowed his eyes.

"Not much," Bran agreed. "But she's smart, and he needs her alive. She can make use of that. I know Countess Earton, and her mind is our salvation—and hers as well."

The rest of the men silently agreed with his words.

"I'll ship out," Eric declared, slamming his fist on the table. "And I'm not going to miss any ship bound for Avester!"

"You won't go alone," Leif gave a sharp nod. "The whole of Virma will go."

"Six ships left the harbor over the last five days," Bran informed them. "The Dancer, The Prancing Mermaid, The Pearl Shell, Clarissa, Rosebay, and Aldonai's Grace. Most likely, Lilian Earton is on one of them."

The Virmans nodded. Those six ships wouldn't last long at sea. They would find them, and they would search them. A person could be hidden aboard a ship, but not from a Virman. They could find a needle in a haystack, as long as it was at sea.

"Sounds like a plan," Richard said, nodding curtly. "You'll sail. Jess, you'll go home. What if they send you a list of demands or make an attempt on Miranda or the younger children?"

Jess nodded.

"Should I take them to the palace?"

"Preferably today. Do it."

"Thank you, Your—"

“Jess!"

Jerisson bowed and left.

"Hans. We have agents in Avester. Bran, I know you have people there as well...do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," both men said in unison.

"I suggest you move your families into the palace as well. The sooner, the better."

“Yes, Your Majesty."

"Today," Richard stressed.

The men bowed.

Really, why waste their breath? It was obvious that the palace was safer. It was especially important for Bran, who valued his family more than his own life, and he truly appreciated Richard's concern. His Majesty was worried about his sister, it made sense, but Bran's children and Bran himself would stay safe, too.

His family.

"If everything's clear, proceed," Richard said, releasing everyone. "Gardren, the Avesterian ambassador will arrive soon. Would you like to attend?"

"By Your Majesty's permission."

"You have it. Actually, I insist."

"Thank you for your trust, Your Majesty."

Richard nodded, summoned a servant, and ordered him to put Bran Gardren in the small reception hall so he couldn't be seen. Then he went to see Maria.

***

Her Majesty had her arms around Richard's neck.

“My darling?"

He stroked her shining dark locks.

"Yes, Maria...it's an abduction. We're going to search for her."

"I believe you! You'll succeed, won’t you?"

Richard sighed.

"I swear, my dear, I'll get her back..."

"Oh, Richard..."

But Maria didn't even get the chance to cry. A servant came in, announcing the arrival of the Avesterian ambassador. Richard let out a vicious smile.

"I'll give him a thorough rinsing."

"Can I watch?" Maria asked, finally calm.

Richard shook his head.

"I don't think you should."

"Richard, please!"

He sighed and gave up.

"Maria, let's strike a deal."

"What deal?"

"You can watch, but from a secret passage. You'll be able to see and hear everything, but nobody will know you're there."

"Oh, Richard! Thank you!"

Richard sighed.

Let it be so. Later, Maria would tell everything to Miranda to allay the girl's fears...but honestly, it would be simpler for him than telling his wife everything.

She'd be grateful, too. It meant she wasn't dismissed from the affairs of the state, helping her husband as much as she could. It mattered a lot to Maria.

After all, she was a king's daughter.

"Come on, darling. I'll show you the secret passage."

Maria smiled at her husband.

It was an unbecoming thought, but Lilian Earton's abduction made them closer. Well, it was time to look at the ambassador. Let's hear him making excuses!

***

His Majesty Richard was furious.

Horatio Alden was almost scared. Well, a little.

He knew that there was no proof, and he couldn't be linked to Lilian Earton's abduction, but still—kings didn't always need evidence. Sometimes, suspicion was enough, and proving his innocence was going to be far from trivial.

“Your Majesty...”

"Count Alden," Richard said, wary. "Well, I'm listening."

“Your Majesty?"

Alden was acting and knew that Richard didn't believe it. It was clear as day.

"Where's Baron Lofrayne?"

"Your Majesty, he returned to our homeland."

“Oh, really? On which ship?"

"The Prancing Mermaid."

What was there to hide? They were bound to learn the truth eventually.

"Great. This ship isn't Avesterian, is it?"

"You’re right, Your Majesty."

"Why didn't the baron take Flying Dolphin or Dancing Lady?"

Richard had recently looked through the papers and remembered the names of Avesterian vessels. The Prancing Mermaid, you say?

He would check all six ships anyway; what if Alden was lying?

"I cannot say, Your Majesty."

"But I can. Your baron is guilty of abducting Countess Earton, Alden."

Horatio didn't say anything.

He didn't turn pale or bite his lip—that would be so vulgar! He was a diplomat, and diplomats were evidently descended from reptiles. Have you ever seen an emotional lizard?

Well, emotional diplomats didn't exist, either.

“Your Majesty...”

"I'm waiting for an answer, Count Alden."

Richard didn't raise his voice or show his anger. Outwardly, he was completely calm, and only his knuckles, white with rage, betrayed his mood. That's what frightened Alden the most.

No hysterics, no screams, no scandals—only an icy rage spilling out from the inside, taking a man over...

The scariest thing about all of that was the unpredictability.
In a second, Horatio could find himself on a rack or even a chopping block.

Honestly, he didn't want to guess. Richard's wrath turned out to be chilling, and the diplomat knew that he would be lucky to leave the room unharmed.

"Your Majesty, I don't know what to say. I know that Baron Lofrayne is in love with Her Grace, and it's hard for me to condemn him..."

"Did you condemn him?"

"Her Grace in a beautiful woman. I could understand those who fell victim to her charms. But as far as I know, the baron's feelings weren't one-sided."

"You don't say!"

Richard's voice stank of irony. The count pretended not to notice it and shrugged.

"Your Majesty, the baron and I never discussed the...matters of the heart. But I know that at first, he was distressed but eventually calmed down."

"I see."

"Your Majesty, I don't know what else to say."

"The truth, Count, and only the truth. Did the baron abduct Her Grace?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty."

Horatio really didn't know.

He had rented a ship, dispatched the mercenaries... The rest was up to Lofrayne. He was in charge of the operation itself.

He was present at the ambush, and he was to take the countess to the ship and pay the men.

As for what really happened...

Horatio had spent the entire morning running around the palace to avoid any suspicion.

There he is, busy as a bee, having nothing to do with any abductions!

"Did you arrange the abduction?"

"Your Majesty, I can swear before the face of Aldonai himself..."

"I don't doubt that you can. Oathbreakers are punished there, and you're still here." Richard gave him a cold, cruel glare. "Oh, you absolutely can."

"Your Majesty, I—"

"I remember, Alden. Know that only your status as an ambassador is protecting you from a slow and agonizing death."

“Your Majesty!"

"I've taken control over this matter, Alden. And if I learn that you're involved in the abduction..."

Alden shivered.

"Your Majesty, please."

"Until Lilian Earton is found, Alden, you'll be a guest of Ativerna, and be happy that you’re not a prisoner. Trust me; I won't be stopped by any diplomatic complications."

He was saying the truth, too.

"Your Majesty, I can assure you—"

"Don't assure me. I'm sending a ship after the Prancing Mermaid. If Lilian Earton is on board, Alden, then you should pray. Pray a lot."

“Yes, Your Majesty."

"I don't want a war, but I'm not afraid of it, and abducting my best friend's wife is a good enough cause."

"Your Majesty." Alden finally found the courage to speak up. "But what if the countess left by her own free will? I mean, the baron and Her Grace...if I may be so bold, she's a young woman, and he's an attractive man..."

Richard smiled, and that smile sent goosebumps down Alden's spine because what he saw in Richard's eyes was death itself.

"Pray, Alden. Pray a lot."

The diplomat bowed.

"Until the matter is cleared, I forbid all residents of the embassy from contacting the outside world."

“Your Majesty!"

"Do you want to argue with me, Count?"

“No, Your Majesty.”

"Great. You can go."

Richard made a dismissive gesture, and Horatio darted out of the room like a rock shot from a sling.

Richard waited for the door to close and turned around.

A curtain budged.

Bran Gardren was as calm as a snake full of venom, and his eyes weren't any kinder than Richard's.

"He's lying."

"Yes."

"If he didn't take part in everything, he at least arranged it."

Richard nodded again. He didn't doubt that, but a confirmation from a viper such as the Chief of Gardren was worth a lot. That man knew intrigues like the palm of his hand.

A priest of Holosh, in a nutshell.

"Where's Jess?"

"He went to August. The Virmans are there. Soon, the ships will set sailing."

"We need to get to the Mermaid, but don't forget about the other vessels."

"We'll do everything in our power, Your Majesty."

"Don't do everything in your power, Bran. Just do everything."

Bran bowed slightly. He was going to do it anyway. He had a small debt to Her Grace for helping with his son, and the Chief of Gardren never forgot his debts.

“Your Majesty...”

"Bran!"

"Fine. Richard, I suggest one more thing."

"What do you mean?"

Bran briefly outlined his idea.

Richard paused.

"So, can we get a confession from him?"

"Under torture, yes. But I think we should figure everything out first and act later."

"Well, then... Won't you get caught?"

Bran smiled.

“Your Majesty...”

It sounded quite reproachful.

Richard snorted as he looked at that bastard with his innocent blue eyes.

Angelina got lucky with a husband like him.

He didn't say that out loud, of course.

"Well, then I'm waiting for your report as soon as you..."

"It will be late at night or early in the morning."

"It doesn't matter. I’ll be waiting.”

"All right, Richard."

Richard let his brother-in-law go and stared at the wall. There was only one thing on his mind.

Bastards! Scum! Brutes!

That wasn't much of an intrigue.

Sooner or later, it was bound to happen; Lilian Earton had become too prominent, an abduction was to be expected. But such a bold one?

Well, at least Nanook had escaped.

Thank Aldonai, Lilian was smart enough to think of that. When the dog had reached Taral, it caused a real ruckus. The Virmans grabbed their weapons and ran where Nanook led them, quickly finding the trail but never managing to get to the Prancing Mermaid.

The miscreants had wasted no time, and they struck at just the right time, too.

Fine, they would patch the dog up. If only Lilian were riding a horse... In a landeau, she couldn't really get away, but an Avarian was something else.

Lidarh would have carried his mistress off. Without him, she had no other way of escaping.

That's why she must have decided to go willingly—or she might have been threatened.

She would have fought if only her own life was on the line, but women were sensitive to blackmail, weren't they?

Richard had no idea what had transpired on that road, but he was going to find out.

Tremain was already sniffing out everything, and coupled with Gardren's proposal...

It was bound to be interesting, no question about that.

***

Horatio Alden rushed out of the king's reception chamber like a scalded cat.

He was able to calm down only at the embassy, and not completely at that. Richard was scary in his fury, truly terrifying.

And for the first time, a suspicion crept into his mind. Maybe they had done something worse than a crime: a mistake.

Alas, fixing it didn't seem possible; the only thing they could do was deal with the consequences. As for what consequences may follow, Alden didn't know—but he was already afraid.

***

In the evening, Lily stretched on her bed.

Waves were softly rustling outside of the tiny window in her cabin. Lily didn't like that, but who cared? She had spent her childhood away from the sea. Now woods—that was something she knew well. She'd never lose her way in a forest.

She could swim, but only just enough to avoid getting drowned: stay afloat, maybe dive, but that was it. She couldn't swim like a duck and disliked water, except for her love for fishing.

The sea? She and her parents had been at sea several times, but that was a long time ago. She remembered a big beach, lots of people under colorful umbrellas, ice cream...

The sea wasn't her friend; it wasn't her ally. Dive into the waves and swim ashore—that just wasn't Lilian.

The only thing left to do was to wait for dry land. Avester seemed like a better place to make her escape. It had a lot of forests, and she felt at home in the woods. Nobody would find her there.

Her hand dropped on her belly. Oh, goddamn it!

Jess knew that she was pregnant. That was a good thing, on the one hand. Whatever they might cook up, her husband would never believe it. She was pregnant, and she would never abandon him. She'd never run away before giving birth, never fall for some handsome stud...

If she had vanished, it meant that she was either abducted or killed.

The first option was better. If they presented her abduction as murder, Jess might not even look for her...or, would he?

Why would they take her body if they could just leave it right on the spot? It didn't make sense. It was illogical.

No, Jess and the others would look for her, and when they found her... Yes, it was "when," not "if." When they found her, would it be too late?

If her abductors learned that she was pregnant, they would have blackmail material. What could be simpler? She would do anything for her child. Running away would also be much harder with the two of them...

A child meant happiness, of course...generally, but not like that—not in a strange foreign country with an escapee for a mother. And then there was labor, nursing... Well, at least Lily had already given birth once, and it went pretty well. She knew what to expect. If she didn't panic, she would manage, even without a midwife, and she should have milk, too.

That would be enough initially, and after that, she'd see. Still, she'd rather avoid any upheaval. It would be best for her to get home before the final month of her pregnancy, but was that a real option? Lily doubted that.

Anyway, what mattered at that moment was not giving herself away. She had no morning sickness or visual evidence of pregnancy, and her figure was bound to hide anything for at least two more months. She was just curvy enough, and the dresses she could make might hide everything, too. Nobody must know. Nobody.

Would she succeed, though?

Lily bit her lip. It felt awful, not being in control of herself. Alone, she could do a lot: cross a forest, travel a long distance... Her father had taken her camping many times, and she often went away with Alex and then Jerisson for a few days, too. Still, she always had gear and a partner, and she was in charge of her own body.

At that moment, her body was host to a small cluster of cells, her son or her daughter, and Lily wasn't about to lose that baby.

She'd pull out all the stops for them to be safe. For her, it wasn't just an embryo but a tiny human who was scared even inside her belly.

"Don't worry. We'll make it," Lily promised either to her child or herself and went to the window.

Stars were shining in the sky, but they were different. No Big Dipper, no Orion, nothing familiar to her. She'd love to find Polaris, at least.

A tear fell on her nightgown.

One of the stars slowly rolled down the sky, as if grudgingly.

As it descended, it gathered pace, and Lily breathed out, hoping to make her wish before it fell down.

"Home! I want to go home to Jess and the children!"

Maybe it could help?

Chapter 8

Jerisson, Count Earton, wasn't looking at the stars. He was busy cursing. The people around him listened obediently, never stopping the count and not even reminding him that there were ladies in the room.

In truth, the ladies wanted to curse just as much. Alas, that was taboo. That way, at least Jerisson could express their shared thoughts.

The small but close-knit group consisted of His Majesty Richard, Jerisson, Hans Tremain, Leif, and Eric. August Brocklend had arrived from the docks, having received the urgent message, still dressed in his workwear: plain pants, a shirt, a vest... So what if it wasn't how one should appear at court in front of His Majesty?

Brocklend had other things on his mind.

Bran Gardren had also returned, weary, covered with dust, thoughtful and displeased. However, he was in no hurry to share his troubles. He was sitting next to his wife, touching her fingers, and before long, he calmed down.

The ladies had also demanded to stay, and Jess would have given a lot to see a man who dared to kick his mother out. That would be one short show, though, as that man would soon meet his maker. The Old Viper wouldn't have simply buried that idiot—he would have done that to himself.

Her Majesty Maria, Princess Angelina, Ingrid, Miranda—all of them were in attendance, and telling them to leave didn't seem possible.

Everyone gathered in His Majesty's chambers in a small drawing room called the Sun Room, either because of the bright yellow pillows and padding or for being on the sunny side—although the sun was already gone. The room was still cozy and warm, even if the people inside didn't seem to care.

Jess wasn't going to restrain himself. He had already been pacing the room like a lion in his cage, Richard barely managing to slow him down, and after learning the details of the abduction, he really let his temper go.

"How the hell did it happen? My wife was taken by Aldonai knows whom, and not a damnable soul saw it!"

It was a very dramatic sight.

"My men were killed," Eric spoke up.

"We let our guard down," Richard snapped. "It's been a while since anything happened..."

Hans lowered his head.

"It's my fault. Your Majesty, we've figured it out. In the morning, Her Grace rode to Castle Taral. There was an ambush on the way. The ruffians fired their crossbows, killed the guards, then rode up and killed the coachman and talked to Her Grace for some time. She didn't try to escape, knowing that it wasn't possible in the landeau. She did manage to kill one of the attackers, however. We found her blade at the scene."

"One?" Jess clarified.

"One," Hans nodded.

"Lilian usually carried two of them."

"Jess, sit down and stop beating about," Richard called him out. "Your fidgeting is giving me a headache."

"At once, Your Majesty," Jerisson replied sarcastically and walked to the fireplace, even stepping behind the chimney-piece to show off his obedience.

"Only one dagger was found. The second might have been taken from Her Grace as a trophy," Hans continued. "After the conversation, Her Grace got on a horse, as we've seen from the tracks, and her abductors headed to the sea, where they embarked on a ship that was waiting for them. Then they sailed off, leaving their horses on the shore."

Leif looked guilty, too.

No matter which way you looked at it, Castle Taral was guarded by the Virmans, and for the countess to be ambushed right on the road, not to mention the abductor's ship staying not that far away...

They had really dropped their guard.

After five years of peace, it made sense, but that was beside the point. Trouble always came unexpectedly.

"We've already got that," Bran said, as practical as always. "What are we going to do? Who exactly took the countess, and how will we get her back?"

Hans threw the Virman a grateful look. Really, it wasn't the time for self-flagellation. He could be punished later; what mattered was dealing with the problem at hand. After it was over, he wouldn't say a word in his own defense—they could hang or exile him for all they wanted.

"Six ships left the harbor over the last three days. I ordered them to be checked. Intelligence is being gathered..."

"Say it simpler," Leif growled, ignoring authority. Still, Richard wasn't angry. It wasn't what was important.

They were having a war meeting; he could scold the insolent Virman later. Hans was right to start gathering information. If the ship had been there longer, it would have been noticed, but just a few days was a short enough stay for the abductors to succeed, and they had, Maldonaya, take them!

Hans shrugged.

"We don't know anything yet. At least we started the search straight away, thanks to Nanook. Too bad, he got wounded, but he did deliver the message in time."

"Nanook will survive," Miranda said. "He got lucky. It's just a scratch."

It was more than a scratch, but for a large dog like him, that wound was next to nothing. He would heal like a dog.

"I have a suggestion."

Her Majesty Maria rarely spoke up, but Richard made a point to listen to her. He didn't want to silence his already quiet and humble wife.

There was one more thing, too. He might never love her, but he wasn't going to allow a situation like his father's. Maria would be happy for both of them.

Or even the three of them...he still remembered the girl with eyes the color of the sea.

"Darling?"

Maria faltered, glanced at Jerisson, and blushed a little.

"Lilian wouldn't have told me that, but I accidentally witnessed what was going on. Baron Lofrayne was courting Her Grace...and he was very persistent. Every time, he was met with blunt refusal."

"WHAT?"

Jess turned crimson with rage. That said, it looked rather fetching, as red went well with his black hair.

"Lilian solved that problem...in her own fashion," Her Majesty said with a slight smile. "The baron wasn't hurt much, but he was furious. Lilian explained it to me. According to her, the baron had been making advances to her, giving out rather explicit offers. Then he tried to get handsy, got a pretty convincing reply, and backed off."

Jerisson chuckled. He could imagine his wife's response, and he already knew about the thing with the hogweed.

Miranda coughed.

"If I may..."

"Mirrie?" Richard asked, raising his eyebrow.

"The baron tried courting me as well. I had to give him a rather...strong rebuffal."

"I will kill him!" Jerisson flared up.

"Be quiet," Richard said, reining him in. "Mirrie, I'm listening. Tell us every detail."

Her explanation took a few minutes. The listeners started thinking.

"I'd say that Baron Lofrayne was trying to get closer to Her Grace and used every method at his disposal," Bran Gardren concluded. "Directly, by using his charms, through her daughter, and... Jerisson? Nobody tried to ingratiate themselves with you, did they?"

"If only. Lady Seinel," the count said with a disgusted expression on his face.

"Lady Seinel?" Bran had never heard of her.

"A lady who arrived with the Avesterian ambassador party. She leads a rather austere lifestyle," Maria explained.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

"Austere?" Jerisson was shocked. "She all but threw herself at me! I have no words!"

"You should have found some," Alicia mumbled. "I would have dealt with her."

Bran heard that and glanced at the lady, amused.

"You could have even stuck her into a barrel headfirst, but what if the lady was on a mission? What if her task was to seduce His Grace? What if someone of a higher rank had promised her something in exchange?"

"You think that Avester is behind the abduction?" Hans asked, realization on his face.

"Avester rather than the baron," Bran replied, nodding.

For a few minutes, everyone was silent, digesting the information.

Her Majesty spoke up first.

"I think you're right. Lilian was the baron's mission. I know that he was quite friendly with Lady Almayne, too, and a few more women had his attention."

Richard stood up, walked up to his queen, and kissed her hand.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Maria blushed with delight.

She was finally starting to understand Lilian's words: she wouldn't be just a wife for Richard but also a friend.

"The baron wasn't interested in the countess as a woman, but he was courting her. Yes, this reeks of Avester," Angelina agreed.

The men exchanged glances.

Richard summed it up.

"Well, sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Lilian is too conspicuous, too attractive a target. We'd never be able to hide her. I'm not surprised, but I will deal with Entor. He'll pay for his insolence."

Nobody commented on his words. Of course, he would deal with the king of Avester as an equal...and Entor would regret ever messing with Ativerna.

"The Prancing Mermaid sailed out three days ago, but a captain I know saw it just off the coast not far from Taral," August Brocklend announced.

"Oh, really?" Richard narrowed his eyes. "Hans?"

"I will make inquiries, Your Majesty. If you'll excuse me, I'll give out orders at once. We'll check the other ships, too, but if it really is the Mermaid, it will simplify things. I will send out messengers..."

"And come back," Richard said, nodding.

Hans bowed and left the room.

"Your Majesty, I suggest informing the Virmans," Bran spoke up. "Her Grace is a welcome guest in Virma for all clans."

"All of them?" Richard asked, stressing the first word.

"At the moment, there's no hunger," Bran replied simply. "It's not the first time, but knowing that someone is watching your back and whatever happens, your children won't starve...it's important. If not for Her Grace, the treaty would have never been signed. Everyone understands that."

Richard abruptly shook his head, which made him look like an angry lion.

"Well, send a message to your people, Gardren."

Bran bowed.

An implication hung in the air, unspoken.

Eric was a loner. Leif had enemies in Virma. They would sail out with their men, but those numbers wouldn't be enough. However, crossing a priest of Holosh who had the ruler of Virma, Olav Hardring, indebted to him, was something that no Virman would dare to do unless they wanted to say goodbye to their island.

If anything happened, Bran could assure they would get their due.

As soon as a pigeon reached Virma, Virion would turn into an upset anthill. Nobody would take to the sea unprepared. There would be more Virmans than fish, and none of them would care about international complications—those people were accustomed to paying their dues. Such was life on the island: you either grew up to be a complete and utter bastard or a man of honor. Most ended up as the second.

"Why do they need Lilian?"

Alicia was wringing her hands, genuinely concerned for her daughter-in-law, the same as August.

"So she could do the same for Avester that she did for us," August replied. "I know the state of matters in Taral. Even I was offered a lot of money simply for arranging a conversation with Lilian."

"And?" Jess asked, curious.

"Did I take it?" The shipwright looked hurt by the question.

Jess almost shook his head. He had no doubts about the money. The rest of the story, however...

"That's not what I'm talking about! What happened to that idiot?"

"Oh...nothing, really. We threw him overboard. He might have even made it—it was only half a day's trip to the shore."

Nobody asked how that "idiot" had managed to sneak aboard. There was no need to, really.

"Lily won't do it," Jess concluded. "I know her. She'll never agree."

"Too bad," Richard replied, shaking his head. "I'm afraid that Entor will go to any lengths to get what he wants."

Prison.  Torture. Death.

Those words weren't said aloud, but they were no less frightening.

"I believe in Her Grace," Leif declared, slamming his fist against the table. "She's no fool. She'll find a way to wriggle out of this."

He still remembered her back in the tavern, deathly afraid but nevertheless walking forward. He also remembered her defending his men from Avermal, negotiating with Eric, treating the wounded... If fate gave Lilian Earton at least a fraction of a chance, she would make it. She wasn't the kind of person to give up and drown.

Jess spent a few minutes thinking but finally made up his mind and decided to share the secret revealed to him by Lilian.

"We were expecting... We are expecting another child."

"Papa!" Miranda exhaled. "Is this true?"

"Yes, Mirrie. You're going to have another brother or a sister."

"Yay!" the viscountess yelled, genuinely excited, and immediately gasped and put her hand to her mouth, realizing what it meant for Lilian. "Oh..."

"She simply won't be able to fight or escape." Jess shook his head.

"I wouldn't underestimate the countess," Ingrid said. She always spoke quietly, but when she wanted to be heard, everyone did. A Torsveg was a Torsveg to the end, both in blood and self-perception.

A daughter, a sister, and a wife to warriors, she didn't know how to give up. Lilian Earton came from the same breed—that's why they had become fast friends.

"It will be hard for Mama," Miranda objected. "And she'll never risk the baby, I know her. With her own life, she does what she pleases, but when she got me to care for... And back in Wellster, she also did her best to protect the children; she told me that. For her, children always go first, whatever might happen. And now, she will depend on the child."

"Lilian thinks that if a baby is healthy, it will be born no matter what," Ingrid explained. "When she was carrying her firstborn... Your Grace, how far along was she when she stopped riding to Taral?"

"Nine months," Jess replied.

"Exactly. Her Grace isn't weak, and I believe in her."

"It's all we can do," Jess said, sighing. "Keep the faith."

Hans Tremain returned so quietly they barely noticed him.

"Your Majesty, ladies and gentlemen... I gave out the orders."

"Thank you, my friend," Jess said, relaxing a bit. "Richard, I have a request..."

"No," His Majesty replied flatly, unwilling to even listen.

“But why?”

"Because it's still too early to go to Avester," the king explained. "And if you run off there alone, I'll lock you up. Be patient.  First, we have to find her. After that, you can go. You must understand: in Avester, you'll be a hostage too."

"And they will use you to blackmail Her Grace," Bran Gardren added, unfazed by Jerisson's glare. Actually, it was amusing. He could glare at the priest of Holosh for all he wanted, even going cross-eyed, but Bran wouldn't care. "I'll send a pigeon to Virma. Holosh willing, the Prancing Mermaid won't make it to Avester. And even if she does, we'll know everything."

"It might make it," Eric said, gritting his teeth.

The Virmans looked at each other. The two of them were sailors, and Bran and August knew enough about seafaring to realize that it would take a while until the pigeon reached the island and the men there set sailing. Lofrayne had a good chance to evade capture.

On the other hand, after that, he shouldn't try traveling by sea—ever.

If any Virman got their hands on Anthony, he would envy the dead and pray for an easy death.

"I'll order my men to gather information," Richard added. "As soon as we learn anything, you can go at once."

"I'll lose my mind here," Jess said, almost groaning.

"You won't. She needs you."

Nobody could object to that.

Still, waiting and realizing his powerlessness was torture for Jess. He felt depressed and dreary. Fear pulled at his soul, fear not for himself but for the woman he loved. The people he loved.

Oh, Lilian...where are you?

***

His Majesty finished the council and dismissed everyone.

That said, "dismissed" was a strong word. Everyone had been given chambers in the palace, and they simply went there. Even August—Richard asked him to stay in Laveri, in the palace.

He knew how much Lilian depended on her loved ones. If anyone tried to blackmail her with another life...

Lofrayne had made one mistake. If he abducted someone else together with Lilian—Roman, Jacob, Mirrie, anyone—Lilian would have stayed quiet, afraid for their lives. At that moment, she was alone. It wasn't good, but it could save her, too. Lofrayne would never get to keep her,

Richard was sure of that. Lilian Earton would do everything to get home, and they would help her.

***

"Bran?"

Angelina watched her husband prepare. He dressed in black, checked every buckle and every clasp, fastened a weapon...

“Yes, dear?"

"Um..." Angelina wanted to ask where he was going but changed her mind. Instead, she asked, "How long will you be gone?"

"Hopefully, not long."

"Then, I will wait for you?"

Bran kissed his wife's hand.

"You should get to bed, sweetheart. If you want, I'll wake you up when I'm back."

Angelina smiled.

"I’ll think about it. But if I do fall asleep, be sure to wake me up."

"I'll try. I promise."

He didn't want to keep her waiting long.

Bran smiled at his wife, charming despite his hunched back, his blue eyes radiating love and the warmth of their home, even if that home was currently inside the royal palace. Angelina smiled in return.

It felt so nice, having a place where you were wanted.

***

There are many ways to wake up. From your loved one's kiss, from the smell of coffee taken to your bed with a bevy of treats, from the sound of the alarm or a doorbell... Still, in any of those cases, you woke up in peace and quiet, even if you might not want to.

But what would it feel like to wake up from being flayed—literally? When a blade cut your flesh along the clavicle, carefully pulling the skin up... It hurt. You would arch your back, trying to scream, but the unknown vivisector was quite cautious.

While you were sleeping, they had bound you hand and foot to the bed, spread-eagled, unable to move.

Would you scream? Humanity had long since invented mouth gags, and your assailants knew that tool well enough. How had they managed to do all of that, really?

In truth, Bran had simply pressed the vein on the diplomat's neck and did everything necessary while the latter was out. Quite enough time to tie him up and gag him.

So what was left for him to do? Only cry. Still, he suspected that it wouldn't really help.

The blade slipped upward, traveling across Alden's body. The diplomat was afraid to breathe—that's how close its edge was to the carotid artery.

"Let's talk," the silence hissed.

The diplomat grunted something through the gag in agreement.

Of course, let's talk! Just pull out the gag, and I'll invite the whole street...

The darkness pushed closer.

"No, boy. You misunderstood me."

Horatio looked at his tormentor with wide-open eyes, but what could he see?

A broad cloak enveloped the miscreant like a cloud, with a hood, deep and completely hiding the face. The attempt to peer further didn't do anything, as everything under the hood was jet-black.

The blade slid further, drawing a bloody line just above the forehead along Alden's hairline.

"A sweet lady once told me about an interesting tradition. You must agree that killing men is a dirty business."

Alden grunted.

Yes, it is! It's disgusting!

And really, no need to kill him! Please!

The ambassador was brave enough, but a situation like that would have broken even stronger men.

The stranger, meanwhile, continued.

"That's why you shouldn't kill people. It's better to make them dream of death, to disfigure them to the point where even the most undaunted would recoil in fear...if any of them can be found in a madhouse, of course."

Horatio trembled. Now that was a place he really didn't want to visit! Yet the stranger continued, his tone dry and dull.

"This tradition allows one to keep a memento of their enemy. That's how it's done: you cut the skin here and here..." Horatio felt the cold blade touch him in several places, leaving scratches. "Then you raise it and pull it away like a hat. Do you want me to show you?"

Horatio didn't, but he doubted that his opinion really mattered.

"I will keep a nice hat of hair as a souvenir. It's called a scalp. Isn't it cute?"

Horatio didn't find it cute.

"There are other options, too. Have you ever heard of the blood eagle, perchance?"

He hadn't, and he didn't want to. But who cared?

"I'll cut you here and here... It's better to do it on the back, but the chest will do, too. Or I'll just knock you out and tie you up the way I want to. After making the cuts, I'll carefully remove the skin to open your ribs and start prying them out...

The voice kept talking of horrors, but the scariest thing was its cold, impassive tone.

That's what made you believe that he would truly do that—and not just that but something even worse.

He wouldn't just do it; he would take pleasure in it, and nobody would hear a thing. In the morning, Horatio would be found...alive? Quite possibly. And he would beg for death, because living in a state like that would be impossible.

Aldonai!

Why?

I don't want that!

Horatio writhed on the bed, tears flowing out of his eyes, and the voice kept whispering, while the blade danced on his skin.

Bran held his victim in a tight grip.

Scaring him to death?

That wasn't that hard. Priests of Holosh could drive people mad just by talking. That one had already crapped his pants. Were all Avesterians that weak?

Still, very few people Bran knew would stay strong in his place, and even they had a weak spot.

Breaking a man was an art that was not to be defiled by hate, bad blood, or any other emotional crap. It should be done slow and steady—only then it would succeed. There was a solution to every puzzle, an approach to every victim. Some snapped quickly, while with others, you had to take your time. Some had to bend before being broken. It was all very personal.

The main thing was to remain calm and watch any response of your target, no matter how disgusting.

Gardren knew what he was talking about, too.

He had done a lot in his lifetime, oh, he definitely had.

Priests of Holosh sometimes made sacrifices, and sometimes, they meted out justice. Bran's record was two months: two months of slowly killing a...human?

No.

A piece of trash who had raided a Virman coastal village, robbed it, set it on fire, killed everyone, and escaped. Unholy creature. Scum of the earth.

A few witnesses stayed alive, and the bastards were caught and brought to Virma...well, those who survived the trip. And then, they envied the dead. He wasn't going to do that to Alden, of course. Not yet.

That night was just a small thing, in truth. Was that really a problem?

He slipped into a house guarded both by Avesterians and Ativernans—and the latter hadn't just let him through but also pointed out the Avesterian postings. Bran simply walked forward.

Inside, he knocked out the butler, tied him up, and hid him under the stairs so they wouldn't find him right away, then snuck past the servants, most of which were already asleep. The only thing that was left to do was to slip into the ambassador's bedroom, press the right spot on his neck to knock him out—just for a few seconds, enough to bind and gag him—and wake him up.

And then, he would break him.

Bran wasn't joking; he didn't just promise to do everything he described—he was prepared to do it. And the Avesterian gave in.

Yes, he shat himself...that was the hardest part for Bran. Why were people so weak? They always broke wind during torture. Maybe he should plug his nose? Bran would have done that, but that wouldn't make his voice all that terrifying. That just wouldn't do.  He was supposed to inspire terror, not laughter. And thus, he had to tough it out.

Slowly and methodically, Bran drove the Avesterian into a state when fear would overcome any reservations, allowing him to ask questions.

He was already on the verge of a breakthrough, and finally, Alden wavered. He broke and melted, just like the substance he had recently excreted. Bran didn't condemn his victim, though. He knew his skills well enough. Sooner or later, anyone would have broken.

As Bran asked his questions, he became grim. Everything was very bad. How was he to tell it to Richard?

And he had to; he had no other choice. He also couldn't cripple that weasel; he was to stay safe and sound to avoid starting a fight with Avester too early. There was time for everything.

And so, Bran once again pressed the vein on the count's neck, resisting the urge to keep his fingers there a second longer, which would turn a temporary sleep into eternal.

All in good time. Eventually, he would get his payback. Bran gave himself a promise and left, his movements quiet, graceful, and calculated.
As a farewell gesture, he untied Horatio and collected the rope and the gag. The only reminders of Bran's visit were the painful cuts on Horatio Alden's neck, forehead, and chest.

For some reason, the count was in no hurry to complain to anyone. He had his own skeletons in the closet, anyway. At least he was still alive...for the time being.

Alas, escape was not an option, either.

Thanks to Bran, the ambassador's sleep was ruined and would stay that way for a good long while.

***

Richard wasn't sleeping well, either.

As soon as he managed to fall asleep, his personal valet touched his shoulder, waking him up.

"What's—"

"It's Milord Gardren..."

Richard raised his hand, indicating that no more words were necessary, put a nightgown on top of his shirt, and left the bedroom.

Bran was sitting in the study, cleaning his nails with a dagger. As soon as he saw Richard, he stood up and bowed mechanically, but it was clear that he didn't really mean it. No subservience, no kowtowing, no awe—the king himself had raised his head from the pillow in the middle of the night just for you, and you weren't even elated?

But Richard didn't need that. He already had a palace full of toadies and retainers, and few people could do what had to be done without any unnecessary drama and pathos. They were to be appreciated and shown their value so that they would serve with pleasure.

Although what kind of servant was a priest of Holosh? He might be a friend, an associate, but never a servant. He served only his god, and it meant a lot, too. A king had many servants but few comrades-in-arms, especially those he could trust...to a degree.

“So?”

"It doesn't look good, Your—"

"No titles, Bran. You're my sister's husband, don't forget that."

Bran chuckled. The dagger vanished from his hands, and Richard once again thought that Angelina was lucky to have him.

"Old habits die hard. It was easier in Virma."

"It was," Richard agreed. "But I'm stuck here forever."

"My condolences."

"To Aldonai with condolences. What have you learned?"

"Nothing good, Richard."

His Majesty sat down at the table, poured himself some wine, paused, and poured water for Bran.

"Should I offer you wine?"

"No need. Thank you."

"I'm listening."

"My dear brother, this is indeed the Avesterians' doing."

As Richard listened, his expression turned sullen. He learned about the plan to seduce Her Grace and His Grace, then about the abduction... In the end, he finally spoke up.

"The Avesterian didn't lie, did he?"

"I don't think so," Bran replied, smiling.

It was quite sincere, the way the priests of Holosh smiled after offering sacrifices to their deity. That smile would have been enough for an entire monastery to throw a hysterical fit with a few neighboring villages to boot. He looked very convincing.

Richard believed him.

"Is he alive, at least?"

"He is." The smile wandered across Bran's lips, and for a moment, Richard almost expected to see wolfish fangs sticking out. "For now."

"Did you maim him?"

Richard had a good reason to worry, but Bran waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"I didn't maim him. He's safe and almost unharmed, other than a few scratches."

Richard sighed and put his fingers in his hair.

"Good. I mean, it's good that this Alden is alive, not the rest. What will I tell Jess?"

Bran could only sigh. Killing was easier, and so was interrogation. Dealing with inner turmoil was his weak point. He could imagine himself in Jerisson's place and even felt sorry for the count. If anything like that happened to Angie, Bran would have moved heaven and earth. Still, that was Bran with his skills, personality, and knowledge. The count had a different upbringing, a different life...everything! An assassin was not to be compared to a warrior.

Even while talking to Richard, Bran could have killed him in five different ways, and the king didn't even seem to care about the danger as if everything was normal.

"Not the truth, Your Majesty."

Richard nodded.

Jess, with his temper, might leave for Avester and find himself in a whole lot of trouble. It might not be enough for a full-blown war, but saving him would be impossible.

What should he do, then?

"I'll tell Jerisson that Lofrayne abducted his wife because..."

"Lilian Earton rebuffed the lusty bastard's advances, and he couldn't take it. His pride was hurt," Bran said, nodding.

One man's initiative wasn't the king's command—two different things.

Even if Jerisson somehow arranges for Lofrayne to perish...

Good riddance.

***

Jess turned up at the palace the next morning and was immediately summoned before His Majesty's eyes.

The latter had a reddish tint, as Richard had barely slept that night.

“Richard?"

"Jess, sit down and listen to me."

The version created by Richard and Bran was as follows.

Baron Lofrayne had arrived with the ambassador's party. He actually planned to enter a contract with Mariella Trading House, but then became interested in Lilian Earton personally. He wanted something from her and was bluntly refused. And so, the baron decided to abduct the woman he liked.

Unsurprisingly, that's where the problems started.

Jess listened to that, thought a few moments, and asked, "Richard, will you let me go to Avester?"

"Yes," and before Jess sprung up and ran to pack up, added, "but not right now."

“Why?”

Jess pulled himself together and prepared to argue.

Richard raised his hand.

"Jess, I know that you want to sail after Lilian, but what do you think will happen to you in Avester?"

"They'll try to kill me," Jerisson shrugged.

"They won't just try. They'll kill you," Richard said bluntly. "You'll be in someone else's land there, and His Majesty Entor won't forgive you anything. You must realize that."

Jess did.

"And leave Lilian in that bastard's paws?"

"That's how little you trust your wife?'

"I trust her!" Jess exclaimed, offended.

"Then give us time. I promise you; we'll get her out."

"Richard, Lilian's pregnant, or have you forgotten that?"

Richard cursed. Indeed, it had slipped his mind.

Jess paused and then added a few more swear words.

"Yes, then it's even worse."

The men exchanged glances, having the same thought.

They were running out of time.

What was left for them to do?

Place hope in Lilian herself.

"It doesn't matter. I'll do everything possible and impossible, but you shouldn't stick your head out."

"Three months, Richard. Then I'm sailing to Avester."

"Good. It's a deal."

Jess nodded.

"I'll go to my rooms. Calm Miranda down."

"Move the entire family to the palace. Until we solve the Avesterian problem, we shouldn't take risks."

Jerisson nodded.

No matter how one tried to defend, the attacker always had an advantage. The Avesterians had twice as much: first, they were attacking, and second, they only needed one successful hit. Jerisson, however, would have to be successful every single time.

It was enough for them to reach him once, but he had to evade death time and time again. Of course, they had an edge.

"Good."

The men said their goodbyes, and Jess went to his chambers.

Aldonai...help Lilian, I beg you.

Help her.

***

Bran Gardren deftly tied the letter to the pigeon's leg and released the bird. Fly.

The bird had a long journey ahead of it, all the way to Altver.

His Majesty also sent a letter to Torius Avermal, who was to detain and capture six ships at any cost and never let any Avesterian ships through. At any cost, too. He could go as far as to become a pirate, but those bastards should never pass! They couldn't get away with their prey.

However, Bran didn't really believe in the success of that operation. There were three routes leading from Ativerna to Avester. The first went past Wellster, Elvana, the Vari Khanganat... They had already written to Wellster. That was a long and complex journey that would require resupply, and the Khanganat had its own quite particular customs and tradition. Bran didn't expect Lofrayne to travel to Avester through the dolphin sea. He wouldn't, in his place.

The second route was by land, through Ativerna and Darkom. That was a hard journey as well, and knowing Lilian Earton, she wouldn't wait for them to reach their destination. She wasn't that kind of person.

The third route was again by sea: past Virma, Viriom, and Ivernea. There was a catch there: Shandovar. A favorable current, together with a fair wind, allowed ships to reach Avester much faster than make the return journey. Lofrayne would be an idiot not to make use of that, and despite being a filthy abductor, he was no fool. Well, not that much of a fool, at least.

The Prancing Mermaid was most likely a clipper: not especially comfortable, designed for quick trips, and often used for piracy, as Bran had found out. If her captain were smart, he would use the current and pick up speed. The wind, the current...

And the bird had to reach Altver, Avermal had to take measures... There was almost no chance that Lofrayne could be intercepted there.

The same was true for Virma, too. Several Virman ships had already sailed out. Altver also had some Virmans; Bran planned to write them, too. Still, when Hardring sent out his fleet, the Mermaid would have already reached Avester.

Therefore, Bran decided to write a few more letters in advance: to Avester, to Ivernea... He had his men all over the place; let them dig. Famously, a man who had information owned the world. Bran didn't really care for the world, but doing a favor to the Crown was valuable. After all, the Chief of Gardren had gotten a generous advance payment, and debts were to be paid.

Bran tied another message to another pigeon's leg. Let it fly, too. Sooner or later, one way or another, the abductors would get caught. Bran would learn everything he needed to and maybe make a visit to Avester. There were many ways of serving Holosh. Maybe after Bran's visit, Avester would unexpectedly get a different king. All thanks to his devout prayers, of course.

Oh, a tiny detail: Holosh didn't care for verbal prayers. Only deeds were accepted. Do something, and your actions would become your prayers.  If you couldn't...well, no need to bother the god.

Bran, however, could and did. He was going to do even more later, but for starters, he needed more information.

The next bird flew out of the dovecote.

***

The knife flashed, piercing the target.

"Great job, Your Grace."

Miranda turned around and let out a broad smile.

“Eric!"

"At your service, Your Grace."

Mirrie shook her head.

"Eric, really..."

They were in the palace's backyard.

Yes, a palace doesn't only have glamorous chambers and gorgeous parks. It also has maintenance facilities,
such as servants' rooms—small, cramped, with low ceilings; utility areas—kitchens, closets, workshops; ponds, a henhouse, a barnyard...

There was also the backyard where Miranda, who knew the palace in and out, currently stood. It was a training yard: not for His Majesty, of course, but palace guards also needed a place to stretch their legs, so they were given a small plot of land with rocks to lift and pillars to climb. There were also shooting targets. Miranda had already done some squats and press-ups and was currently busy throwing knives at the target, clearly imagining Lofrayne's face instead. Dressed in a shirt tied with a leather strap and a plain pair of pants, she didn't look like a viscountess at all; only her emeralds gave her away. She had removed her ring and put it on a chain around her neck but left the earrings on, and the green gems sparkled in her earlobes, as she wore her hair in a braid.

"Do we know anything yet?"

"No," Mirrie replied, sullen. "Nothing. But Papa will get her back, I know!"

Eric nodded.

"Yes. But not straight away."

"Why?" Miranda even stomped her foot. "Aren't you and Leif sailing out today?"

"Yes."

"Papa could—"

"Go with us? No, Your Grace. He cannot."

"But why?" Miranda flared up again.

"Because he's too conspicuous."

Miranda tossed her head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"He's Count Earton, a close friend and confidante of His Majesty. His face is known in Ativerna. What do you think will happen if he sets foot on Avesterian land?"

"He'll get killed?"

"And that is the best-case scenario," Eric said, nodding. "In the worst case, they might capture him to blackmail both him and your mother, Viscountess. Don't you understand this?"

"I do," Miranda said, her shoulders sinking. "But Mama's there...and I can't do anything! Anything, Eric! It drives me crazy!"

"You can take care of the youngest," Eric said. He had never been good with words, but strangely, they came to him easily at that moment. Was that from above? Maybe Olive was watching his servant. Legends said that he could grant anyone a silver tongue. "As for the countess, we'll definitely save her. But first, we need to do recon."

Miranda nodded.

She knew that: knowledge before action. Her mother, her father, and many other people always repeated it to her, even sometimes in different words.

"I'm so scared for her, Eric. So scared..."

The Virman reached out, and Miranda silently put the knife into his palm.

The blade slid the air with a hiss and hit the bullseye, sinking into the wood almost hilt-deep.

"I promise you, Mirrie, we'll get her out. I swear."

The third blade stuck into the target next to the first two.

"I believe you."

It wasn't a blood oath, of course, but it hit home. It was worth believing.

***

For Yda, the morning started off marvelously.

She woke up in a warm bed inside a cozy room. A sweet maid helped her wash up and slip into a cute wine-colored dress, after which she was escorted into the dining hall, where Yda met the sir from the day before and a beautiful lady—his wife.

"Good morning."

Her curtsey wasn't good enough, but at least she tried.

"Good morning, sweetie," Hans said with a smile. "Sit down, let's eat."

"Yes..."

"Uncle Hans. You may call me that."

"Thank you, Uncle Hans."

"You can call me Auntie," his wife chimed in and gave the girl a friendly smile. That finally helped Yda to relax. She realized that nobody was angry with her in that house.

She sat together with the others and ate delicious porridge, meat, and something sweet as well. It was a real embarrassment of riches. Then they washed her face and hands with nice-smelling warm water, wiped it with a sponge, and Uncle Hans gave her a warm cloak, just her size.

"Let's go, moppet."

"Where, Uncle Hans?"

"To Castle Taral. You'll like it there, I promise."

Yda was a little apprehensive. She had no idea what might be in that castle. Still, if Uncle Hans said that everything was going to be all right, it must be true. They will feed her well and never hurt her...right?

"Right," Hans said, nodding. "And I'll be visiting to check up on you. If anything happens, just tell me."

Yda pressed herself close to the kind sir and got a big lollipop from him.

So sweet...

***

The journey was over in a flash. Yda slept a bit and felt a little upset when they reached their destination. But Uncle Hans was already climbing down from his horse, and an incredibly beautiful lady was coming to meet him.

She had blond hair and blue eyes.

"Ingrid, you grow more charming with every day."

"Leir Hans," the blonde said with a smile. Yda was staring at her wide-eyed.

"Who's that little birdie with you?"

True, dark-haired and dark-eyed, Yda looked like a scruffy nestling of a jackdaw.

"This is Yda," Hans said, introducing the girl. "She has nowhere to go, and she won't last long on the street. At least, in Taral...I think with time, she might become a good lacemaker."

"We can always try," Ingrid agreed and knelt down in her gorgeous bright yellow dress, so her eyes would be on the same level as Yda's. "Don't be scared, honey. What is your name?"

"Yda, Milady."

"Auntie Ingrid."

The woman's smile made Yda thaw out, and she felt calm and at ease. Auntie Ingrid wasn't wicked; Yda could see it. She was nice.

"Auntie Ingrid," the girl repeated.

“Good. Let's go. I'll show you your room. It's small, but you're still little, so it will be enough for you. For now, you'll live alone, and later, if you want, you can stay with the girls."

"Yes, Auntie Ingrid."

Hans nodded. The Virman woman got it right. He didn't have to ask her for anything, didn't have to explain... The girl would be protected and cared for. She would grow up together with Virman children; she would get an education...

Basically, she just received a chance to live a long and happy life, and she realized that—she wasn't stupid.

"Uncle Hans, thank you!"

Her small hands joined behind his neck, and she left a sloppy wet kiss on his cheek. Hans patted the girl's hair.

"I'll come to visit you, I promise."

He was going to keep his word.

***

For the first time in more than ten years, Jess had no idea how to look his daughter in the eye. The last time was when he had decided to marry Lilian Earton.

Is it easy, telling a child that they were going to have a new mother? It depends on the person. For Jess, it hadn't come easy.

Still, he did it, and his words became a prophecy. Lily truly became a mother for Miranda. Their bond was so close that even some birth mothers might envy. Miranda adored her stepmother, and Lily would tear anybody to shreds if they dared to mess with her daughter. Jess had realized that when Lily almost killed his mistress.

And he had to tell Mirrie that Lily would be missing for a long time, if not forever. That she was gone. That he had no idea when she would return...

Jess was tortured by doubt as he walked through the palace. When he saw the face of Miranda, who ran out to meet him, he almost groaned.

So many things were written on her face. Hope—had they found her mother? Were they going to? Grief—her mother wasn't there. Surprise—why hadn't Jess found her? Disappointment—how could it be, that was her mother, and he...

It hurt, it hurt a lot. Jess pulled his daughter close.

"Mirrie, we need to talk."

"We do," she agreed.

"How's Nanook doing?"

"He's lying down, mostly. It hurts when he tries to step on the paw," Miranda said, sighing in a very grown-up way. "Tahir's already checked him. He washed the paw, dressed the wound, and said that it probably won't swell. Still, I'm watching him, just in case."

"That’s right."

Jerisson would have loved to talk about the dog the whole day, but who would ever let him? Miranda wasn't used to putting off questions.

"Papa, so what's going on with Mama?"

"She's on a ship to Avester."

"Why?"

"Because we can't prove anything yet..."

"Papa!"

"Mirrie, honey, if we don't find your mother, I'll sail to Avester myself. I promise."

"You can't!"

Miranda wasn't stupid, and her morning conversation with Eric put everything in its place. Lily had never hidden anything from her daughter, either. What was the point? Lying was all about crying wolf. You lie to your child once, twice, and on the third time, they wouldn't believe you. No amount of regret would fix that mistake.

And so, Lily never lied. She told her daughter even the most hard-hitting things as honestly as she could. At most, she simply asked her to keep quiet about this and that, and Miranda did. She kept her word, too. She was going to keep quiet about Avester as well—there was no need to discuss that with anyone, even the people closest to her.

"I don't care. I won't abandon Lilian. And...you know..."

"Mama promised me a brother or a sister. Is this what you're talking about?"

"Yes."

"You can't leave her alone, then!"

Jess patted his daughter's jet black hair.

"I know, sweetie, and I promise you that I won't leave Lilian alone. I will get her back, but going now means starting a war with Avester. His Majesty Entor..."

Girls weren't supposed to say the things that Mirrie had just muttered through her teeth.

Still, Jess pretended not to hear. After all, he would have cursed even worse.

Miranda fell silent and pulled herself together.

"Papa, I'll watch out for the children. But I hope you'll return Mama to us soon."

Jess scooped his girl up and froze. Mirrie, honey...when have you grown up so much? When have you become an adult?

But she was still his baby, his best and brightest.

"Mama will be so proud of you."

He wasn't crying, not at all.

It was just wind...there was such a draft in the palace! How could Richard allow that?!

***

She didn't recognize him.

Ellis Rois was lying on a narrow cot that rocked with the waves, smelling the stale air of the orlop deck and recalling the woman whom Baron Lofrayne had personally escorted to the cabin.

She didn't recognize him.

It had happened three years ago. Just three years ago, Ellis was a leir of Wellster, happy and content with his life...fine, not that content. What is it that every landless noble wants? To get land. Baron Fremont had promised him land if Her Majesty Albitta took the throne. She just needed a little bit of help... A rebellion? How can you say that! Let's call it restoration.

How could returning the throne to a lawful monarch be against the law? Her Majesty Albitta had been pregnant, His Majesty Gardwig had an elder son, and really... For goodness sake, Gardwig was hated by half the country. He had been infringing on the church, had once said that he would make his own dog the aldon, married and divorced at will...

Nobody was even going to dethrone him—just ask him to step away. Duke Alcine simply hadn't expected it, really—that instead of talking, Gardwig would try to resist and grab a weapon. Well, it happened. No more Gardwig. Whatever. Nobody was going to mourn him, would they?

The first time Ellis felt something was amiss was when Milia escaped. Nobody thought that Gardwig's wench could do anything. How could she? She was a country mouse: grey, homely, always pregnant. A sheep! With her full belly, her eyes looking down, her sour face... No beauty, no intelligence, but go figure—somehow, she managed to flee, and the entire army of mercenaries was unable to find her!

It was then when Ellis first heard the name that he remembered. Lilian Earton.

Fine, accidents happen. Milia escaped, but that couldn't last long. That bitch would never get anywhere; she'd be found. But the joke was on him. Princess Maria also escaped, and also with the Eartons' help. Afterward, Milia managed to get to her troops, contact Altres Lort...

The coup became a complete fiasco, and whose fault was that? That was obvious.

Count Lort came first. Milia of Wellster, currently the regent for her young son, came second. But there were other people—including Lilian Earton.

Ellis remembered Baron Fremont cursing at her when he got drunk, when they decided to flee Wellster. Ellis succeeded, but the baron stayed behind, and his skull was probably already sun-bleached. Ellis was still alive, but he wasn't really enjoying his life. It was better than death, of course, but much worse than what he had before—and definitely much worse than what he deserved.

Ellis had bad luck. He quickly ran out of money and had to take up with some mercenaries, but fortune turned its back on him. Twice his group was cut down almost to a man. By some miracle, he survived, but nobody was willing to recruit him anymore. Warriors were even more superstitious than pregnant women.

And so, Ellis had to apply to a ship. Being a sailor...was it a good career for a leir? And he could have been a baron or a count at the court of Her Majesty Albitta. Who was to blame for all his troubles?

That bitch, of course. Lilian Earton.

Well, she wasn't the only one, of course, but the others were beyond his reach. Could he really try taking it out on Altres Lort? Now that would be a kickback! Lilian, however, was an ordinary woman just within his reach.

Ellis rubbed his hands. Just you wait, wretch. I'll find a way to get to you.

So Lofrayne had rented his ship to get Lilian Earton to Avester? Let him. And one night...

Ellis thought it would have to be his shift, or One-Eyed Mackey's, or Monkey Tom's. He would have to plan it out. Still, one thing was certain: Lilian Earton wasn't going to reach Avester alive.

And so, Ellis started mopping the desk, whistling under his nose. The decision had been made. At least one bitch was going to pay for his broken life!

And there was no escape for her.

***

Lily kept vomiting for three days straight. After that, her body finally adapted to being at sea, allowing her to stand up, drink water, and even hold it inside. She even went as far as to try eating a piece of dry bread soaked in water.

Yep, it was a trick. If you tried chewing a dry rusk, you could say goodbye to all your teeth forever. Hardtacks and biscuits also often had weevils in them, too, or rather their larvae. It would be much better to soak the rusk so they could get out, or she'd risk eating bread with meat. Lily was quite accepting of Chinese and African cuisine, but eating insects was a step too far for her.

Anthony visited her a couple of times.  He brought some books, cloth, a needle and thread, and even scissors...made of gilded silver! Lily would have to waste an hour to even cut a sheet of fabric with it; stabbing someone to death with them was out of the question. It wasn't even funny. She might spend a week poking a body with them without damaging vital organs. It was a real torture instrument. You'd exhaust a person but never kill them.

As Lofrayne's visits always caused the countess to start retching violently, probably because of her nerves, he never stayed in her cabin for longer than a few minutes. An attempt to send a doctorus resulted in a furious growl and emptying the waste bucket right on the "clyster pipe." Really, why should she be soft on her abductors? The doctorus hadn't expected such aggression, so the countess, to her utmost delight, was left without any medical help.

But on the fourth day, the nausea subsided, and Lily was finally able to move. She put her hand on her stomach, sensing a pulse beneath her fingers. Was that the celiac artery? But Lily was quite convinced that she already felt her baby.

"Don't fret. We'll tough it out, kid."

She looked over the cabin with the eyes of a mostly healthy person who had to spend some time there until she could escape. Yeah, even a canary cage had more space. Maybe she should lose weight. Not that it would really help, unless she was willing to turn into a dried fish to be eaten as a snack.

Well then. She would have to sort that place out.

When the baron entered the cabin that evening, he was quite surprised. Lily had picked through the stuff in the closet, made the bed, fixed the curtains... A ribbon there, a patch there, but the results were obvious. The place seemed cozy and fit for living.

Lilian herself decided to recall the bad mannerisms of a medical student and didn't even turn her head to the visitor. She was busy.

She was going to escape from Lofrayne, and how was she to accomplish that? Quickly, preferably. Jokes aside, what was the most important part of an escape?

The right clothes. Have you ever tried getting in a boat in a riding habit? Or walking along the shore? Lily wasn't going to even try. To make her escape, she would need the right clothes and shoes, and that's what she was going to make.

As for footwear, she at least had her trusty old boots, which she was quite fond of. Still, it was better to play it safe. Maybe she should prepare some footwraps or stitch a few pairs of socks... She also needed pants, a shirt, and a jerkin of some kind. Lily's riding outfit looked great, no argument, but after three days of fun with the waste bucket, it lost most of its shine while acquiring a certain stench. She needed plain comfortable clothes that didn't restrict mobility.

Therefore, she was busy drawing a pattern of oversized pants. She knew her measurements...well, mostly. An inch here, an inch there—it didn't matter.

Length could be adjusted after the fitting, and as for the width, it was better to be generous. There was enough fabric, and it's not like she had paid for it. She hadn't asked to be abducted, but they did it anyway. Let them pay.

Realizing that he was being ignored, the baron tapped the walls with his knuckles. He was rewarded with a vacant look of the green eyes.

"What is it?"

"I see you're feeling better, Your Grace."

"Through your prayers, no doubt."

"Oh, yes, I prayed for you..."

"How about offering a sacrifice for my health? The Virmans do that. One goat might just be enough," Lily couldn't help but quip.

"A goat?"

"Yes, thrown overboard."

Anthony finally got the hint and turned crimson. Still, he held back. After all, she hadn't called him a goat directly, and intonation wasn't much evidence.

"What are you doing?"

"Patternmaking. For sewing," Lily said, staring at the fabric with a thoughtful expression. "After all, you didn't think of my wardrobe when you kidnapped me."

He couldn’t object to that. Saying, "I wasn't sure if the abduction would succeed" would look stupid.

"This isn't Mariella production, of course..."

"I am Mariella." Lily couldn't resist paraphrasing Louis XIV. Unlike him, she wasn't a state, but she did have her small trading empire.

"Undoubtedly," Anthony agreed. "And I'll be happy to visit you in Avester."

Lily shook her head.

"Why do you think, Baron, that I'll stay in Avester?"

"Your Grace," Tony said and gave her a reproachful look, realizing that the situation was much graver than he had thought. He was deceived by the lack of hysterics, tears, screaming, and pleas typical for any woman in such circumstances. Lilian hadn't given up. She didn't accept her fate. She simply decided to change the outcome at the first opportunity. That's why she was so calm—why waste her strength on crying?

"You must realize that His Majesty Entor—"

"His Majesty's plans don't interest me in the slightest," Lily snapped.

Tony shook his head.

"Your Grace, you'd better not say anything like that to His Majesty. Our ruler can be...brash in his decisions."

Lily shrugged.

"I have no desire to meet your ruler, so his personality doesn't matter to me."

"I suppose only his desires matter."

"He's your ruler. Satisfy his desires yourself," Lily said dismissively.

She wasn't even trying to be rude; she just said what was on her mind, and if someone had a wrong impression... Well, it happened.

Tony turned red, then crimson. Still, killing a valuable captive would be counter-intuitive. Better to deliver her to the king and let His Majesty deal with her himself. Anthony would get his reward in any case—after all, he did get the countess to Avester, even if without her consent.

Well, that's how it worked out. If she were more agreeable, that voyage would have been so much nicer for both of them.

But it was time to change the subject.

"Will you have dinner, Lilian?"

Lily winced. Still, refusing food was stupid. Starving and weak, she wouldn't be able to escape. Complaining about his manner of addressing her would be just as silly, too. They could call her whatever they wished, even a Rust Bucket. All she could do was to give as good as she got.

"Yes, you can bring my food to the cabin."

The baron realized her implication, and he clearly didn't like being compared to a waiter. His eyes became dark, like the stormy sea, instead of their usual light green color.

"Won't you keep us company?"

"Us?"

"Me and the captain with his mates."

"Hmm...aren't captives supposed to sit still in their place?"

Lilian didn't really want to go, and her voice made it clear.

"You're not a captive. You're my treasured guest."

"I see. And how much am I worth as a treasure?"

The baron frowned.

"More than enough."

"Then tell your men that your guest is in a mood and doesn't want to see anyone."

The baron shrugged.

“I can’t. You must understand, Countess, I don't want to displease the men..."

"And I have no wish to please them," Lilian retorted. She thought that it was better if they had to persuade her.

She did want to have a look at the ship, find out who the other people were and what could be expected from them. However, if the baron realized that, she would get locked in the cabin until they reached the shore, no doubt about that. That man didn't seem like a small-time sadist, but she had already trampled his pride enough, both figuratively and literally. He had never been her friend in the first place, anyway. Lily didn't want that.

She didn't need that ship. She didn't need the baron. Leave her in peace in the cabin! Get gone!

She managed to convince herself of that well enough to start feeling frustrated. Why were they dragging her somewhere? She had no desire to talk to anyone. Scram!

What is the most important thing about acting? Believing in what you're trying to feign. You must be, not just act. That's why Lily kept petulantly tapping the scissors against the table. Baron, begone! Let me return to my business!

Anthony furrowed his eyebrows.

"Your Grace, I urge you to join us for dinner."

Lily struck the table with the scissors.

"I don't want to."

"I insist."

The countess hissed but stood up.

"Sir Lofrayne. If you abducted me, then at least permit me to travel without seeing your disgusting face!"

Lofrayne broke into a nasty smile. There was no doubt—he wasn't going to do that.

"Your Grace, you can continue to starve."

Lily didn't argue the benefits of therapeutic fasting, but she had already spent three days doing just that.

"Hopefully, my presence won't do you any good."

"Grace us with your company, Countess."

"They say, seasickness is contagious," Lily retorted. Maybe they would believe that and get off her back? But even Lofrayne wasn't stupid enough to fall for that. Shame.

"I insist, Your Grace."

Lily sighed, pushed her drawings aside, and stood up.

"I hope you all get scabs..."

The last word was so quiet that Anthony pretended to be deaf. And still...

What a bitch!

***

The ship was far from a cruise liner—at least, that was the only thing Lilian Earton could say after ten minutes of examining it. The corridors were narrow, the ceilings were low, and the messroom was just big enough for two smallish cats. Cramming dogs there would be cruel; Nanook and Lou-Lou definitely wouldn't fit.

The company at the table wasn't numerous—or especially respectable. Even in the dim light of the ship's lantern, Lily could see that the cabin was rundown, the table scratched with knife marks, as if someone had taken pains to ruin it, the cookware dirty, and the residents...

Well, with their looks, professional beggars from the Twenty-first Century would buy out their entire wardrobe. Everything was smeared with grease, shabby, and patched-up. It made sense that nobody would wear their holiday clothes to a shift, but wasn't it customary to change before dinner? Fine, to hell with clothes, but they could have at least washed up or brushed their beards!

Pirates? Those weren't sea dogs rather than unlucky coyotes, although still dangerous and mean. They could bite people to death, too. Coyotes might be considered cowardly, but if they formed a pack... Smart, cunning, and vicious, they would easily kill a human.

At the moment, six men were sitting at the table. The baron himself, the captain of the ship, the navigator, the boatswain, and the pater. Well, and Lilian.

Lily cast an ice-cold glare at everyone, probing them. After all, she had to live next to those people for a few weeks.

The captain was short of stature and had a face resembling a baked apple. He seemed good-natured, but his eyes gave him away: cold, cruel, and dead. Usually, brown eyes seemed warm, but he was an exception, like an autumn leaf frozen in ice.

"Captain Jock Arran," Anthony Lofrayne spoke up, starting the introductions.

"Your Grace," the captain said and stood up, making an awkward bow. Lily slowly lowered her head but didn't say anything.

"Gaston Revier, navigator."

A man in his early thirties, somewhat rakish. He had black hair, sleeked down enough to blend with his skull, slightly bulging eyes, a thin mustache, and a fervent look on his face. Did he think himself a lady-killer?

Lily looked at him as if he was nothing, making a point of it. If he really was such a ladies' man, the worst thing she could do was show weakness. Ignoring was the only way to treat such people. Men loved women who acted disinterested. Lily had often witnessed that at court.

The point was not to overdo it: not make him angry and also make it clear that while the fortress was strong and formidable, everything was possible with the right siege.

It seemed to work. His dark eyes flashed with interest. He didn't say anything out loud, of course, but the baron was close. Later, however, when he would leave...

"Sen Relar, the ship's doctorus."

Lily looked at him with a measure of interest. When he had visited her, she didn't care about any examinations or conversations. She was so busy puking her guts out that she felt that her liver was about to fall into that bucket together with her gall bladder.

The doctor remembered her, however, and pretty well. He clearly wasn't happy to get a new patient, even a potential one.

Most of all, he resembled a withered string bean. He was in his fifties, all crooked, shriveled, and seemingly uninteresting.

What about his professional skills? Maybe she had just insulted a good man with those thoughts?

Lily decided to ask him for a checkup later. Or she could do it immediately. Did it really matter when her reconnaissance would start?

"I hope you have something for my headache. All this rocking is making me crazy..."

The doctorus glanced at Lily the same way she had looked at the navigator.

"Women shouldn't sail. It's bad luck."

Lily snorted. No, she hadn't insulted a good man. If anything, she hadn't insulted a bad one enough.

"It's not like I asked to be here. I'm ready to go ashore any place, any time, preferably alone."

The baron squeezed her fingers.

"Your Grace, you'll have to put up with it a little bit longer."

"Yes," Lily agreed grimly. "Aldonai only knows how I'm suffering."

She threw a sidelong glance at the fingers clenched around her elbow. Her eyes were so expressive that Anthony almost jerked his hand back, afraid she would bite. Still, he pulled himself together, escorted the lady to her place, and sat down next to her.

"I hope you won't mind gracing our meals with your presence."

"What if I do?"

"I'm sure you won't," the baron stressed.

Lily snorted once again.

"Prisoners can't pick their cells, can they?"

"I prefer the term 'dear guests.'"

"Oh, those guests will cost dearly," Lily snapped back.

The dinner passed to a snide banter between the countess and the baron. The captain and the doctor kept quiet, while the navigator kept trying to clumsily compliment her.

The pater barely said anything, other than consecrating the food and blessing everyone after the meal.

Lily couldn't resist.

"Your Holiness, tell me, what's your view of abducting people?"

The pater looked at her from under his eyebrows.

"Everything done by Aldonai is for the best."

"I hope you'll still be thinking that while hanging on the gallows," she replied, baring her teeth. Then she went back to her cabin.

Really, what else had she expected? She was among enemies.

Whatever. The worse for her enemies. Let's start with the simple things: clothes and footwear.

Chapter 9

The Rosebud brothel was an elite establishment with a select clientele. Hans had never once visited it—not when he was a leir and not after becoming a baron. At first, he didn't have any money, and then, any desire. He had a wife he loved; why would he want to walk out on her with some harlots? Not to mention the risk of catching something. Plus, he felt a bit squeamish.

On the other hand, that brothel had a doctorus, and the girls were treated well enough. There were all types—some well-educated and well-mannered. Some were even virgins... They all had different circumstances. Some had been starving and decided that death could wait, deciding to earn their living in a very specific way.

After that, their fates varied. The smartest girls became kept women. That was also prostitution, but only for one master at a time, and after changing a few in a row, you could make a small fortune and leave the city. Life was cheaper in the countryside, and nobody knew how the money had been made.

Those who weren't as smart might gradually go downhill, switching an elite establishment for a plainer one and ending up in a waterside brothel. The last stage was looking for clients on the streets and servicing them right there for a glass of cheap liquor or a piece of bread.

Scary? Such was life. Hans had witnessed that time and time again, and that's why he treasured his house so much. He had never talked to his wife about his work. Her work was different. He loved listening about the business in Castle Taral, about the lace, about Countess Earton, about the house and the children. Yet he would never drag home the filth he had to bathe in every day. He simply couldn't, physically. Even imagining bringing up that...woman...while talking to his wife felt impossible.

The mistress of the Rosebud was charming, even twice as much for her age. She was already in her forties—a venerable age—but there were barely any wrinkles on her face or grey in her hair.

Lily could have easily explained to Hans the magic of make-up, but she wasn't there. And really, what did it matter what a madame looked like? Whatever her appearance, she was a nasty creature that dealt in human goods. A wretch and a murderer. Or do you think it's possible to avoid bloodshed in a trade like that? One cannot live in a cesspit without soiling themselves, and Hans almost felt a certain reek coming through the expensive perfume.

Logic told him it was impossible, but the impression stayed. If interviewing a witness didn't require certain finesse, Hans would have ignored politeness and used a flask of smelling salts.

On the other hand, if that viper had something to do with the murder, he could send her to be interrogated...maybe even by torture. That thought cheered him up. Hans gave her a wide smile and bowed slightly. Not too low, after all, he was a nobleman, but she was still a lady. The lady appreciated his gesture and bared her teeth in response, vividly resembling a rabid rat or a fox.

"Madam Emma."

"Sir Tremain, I'm glad to see you in my humble establishment. What girls do you prefer?"

Hans glared at the madame. Was she trying to bribe him? Or did she think that he really could...

He barely managed to suppress the desire to retch, but not the following flash of anger, which left a burning sensation in his stomach.

"The talkative ones, Madam Emma."

The madame quickly got the hint. But who would ever like that?

"Unfortunately, Baron Tremain, the girls in my establishment aren't taught to talk."

“Oh, really?

"Customers prefer servile girls, not mouthy ones."

That made sense.

"Then how about you talk to me, Madam Emma?"

"What do you want to know?"

"The truth about the girl you sold at an auction."

The madame shrugged.

"Trust me, Baron, we don't do this kind of thing here..."

Hans was already at the end of his rope, and those words made him finally fly off the handle. He bent over the table toward the madame and hissed furiously enough to make all the cobras of the Vari Khanganat jealous.

"Do you really think I'm joking, woman? In two hours, I'll get His Majesty's permission to close your fleshpot down Maldonaya's nethers, and send you running through the streets while getting lashes, shaved and with a bare ass!"

His words were convincing enough to make Madam Emma waver. Just for a second, but still.

"I'm not doing anything illegal."

"I don't care about your small business," Hans said, having calmed down a little. "I'm just interested in one specific customer—the one who bought the girl. You must know which one."

The lady nodded. Hans stared at her like a cat watching a very fat mouse.

"If we can come to an agreement, I'll leave you alone. If not...nobody will stop me from questioning the girls and sending invitations to your clients to watch you run. They, by the way, have wives and families. You'll be buried in a trash heap, wretch."

It was a serious threat. Visiting a brothel was routine; it was almost expected of a nobleman. But making that public?

Those men really did have wives, children, business partners... Some things were considered simply indecent. And if a gentleman's secret predilections were divulged to the entire world...

That's what the brothels were for: hiring girls to do the things a man couldn't do with his wife in their bedroom. After all, he would have to live with that wife for years after. She had a family to complain to and a dowry... Really, lots of hurdles.

With a whore, he didn't have to restrain himself. He could do whatever he wanted, and her opinion didn't matter.

The madame turned pale. Hans let out a slow nod.

"Let's talk."

"Let's talk, Baron," the lady agreed. As a former prostitute herself, she knew very well that every act had an expiration date, or she risked her own wellbeing.

No need to push the man over the edge.

"Wonderful. Tell me about the auctions, then."

Madam Emma sighed and started talking.

***

In a time like this, it's really to make a living for an honest woman. You must realize that.

A dishonest woman didn't have it much easier, either. What was the difference between them, though?

Just a little piece of skin in an intimate place, which was somehow highly valued by men. Rumors had it that having sex with a virgin could restore a man's virility, cure certain illnesses, maybe even prolong his youth. It was silly, of course, and there weren't enough maidens for everyone, in any case. But why not make use of a superstition?

That's what Madam Emma was doing. Sometimes, she procured girls for her auction herself, and sometimes, one of her helpers did that.

"Don't get me wrong, Baron," the broad complained, all but wringing her hands bedecked in rings and bracelets, "life is so hard. The taxes are rising, and so are the prices. You need to buy a house, your husband might be drinking, or your mother sick... Things happen, and you always need money. I'm doing Aldonai's work for those girls. What's waiting for them in their home village? Nothing good. At best, they might get to marry some fat slob. Giving birth every year, early aging, a quick death..."

"I'm giving them a chance," she continued. A chance to meet men they might never get to meet otherwise. A chance to make a life, to escape poverty, to help their families, to help their loved ones, to provide for their future! If they aren't stupid, they will make use of this opportunity, definitely."

"How noble of you!"

"I'm glad that you realize it," the madame replied, a serious expression on her face. "It is noble. Yes, not all girls might make it, but I'm trying to be honest with them. I warn them that their success depends on their effort and the ability to learn."

Of course, it did. Hans imagined that nasty woman getting her hand on his wife or daughter and almost gritted his teeth. Lilian Earton deserved a monument for getting the girls out of Altver. That bitch, however...

But not every girl could be saved. Lilian had rescued some, he saved Yda, but how many girls had been caught by those vicious claws? How many were lost forever? How many ended up in the hands of perverted bastards?

Yes, she was telling the truth. She simply ignored such trifles as the tastes of men buying women. Those weren't natural. No woman would ever agree to that willingly. Some of those hobbies...

Hans had seen a lot while traveling the country, and he would have loved to forget a few things, but he couldn't. Total dependence on the buyer, complete obedience in life and death... And yes, death was often quick in coming.

More often than not, those men hid an iron fist in a velvet glove. Still, Hans didn't say any of that. He just asked her to continue.

The girls sold could be examined right on stage by a doctorus or any volunteer. The money went either to the girl herself or to her family, at her discretion. Sollie—that was her name—hadn't come there to carouse. She didn't need the money, either. Or, rather, it wasn't her who needed the money.

Her father had died two years before, and her mother and siblings were on the breadline. Sollie couldn't bear it anymore.  She made the decision to be auctioned off. Yes, that was a big risk, but the money, except for the fifty percent fee taken by Madam Emma, went straight to her family. The mother was very happy; it would allow them to fix their house and buy a cow. They would survive, and they wouldn't even have to buy any of the youngest ones. You can see for yourself, Baron.

Hans nodded. He was going to do that anyway. If the girl had truly done that to help her family, the least he could do was to make sure that they would be all right. He felt sorry for the girl. She hadn't gotten the chance to truly live.

Auctions were usually held once a month on a full moon. Everyone knew about that.

An invitation?

Why, Baron, there are no invitations to such events. The men who wish to take part come unannounced.

Not everyone was welcome, however—only those who looked presentable. It was a respectable place; nobody needed a scandal.

Of course, everyone wore masks and cloaks. No need to reveal their names and faces. Their money was always checked, though. Even one fake coin, and you could kiss goodbye your chance to buy a girl. The prices were different, too.

You could pay to take the girl right on stage and pass her on to the others, to buy her for a night or a month, or to lead her away forever—the last option cost the most. It was best not to think how much money that customer had given for Sollie.

It was a fortune. As for the rest...

No, Madam Emma didn't see or touch anything.

Had she met that client?

She probably had. He had come a few times before, buying time with Lollie. They played something, and then he left. What did they play?

Why did it matter?

The girls didn't need treatment afterward, that's what counts.

Call Lollie?

Of course, she will, and if Baron Tremain didn't mind, she would never stay for the interview...

The baron didn't mind...well, maybe just a little.

***

Lollie came almost straight away.

In the light of day, the girl was a miserable sight. She had a plump body, round cheeks, dark hair, and brown eyes.

Was she beautiful? Hans wouldn't call her that; the look in her eyes spoiled everything. It was haunted, timid, pliant...

"Sit down, Lollie," he said. "We need to talk."

She threw a glance at Madam Emma—actually, two glances, as Hans noted, and the madame sighed deeply. Then she nodded to the girl.

"Lollie, answer the truth to any of Baron Tremain's questions. It's important."

"Yes, Madam."

"Lollie, Madam Emma said you had a client..."

Hans spent an hour on the interrogation. Madam Emma hadn't lied. The girls were present at the auction, helping to rile up the customers and relieve their stress. They served drinks and food and were quiet and obedient.

Well, not every girl was like that, of course, but Lollie was a good worker—that's why she had been allowed into the inner sanctum. She knew the man who had bought the girl. He had visited her several times over the last year...ten, maybe more.

She wouldn't call his tastes especially perverted. He did like it a little bit rough, but it was nothing compared to some of the other clients. He didn't have any specific inclinations.

She never saw his face, but that wasn't surprising, either. Masks were handed out at the entry to the brothel. Wearing them wasn't mandatory or anything, but that client made a point to always put it on.

He had pepper-grey hair, and judging by his body, was in his forties. Still, he was well-groomed: expensive underwear, silken breeches, even perfume. The man clearly took good care of himself and spared no expense.

As for distinctive marks, he had two scars: a long one on his left thigh and another on the left shoulder. The lower one seemed like a chop mark; the upper one seemed to be caused by a stab. The girl had never asked where they might come from; that wasn't a proper question in her line of work. Curiosity killed the cat.

Bracelets? Rings? He definitely wore some, going by the pale spots on his hands, as if he removed them before visiting the brothel. His voice seemed ordinary.

Hans wanted to howl in despair. How could he find a man with a description like that? It seemed impossible.

But what about his carriage?

Yet his final hope was ripped away. The murderer's carriage was boarded shut and was inconspicuous otherwise. Any man could own such, rich and poor alike.

No, that wasn't the right approach. Hans decided to look for the coach and headed straight to the stable. Another dead end: the man had usually come to spend the night and simply let the carriage go. Nobody at the stable ever got to talk to the driver. At dawn, the carriage came back to take him home. Its arrival was always prompt.

Yes, looking for a man based on a description like that was a lost cause.

Hans asked Madam Emma to keep a close eye on Lollie. If anything happened to the girl, he would personally take care of the brothel. Nobody would like his methods, but he promised a lot of fire and screams, after which nothing would remain of the building itself—and possibly the madam herself.

Second, if the aforementioned customer ever returned to the brothel, she was to rush straight to Hans and inform him of that, doing her best to apprehend the customer. If she didn't... Well, see item one.

Hans wasn't going to be soft. Too bad that all the threats in the world couldn't lead him to the killer.

***

"Lady Miranda, Nanook's not eating anything."

The servants were worried about the countess as well, even if they tried to hang in there. No surprises there.

Lily was a good mistress. She paid wages on time—and more than many of her peers. She never quibbled over trifles, didn't stick her nose into the kitchen, didn't count every penny, yet somehow managed to be assiduous enough and save up to reward them with small gifts on the occasion of a holiday. The Earton house was a nice place to work.

She hated thievery and impertinence, but then, who liked them? She checked the bills but could overlook tiny faults.

In her house, nobody had to worry about their honor, expect to have the master or his guests make passes at you, or stress out about being killed. Like, say, Duke....shh, no need to call him by his name. He was famous for getting drunk every other day and throwing empty bottles at his staff. He was a straight shooter, too.  He usually gave a few coins as an apology, but it was all very hit or miss. One poor fellow had been hit in the head and died two days later without regaining consciousness.

Then there was a count who loved hunting. If he found you guilty of something, he'd release you into the woods and send his hounds after you. You could run, of course, but if you weren't fast enough... That was your problem.

Servants were often slapped, whipped at the stables, underpaid, reprimanded for every copper spent and every dust speck missed...  Nothing like that ever happened at the Earton house, and its staff held their masters in high regard. But Her Grace was missing—the servants knew that; they knew everything. And her dog...

The maid was trembling but kept staring Miranda right in the eye.

"Aldonai!" Viscountess Earton pushed aside an unfinished drawing and stood up. "Thank you for telling me. Annie?"

“Yes, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Annie."

A silver coin fell into the maid's palm.

Annie shook her head.

"Your Grace, I wasn't asking—"

"I know. I'm not buying you off. Just get yourself a nice new ribbon or something."

Unflinching, Miranda left the room and headed to her parents' chambers. When her mother was home, her father always slept there. But she was gone, and it hurt him to even go inside. Mirrie had seen his face...

Stop! Don't think about bad stuff! Mama will be back; it cannot be otherwise!

Mirrie entered her parents' bedroom. Nanook was lying on the rug next to Lilian Earton's side of the bed, his nose stuck in her slippers. His eyes... Who says dogs cannot feel distress?

Miranda didn't even realize how she ended up on the rug next to the dog.

"Come on, boy..."

The "boy" was maybe even bigger than the viscountess, but she didn't care about such nonsense.

"My sweetie, my fluffy miracle..."

Nanook didn't even move an ear.

"Hey, look at me!" Miranda flared up and pulled at the aforementioned ear.

He couldn't care less. Virman dogs were nice and all, but to make them notice you, you often had to hit them with a log. Alas, there were no logs in sight, but Miranda decided to avoid overdoing it.

"Nanook, she'll be back. I promise."

Silence. Even his eyes stayed still.

Miranda waved her hand, stretched on the rug, and hugged the dog, pressing closer.

"Nanook, honey, Mama's alive, and she will be back. Just wait a little, and she'll come here, so you and she could go for evening walks again. You're such a good boy, you ran to Taral just in time, or they wouldn't notice she was missing until the evening. You raised the alarm, but now, you need to eat and recover so you can wait for Mama. Papa will return her, he's strong, and he's smart, and as for that nasty Lofrayne, we'll bite him together. You can do it, can’t you? Just look at your fangs and your claws, you're so much stronger than me..."

As Miranda whispered some nonsense into his ear, she realized that she was crying. Then she noticed something else.

Nanook had turned his huge muzzle to her and watched her closely as if asking if she was telling the truth.

Of course, it is, just live on! Then we can deal with any enemy, I promise!

He ran his wet tongue over the girl's face, wiping away her tears. Nanook was cheering her up in his own way. After all, she was his mistress' pup. While his mistress was gone, he would take care of the girl.

Don't cry, little one. We'll bite all the enemies, we will.

Miranda pushed a bowl of water toward Nanook and stared adoringly at him drinking it and then swallowing a large piece of meat in no time, crunching the bone.

"Imagine it's Lofrayne," Mirrie whispered to him.

The bone crunched again. The dog was very expressive.

She buried herself in his thick fur.

"Arrf," Lou-Lou grumbled, pressing against her from the other side.

"Hang in there, guys. We just need to wait."

Miranda believed in her words, but her heart was heavy with longing.

Mama, where are you?

***

Patternmaking and sewing really weren't complicated, especially if you had the entire set of tailor's tools. Tape, needles, a good pair of scissors, a piece of chalk to draw on fabric, a nice table...

Things were quite different if you had only half of that set, and the table was reeling in tune with the whole damn ship.

She was truly surrounded by one-hundred-percent bastards!

That's what Lily realized two hours after starting her work. The pant legs ended up of different lengths. Lily somehow managed to use several pins to make them look even and started sewing, occasionally cursing as she pricked her fingers with the needle and fondly recalling her sewing machine, the old one with a pedal. She would have loved to have anything, really, but she had to use her hands.

Pants were a necessity, so Lily kept sewing and cursing, sewing and cursing.

Baron Lofrayne's arrival pulled her away from that important task.

“Your Grace...”

Lily glared at the baron, but staring him down was impossible.

"I came to escort you to breakfast."

Lily silently stood up from the table.

"How did you sleep?"

"Wonderful," she replied, completely honest. "Early in the morning, I dreamed that you were hanged."

"Well then, it means I'll get to live a hundred years," Tony retorted.

"You won't. I'll take care of that."

"Your Grace, why hate me this much? Trust me; in a couple of years, you'll be grateful. It will all be behind you. His Majesty Entor appreciates beauty and wit..."

Lily wanted to wince. So the indoctrination had started. After all, if she expressed her true opinion of Entor in front of His Majesty, it wouldn't be a good look for Anthony. Therefore, he needed to turn her around, make her calm down and submit to the role of a trophy.

Really, if Lilian were an ordinary medieval woman, he wouldn't have any problems. Ladies around there were meek and submissive, taught to obey since childhood and used to changing hands. Women, lands... Lily had read about that once, and it chilled her to the bone. How was that possible?

A woman had lived with a husband; their land was attacked, all of their men killed. She was raped, her husband and half of their children murdered, and she...started to live with another husband. She accepted it, calmed down...

That was their reality. Ativerna and Avester were no better.

But Lily was a woman of her time, and she had not a hint of submission in her. So she was hit on her cheek? She would turn the other one, and then duck under the blow and punch the attacker in the liver. How could that person be a fellow man if they did such things to her? If they weren't, no need to be soft!

It was much easier for Lily to think that evil had to be punished in this world without putting it off and passing the job to Aldonai. After all, he was far away and had important things to take care of. People could restore justice with their own hands.

Let's say you were wronged, and you forgave the perpetrator. What would happen next? You'd be considered a doormat and walked all over until you're dragged through the mud. Really, in this case, you'd be committing two sins. First, you hadn't stopped a man who would go on to do even more harm while also risking a much stronger retaliation than the one you'd given them. Second, you failed your loved ones, as who would protect them if everyone trampled over you? Nobody, and that would be wrong.

The conclusion was simple. Bad people were to be punished here, in this world, and get their just rewards right away, to the full extent. Honestly, Lily would have loved to drown the entire ship. Too bad, there was no gunpowder, and she wouldn't risk preparing trinitroglycerin—that stuff was way too unstable. One wrong move, and your legs would be on Jupiter and your ears on Saturn.

Well, she also had no materials and no place to do that, but a girl could dream.

She hated all of it so much! If only she could kill all of those bastards, slowly and with feeling, drowning them in the sea and eating popcorn as they went to the bottom. And then, she would set the disgusting ship on fire and sink it together with them!

She was on the end of her tether, not to mention her gurgling stomach, the numb feeling in her head, and her trembling legs. Naturally, the baron's rants about a better life in Avester fell on deaf ears as if he didn't say a word.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner onboard were carbon copies of each other: salted beef that really should have been salted better or at least boiled, going by its stale odor, and hardtack that needed to be soaked in water. Too bad there was no water—only watered-down wine.

Lily began protesting at the second meal, and she with good reason, too. She was pregnant, and drinking alcohol, especially in the early stages, promised nothing good for the child.

But how was she to drink stale water? They clearly didn't store it in oak barrels. Those barrels probably had enough dirt in them to grow potatoes! Did she want to be "cleansed" from another end, too? No, thank you! Diarrhea was the last thing she needed.

Lily fiddled with the cup.

"Your Grace, it's good wine."

"I don't like wine," Lily said with a sigh, realizing that she had to take measures. "Do you have any water? Clean water?"

The men exchanged looks, an age-old expression on their faces—the one men used at the sight of women's whims.

Ugh, now she's going to scoop my brain out with a dessert spoon...

Men probably had the same expression even in the times when people took shelter in caves and never knew about dessert spoons. What a pity party! Stupid females, asking for God knows what—a purse made of pink dinosaur leather or T-Rex skin boots.

They did have water, though.

"I think you could boil some water for Countess Earton," Lily decreed. "If you don't mind, I'll be visiting the galley every day and take some boiled water."

The captain frowned.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Furthermore," Lily added, ignoring his question, "I'll need a funnel, some wool, and some coal."

She was perfectly capable of making a simple filter to avoid getting poisoned.

As for the salted meat, Lily wasn't going to eat it, either. She remembered how it was prepared. The ingredients were good, actually: meat, spices, onions, carrots, beer... Boil for four hours, pack in a barrel, and leave them. There was a catch, though. Salted beef was considered edible only after two years. Lily wasn't going to risk her stomach. She wanted to survive.

The Virmans had also told her, with utterly horrified faces, how that beef was prepared after leaving the barrel. First, it was soaked in water for a day and a night—otherwise, it was impossible to chew it. During this process, it lost half of its weight in the form of liquid dirt. That dirt was drained and sold off to be made into candles or lubricants for the ship.

Enjoy. No wonder Lilian didn't want to eat that.

The porridge looked mostly edible, except for an occasional flake, but she could spit that out. The butter and cheese reeked of rot. Either they had gone bad, or the barrels they were stored in hadn't been washed in forever.

There was also poultry on the table and several eggs. The captain had bought a small henhouse for his personal use. Lily tried eating a chicken leg roasted until it resembled mostly coal, but when she sank her teeth into that meat, she barely managed to pull them out. Nope, let them eat that.

Incidentally, everyone present, other than Baron Lofrayne and her, had a severe case of missing teeth. No wonder, considering their diet.

Couldn't they at least prepare some sauerkraut to be stored in barrels? She wasn't brave enough to try the eggs, not knowing how they were cooked. Most likely, boiled in wine—but she didn't want to take risks.

What if she got salmonellosis? In such conditions, it was a death sentence, especially for the baby.

"Why isn't there any fish on the table?"

The men looked at each other and winced. Old sea dogs like them, for some reason, renounced eating fish.

Now a rat was a different story: freshly caught, flayed, and roasted. A delicacy! After all, it was a hunting trophy. A real man ate what he personally caught.

It wasn't like that on Virman ships, by the way, although they had their own problems. Still, Virmans weren't biased like that. They had no problems eating fish, catching it, cooking it into soup, braising, curing, even eating it raw... And their water was much better, too. It wasn't that hard to take a few sheepskins and some coal to make a filter. Why couldn't Avester or Ativerna do the same? It was a mystery.

Lily really didn't want to go on a diet, but it looked like she had no choice.

"I hope you've removed all worms from the hardtack," she said casually.

Anthony shook his head.

"Your Grace, how do you know all of that?"

Lily dangled the hardtack, demonstrating the distinctive holes.

"I can see weevil marks. So?"

"We soaked it," the captain said through his teeth. "Everything for you, Your Grace."

"You're so thoughtful," Lilian said, grinning. "I'll ask His Majesty Richard to replace your hanging with a beheading. It's nowhere near as painful."

For some reason, nobody at the table rejoiced at her generous promise, and the dinner conversation died out.

Lily snickered and started chewing on the hardtack.

***

"Your Grace, may I?"

"You may not," Lily snapped.

Anthony slipped into the cabin and sat down on the trunk without asking.

"Your Grace, don't think of me as an enemy. I'm doing everything I can for you. I'm trying to make your trip as comfortable as possible..."

"This trip is your fault. I can't be grateful to a thief and a villain," Lily flared up.

"I'm following the orders of my king..."

"Not for free."

"Your Grace, don't get me wrong..."

Lily sighed.

"Baron, I don't want to get you in any way. You're disgusting. Whether you stay here or get away to Maldonaya's nethers, I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you or hear you. If I had my way, I would have thrown you out to become fish food. Have I made myself clear?"

"Countess, why don't you change your mind? We still have a long journey ahead..."

"Baron, are you insane? Change my mind? I have only one wish—to drown you in a lavatory! You repulse me! I've never seen a more disgusting man in my life! Even if you were the last man in the world, I'd rather die a virgin!"

Anthony's smile disappeared.

So he didn’t expect that? Well, he asked for it.

"Lilian, it's your fault!"

"For what? Not being born in Avester?"

"No! Lilian, if you had accepted my offer..."

Lily burst out laughing right in his face.

"Who do you think you are, a vision of beauty? Any woman's desire? A style icon?"

The baron didn't get the last expression, but her point was clear. He seemed shocked. How could he be refused? But why?

Lily shook her head.

"What the hell are you thinking? You're an ordinary pretentious snotnose! Only a woman with no self-respect could be seduced by you! What's so special about you? Your looks? Nothing else? You're empty."

Anthony seemed offended.

"As if your husband—"

"I saw my husband go through fire and ice," Lily snapped. "You would have pissed yourself in fear if you ever found yourself in a situation like that."

"What do you know about my bravery?"

Lily shrugged.

"Only a coward would abduct a woman and pin the blame for his infirmity on her."

"You never gave me a chance."

"And I won't. You make me nauseous."

"You're just seasick."

Lily's mouth twisted in a mocking grin.

“How about we check?”

The baron didn't want to check. Once was enough.

"What should I do for you to give me a shot?"

"Nothing."

"Maybe time and company could bring us closer? Do you mind if I'll be your guest, Lilian?"

Lily didn't yell at him to get out. She didn't curse, didn't take a stand, didn't threaten him. Why would she?

She winced.

"You've heard me, Baron."

Then she turned around to the table. She still had to finish her sewing.

Back to work, girl. Make a pattern, do a mental tally, stitch it...

Really, not having a sewing machine was torture, especially with a nasty creature that somehow managed to be born in a handsome shell with a noble title droning in her ear. In his soul, however, the baron was a rat. Ugh.

Lily only lost her temper once—when the baron tried standing behind her back. He even put his hand on the table.

Lily decided to avoid actual bodily harm. Instead, she drove her scissors into the table with enough force to bend the soft metal. She aimed right between the baron's fingers.

"I won't miss next time," Lily warned him.

The baron heeded her words and stopped breathing down her neck. That didn't prevent him from talking, though.

Still, those were words, but the braying of an ass does not reach heaven. Actually, any self-respecting college student was used to ignoring up to six lectures a day, and Lily was no exception.

Well, she had paid attention to everything that had to do with medicine, but political studies? Philosophy? Literature?

She genuinely didn't think that any of that had any bearing on a person's ability to be a doctor, and if so, she could turn her brain off and do something else. Philosophy 101, for instance, was a great time to copy down lecture notes, and she could brush up on anatomy during political science classes.

The baron quickly realized that she wasn't listening to him but decided to grin and bear it. What if she changed her mind?

After all, with time, a river could cut through rock.

And so, the baron kept cutting as much as he could.

***

The captive's daily routine was far from diverse. After several days, Ellis Rois had learned it by heart.

In the morning, she was escorted to breakfast. Then the baron came to visit her and stayed there until noon, also accompanying her to lunch. At three bells, they returned to the countess' cabin. Ellis managed to eavesdrop on them once, but it didn't look like they were shagging. The baron kept talking, and Lilian Earton never said a word, instead opting to keep silent. After dinner, the baron led her back to her cabin and left her alone.

Ellis had no idea what she was doing there. The door was locked on both sides, although there was only a latch outside. There was always a sentry there—and sooner or later, one of Rois' debtors would take that shift. Maybe it would even be Ellis himself. He would have to calculate what was better for him.

By the way, the emeralds on the captive's neck were the real deal, top quality—in her bracelet, her earrings, her rings... The count had spared no expense for his wife. If Ellis took them and a boat, he could reach the shore.

After that, he would be as good as gone. They might as well go on a wild-goose chase. They'd never find him. He had a real chance to take revenge and make a fortune along the way.

But how was he to persuade Lilian Earton to unlock the door from the inside? He couldn't break it; it would make too much noise.

Ellis spent a few days thinking and finally came up with a solution. It wasn't hard for him to get a piece of parchment and scribble a few words with a piece of coal, signing it as "Count Altres Lort." All that remained to do was plant the note in her room—and find an occasion to talk to the countess.

***

Lilian was angry.

She had spent several days making herself a pair of pants, which she took to wearing under her skirt, and a couple of shirts, even trimming the cloak given to her by the generous Lofrayne. A question emerged: what was she to do next? Continue sewing? Offer to mend the wardrobe of the entire crew? Go help the doctorus?

Please. Lilian was never in danger of becoming a victim of Stockholm Syndrome. Actually, her captors stood a higher chance of becoming victims. Why would she help those who abducted her? Not even out of necessity or conviction, but simply because they were paid to do so?

Don't count on it.

Should she just sit tight and listen to the baron's blabbering? That risked giving her another bout of seasickness. That wouldn't do.

But soon enough, Lily found herself a pursuit. She decided to write.

There were a couple of notebooks and an ink pot lying around, and if someone had actually put them in her cabin—who knows for what reason—she would avail herself of the opportunity.

So what have we here? Math! She had never gotten enough time to write a basic math textbook for children, interesting and engaging, with funny stories about numbers and their properties. Never divide by zero, integers and fractions, imaginary and rational numbers...

Fine, the latter part was too much; children didn't need that. Still, they could at least learn about positives and negatives.

She had her own offspring, as did the Virmans in her employ. Soon, her friends would have their own children.

Why not give them something interesting and useful to read? Thankfully, Lily remembered a lot from her own childhood. But at home, she was always busy in Taral, with her father, or at the palace, not to mention taking care of her family.

All of that was a serious time sink.

Locked in a cabin on a ship in the middle of nowhere, however, she had time aplenty. What else was there to do, really?

At that moment, Lily was busy drawing an energetic zero wearing shorts and side bangs. She thought a bit and added riding boots, a small rapier, and a plumed hat. All it all, it looked rather good. Why not? A nobleman Zero.

But how was she supposed to explain what zero meant and what was its point? The decimal system was a useful thing, but the best way of teaching children science, any science, was via playing, or they simply wouldn't care.

The baron kept asking what Her Grace was writing, but Lily wasn't going to share. She wrote in her native script, too. If anything happened, she would take the notebook with her; nobody would understand a word, anyway. And if she had to leave it... She'd feel bad about her work, of course, but at least her memory was good enough to rewrite it from scratch.

She had read so many interesting things in her childhood—well-written and funny stories about math, physics, everything. If a person wanted to learn, there were no bounds. Just read.

Sewing, however, was easier. It didn't require much thinking; the hands could do everything automatically. Trying to recall math problems to the baron's constant droning was a challenge. Lily was so sick of him! Still, she managed to catch some of the things he told her, even writing them down in the very same notebook.

As he described the wonders and the beauty of the Avesterian court, Anthony let many secrets slip. Who slept with whom, who loved whom, the feuds, the intrigues... How could she not record all of that?

Lily was going to get home, so she would use any information she might come across. She would never let the Avesterians off the hook. She'd find a way to pay them back. But to do this, she needed to learn all that she could about her enemies.

Keep talking, Milord. Keep talking. In the end, I'll use every crumb of your information, I promise.

***

Ellis Rois didn't act immediately. He considered every detail, formulated a plan, and started carefully executing it.

Was it hard, getting the note to the countess?

Why would it be? He just had to wait until he was assigned to guarding the cabin and slip it inside. He had to wait almost five days for his shift, but it didn't matter. It allowed him to think everything over a few more times.

The countess' jewelry would last him a few years. All he had to do was to wait until the ship sailed past Ivernea. Then he would act.

At first, he had wanted to enter the cabin, quietly strangle the countess, take off her trinkets, get into a rowboat, and sail away. He might even throw a burning torch inside as he left to buy himself time while they were putting out the fire. The countess wouldn't care anyway, seeing as she would be dead, heh.

But nature had a sense of humor, and the coast of Ivernea didn't favor ships. Its shoreline was broken and irregular, studded with reefs and shallows. One day, you might pass through unperturbed, and on another, run aground. There were also spongy marshes. No, he better not disembark in Ivernea. Local ports were few and far between, and a ship needed a pilot to navigate the dangerous waters around them.

Avester, however, had more potential. Its coastline was covered with thick woods up to the Perilous Pass itself. What if he waited for the ship to approach the strait and get out right there? He would have to travel through the woods before reaching civilization, but it didn't seem that scary. He was no girl. He would make it. Nobody would look for him—nobody could.

As for the countess, he could even bring her along. Tell her that he was Lort's man and have his way with her on shore. First, get some fun and then kill her.

Ellis nodded to his own thoughts. Really, it was a good thing he changed his mind. What was the point in killing the countess right away? Killing was a simple thing but quite wasteful. At least that way, he would get a toy on top of her jewels and revenge. After all, he hadn't been with a woman for a month...

When left on watch outside the cabin door, Ellis waited for the hour before dawn, making sure that everyone was asleep, and scratched at the door, first quietly and then a little bit louder.

Lily didn't respond immediately. She preferred to spend her nights sleeping, and she was a sound sleeper, too. Her body knew that after giving birth, sleep would be hard to come by, and stocked up on it in advance. Lilian never woke up easily.

Still, someone was knocking. Of course, she didn't unlock the door. Instead, she came up to it and asked, quiet but firm, "What the hell do you want?"

"Your Grace, have you been abducted?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

Lily was angry. So they woke her up to tell her something she already knew? Great. Such a surprise. She wasn't thrilled.

"No. I'm from Wellster. Greetings from Count Lort."

That was a real wake-up call. Lily felt a wave of adrenaline roll across her body as if she were hit with a stun gun.

"From whom?"

"Altres Lort, Your Grace. You really helped him out back then with Alcine...I have a note from him."

Lily's breath stopped in her throat. Could it be she wasn't alone among enemies? Could it be she had an ally?

"What does it matter what happened five years ago?"

"Not five, Your Grace, two and a half... Time flies."

Lily swallowed the lump in her throat and somehow pulled herself together. Her voice wasn't shaking—well, maybe only a little—and she wasn't really trembling out of worry. She was simply cold from standing barefooted on the floor.

"All right. So what do you want, Wellsterian?"

"I'm offering you a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll help you escape, and you'll pay me for that a good sum of money. I do know about Mariella."

Lilian felt better. Him mentioning profit let her breathe easier. Now, if the man behind the door started bringing up his noble motives, that would have scared her. However, wanting something in exchange for freeing her seemed normal. The whole world worked on the quid pro quo basis.

"Won't the count rip off your head for such a proposal?" Lily asked.

"I'd rather serve you. Will you have me?"

Lily considered the question. On the other hand, what did she have to lose? Nothing prevented her from saying yes. She wasn't going to lie about accepting him. There was always the option of finding a place for a loyal man—maybe with Hans or August. He'd never want for money.

"I will. How will we escape?"

She still hadn't opened the door, however. You never know. Better just talk through the door, whispering. Throwing her arms around the savior's neck would wait until he took action.

"I'll find a way to talk to you later. For now, prepare yourself. When we get closer to Avester, I'll be watching the door. There are guards here every night. You must know that."

"I do."

True, Anthony didn't think that a latch on the door would be enough, which is why every night, one of the sailors played the part of a sentry. Lily, in turn, locked the cabin from the inside, just in case. Of course, they could simply break down the door, but it would make a lot of noise and take enough time for her to prepare a retaliation and for Anthony to come running.

"When I take watch, open the door. We'll get into a rowboat and sail away. However, we'll have to spend a while traveling through the woods. Can you do it?"

Lily paused for a few minutes, "I can, but I'll have to take a few things with me. Supplies, a tinderbox..."

"I'll take care of that."

"Then, I can. Just try to get me some footwear, any kind. My boots might not survive long."

"I'll try, although it won't be easy."

"If you help me, I promise you a good life till the end of your days," Lilian said.

“I will. All right, go to bed. Talking is dangerous; someone might overhear us," Ellis snapped.

For a second, he hesitated. Maybe he should really help the countess? Not assault her right away but bide his time? Or even try to lead her out of the forest to people and get a reward? There were many rumors about Lilian Earton, but one thing was certain: she always kept her word. If she promised something, she would do it, which is why getting her promise was almost impossible.

No, that was bollocks. She was a woman! All of them were stupid and hysterical, unable to travel through the woods and only good for one thing. The countess couldn't be much better.

No, he better not take her with him. Her trinkets were enough. And really, what did a promise matter? Everyone was sweet when in trouble, but as soon as it was over, they would turn on you in an instant.

No, he wouldn't bring Lilian Earton along. He would kill her in her cabin, leave the body, burn the ship, and get away to live off the jewelry for a few years. The rest didn't matter.

Still, even if she was a woman, she had a good point about preparations. What would he need in the woods? Not a lot of things, but quite a few—something to sleep on, something to start a fire with, something to cook with, a weapon...

Well, and rations. That was the biggest issue, actually. On the other hand, it was the middle of summer. Unlike spring, by this time, there was plenty of food in the forest, as long as you were smart enough to obtain it. Ellis thought himself smart. Hunting, gathering mushrooms, picking berries...Well, and take some hardtack, too. He wouldn't starve.

Yes, it was time to get ready to say goodbye to the ship.

If only Ellis knew what Countess Earton was thinking about, he wouldn't be so self-assured. Or would he? After all, she was a woman. Just some bitch.

***

Lily was lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling of the cabin. It was low and dark, just like her thoughts, all uneasy and stirred up. Still, she had to think. She didn't know her rescuer's name or his face. She knew nothing.

Could Lofrayne be setting her up? Absolutely. Could it be a ploy to get into the cabin? Easily. She would unlock the door only to be attacked by a dozen sailors, unable to protect herself. Actually, even three would be enough.

She had no weapons. Nobody would provide her any guarantee. Lort's name didn't necessarily mean much; the count himself might have no idea that someone was using it. That ship seemed quite small for his agents, anyway.

So what was left for her to do? Only one thing: to go for it.

She wasn't sure if she had a chance of escaping there but in Avester... In Avester, she would have none.

The question was how to protect herself in case of an emergency? What kind of weapon did she have?

A knife? Nobody would let her have one. Scissors? Those defective ones barely fit for cutting a strand of hair? They wouldn't do either, and a needle was no weapon at all. What else could she think of?

Lily smiled and pulled out her hair clip. It was large and elegant, made of gilded silver: two combs tied to each other via pearl strings. Inside, however, they were simply iron rather than silver.  Metal like that was usually used to forge weapons.

Two combs, and each comb had prongs that could be sharpened. She could also sharpen the edge of each comb.

Time to get to work.

Slowly, an hour or two every night, she would sharpen her hair clip until she got a weapon of sorts. You could say it was nonsense, but it was still protection. The best weapon was an unexpected one. As long as her hands were free, Lily would find a way to make use of the opportunity. Her hand would be steady.

She looked at the combs and chuckled. She remembered that thieves and robbers had once used coins with sharpened edges as a weapon. If caught, they would simply claim they got them as change and didn't know the source.

It was the same with a comb: a common item that could be pulled out of your hair and fiddled with. She could simply say she had a neurosis, and picking over the beads of pearls helped her calm down. That shouldn't raise any suspicion.

As for sharpened coins, they could be used for more than cutting pockets. You could use one to slash someone's hand or eye.

Lily wasn't sure why she'd need such combs, but it was better to play it safe. She didn't want to be completely unarmed. A scalpel would be perfect, but alas, it was quite beyond her reach.

That settled it. She'd take a risk, and whatever happened, happened. Whether good or bad, she couldn't lose a single opportunity. In a month or two, her pregnancy would become obvious; she couldn't allow that. If they started threatening her baby, she might break. She had to flee, and flee before reaching Entor.

Until then, breathe in, breathe out...and relax. First, she had to slacken her facial muscles, then the ones in her neck and shoulders... And then, sleep.

A new day was coming. Time for her to start her game.

As for Lofrayne, she hoped that His Majesty would eat him for lunch. It would serve the bastard right.

Lily focused on relaxing and quickly zoned out, while Ellis kept standing watch outside her door and smiling, calculating his future gains. An emerald choker, a bracelet, rings, a few other small trinkets... It would last him a while. Maybe he wouldn't squander the money, instead buying himself a tavern or marrying well, investing them.

Was that a good career for a leir? Much better than being a sailor, in any case, or a mercenary. He had no money, and everybody and their dog kept trying to kill him. He had to take a gamble.

If everything worked out fine, he would get money for a new life. Revenge was a good thing, too. If not for that blonde bitch, he'd be living in Wellster as Baron Rois or maybe even a count...

She would pay him back for everything. That would only be fair.

***

Jerisson, Count Earton, was getting drunk, quiet and grim.

In truth, he was getting hammered the way a common coachman or a fisherman would get hammered. Nobody dared to disturb him, which is why Richard's visit was such a surprise.

And really, who could stop the king himself from making an appearance?

"Are you sitting down?"

"I am," Jess replied. "Will you drink with me?"

"Pour, then."

Richard personally produced a glass from a cupboard and pushed it toward the head of his royal guard.

Jess poured the wine, spilling a fair bit, and cursed.

"Don't waste the good stuff," Richard said, taking his bottle. "Let me pour it myself if you can't even aim at the glass."

"As if you don't know why!"

"I do," Richard replied, giving him such an intense glare that Jerisson noticed it even through his drunken haze. He really did know and understand. "I've lost the woman I loved, and you still have a chance to save Lilian."

"A chance? Richard, I couldn't even protect her!"

"You couldn't have foreseen that!"

"I saw that Avesterian goose plotting something! But we just laughed... As if Lily didn't have legions of fops trying to court her!"

"She did," Richard agreed. He couldn't argue with that. She had a lot of suitors. Lilian Earton's popularity was also caused by her complete and utter disregard of any men other than her husband.

Lily could easily hug Richard (although not in front of strangers) and was very friendly with her Virmans, but that was it.

It was clear that it was just friendship. Usually, men can feel if a woman is interested in them as if she's emanating a certain smell, like a flower opening its petals to a bee. But if she wasn't interested?

Lilian was like that. She was nice, charming, friendly, but she never saw any of the men around as, well, men. Friends?

Friends. Nothing more.

At first, Jerisson had been jealous, but with time, it started to amuse him. And really, with Lofrayne, Lily was clearly afraid of an international conflict. Ativerna was already at odds with Avester; there was no need to add more

"If only I ran my sword through him right away..."

"What if he did?"

Jess bumped his glass against the table.

"Lies! He'd never succeed!"

Richard shook his head.

"Lofrayne's a skilled duelist. He would have tried to cripple you."

"As if I'd let some brat maim me," Jerisson snapped.

Richard snorted.

"Do we want a war with Avester? If you ran him through..."

"There'd be no war!"

"Yes, we don't share a border with Avester, and Darkom and Ivernea are between us. But if they unleashed their pirates on us..."

"We have the Virmans now!"

"Yes, and Viriom is their ocean, but don't forget, our alliance isn't strong yet. I won't push Hardring. He still needs time to consolidate his position."

Jess sighed. He poured himself more wine and emptied the cup.

"Lofrayne, that bastard! I'll bury him alive!"

"Not yet."

"I'm sure he put Lilian on a ship..."

"Jess, you know that finding a ship in the sea is hard, even for Virmans. Letting them know, putting ships out...all of that takes time. You must realize that this scumbag is already far away. Still, we contacted Altver. They will try to intercept him. We know the name of the ship, its destination—they'll meet it halfway, I promise."

"And Ivernea?"

"I had a conversation with the ambassador. Still, after that failed attempt at engagement... It didn't even help that Lydia is happy with Count Lort now. After all, we took Maria from under their nose."

"Aren't the Iverneans trying to court Annabelle?"

"Yes, but Milia isn't sure she should marry her off to Ivernea. Maybe it will be better for her to stay home."

"At least we have friends in Wellster."

"For now, yes. It will be a while until they forget our heroics there."

Jess snickered, remembering how he saved Her Majesty and raced to the capital, worried about his wife and daughter.

"I wouldn't mind forgetting, but that's hardly possible."

"Iverneans won't help us. They won't put spokes in our wheels, but they won't do anything for us either."

"Bastards!"

"That, too. Pour some." Richard emptied the glass in one gulp. "Eww! It's pure acid!"

"At least it's strong," Jess replied, resentful.

“I see. Are you trying to get drunk?"

"I am! The worst thing is that I can't do anything, anything at all!"

“You can."

"Yes? Like what?"

"You know what Lilian was doing."

"I do."

"Let Miranda do her work while you help her and supervise."

"Are you crazy?"

"Why not?

"Lily's been giving lectures to doctoruses. Mirrie...well, she does know something about it, but it's not her thing."

"Let her prepare materials for din Dashar. He can read them and explain everything. What about Castle Taral? Mariella?"

Jess sighed.

"I'll talk to Mirrie. She knows what Lilian was doing. I'm afraid I didn't pay it as much attention..."

"You're the captain of my guard. You don't have to pay attention to that."

"I could have."

"Had I known where I would fall, I wouldn't have come to that place at all."

Jess snickered, remembering his wife's favorite saying.

"Fair enough. Pour me more, please."

Richard poured the wine into the glasses and raised his.

"To Lilian getting back home safe and sound."

“Yes!"

"Jess, you can't get hammered and drop everything off on me. I sent out a message. As soon as Lily turns up in Avester, they'll let me know."

“Oh, really?"

"Our entire network will look out for her. We have enough people in the harbor. Sooner or later, Lofrayne's ship will reach it, and Lily will come ashore. She's a woman of vibrant personality and conspicuous appearance..."

"Yes, she is!"

"And you'll have to go help her."

"Will you let me go?"

"Of course, I will! It's not like I can make you stay, anyway."

"That's right."

"But to do that, you must stay in shape. Prepare a ship to sail. The Virmans are eager to go with you, too. Gardren said that he'd write to Hardring personally. You'll be clearing Loris. I'll talk to Khangans, too."

"Amir Gulim won't mind either."

"Right. They're sick of pirates, anyway. Until now, those raiders were on Avesterian payroll, but if a scandal breaks out, we won't have a shortage of allies!"

Jess raised his glass.

"To that!"

"Bring it on!"

The men emptied their glasses, and Richard grabbed a slice of ham and quickly dealt with it.

"Nice! All right, so let's make a deal. You can drink tonight as much as you want, but from tomorrow, not a drop. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Pour some more. We'll find her, I promise."

Jess raised his glass in silence.

The men drank to Lilian Earton's luck. They believed in that woman, and she was going to need all the luck she could get.

***

The ship kept sailing forward, and Lily was angry.

The worst thing about being imprisoned was enforced idleness. She did have things to do—she was writing a book, she sewed herself a few more items, and the baron kept her busy, but... She was mad. She hated it.

And when a storm rolled in, she got another problem on top of the aforementioned one: nausea. Lily couldn't even look at the hardtack.

Thankfully, she wasn't squeamish and didn't mind experiments with food. She had never ever felt sick while watching certain videos about Chinese cuisine. It's not like she wanted to eat a worm or a centipede, but if her survival depended on that, she'd probably do that and more.

Weevils weren't something that could intimidate a medical student. She could remove the maggots and eat the hardtack, no problem. Just not when she was already puking her guts out all the time. It got so bad she was starting to fear for her baby. Muscle contractions might not end well; the womb was a muscle too. What if she got placental abruption?

Sometimes, being a medic was really hard. Ignorance is bliss; you could live in peace if you had no idea about what could go wrong early in the pregnancy. Knowing, however, made it so much scarier. Lily felt worried all the time.

Logically, she knew that everything was going to be all right, and the vast majority of women had survived it. But in her heart... She couldn't kill the coward in her.

One consolation was that Baron Lofrayne's visits had stopped. A woman with reversed peristalsis was a show not for the faint of heart. Lilian was grateful. Good riddance.

"Blecch!"

Ugh, to hell with this storm!

***

He felt cold, cold and disgusted. As the man watched the body lying at his feet, he couldn't feel anything else.

She was just another girl, the latest in a long line. For a second, his soul felt at ease, but it was only a second. What would come later?

Nothing, really. Just darkness and emptiness.

The deaths of the girls flashed like sparks, dispelling the darkness, but it never worked for long. Afterward, he would pick over the precious memories like shards of his shattered happiness.

But whose death could make him truly warm? Who was that woman?

He knew the answer. Could he really bring himself to do it, however? Could he actually get to Angelina Gardren? It seemed impossible...or was it?

That cold, that damnable cold. He craved heat, dreamed of warming his hands in hot blood.

But blood went cold so quickly and easily, becoming nasty and disgusting. Could her blood warm his icy hands once and forever?

He had to try.

***

The storm continued for four days and ended abruptly.

As Lily gazed out of the window, flecks of sunlight playing on the water, she felt sick—both physically and mentally. She was in no pain, but she didn't feel like living anyway. Such was the effect of captivity.

Someone knocked at the door, and Baron Lofrayne entered the cabin.

"Good morning, Your Grace."

"What do you want?"

"Lilian, would you mind taking a walk? It's really nice outside, and if I may escort you..."

Lilian didn't want anything from the baron, but going outside was a tempting idea.

The smell in the cabin wasn't exactly pleasant, especially compared to the sea and fresh air.

"Leave. I'll change."

Anthony bowed and disappeared behind the door. Lily clumsily braided her hair and started to dress. Thank God she could pull on her riding suit without anyone's help!

***

The sea. The sun. The wind...

Lily stood at the edge of the ship and absorbed those simple pleasures with every cell of her body. To the left, she could see a dim outline of land.

"What do we have there abeam?"

She didn't know nautical terms well, but it seemed to her that "abeam" meant ninety degrees to the ship's keel.

The baron shrugged.

"Ivernea."

"We're fast."

"We got lucky with the storm."

Lily bit her lip. The storm had carried them past Altver and the rest of Ativerna.

Her heart was heavy. What was going on back home? How was her family?

She turned around and headed to the cabin without saying a word. Tony tried to follow.

“Your Grace...”

"Baron," Lily snapped. "Go to Maldonaya!"

"I'll come by later to take you to dinner," Tony said, an innocent look in her green eyes. That did it.

All the things combined—the storm, her frustration, her vomiting, Ivernea...

"Baron," Her Grace said in an icy tone, "you're a scoundrel and a sleazebag."

Anthony opened his mouth and didn't close it back.

Once again, he was deceived by Lilian Earton's perceived calmness. A second ago, she was listening to him, never arguing or cursing, simply doing her work. What had happened all of a sudden? Lily still wasn't screaming; she was just standing in the doorway of the cabin. Her face, however...

Eyes like that could shoot lightning bolts.

"I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear you, and heed my words—if I find a way to destroy you, I won't even flinch. You tore me away from my family, my friends, my loved ones... I swear by Aldonai, even if I get just one chance to pay you back, you'll regret it for your entire life. Get away from me. You repulse me."

The door swung shut right in front of the baron's nose, and Anthony was left standing in the corridor like a fool. That venomous bitch!

For some reason, it wasn't hard for him to believe her threats or her promises. She was serious. If Lilian Earton got an opportunity, he wouldn't live long.

Any desire for conversation evaporated.

Fine. He would order the men to bring her food thrice a day. Let her stay in the cabin until Avester.

Anthony lowered the latch on the door. He couldn't even admit to himself that for a second, he felt scared. But women weren't to be feared, were they?

Still, fear stayed somewhere deep inside of him, touching his heart with its icy fingers.

Lilian wasn't joking. She wasn't joking even for a second. She would find a way to get hers. Could it be he was bringing his own death to Avester?

Ah, damned if you do, damned if you don't. Whatever he did, he risked a lot. But really, why was it so hard with women?

Tony sharply pulled at the latch and turned on his heel. Should he go stand on deck and watch the water? Or maybe just take a bottle and get drunk?

"Oh, bugger me!"

Anthony had an excuse—he was quite nervous. Still, he shouldn't have shouted so loudly.

Ellis Rois—it was he—bowed.

"Forgive me, Baron."

"Forgive you?" Anthony decided to let off his steam. "Forgive you?! You miserable wretch! Begone! Why are you loitering here, anyway? Are you snooping around?"

"I wasn't—"

"I'll tell the captain to lash you!" Tony snapped and rushed toward the deck.

Ellis clenched his fists.

Well, in that case...

Lofrayne had sealed his fate. Until that moment, Ellis had entertained killing Lilian Earton right in her cabin, but it was boring. Instead, he would bring the countess along, just as he had entertained before. Everything he wanted to do with her could be done ashore as well. Let Lofrayne know that he had lost. Let him suffer. Ellis would take Lilian Earton simply to spite the baron!

And really, what could be done with the countess aboard? Simply kill her? That wasn't enough. She deserved to know why she would die. She deserved to suffer. She deserved to suffer a very long time.

Why not? Ellis had been living a nightmare for so much time. Why should Lilian Earton, the one to blame for that, get away with seconds? That wouldn't do.

And so, Ellis went into the cargo hold, contemplating how to get Her Grace off the ship.

***

Of course, Anthony didn't go to the captain. A few minutes later, he completely forgot the annoying sailor.

As if he mattered! He was just some salted lowlife. Rabble. He wasn't worthy of Lofrayne’s thoughts! He dismissed the concern and stood on the deck to watch the sea and calm his nerves.

For some reason, he felt hurt, and he couldn't figure out why.

Who was Lilian Earton? Nobody! An ordinary woman older than Lofrayne himself, not especially beautiful, not...

But lying to himself was pointless. He felt hurt because, for Lilian Earton, he was a nonentity. For women like Lady Seinel, Lofrayne was a miracle, a king, and Aldonai rolled into one. For Lilian Earton, though?

He was less than nothing. Worse than dirt.

It felt like an insult. He wasn’t sure why, but it did.

***

Lily was lying on the bed, barely holding back tears.

She still had a chance while the ship was going between Virma and the shore, still in the midst of Viriom's endless waters. That chance was slowly evaporating, with each minute and second, vanishing like water into sand. Almost nothing was left.

Her home, Jerisson, Miranda, Jyce, Roman, Jacob, her friends... Tears flooded her eyes.

Later, she would be strong. Later, she would put on a mask and never show her pain to anyone. But that would have to wait.

And so, Lilian Earton was sobbing her heart out, biting on her pillow, choking on a rag so nobody could hear her. She needed just half an hour to be weak...thank God the door was locked.

You will answer for this, Lofrayne! You will pay me back, I swear it!

Chapter 10

Hans Tremain was standing upright in front of His Majesty. He felt terrible, and no wonder about that.

"Your Majesty, at the moment, we have fourteen murders. Registered murders."

"And in theory?"

"There might be two or three times as many," Hans replied, lowering his eyes. "Those are the girls left in nice areas of the city. Those left in the slums...it's impossible to know."

Richard nodded. Each dead body was to be reported to a coroner, registered, and paid for to be examined and buried... That's what law-abiding citizens did. It made sense that if a person had been walking around a day before and was nowhere to be seen in the morning, their neighbors, at least, would take note.

But the slum-dwellers? Those rats, seemingly immune to every attempt to be eradicated, living outside the law, not caring about anything... The capital had catacombs; its foundation was ancient. It also had wells and the sea, where anything could be thrown...

A body? Dozens of them; the fish would only be grateful. How many bodies had already been destroyed? Hans didn't know.

"Word in the slums is there's a werewolf on the loose."

"A werewolf?"

"Or another monster. They say he has the body of a wolf and the head of a human. He's hunting women and killing them, biting off their pinky fingers so their souls cannot go to Aldonai..."

"It's nonsense."

Hans shrugged.

"It's only one version, Your Majesty. The others are even worse."

Richard winced.

"I don't need a complete retelling. Get to the point."

"The point, Your Majesty, is that the people are worried. They demand the monster to be found and punished."

"How's your search going?"

Hans shrugged.

The search wasn't going well. Essentially, he was trying to build a new enterprise from scratch, and naturally, his new structure was shaking, rattling, and trying to collapse with every bump in the road.

Even investigating the crime scene was a story in itself. Really, what could you find there if a crowd of onlookers immediately trampled over the spot, the guards letting them through for a tiny fee? Bastards!

Hans would have used a stronger word, but not in front of His Majesty.

And examining the body? The coroner was perpetually drunk, and when he wasn't, spoke pure nonsense. Death by knife wound. Of course, it was: the person got their throat cut. But what kind of knife was that? What was the killer's height? With what force did he slash the throat?

Hans had to shake all of that out of the coroner almost by force.

At that moment, Hans knew that the murderer specialized in girls: young, blonde, with grey or blue eyes and slight of build. Their birth didn't matter: the list had two noblewomen, commoners, merchants' daughters, and even a prostitute from an expensive brothel. She had been identified, but the madame swore that she had sold the girl to a nobleman who paid a generous sum that satisfied even that greedy nag. She had planned to make a lot of money on the girl, but the payment was enough of a compensation.

It was a clue.

"Your Majesty, if I may—"

"Come on. You can speak frankly," Richard said, waving his hand.

He wouldn't use that tone with just anyone, but it was Hans, and Hans was almost a friend. Hans also knew everything about subordination. No matter Richard's tone, Hans would have never overstepped his boundaries. Yes, they were friendly, and yes, they had a good rapport. But Richard was the king, and Hans, his subject. That said it all.

Maybe that's why Richard appreciated the Eartons and the Gardrens so much. With them, he didn't have to be His Majesty. He could be just Richard, a nice chap without a crown on his head.

Hans bowed, once again reminding him about the golden circle on his head.

"Your Majesty, it's pretty bad."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's definitely a nobleman."

"Oh..."

Hans realized that he had to explain and shrugged.

"Your Majesty, this is a man with no shortage of funds. Remember the prostitute? Buying out a contract requires a lot of money. I don't know any merchants or craftsmen capable of such expenses."

"I see..."

"He takes his time when killing. The victims are hunted like wild animals, going by their looks, but nobody else has ever heard screams or cries for help. Only the final blow is fatal. Until then, he can stab the victim up to forty-two times."

"Maybe he gags them."

"If they were simply tortured, their bodies would have looked differently. No, they are expressly hunted...and they aren't gagged, either. There are no marks."

Richard sighed.

"Suppose you're right."

"It means he has a house, probably with a large garden so that nobody could hear them. Probably even an estate."

"What about the servants?"

"They could be sent away to the servants' quarters, Your Majesty. He'd leave only two or three trusted men."

"Makes sense. Anything else?"

"A carriage to travel back and forth. I doubt that our killer does it himself, but hiring a carriage is risky. It might get traces of blood, a strip of fabric, the coachman might remember something..."

"He has his own carriage and a few mercenaries."

"Or personal soldiers. Bodyguards."

Richard slowly opened his eyes.

“You’re right. What are you going to do then?"

Hans sighed.

"Keep searching...or arrange some bait."

"Tell me more. Keep searching for what? What kind of bait are you talking about?"

"Your Majesty, the estate might be located either in Laveri or outside. A few hours of travel don't mean much. They might bind the girl's hands and mouth before driving her out of the city, and on the way back, she'd already be dead."

Richard nodded.

True, carriages weren't checked at the gates. Speaking of which...

"I'll sign a decree for carriages to be checked."

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Richard nodded and wrote down a few words on a piece of paper.

"Ask my secretary to give you the papers."

"It will help if the estate's outside the city. And if it's not, at least we'll narrow down the possible locations."

"I can't permit you to search all estates," Richard said, frowning. "I'd love to, but..."

Hans nodded.

The timing wasn't right. The nobles would surely start rioting, whining about the infringement of their rights and freedoms, just like in Wellster.

Luckily, the coup there had been put down, but who could tell if Ativerna could survive the same?

Richard had just been crowned; it was the hardest time. In a year or two, he would stabilize his hold over the throne, but until then, he had to be careful.

That bastard was also undermining the king by killing women; the public was unhappy, whispering that His Majesty wasn't doing anything. Such things might end badly.

"The carriage was seen a couple of times. One witness says it was pulled by common roan horses, while another insists they were dapple grey."

"He has his own stables and a driveway?" Richard guessed.

Hans bowed.

That's what he had surmised as well.

"I'm checking those who moved here in the past year..."

Richard slowly nodded.

"I understand. Well then, keep working, Hans. I can assure you that this bastard cannot hide behind his title."

Hans bowed once again.

"I'll do everything in my power to find him, Your Majesty."

"I know."

***

Hans Tremain spent his evening at the Earton estate.

The house was full of sorrow. Lilian Earton used to be the heart and soul of that place, and without her, it felt empty, as if a cloud fell over it. Formerly cozy and filled with joy, the Earton estate turned grey and colorless. The children were gone, moved to the palace. Jess and Miranda often visited but never stayed the night, taking no risks. And the house grew sad and sullen...

Hans could feel it almost physically as if a drizzle were falling from above. There was no rain or snow, but his face was moist. The house was mourning.

Jerisson stared into his plate, grim, his face just as grey as his doublet. Miranda, sad and somehow older, was wearing a green dress and kept glancing at Lou-Lou and Nanook. After his mistress had disappeared, the dog refused food and howled, seemingly blaming himself.

Mirrie spent days with him, and finally, he cheered up a little but still never left her side. He probably decided that his mistress' puppy needed his protection while she was gone. After all, he had already failed her once. There wouldn't be a second time.

Mirrie didn't mind, and neither did Jerisson. Let Nanook sleep on their heads if he wanted; when Lily came back, she'd understand.

When she came back. The word "if" was taboo in the house. Jess believed in his wife's return wholeheartedly; if he could, he would have already sailed for Avester, but he had to wait.

"Miranda, could you tell me a little bit more about Baron Holmes?" Hans asked.

"But you have all the stories," Miranda said, surprised. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Maybe Lilian told you something else?"

Miranda shrugged.

"The latest installment is in my bedroom. I can fetch it for you if you promise to return it soon."

"I promise," Hans said, nodding.

"Then I'll get it after dinner," the girl agreed. "Is this connected to the murders?"

"Yes. They're not stopping, and we can't figure out who's the killer. There are no clues, nothing."

Miranda sighed.

"I'll give you the stories, but I doubt they can help. Mama told me that stories are one thing, and real life is different. Often, the culprit is someone you'd never notice. Sometimes, serial killers remained at large, never to be found."

That was discouraging.

"Miranda, are you suggesting the baron start suspecting His Majesty?" Jerisson finally said.

Mirrie snorted.

"Papa, it would have been impossible for the king to kill all those girls. He's always in public. Here, we'd need someone rich enough to pay for his whims, even the nastiest of them, and humble enough to avoid attention—or, instead, draw it," Mirrie said. "It's darkest in the shadow of light."

Hans sighed.

He simply couldn't figure it all out. Suggesting a version was easy, but he had to check them all—and if anything went wrong, he would be the one to take the fall.

***

Bran Gardren removed the letter from the pigeon's leg. He wasn’t expected much, but still…

Olav was curt. We're sailing out. May Olive help us.

Bran would have prayed to Holosh too if it could help. He really had picked the meanest of deities. Holosh never did any favors for anyone. He might give you a fishing rod, but you'd have to be the one to catch fish.

Bran didn't mind, though.

He had sent out letters, and after that... After that, he would start fishing. He was a good fisherman, too.

The Prancing Mermaid had nowhere to go; he would find it, scale it, and gut it. The other ships would be checked, too.

Over the next few months, no vessels would go past Virma without an inspection, and Viriom would become a strict access area, in Countess Earton's words. Bran wasn't quite sure what it meant, but he had an inkling.

No big deal.

The merchants would have to tough it out, and military ships...

The same, really. Nobody in Viriom wanted to cross the Virmans.

There was still a chance they would be too late, of course, but Bran banished those thoughts.

He put the letter in his pocket and went downstairs to Angelina.

His wife was sitting in a chair next to the fireplace, a book in her hands and a warm knitted shawl on her shoulders. The specks of light were playing in her hair, making it look like copper. Ian was sitting on the rug trying to assemble something, Hilda played with runic cubes, and the baby slept in his cot.

Bran stopped in the doorway, feeling warmth in his heart.

How many times had he already seen that scene? But the number didn't matter, as each time felt like the first. Every minute like that was precious to him. Every second like that would stay in his memory forever.

That was his.

His family, his heart, his soul... He would do everything: kill, lie, steal, die so that nothing could threaten them. They would live and be happy, with him or without him, for they were the best thing in his life.

Angelina raised her head from the book and noticed her husband. She smiled and stood up to meet him.

Her eyes radiated love and happiness. It was worth it, leaving his homeland, his clan, and turning his entire life upside down so that his beloved could look at him with such eyes. Worth it.

"Bran! You sneaked up on me!"

Bran embraced his wife and stopped for a few seconds, savoring her closeness. Angelina didn't try to break away.

Yes, the etiquette at court didn't permit such things, but Virma had its own set of rules. Aldonai damn it, Angelina truly loved her husband and enjoyed every second spent next to him. Why would she refuse her happiness for the dubious sake of propriety? It's not like there were any strangers there, anyway!

Oh, blast it all! It was their family, and they had the right to do whatever they wished, period.

"Olav's letter arrived."

"Is everything all right there?" Angelina wasn't exactly worried about the Virmans; those people were hardy enough to survive being crashed against a rock or drowned at sea, but her handmaidens were there too. She cared about them.

Would delicate Ativernan flowers really take root on the rocky island soil?

So far, it seemed like they had, even having as many as four sprouts, but Angelina was still nervous.

"Everything's' fine," Bran said with a nod. "The Virmans sailed out."

“Lilian?”

"Yes."

"Do you think they might intercept her abductors?"

Bran shrugged.

That was the thing: he wasn't sure. It depended on luck.

The damnable Mermaid wasn't a galley with a heavy rear side and a slow pace; it was a light and speedy clipper not designed to transport passengers. It was, however, designed for raiding, robbing, and getting away before being attacked.

If Lilian got lucky, they might intercept her, but Bran wouldn't count on it. A good northwestern wind, and their chances would melt away like ice in the spring. But would he tell that to his wife?

He couldn't not, though.

Bran wasn't going to lie to Angelina. He might leave something unsaid, but he always told her the truth if she asked directly. It was the main rule of their married life.

Angelina might also keep something back, but she always answered his questions, even if she didn't want to.

That's what they had agreed to do right after their wedding.

Different worlds, different people, different experiences... If they didn't want their fragile understanding to break under the pressure of routine, they had to look for common ground: slowly, relentlessly, and meticulously. So far, they had succeeded.

"I'm afraid they might not," Bran finally spoke up.

"Oh..."

Angelina pressed her palms against her cheeks, and her eyes grew large and terrified.

"My poor Lilian!"

"The boys will do everything to slow them down, but you must understand—a lot of time passed before the pigeon got there. Flying to Altver, then contacting Virma...it all took more than a day."

Angelina nodded. A tear fell out of the corner of her eye.

It was genuine, too. Her Highness rarely cried, especially for show. It's just...her eye was itching, that was it.

Bran stroked his wife's blond locks. She wore them in a topknot with a sapphire-studded hairpin. Two combs with an elaborate web of pearls and sapphires between them were a beautiful sight.

Lilian Earton had given it to her as a present after their son's birth.

"I will definitely find her, Angie. I promise."

"You do?"

"Of course."

Bran already considered himself in Her Grace's debt. He would rouse his entire network of agents, all the people beholden to him. Lilian Earton was too conspicuous. Someone like her could never be hidden. It's not like she was going out of her way to do that, no. She genuinely tried to avoid standing out but still somehow became the center of attention. If Bran didn't know she was a shipwright's daughter, he would have thought Lilian to be a king's.

Her personality, her intelligence, her behavior—all of that screamed of a highborn lady. She carried herself the same way both while talking to a prince and to a beggar. She was sweet and polite, and she could destroy you with one word. She never pushed her superiority but also never cut anyone slack. Bran still remembered her words to a certain lord who had the nerve to tell the countess that she needed to be more easy-going so that people would treat her better.

That was a critical mistake. Without raising her voice, Lily informed the man that even his kitchen maid wouldn't grab the first fish she came across while visiting the market. She'd make sure it was fresh before taking it home—not caring a bit what the fish thought.

The implication was clear, and the lord was forever nicknamed "Fishmonger."

The Avesterians could never hide Lilian Earton. They could dye her hair, take her to the countryside, lock her in a castle, but...

Bran was sure that the motive of the abduction was profit. He knew who was behind Mariella Trading House and held no doubts that a lot of money was circulating there. The Eveers all but worshipped Her Grace.

If Lilian Earton were locked up in the middle of nowhere, she wouldn't bring any profit. And even if they tried, sooner or later, rumors would spring up about novelties coming from castle...which castle?

Ah, it didn't matter. The rumors would start, and they would reach Bran. He'd figure everything out and try to rescue the countess, personally visiting Avester. It was bound to get rough.

If Entor wanted to kill Lilian Earton, he would have done that right away. He wanted profit. Well, murder wasn't completely out of the question, but Bran hoped that Lilian would be wise enough. Why taunt a lion? It was better to leave your cage and throw him a slab of poisoned meat, so he'd die anyway.

There was a problem, however. Pregnant women were annoyingly unpredictable with their mood swings and health issues. Holosh, they would be very lucky if nobody learned about Lilian Earton's condition before they managed to find her. But Bran wasn't counting on such luck. After all, Holosh never dealt the best cards, and he was right not to.

It's easy to win when you hold all the aces. Try doing that when fate keeps putting a spanner in your works.

Usually, Bran loved the thrill of the game, but when Lilian's life was on the line, dependent on his luck...well, maybe it was really time to pray.

He didn't say anything out loud, however. Instead, he tried to calm down his wife, promising to do everything possible and impossible, rouse everyone, even abduct Entor if he had to...

Angelina believed him.

Abduct a king? She didn't doubt that her husband was capable of anything, and if he went against a king...well, all the worse for that king.

Bran saw her faith and was prepared to stop at nothing to avoid disappointing his beloved.

Save Countess Earton? That was the least he could do. He had to succeed, and it meant that he would.

***

Left unsupervised, Lady Seinel was lost. Baron Lofrayne was gone, abandoning her at the embassy. What was she to do?

Irida tried thinking as hard as she could.

Maybe she should get married. Count Earton was still out there.

So what if he had a wife? She was gone, too. The count was confused. She could offer him help find the countess, pull the wool over his eyes, and he wouldn't even notice ending up in her bed, doing whatever Irida asked.

The best way to seduce men was sympathy, attention, and understanding. Those were the perfect bait.

Irida came to the mirror.

That dress really wouldn't do; it was too simple. She needed something brighter.

Let's see what's in the wardrobe.

She had a striped dress, a yellow dress, a wine-red dress...maybe the latter? A blonde wearing red was the ultimate temptress, a femme fatale.

Wouldn't it be too early?

But one could never be too sexy. The cut of the dress wasn't too provocative, either; only the color was. She had to try.

Lady Seinel put the dress against her body, looked in the mirror, and summoned a maid.

Half an hour later, the deed was done.

Her airy figure draped in red silk looked quite appetizing. Her skin shone through the keyhole-shaped neckline, decorated with lace. Every curve and every detail were emphasized, and the long skirt securely hid her slightly crooked legs. Her hair was made in an elaborate hairdo, and her eyes were painted...what else did she need?

She was dressed to kill. Count Earton was bound to relent, and victory would be hers.

Lady Seinel carefully positioned a seemingly random lock of hair, smiled at her reflection, and left the embassy.

***

Count Earton was home; she knew that for a fact. His family would be in the palace, leaving him alone, unhappy, and in need of companionship.

Lady Seinel ordered the coachman to stop the carriage at the gate, and he complied.

The gatekeeper answered quite promptly.

"Yes?"

"Lady Seinel, to His Grace."

"Was the visit arranged?"

"Of course," Irida said through her teeth.

She couldn't very well admit the opposite, could she?

The gatekeeper chuckled but let her through. The carriage rode ahead to the house. Lady Seinel stared at the estate with a measure of interest.

The garden wasn't too big. It had a gazebo and an awning, as well as a table, chairs, something resembling an iron crate, and a swing.

A large sand-filled box, stairways, both horizontal and vertical, all linked together, a yard...

She wondered what the point of that place was. A training area for children? If that were her house, she'd never permit such a travesty. Now a rosary...

Finally, they reached the house itself.

Lady Irida gracefully exited the carriage (what if the count was watching her from the window?) and entered the house.

"Milady," the butler said, bowing.

"Lady Seinel, to His Grace," Irida replied, wincing. "Announce me at once!"

"As you wish, Milady."

Irida entered the drawing-room.

It was gorgeous and richly decorated.

The only thing left to do was wait for the count.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

The voice was clear and high-pitched and definitely didn't belong to the count.

Lady Irida turned around and saw a girl...almost a woman, really. She had black hair, bright blue eyes, and two huge grey dogs standing right behind her. They were throwing rather unfriendly looks at Irida, growling and baring their fangs, but never quite attacking.

Irida flinched.

"I am Lady Seinel. I wish to see His Grace."

Miranda narrowed her eyes. It didn't become her, and Lily always tried to persuade her daughter not to squint, but she couldn't really control herself when angry. Really, if Miranda had a tail, she would have lashed it, too.

"And what is it you want from him, Lady Seinel?"

For a second, Irida hesitated. What could she say?  The truth?

Something told her that Miranda wouldn't believe in her sympathy and desire to help. But before the lady got her bearings, Miranda squinted even harder.

"Lady Seinel, you feel really bad for us, do you?"

Irida felt like an idiot. She even half-opened her mouth.

"You feel really bad for my father. You have nothing to do with this horrible tragedy. You're prepared to reassure him about your sympathy day and night. Am I right?"

"Um—"

"So I am. Well, then, you're late."

"What?!"

Behind the door, Jess choked with laughter, valiantly biting on his hand to avoid giggling out loud. Miranda had outdone herself.

"See, Lady Seinel, there's no shortage of women willing to comfort him."

"But I... Viscountess, could you please call your father here?"

"I cannot," Miranda replied, spreading her hands. "He's being comforted right now."

“How?"

"I think it will take at least an hour," Miranda continued, unfazed. "Then they might come here. But I must be honest; you don't have a chance."

"I can—"

"You want to say you can find my mother? In Avester?"

Lady Seinel nodded, confused. Miranda snorted.

"Lady, be original. My father has already received two offers like that. If you'd like, he'll add you to the list."

"W-what list?"

"He has offers from Ivernea and Wellster. I suppose Darkom will be next. And the lady from Wellster...you should have seen her! Pretty as a picture!"

"I'll wait," Lady Seinel said, firmly walking toward a chair.

Miranda snorted.

"Be my guest. Wait for him."

The lady raised her eyebrows, but as soon as she sat down...

"Aldonai almighty, what is this?"

She had a good reason for screaming.

Nanook, with his brilliant sense of humor, came up right to Lady Seinel and started to sniff her—slowly, carefully, and with feeling.

Considering his height, he was almost neck-to-neck with Irida while she was sitting down. His teeth had never been brushed, and his mouth seemed enormously large.

In a second, the lady was licked from chin to forehead.

Her makeup gave up immediately, turning into a bright blurred mess that would have made abstract artists (if only the world had any) grab their brushes and start painting at once. Some of it also made its way to her hair. Soon enough, her fancy hairdo started to resemble a punk’s spiky multicolored hair.

"He likes you," Miranda explained innocently.

"Oh, Aldonai!"

"But Lou-Lou doesn't."

Irida felt warmth in her shoes.

She shifted her gaze downward.

The second dog was pissing right on her skirt with a look of profound satisfaction.

"Eww!"

"Lady Seinel, I think you should leave. Imagine my father coming down and seeing you in this state..."

"I have to freshen up," the lady tried to insist.

"Of course. The servants are all in the palace, though. If you'd like, I can help you myself...or would you rather go back?"

Her blue eyes were full of sincerity.

The lady imagined what the vengeful brat might do to her and realized that the round was lost. She had to get up.

"I'll be back!"

"Of course, Lady Seinel. Come in any time. Nanook's always happy to see you."

"Woof," the furry monster said, stepping on her skirt.

"Whoosh," the thin silk said and slid apart.

"Forgive him; he's very clumsy."

The lady saw that it was only going to get worse and retreated. On her way out, she seemed to grumble something unflattering toward Miranda, but the girl didn't seem to care.

Let that floozy trot around her mother's house? Make passes at her father? Never! Only over her (Lady Seinel's, that is) dead body!

Miranda congratulated herself on being smart and praised her dogs as well.

"Mirrie, do you have any shame?"

Jerisson finally decided to make an appearance after making sure that Lady Seinel was gone, having entered her carriage and headed for the gate.

"Of course I have," Miranda assured him. "Are there really any doubts?"

Jess laughed and kissed his daughter on the nose.

"No doubts, honey! You were amazing! How did you do that?"

Miranda smiled.

She was always good with animals, able to give commands not just with her voice but also by snapping her fingers, gesturing, whistling... There were lots of options, really.

Fine, stepping on the lady's dress had been his own initiative, but the "Lick" command was given by Miranda. And while Lady Irida was distracted with that, Mirrie quietly signaled to Lou-Lou.

As a result, the lady looked like every man's worst nightmare and rushed home to clean up, leaving the battlefield to Miranda.

"The Virmans taught me. That's how they train dogs."

“You’re such a smart girl."

"You aren't angry, Papa?" For a second, Mirrie turned into an ordinary child and looked at him shyly. "I just didn't want that tramp to gallivant around here!"

"Mirrie, where did you learn those words?"

"Am I wrong?"

"You aren’t. I wouldn't want that tramp to gallivant around here either."

Miranda smiled at her father.

"Mama will be back."

"Yes. Until then, you can send them all packing. I permit it."

Miranda flashed a bloodthirsty smile, and for a second, Jess felt bad for Lady Seinel. He wouldn't want to be in her place.

***

When Lily heard someone scratching at the door, she jumped up, startled.

“Who’s there?"

"It's me, Your Grace. Your friend from Wellster."

Lily breathed out.

“So?”

"Be ready to escape."

“I will."

"We'll get in a boat, sail to the shore, and land in Ivernea. We'll have to go through the woods."

"It's not a problem."

The forest was something that Lily had never been afraid of.

"Dress comfortably and take whatever you need."

"All right."

"Wait for my knock. It'll happen soon enough, just a few more days..."

Then he disappeared.

Lily fell on her bed and stretched, bumping her head against the headboard. However, for once, she didn't care.

If everything worked outright, in a few days (hmm, what did that "few" mean? Two days? Three? Four?), she would leave the ship. If only they succeeded!

Lofrayne still hadn't visited her after her outburst. He kept avoiding her, never taking her to meals. Essentially, Lily stayed in her cabin all the time. They brought her food and took out the waste bucket, but the baron never came. She lost the opportunity to walk around the deck.

On the one hand, it wasn't that bad, and she never liked talking to her abductors anyway. On the other...

Her baby needed fresh air. However, if the Wellsterian wasn't lying, soon there would be more than enough of that. The air of freedom, as dramatic as it might sound.

The question, of course, was if he was telling the truth.

Still, it was worth the risk. But what if she unlocked the door to get six ill-meaning sailors? Just one hit, and they could do with her whatever they wanted. Or an assassin? Just for example.

But who would want to kill her on the ship? Those people needed to get her to Avester safe and sound. She was their collateral.

Whatever. She had only two options: take the chance or not.

The solution was simple. Action was always better than inaction. However, she would have to avoid unnecessary problems.

Lily stood up, realizing that she was too full of emotions to fall asleep, and took a walk across the room.

Well, the word "walk" was ironic.

Two steps forward, two steps back—that constituted the walk. If Lily weren’t pregnant, she would have done pistol squats, push-ups, any number of exercises. However, she had to limit herself. Maybe by the end of the voyage, she wouldn't even be able to stand up.

Damnable Lofrayne...

No, she needed to go for it. But what would she bring along? What would she wear?

That was a stupid question. Everything. Pants, shirts, a dress, a cloak—everything she had. If they had to walk through the woods, every piece of clothing would go a long way.

What about the other things?

Well, what did she have? Not much, really.

A comb, a water pitcher, a washbasin, a mug... Yes, she definitely needed a mug. What about the pitcher?

Damn if she knew. A flask would have been a different story, but a pitcher... Ah, fine. She could always throw it away. It was pretty, too, with a silver engraving.

Scissors, needles, thread—absolutely. She would put them into the pitcher and plug it with a rag so they wouldn't fall out. Not right away, of course, but later.

Her notes? Of course. She could roll them down and wrap them into...um, some leather? Maybe her boots?

She would decide that later.

Or maybe they would fit into the pitcher, too?

She didn't have anything else, even a tinderbox. Maybe they didn't want her to set the ship on fire, although what would be the point of doing that in the middle of an ocean?

Oh, her improvised shiv made from a hairclip. She'd need that, of course.

Scary? Oh, damn right, it was scary, but Lily had no choice. Sailing to Avester was an even bigger risk for her and the baby; it would be perfect blackmail material for her. She was still two months pregnant, not enough to show. But in a month or two...

It would suck. There was no other way to put it. They would break her.

No, she needed to escape. But how to take precautions? She had to protect herself from being hit or killed right away.

Hmm, what if…

Lily estimated the size of the cabin, took note of the way the door opened, and measured the distance in steps. Actually, it might work. That was better than nothing.

She would try her idea out, no question about that.

***

"Another victim."

Hans Tremain was angry as a raging bull, or even worse.

For how long was that bastard going to kill people?

“Who?”

"A commoner, but the marks are the same..."

Count Earton shook his head.

"That's a real predicament."

"'Predicament' doesn’t even begin to describe it," Hans snapped. "We can't find that scumbag. The children saw Sarah get into an unmarked carriage, but that's it! Who knows what happened later, who was inside the carriage, whether it was that carriage or not..."

"And no clues?"

“None at all!”

Jess cursed.

That matter concerned him directly. Miranda was still in danger as long as that elusive bastard wasn't beheaded. Actually, Jess would have preferred if his body was burned, too, just to be safe.

"And no ideas?"

"As if..."

Hans threw an angry look at the count, and Jess handed him a goblet of wine.

"Drink and calm down."

“Thank you."

“You’re welcome. So who was Sarah?"

"An ordinary girl, a washerwoman. Just the right type, looks-wise—a slender, grey-eyed blonde. She wasn't even fifteen! Son of a bitch!”

"Where could that bastard have seen her?"

"Anywhere. She took laundry from noblemen's houses, washed it up, and brought it back. He might have stumbled into her."

"What kind of victims do we have?"

"Commoners, mostly. Just two noblewomen."

"One of them was Mirrie's friend. What about the other one?"

"Elyssa Varent."

"Elyssa Varent?"

Jerisson thought a bit. He didn't know her.

"She was a leir's daughter. Her parents are landless. They were going to introduce her to society..."

"Why didn't they?"

"His Majesty's funeral. The man who was to recommend them to Her Majesty was out..."

"I see. They were hoping to make her a lady-in-waiting?"

“Yes, Your Majesty."

Richard nodded.

He didn't mention that even the biggest ballroom in the palace wouldn't fill all such hopefuls. Maria was very picky with her retinue.

"So, what happened to her?"

"Basically, the same thing as to Riana Dilahn. She was murdered..."

"Did she also meet a stranger?"

“Yes, Your Majesty. Either on a walk or somewhere else. Her parents were busy and never noticed their daughter's frequent absences. One night, they came home, and she wasn't there. There was no letter, and her belongings were in place..."

His Majesty sighed.

"Hans, find me this bastard. Alive."

Jess rubbed his forehead.

Lily had told him somethings once...but what was it, exactly?

"Just a minute."

Hans glanced at Count Earton, who started explaining his idea.

"Riana told Miranda that her lover was a bit older. Let's say he's younger than thirty. Agreed?"

"All right..."

"He has his own estate."

"Or his parents do."

"He's also quite rich..." Hans nodded.

A plan started taking shape. Compile lists and sort the people in order of suitability—their income, ownership of a house, their age—and start checking them.

Sooner or later, the culprit was bound to drop his guard and slip. And then, Hans would get him.

***

It was easy to say, "We'll get into a boat and sail."

Doing that was something quite different.

The boats on board the ship were far from kayaks. They were heavy and monstrous, accommodating up to ten or fifteen persons. They were also tied down to the deck well enough to present a challenge. Pushing them into the water
without waking the entire crew seemed like a task for a real hero.

Ellis Rois, however, was no hero and wasn't going to become one, especially posthumously.

Let's see: lifting the boat alone was impossible; he would need a partner. Having a partner meant either sharing the spoils or killing two people instead of just Lilian. There was also the matter of a sentry, of random sailors who might, for some reason, come on deck in the middle of the night, becoming witnesses...

Remorse? What are you talking about? Ellis had long since knocked its teeth out. His remorse was quiet and obedient. He just didn't want to risk too much.

One mistake, and the crew would sound an alarm. Ellis had no chance against the whole ship. Even if he found a partner, that just wasn't an option.

Maybe he could just poison everyone onboard? Alas, he hadn't prepared a bag of poison in advance. What else could they do? Swim to the shore? Jump overboard and plow the waves?

No, Ellis wouldn't do that in a lifetime.

He might have made it alone, though. But what would happen next? What would he do alone in the woods without even his boots, not to mention other essential items? Would he travel barefooted until he reached civilization?

There was also the countess, who, for all her strong points, was only a woman.

She'd never swim to the shore, even if... Ellis entertained dropping a barrel overboard. If it was empty, it should stay afloat. He could tie a rope to it and pull it landward. Two barrels, a few planks...it might work. Still, the countess would never do it. That wasn't even a question.

So what did that leave? What would he do?

Ellis didn't see a solution yet, despite his promises to the countess.

There was also an idea to spoil the water in the barrels to force the crew to reach land or send a team to find a place with fresh water.

However, Ellis wasn't sure that he could do that without getting caught. And if he did...

Well, that was simple. He would be hanged on the yard-arm, the mast, or any other pole.

That wasn't something Ellis wanted to happen, although he was willing to risk it. But then, destiny intervened.

***

Viriom was the domain of Virmans. The islanders had mastered the ocean like the back of their hand, knowing all of its tides, shoals, and currents and traveling it all year round. For them, Viriom was life.

The Green Ocean, however, was the home of the merry men of Loris: pirates.

Ivernea, Avester, the Khanganat—all of them meant top booty. Some people whispered that Loris boasted the patronage of Avester, but those were just rumors, nasty and false.

Pirates were a dime a dozen in the Green Ocean, and so, it wasn't long before their eyes fell on the Prancing Mermaid.

On the third day after sailing past the shores of Ivernea, a pirate sloop started following in its tracks: a small, three-mast ship that steadily closed in on the Mermaid.

A commotion broke out aboard. Tony ran to the captain.

"What's going on?"

"Pirates," the captain replied curtly. "We'll fight."

"We cannot fight!" Anthony flared up. "We have a noblewoman aboard!"

"You don't want to know what the pirates can do to her," the captain snapped.

Tony was lost.

On the one hand, he had Lilian Earton and needed to get her to Avester. Maybe he could try talking to the bandits, pay them for an escort...

On the other, what would they do upon learning about the countess? And really, what kind of negotiations could there be with pirates?

They were backstabbing predators! They'd never be content with a part if they could get the whole thing.

"I'll warn the countess and will fight," Tony nodded.

The captain nodded in turn, and the baron rushed to Her Grace's cabin that he had been avoiding for the last few days.

Lily was already waiting.

She could hear the chaos onboard even from behind the locked door, so Anthony's appearance in the doorway didn't exactly surprise her.

"Pirates, Your Grace."

"Great. Now we have pirates. Is this your competition, Baron?"

Anthony decided to ignore her jab.

"We'll make our stand. I'll leave your door open, just in case. If we lose, you can decide for yourself what to do."

Decide between killing myself and lying with a pirate—what a great choice.

Lily almost spat but restrained herself. She was a countess, was she not?

"What a multitude of options."

"Don't mock me, Countess. We'll try our best to win, but nobody knows the will of Aldonai."

That was true.

"Leave me a weapon," Lily said.

"A weapon?"

"Baron, do you think I want these brutes to capture me alive?" Her Grace flared up.

Anthony felt like an idiot.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I hope you won't need this."

A heavy and quite expensive dagger fell into Lilian's hand.

She winced. She didn't like such blades. It was too long and too heavy for her, and the quality was mediocre, too. The decorations, however, were nice: a gold inlay, an engraving, a large sapphire pommel...

Her blades were much plainer: short, razor-sharp, handles wrapped in sharkskin. Not much to look at, they nonetheless could cleave a hair in half, and their balance...

"Do you want to give me my knife back?"

"I don't," Tony snapped and left the room.

Lily sighed and started to change.

She wasn't going to kill herself, of course. There was no need to hurry with that. She could barter, try putting a price on herself, and even if they tried to rape her, there was still a chance to escape. Pirates were vile and detestable knaves, but even they had a leader. She could always feign wanting to become his mistress and play it by ear.

Anthony Lofrayne had given her a weapon and didn't lock the cabin. She was going to use that for all it was worth. While there was fighting on the deck, nobody would come to her, and she...

She needed another weapon, badly. It was clear that she wouldn't get her dagger back. Lofrayne probably had it in his room, and when that bastard learned that it was missing, he'd immediately realize her plans. Still, Lily could try finding a few knives of lesser quality—in the crew quarters, in the galley, anywhere. Time was of the essence.

And so, Lily started to wait.

Her baggy pants didn't restrict movement, and neither did her shirt and her vest. If the worst happened, her riding suit wouldn't help, anyway, maybe even impede her.

When the fight broke out, Her Grace would leave the cabin and sneak into a few rooms, looting them like a common thief. Let them worry later about who stole what.

She didn't think about offering her help to the doctorus. Demonstrating her skills was the last thing she needed, really. She'd rather wait until the battle was over.

In any case, Lily had no incentive to help her enemies, damn the Hippocratic Oath. The fewer enemies she had, the more chances for victory!

***

The sloop was rapidly gaining on the Mermaid. The sailors could already make out the name of the pirate vessel—the Windcatcher—and a scarlet banner signifying a coming battle.

The captain had the choice of raising their own scarlet flag or...

But he chose the former. The coyotes wouldn't get their prey, not on that day.

The Windcatcher started coming in upwind, trying to deprive the other ship of a tailwind.

"Whoosh!"

A giant quarrel sang true and clear. Apparently, the vessel had large arbalests onboard, but what about the Virman Fire?

Or maybe they had no way of throwing it that far?

Tony waited together with everyone. As soon as the captain yelled the order, he felt an impact—that was the catapult shooting a projectile at the pirate ship. It went right past it.

Tony bit his lip.

It all looked simple: the ships came close and fired at each other as much as they could. After that, their enemies would throw grappling hooks, and the melee would start, cruel and merciless.

So, who would win?

It all depended on Aldonai's favor. In any case, Anthony was going to sell his life for the highest price.

More and more missiles and quarrels came in, soon joined by crossbow bolts.

The captain kept shouting the orders, half of which Anthony simply couldn't understand.

The ships maneuvered.

"What are they doing?" Tony yelled, poking a sailor who was loading a crossbow right next to him, hiding behind the bulwark.

His response was full of complex nautical terms, but Anthony got the gist.

The ships were trying to seize an opportunity.

The Catcher was smaller and more mobile, while the Mermaid, larger and heavier. The pirates were trying to shut their enemy from the wind and wait for the moment to ride a wave and attack them from above.

The captain of the Mermaid was doing his best to prevent that, and thus, they kept dodging and trying to shoot the Catcher.

The more pirates they would shoot before boarding, the less they would have to kill later.

Anthony nodded and started closely watching the maneuvers.

Honestly, the Catcher was much better at executing them. Soon, it moved behind the stern, and the Mermaid's sails sagged. The Mermaid's captain barked an order, and the ship jerked forward, but it was too late.

The Catcher finally seized the moment.

The sailors fired, then again, but the pirates were almost upon them.

Grappling hooks flew in, banging against the broadside. One landed just next to Anthony, and he hacked at it without even thinking.

The rope sagged, but it didn't matter, as pirates were already pouring aboard after discharging their crossbows one last time.

They jumped through the bulwarks, falling on the deck as if from the sky itself.

Tony immediately engaged two bandits.

That battle had nothing to do with a noble duel; it was a frenzied melee where you could get a hit from anywhere around you.

Someone covered Anthony from the back as he kept parrying blows and giving out his own, using sword and dagger at once.

All he could do was to hope that they would make it. He really didn't want to die that day.

***

Lily managed to perfectly predict the moment when the ships came together.

The floor shook, and as she heard the clatter of battle, she pushed the door and left her cabin, lowering the latch.

She held the dagger in her hand and knew for a fact that if she had to, she'd cut down everyone in her path without a flinch, whether friend or foe. That said, she didn't have any friends there.

So, where were the captain's quarters?

Soon enough, she found them and quickly went inside, dauntless, only opening the door wide and propping it with a chair so she couldn't be locked inside.

What did she want?

Money. Just a little bit, at least. She had been taken without a single coin; she'd rather escape with full pockets. Something small but expensive, easy to carry and easy to sell. Trinkets would do, definitely.

Weapons? Yes, weapons were of prime importance—weapons of any kind.

Lily rummaged through the desk drawers, quick and resolute. She didn't take the entire purse—only a few gold coins and some pocket change. Later, she was going to hide it in the most reliable safe a lady could have.

Back to weaponry. Taking the pieces from the walls was pointless, and they were all third-rate at best, anyway. Lily never considered adornment to be a weapon's best asset. A weapon must be plain and functional. The blade should be perfect, and the handle... It's not like it was used to fight most of the time. That was a waste of money aimed at idiots who cared about gloss and trappings.

Lily continued searching the cabin, and her efforts paid off. At least, she found a suitable knife small enough to hide in a sleeve. She immediately put it in her belt, sheathed as it was, and left the room.

The only thing left to do was to wait for the winning side to be determined—and hide the loot, of course.

Lily did it by opening a tiny window in her cabin and sticking the found knife into the ship's wooden hull.

It wasn't perfect, but who'd ever look there? It had to work.

She hid the money inside the turn-ups on her pants. Due to their clumsy design, she had been forced to roll the pant legs up, creating turn-ups. That's where Lily put the coins, immediately stitching them up with a needle and thread.

The ongoing battle didn't matter. She wasn't going to fight, but she had to take care of herself. She needed those coins. That night, she would sew them up even better so they'd never make a sound.

For once, Countess Earton saw a glimpse of hope in her future. This victory, even if small, gave her wings.

She wasn't unarmed anymore. She also had the funds to make ends meet at least for some time.

What else did she need? To escape.

But that was still to come.

***

The pirates were attacking. With practiced ease, they moved across the shrouds, jumping like monkeys and trying to fall on the enemy from above. But the sailors were no fools, either. They held out their swords, making their opponents land on the bare blades, and kept firing their crossbows, fighting for their life and wanting to go out with a bang.

Tony fought in the first ranks.

Why would he do that? Valor? Courage? Nobility? Ah, to Maldonaya with them!

Armed with a dagger and a sword, Tony could never be called an expert warrior, but his father's swordcraft lessons hadn't been for naught.

Move the sword away, stab with the dagger, see an opening in another enemy's defense, stick the blade into his vulnerable side...and then, the first opponent would fall as well, killed by another sailor right when he was distracted by Anthony.

That wasn't a noble duel; that was cleaning up rabble and filth that deserved no better. A kick in the balls, a pinch of dust in the eyes—everything was allowed in a fight like that.

The opponent got down on one knee due to a leg wound, and Anthony finished him off with a dagger, then parried the blow aimed right at his head and heard a scream as a pirate's body came crashing down from above. The man had planned to jump down from the shrouds in the midst of a fight but miscalculated. Someone's bolt hit his throat dead-on.

Push down the opponent's blade, then stab. Dodge the blow, then stab.

The enemy sword scratched Tony's cheek. It wasn't dangerous, but it bled a lot. That bastard was going to pay with his life for the baron's ruined face, but thinking about his looks had to wait.

A blow, then another...

"Onward, you scum!"

Who was screaming? It didn't matter.

Both groups charged ahead, pirates and Avesterians alike. They growled in a mad frenzy, all but ready to sink their teeth into each other, rambling something, and suddenly, Tony saw a well-dressed man in his forties with a nice sword appear right in front of him.

A stab, then a slash... He parried like a noble, a man taught to fence from childhood.

Tony felt excited.

Blows rained down from both sides, and the battled broke up into a score of individual duels. Tony stood in the very center but never noticed, busy pushing his opponent's blade away from his throat, parrying, falling on one knee and thrusting his sword forward. In his final effort, the adversary pushed his hand away and sunk on the floor, the baron's dagger stuck in his throat.

For some reason, his death stripped the pirates of their morale. Some of them dropped their weapons; some jumped overboard... Apparently, the man killed by Lofrayne was their captain.

***

At first, Tony didn't realize that they won.

Still, the pirates were finished, the remaining few huddled against the main mast.

He breathed out in relief. They got lucky!

Aldonai, thank you. I'll light you the biggest candle in the first city we come across.

But how was Countess Earton faring? Was she alive and unharmed? Tony hurried downstairs.

Lily was sitting in the cabin playing with the dagger he had given her.

"We won!"

Riding the wave of happiness, Tony burst into the cabin, grabbed the countess, and gave her a firm kiss.

He shouldn't have. The sharp tip of her dagger rested right against his throat.

"Why shouldn't I kill you for this impudence?" Lily asked him in an icy tone.

Anthony unclasped his hands.

The dagger fell on the floor with a clatter.

"Don't you dare touch me, Baron. I'm afraid to lose control."

Tony turned pale in anger but still picked the dagger up.

"You'd tell the pirates the same thing, Countess?"

"I don't see how one group of lowlifes is different from another," Lily snapped.

"I’m not going to rape you, for one."

Lily winced.

"Abduct me, take me away from my family, probably doom me to a life of slavery or death... What a delightful prospect!"

Anthony turned on his heels and left, slamming the door shut.

Lily spat in his wake. She had noticed a cut on the baron's face. It looked pretty bad and required stitching, but...

Fat chance! Let the local quack patch it, like a horse in a slaughterhouse! She wasn't going to offer her help to the wounded—no need to heal her enemies.

Forgive me, Uncle Hippocrates. I guess I haven't embraced your vow deep enough, or maybe these Middle Ages made me a real animal.

But what could she do? Help the people who were bringing her to jail? Treat those who had condemned her to a fate barely better than death?

One could admire crocodiles and adore their teeth and skin, but not when they were trying to eat you, and one definitely shouldn't attend to their teeth if she wasn't a vet.

Lily didn't consider herself a vet.

Damn them all. Let them figure it out themselves.

***

Ellis couldn't believe his luck.

The captain examined the Windcatcher, ordered his men to strip it of all valuables, but decided against taking the sloop itself. It had been damaged by fire from a catapult, and water was pouring into the breach.

There was no point in taking a sinking ship, and landing ashore and trying to repair it ran the risk of meeting more pirates.

The captain didn't want that, but taking the loot was an entirely different affair. The loot, by the way, included three boats, large and comfortable, which were currently towed by the Mermaid.

All that Ellis had to do was load everything in one of them in one, maybe two runs, fetch Lilian Earton, cut the rope, and row to the shore that very night.

Everyone would be tired after the battle and drunk on the wine given out in celebration of their victory. Not much wine, of course, just a jug to each sailor, but they would still be fast asleep.

Well then.

It was time to begin.

Chapter 11

The knock on the door took Lilian Earton by surprise. No matter how much one waited for freedom, it always came unexpectedly. That's what made it so special.

"Your Grace, get ready. I'll come back in an hour."

"All right," Lily whispered.

The man left, and Lily rushed around the cabin.

She had to change. She pulled on all the clothes she had and topped it off with her riding suit, even if it barely fit her. There was never too much fabric.

She pulled out the knife, put it in her sleeve, gathered the basic supplies she had, and waited.

Minutes dragged on, slow and sticky like honey scooped with a spoon. Time itself felt frozen, like a fly in amber.

How soon will he come? How soon?!

Lily barely restrained herself from pacing around the cabin. Her nerves were taut as a string. Where was her liberator? What if he got caught? What if he was found out? What if...

She kept biting her lips, not even caring that her lower lip was bleeding.

Aldonai, help me! Even if I'm not of your flock, please help me. I beg you!

***

Ellis wrapped a rope into a noose. He could easily jump into a boat, but throwing a sack there was risky. It contained dry rations, a change of clothes, boots...he didn't want any of that getting wet. Lowering the stuff into the boat with a rope seemed much better, and it's not like it was hard, either. Hopefully, nobody would notice him.

But there was nobody on deck.

Everyone but the sentry and the helmsman were sleeping. Ellis himself was the sentry, and the helmsman simply couldn't see him from his post.

Usually, there were several sentries, but after the battle, some were wounded and some tired enough to pass out.

Without a hassle, Ellis sent the sack down into the boat he picked. Well, it was time to visit Countess Earton. Ellis hoped she was ready, but women...

You never know what to expect with them.

He really didn't want to carry her on his back. Ellis was absolutely sure that he didn't want to kill the countess right on the ship and set it aflame. That might rouse an alarm too early. The crew could easily use the other boats to catch up with him or get to him ashore. But if he left quietly...

Could he really leave quietly if he killed Countess Earton first?

Ellis wasn't sure that she'd go down silently.

Baron Fremont had mentioned that the countess wasn't a fragile lily, her namesake flower. She was rather a predatory sundew, capable of fighting back and screaming. It was easier to bring her along and deal with her far away from the ship. In the woods, screaming and kicking wouldn't help at all. If they left quietly, nobody would be able to catch them. Maybe the countess would even be of use.

No, he had to take her. Revenge would come later.

Ellis knocked on the door of her cabin.

"Are you ready, Your Grace?"

***

No matter Lily's anxiety, the knock on the door came as a surprise. That's the voice of freedom for you—no matter how you longed for it, you couldn't quite believe your ears when it finally came.

She immediately unlocked the door and jumped aside, just in case.

The door flew open. A man was standing in the doorway. He was alone; there was no gang of sailors who hadn't seen a woman since the last waterside brothel.

"Your Grace, come quickly."

There was no blow, no backstab.

Lily nodded, threw a cloak on herself, and stepped in line with the man.

“What’s your name?”

"Ellis Rois."

It didn't tell her anything.

"Let's go."

"If I stop, freeze and don't say a word."

Lilian nodded and followed him. Could it be she was about to break free?

***

Anthony Lofrayne couldn't sleep. Why?

Hell if he knew. Right after the battle, he had taken a sip of grog and passed out, making him wide awake in the middle of the night and not in the least bit sleepy. His body had rested, his mind was clear, and the baron was so full of energy he could start dancing. Maybe in an hour, that excitement would give way to fatigue, but he still had an hour to kill. How, though?

He wanted to run, jump, train with his sword...

Tony stood up from his bed, stretched, bumped into the ceiling of his cabin, cursed inwardly, and put on his boots.

He was going to take a walk around the deck.

True, it was the middle of the night, and so what? He'd breathe the fresh air and watch the stars, so bright and clear...just like Lilian Earton's eyes.

Why was he thinking of that?

Why was that woman so nasty?

Why did she want to attack him all the time?

Fine, let's say he really had abducted Her Grace. But they were nobles! Why couldn't they find common ground? Come to an understanding? Why behave like he was her number one enemy?

Tony sighed. He liked Lilian. She wasn't just good-looking; she was smart and carried herself with dignity. Finding out that all of that masked the personality of a rabid cat wasn't easy.

But she did have a good reason to be angry. Deep down, Tony realized that the countess was right.

She had been abducted, torn apart from her family. What was she to think of her captor?

She must hate him. She must want revenge.

That was the point. Lilian Earton didn't seem like a silly girl who used words lightly. She was intelligent and level-headed. Could it be the woman he was bringing to Avester was his own death sentence?

He had to think about that.

Anthony stood on the deck, lost in thoughts.

He didn't even gasp when a powerful blow came crashing down on his head.

***

Lily glanced at Lofrayne, delighted.

Ellis had knocked him out with his fist.

"He's not dead?"

"No."

"Too bad. Will we tie him up?"

"We don't have time."

"Maybe we should throw him overboard?" Lily suggested, but Ellis was already pulling her away.

"He'll start screaming and wake everyone up."

"What if he drowns?"

She should be so lucky.

But they were already at the broadside.

"I'll jump first," Ellis said grimly. "Follow me, Countess, if you want to escape."

Lily clenched her teeth. That was a problem she hadn't anticipated.

"I don't know how to do it!"

"Just jump, and I'll catch you," Ellis Rois said, forgetting the proper form of address.

Lily breathed out.

Jumping was scary. She had never done that, not even tried using a rope swing. The other students at her school loved tying a rope to a tree with a stick on the other end and jump into a river, but she didn't like water.

"What if we try a ramp or..."

Ellis gritted his teeth but didn't argue. There were more than enough ropes onboard.

He spent a few minutes attaching a noose to one of the parts of the bulwark. The rest of the rope fell overboard.

"Follow me."

"All right."

"Don't worry; I'll catch you. You won't drown."

Lily nodded.

Ellis went first. He threw his leg across the bulwark and slipped down the rope. Lily heard a splash.

For a second, she stared at the water. She was scared, scared enough to wet herself. And if so...

She had to take the leap.

There, at least, nobody would notice that she was about to piss her pants.

Her hand moved to her belly almost on its own accord.

Sorry, baby. Mama has to do something.

And then she grabbed the rope.

As she climbed down, she thanked her gym teacher, the one who had always yelled at the kids, "What if a war breaks out, and you can't even climb a rope?" Aliya could. Lilian wasn't as well-trained, but skill was more important than muscles. There was a science to climbing a rope.

Hold your hands at chest level or slightly above. Put one leg next to the rope and the other around it, pushing it on the other side and grasping it. Then climb like a centipede.

Straighten the legs, move your hands lower to grab the rope until you bend the knees, then slide down until they straighten again. Never hang loose like a slab of meat on a hook.

Come on, girl, you can do it!

For your baby, if not for yourself!

***

It didn't take long for Anthony Lofrayne to wake up. Ellis hadn't hit him that hard.

In a haze, Tony saw Lilian Earton throw her leg around the bulwark and disappear behind the washboard.

Aldonai!

She couldn’t do that! She couldn't escape!

The blow to the head had taken its toll, and Tony still had trouble thinking. That's why he didn't scream or sound the alarm.

It simply didn't occur to him.

Instead, he made a step forward, then another, and jumped overboard, ignoring any ropes.

***

Only several feet remained until the water. Lily braced herself, let go of the rope, and fell into the water like a sack of potatoes: awkward, clumsy, and not in the slightest bit graceful. She just wasn't a good swimmer.

For a second, she sank underwater, thrashing her hands, seriously afraid of being pulled under the ship's bottom, flopping around...

Oh, crap.

It was cold, cold and terrifying.

A strong hand grabbed her waist. Another jerked her hair with such force that Lily immediately came around.

"Calm down!"

That seemed to be the hardest thing when surrounded by hostile nature. She felt a hysterical fit coming on, disgusting like the saltwater on her lips.

All right. Breathe in! Breathe out! Relax!

Lily might not have made it, but Ellis wasn't going to relent.

Another pull, and Lily was afloat.

The air! She could breathe!

"I'll knock you out if you keep squirming!"

She barely suppressed the desire to hug him. They were in a boat; it was risky. Instead, she curled her hands into fists and continued breathing in and out. If anyone told her that the entire thing had taken only twenty seconds, Lilian would have never believed them. She was certain that she had been fighting for her life in the abyss for at least an hour, no matter the evidence.

Ellis was happy to see the countess simmer down. He didn't really want to knock her out: he might accidentally dislocate her jaw or break her nose in the process. After all, one had to pull no punches when dealing with a panicking person, even His Majesty in the flesh. Dragging the rescuer underwater was a very real risk.

The best thing to do in that case was to knock out the drowning person before saving them. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to do that with the countess; she had already pulled herself together. Good thing that Ellis hadn't tried to kill her in her cabin. She would have definitely managed to sound the alarm.

“I’m fine."

Ellis chuckled but didn't say anything. She wasn't screaming, thrashing around, or trying to drown him. Good enough.

"Can you swim?"

"I'll try."

Lily clenched her teeth and tried to disengage from her companion. She wasn't quite successful, scared as she was.

It was one thing to swim in shallow water, knowing that you could easily find solid ground with your feet; being in the middle of the sea at night was something else.

At least the ship wasn't moving fast.

Ellis noticed her attempts.

"Hold on here for a few minutes."

"All right."

"I'm going to unfasten the boat."

Then he dove.

Of course, Ellis didn't untie the boat—he simply cut the rope just above the noose, and the boat he picked broke away from the ship. The next thing was to get inside and row toward Lilian Earton.

Aldonai, the boat didn't want to obey him at all! Disgusting!

It made sense, though—it was designed for four oarsmen rather than one. Whatever. He'd get it to the shore; it wasn't far. But where was the countess?

As if to answer Ellis' question, a splash came from the water next to the boat, as if something heavy had fallen there...or someone?

Aldonai!

Ellis doubled down on the oars.

***

The water burned him with icy cold, slashing him like a blade, and Anthony felt better.

Aldonai, he had been so stupid! He should have screamed.

But it was too late. Screaming wouldn't help; who'd ever hear him on a ship that was rapidly gaining distance? And how much time would they need to turn it back?

Tony spun his head. So where was the countess?

Fortunately for him, the night was clear, and the stars were shining bright. There! A dark stain on the water.

In no time, he swam up to the countess and asked her tenderly,

"Going far, Your Grace?"

***

Lily was fighting to stay afloat. Yes, she knew all about swimming on her back. Lie down, submerge yourself in the water until only your face remained above it... But that was theory. In actual practice, she had never done that. The brazen water kept filling her ears, nose, and mouth. Her feet dragged her downward. Her shoulders felt like stone. No, Lily couldn't do it. She could barely keep herself from panicking.

Ellis was close; he would return with a boat soon. She just had to hold out, to buy time...

When she heard Lofrayne's furious voice right next to her, Lily couldn't take it anymore. She screamed, started writhing in the water, and sank down like a log.

She had been barely holding on, with all of her wet clothes, and that shock...

If Anthony didn't grab her by whatever he was closest to, she would have drowned for sure.

"Bitch!"

She didn't get the chance to answer as water filled her mouth. Still, spitting was just another form of response, wasn't it?

"Lilian!"

"Pshaw! Ellis!”

***

A boat! That word was music to Lily's ears, at least that night, and seeing it was just as wonderful.

A boat! Big, wooden...she could climb inside. Well, she could if Lofrayne hadn’t pushed her inside with such force that she almost broke her nose.

"What the—"

Ellis reacted quite predictably. Lofrayne's reply was just as polite. Still, Lily was in no mood to listen to their swearing.

"Aiiii!"

Lily's squealing was loud, high-pitched, and generally annoying, mostly resembling a drill boring into your ear.

The men froze, and she hurried to take advantage of the situation.

"Ellis, Anthony, if we fight, we'll drown, all of us. Let's get to the shore and decide things there."

She wasn't sure what worked—the wisdom of her suggestion or her steely tone, but the men calmed down and realized that starting a fight in the middle of the sea wasn't the best idea. They exchanged looks.

Ellis spat overboard.

"Start rowing, Baron..."

She had made it sound just like "moron," Lily thought.

Tony let out an obscene tirade about a certain someone swinging his fists around and making Tony's head hurt but obeyed. But no matter how much he swore, rowing was a necessity.

"There are dry clothes in the sack," Ellis said, pulling his eyes away from the oars for a second.

Lily breathed out.

“Thank you."

She immediately started looking.

There were two sacks: one had clothes, and another, provisions of some kind. Lily crawled behind the men and started pulling off the wet rags. It might not be the best idea, but falling sick seemed even worse.

The shirt and the pants were horribly oversized, but it didn't matter. What was the most important thing?

The most important thing was hiding the knife. The money could remain in her old pants; they were concealed well enough.

"No peeking."

The men weren't going to, anyway. They were busy rowing, having wisely decided that fighting and arguing could wait until they reached dry land. It couldn't end well at sea. None of them wanted to die.

Lily breathed out. Freedom? Not really, but it was the first step. After all, Lofrayne alone was easier to deal with than a ship full of mercenaries.

She'd handle that bastard, and in the worst case, she would have thrown him overboard without a moment's hesitation and never regretted a thing. She wouldn't care about slitting his throat, either. After all, surgeons were used to rather...inhumane deeds, using their knives on people all day long. How could one continue respecting human life with a job like that?

Lily wasn't altogether serious as she thought that, but the sarcasm helped her distract herself while she changed, sorted out her clothes on the benches, and even conducted an audit of the provisions, which, incidentally, included several flasks.

"Is there any wine?"

"Yes."

A pregnant woman shouldn't drink, but Lily's teeth kept rattling so much either due to cold or worry that all the drummers of the world would have envied her.

She couldn't get warm.

The wine flowed down her throat in a hot lump, falling into her stomach and heating up her veins.

Lily wasn't worried about the men. Rowing would help them get warm; they didn't need alcohol. She, however... Actually, if she weren't pregnant, she would have helped them. She might not be of much help, but at least it would have helped her get warm. Still, her condition precluded her from that. A sport like that strained the muscles she didn't want to strain. Let them make do without her.

"Are you all right?" Ellis asked, not turning around.

"I am."

"Then look ahead. Find the shore."

"Fine."

Lily didn't mind being a lookout. Land... She would have given everything to see it once again.

***

By daybreak, the bottom of the boat scraped sand. Why had it taken so long?

The distance to the shore turned out to be longer than she had thought, and the two men had a hard time rowing so far. They weren't complaining, but the force with which they moved the oars gradually decreased.

True, it was hard, exerting themselves so soon after a battle. Ellis' hands were tough as leather, but Anthony immediately chafed his skin raw. First, he got blisters, and after they burst, he was forced to wrap his hands in rags provided by Lilian Earton, who was happy with her foresight. It didn't console the baron much, but he had to keep rowing. Ellis would have gotten them to land even without his help, but when would it happen? By sunset? Really, it was better to work.

Everyone was silent.

The men knew that if either of them started a squabble, it wouldn't stop. In turn, Lily wasn't going to be the first to speak up, rightly believing that she would immediately become the scapegoat. After all, men usually blamed women for everything.

And so, when the boat finally reached the sandy shore, she was happy to jump right out of it.

Oops!

"Holy crap!"

For some reason, the treacherous sand beneath her feet started shaking.

Lily had completely forgotten that it could happen. When they sailed upstream from Laveri to Altver, they never moved far from the shore, often visiting the seaside towns. Considering the way she had felt back then, which was about as nasty, she made use of every opportunity to stretch her feet. This voyage was quite different.

How much time had she spent stuck in that disgusting rocking tub?

Oh!

She fell on the sand, holding out her arms and legs. The planet was rocking, and so was the sand. It all seemed like a grand conspiracy against Her Grace. But it didn't matter. She’d manage.

We'll make it, kid, right?

Lilian's hand slid to her belly. A second later, she came to her senses and removed it, but...

Maybe she imagined that, but there, under her clothes, she felt the beating of a tiny heart.

***

The men didn't even notice her gesture, busy pulling the boat out of the water and securing it. Then they finally looked each other in the eye.

What did either of them see?

Ellis Rois saw a foppish courtier, a spoiled rich boy used to winning over people with his handsome face. Without it, he was nothing.

Anthony Lofrayne saw an ordinary deckhand.

Well, not quite ordinary. Why in Maldonaya's nethers did that yokel get in his business? That was the first question expressed under the rising sun.

Ellis spat on the sand. So he would have to talk. Of course. And if so...

"I'd rather listen to why you abducted a person."

Lily pricked up her ears. She was curious, too, vitally curious. She was also quite certain that these two wouldn't resolve their issues in peace. But what could she do, really? Stand between them?

No thanks.

Lily believed in Ellis; he looked stronger than Lofrayne and had more experience. Honestly, she hoped that her revenge was about to come true. She had failed to drown Lofrayne; maybe Ellis would simply cut him down, to the countess' utmost satisfaction?

"It's my business!"

"Right now, your business is staying alive, brat!"

"Oh, Uncle, are you going to threaten me?"

"Maybe I am."

"Screw you."

"You..."

A large rigging knife flashed in Ellis's hand.

Tony cursed and flinched back. He hadn't brought a weapon along.

Ellis laughed.

"Getting cold feet, are you? Going to piss yourself? Get gone, or I'll cut your guts out!"

Anthony took a step back, then another...

"Fine. Just let me take my boots."

"What boots?"

"These!" Tony yelled. He wasn't going to leave in peace. Instead, he jumped to the boat and grabbed an oar. In his hands, it looked comically enormous, but Tony still managed to keep ahold of it, even if with an effort.

Ellis laughed.

"Are you trying to scare me with this? I'll cut you down where you stand!"

"Try!"

Tony clumsily swung the oar.

Ellis laughed and dove right under the makeshift weapon. He was planning to stab the baron in the gut and roll aside. Really, what could that fop do?

As it turned out, quite a lot. Tony wasn't going to use the oar to fight. As soon as Ellis bent down to duck, Tony released the oar and gave his opponent a good kick in the face. He didn't miss.

Lily tried to sit down. She wasn't very good at that, and taking part in the fight was out of the question. Getting involved in something in a state like that was a recipe for disaster.

Ellis fell on his back, and Anthony leaped forward and immediately sidestepped the sailor's swinging knife. He grasped Rois' arm and tried to dislocate it...

The men grappled each other and started rolling across the sand.

Lily stared at the fight wide-eyed. Who was winning? Who got the weapon?

When two are fighting, it's hard to make out what's what, unless it's a movie shot in slow motion. In real life, when two experts go toe-to-toe, a layman shouldn't try to get involved if they valued their life. You wouldn't do anything, only make it worse.

But what was going on? She peered inside the squabble until her eyes hurt.

There they were, rolling across the beach, entangled—and there they separated. But who was left lying on the sand?

Lily cursed. It was Ellis. Somehow, Tony had managed to reach for his knife-wielding hand and wrung it out, impaling Ellis on his own blade.

“No!"

Somehow, she got up on all fours and tried to crawl to the wounded man, but it was clearly pointless.

A penetrating wound to the stomach with a dirty knife? All she could do was to finish him off so he wouldn't suffer.

Real death never looked nice. In stories, people might die slowly and nobly, getting the chance to declare their will and list out their descendants, while their grieving family wiped down their tears and brushed cold sweat from the brow of the deceased.

It wasn't like that in reality. A dying man doesn't care about lofty words. He doesn't have enough air in his lungs.

Ellis was writhing and groaning, and Lily put her hand in front of her mouth, trying to suppress an urge to retch. Then she turned around and puked.

She had seen dead men before, of course; that was just her pregnancy speaking. She performed surgeries and watched people die and be born, but in her current condition, even a small impetus was enough to start vomiting.

Anthony sank down on the sand. Things didn't look good.

True, he had Lilian Earton. However, they weren't on a ship but on the distant shore of either Avester or Ivernea. The only thing he could tell was that it was a beach surrounded by a forest. But where to go?

Aldonai only knew!

What did they have in the way of supplies? How was he to prevent her escape?

There were many questions, but not much in the way of answers. Actually, he didn't have any answers.

What was he to do next?

He didn't have an answer to that either.

***

"Ma-ma..."

Miranda patted Jyce's head.

“Yes, honey. Mama."

The girl was miserable.

Mama...where was her mother? How was she? Miranda didn't know, and she was worried. But how could she tell that to the babies? To Roman and Jacob, who kept asking when their mama would come, to Jyce, who was only starting to speak...

The door flung open.

"Papa!"

Miranda all but flew up from the carpet where she and Jyce played with blocks.

"Mirrie," Jerisson said as he swooped her up in the air.

Jyce immediately bawled out, jealous, forcing Jess to take him up as well and give him a kiss for good measure. Two kisses, actually.

"Anything new?"

Jerisson shrugged.

"The Dancer reached Altver, but Lilian isn't there and never was there. Clarissa's been checked at sea. The other four ships haven't been sighted."

"Mama's not there..."

"No."

"I hope this Lofrayne gets eaten by ants," Miranda blurted out in anger.

"I'm sure he will. What's new in Taral?"

Miranda rubbed her forehead.

"Papa, I have no idea how Mama managed to do all that. It's always something—missing yarn, not enough bobbins, the children acting up... Hans brought in another child. I can understand him, but she's a real monkey!"

"Well, that's right up your alley," her loving father quipped. "You do love messing with animals, don't you?"

Miranda snorted.

"Only if they have a tail and four paws. I get it, the girl was all alone, but she's a tornado in a skirt! It's horrible!"

"Everything will be all right," Jerisson said, trying to cheer her up. "How are you doing?"

“Not well. It was different with Mama," Miranda confessed. "When she did it, everything worked out so nicely, and everyone obeyed her. It's not the same for me."

"Learn. Don't forget that you'll have to travel to the Khanganat in a few years. Just the place for taming wild cobras."

"Papa, you can't tame snakes."

"Really? Lily said that—"

Miranda shook her head.

"It's not really taming. A snake won't love you, care for you, or appreciate your efforts. It will simply repeat a specific set of actions."

Jess waved his hand.

"Ah, to Aldonai with snakes. Mirrie, please, don't travel alone."

"All right, Father. Why?"

Another girl wouldn't ask that question, but Lily had taught her daughter to always inquire about things, always keep digging. She didn't have to disclose the truth, but she had to know it so she could understand what was going on. Jess had long since come to terms with having a curious child.

"Hans said they had found another body."

“Holy Aldonai!”

"All the girls were blonde, but who knows with this bastard?"

"Papa, I promise you, I'll never leave the palace without the dogs and the guards, even for Taral."

It wasn't hard for Miranda to make that promise. She didn't want to upset her father in any way.

"And Mirrie, if a man tries to court you, if he sets his eyes on you..."

"I'll tell you at once. I promise."

Jess nodded and suddenly scooped both of his children up.

"Mirrie, it's so hard for me without her..."

Miranda pulled up Jyce to make him more comfortable and froze in her father's embrace. True, parents took care of their children. But sometimes, they needed their support, too. They needed to see a reason to go on.

At home, Jerisson could allow himself to relax. Nobody could see him there but Miranda, as the babies were too little. She, however, could understand. She had already understood.

Miranda didn't say anything. She didn't need any pretty words. Instead, she put a hand on her father's shoulder.

"She'll be back."

Her words were full of faith and utter conviction.

Aldonai, help Lilian! I beg you, help her! She may be strong, but she needs your help, too...

***

Lily was sitting and staring at the water.

The sea was far from calm; it boomed and it rattled, licking the pebbles and trying to take the boat away. As if they'd let it! The sea had already gotten enough spoils that day with the pirates and their ship. A boat would have been too much. The sea, however, didn't agree with that sentiment and kept rocking the craft—to no avail. Ellis, the poor dead Ellis, had done a good job driving the stakes, or whatever it was tied to, into the ground. Lily didn't know the correct name of these things. They had also arrived during high tide. At the moment, the sea was departing—and trying to take the humans' vessel with it, sweetly and stealthily, picking at it with a hundred sticky paws...

The boat didn't resist. It was made for sailing, but nasty people had tethered it, forcing it to dry in the sun.

Maybe they should simply let it go?

"What are you thinking about, Lilian?"

Anthony walked up to her and sat on the rocks.

Lily sighed, nursed her knees, and put her head on top of them.

"Lofrayne, do you understand how bad our situation is?"

"I wouldn't say it's that bad," Tony replied, shaking his head. "Although it's not especially cheerful."

"We're stuck Aldonai knows where," Lily said, folding one finger.

"I suspect that we're already in Avester, maybe on the border with Ivernea."

The countess chuckled. State borders were rather arbitrary in that world unless they went along a river where people lived, so they were plotted on maps. But forests? Deserts? With no topographers, mapmakers, geographers, and other useful people, the coordinates were far from certain. There were no border outposts with guards and dogs. It was a forest, for God's sake! It was impossible.

"I suspect it doesn't matter to us. We have the sea on one side and the forest on another. I don't think the crew will notice our disappearance soon."

"I always come down for breakfast, and they'll bring you food, too," Anthony said with a shrug.

"Breakfast? Where's breakfast, and where are we?" Lily was quite pessimistic. Nothing new for pregnant women, actually. Sometimes, she felt as if she didn't want to live. The large dose of hormones in her blood took its toll, coloring the world into ash and charcoal. Life felt hopeless, her prospects grim, and her further actions...

What actions? She'd rather crawl in a dark hole and wait. Let them all die, just as long as they left her alone!

Anthony had no idea about such nuances, as well as his companion's pregnancy, which is why he kept droning on, unfazed.

"When they discover that we're missing, they'll start looking for us."

"And they won't find us," Lily said, nodding.

“Really?”

"Or they'll find us too late. Baron, how much do you know about ships? Their rigging, their shape, their size..."

"Not much."

"And neither do I, even if I'm a shipwright's daughter."

Anthony stared at her in confusion.

"What does it have to do with us?"

"Imagine this isn't a sea but a meatball soup with pirates as meatballs."

"Meatballs?"

"It doesn't matter," Lily replied, brushing him off. "Baron, we cannot let them know about us. If pirates see a sign and come here... Do you really want to die a painful and premature death? They can take care of that."

"We could hide in the woods."

Lily shook her head, allowing Anthony to realize the perils of such an idea. The pirates could easily notice the Mermaid in any case, and if they landed... No, Lilian didn't want that at all, and neither, on second thought, did the baron.

"They won't come back for us," Lily concluded sadly. "We're alone here."

Anthony coughed.

"Well...maybe."

She slumped her shoulder, nursed her knees even tighter, and closed her eyes. It was going to be all right after she opened them again, wasn't it?  She would be home with Jerisson and Miranda...or maybe even home with her parents and Alex... What had she done to deserve that?

Tears came unbidden.

There, there... It's going to be all right, girl. Don't cry.

But self-consolation wasn't helping. The coarse fabric of her pants grew moist. Poor Ellis. He wanted to help so much, and he had done it...

You son of a bitch, Lofrayne! Ellis...

Suddenly, that name became the trigger that turned Lily's thoughts upside down. That man had tried to help her. Ellis arranged her escape, did everything he could, gave his life for her...was she going just to throw that gift away?

Never!

And for starters...

"Where's Ellis' body?"

Lily straightened her back, and Anthony was startled by the expression on her face. Her tears hadn’t dried up yet, but her lips were pressed together, and her eyebrows were knit.

"There it is," the baron said, gesturing at the body.

"We have to bury him."

"What?"

Anthony was quite sincere in his indignation. Digging a pit? With what? They didn't have a shovel, and the soil there was rocky and hard.

Lily looked around. They were on the seacoast. The beach itself mostly consisted of pebbles that gradually turned into a forest floor with pines growing on it—not especially tall, as seaside plants were generally shorter than those deeper in the woods, but still.

"Trees usually grow on sandy soil. We can bury him there."

"Let's say we do that," Anthony agreed. "But how will we dig a grave? With our hands?"

Lily sighed once again and stood up. Why the hell had she been sitting on those pebbles? Did she want to freeze her kidneys so she'd have to run to the bushes every five minutes to pee? Mark the territory like a cat?

Enough. She had already had a meltdown. She had cried. She would grieve more, but that would be later.

"Lofrayne, I can't help you. You'll have to carry Ellis' body to the trees, where we'll dig a pit and bury him."

Tony snorted. He wanted to argue, to fight, but was it truly worth it?

That woman might throw a fit, leaving him to deal with it... Fine! He'll bury the corpse! Throwing him into the sea would have been much easier, though. The tide might have taken him away...

And if Lilian got scared that it floated, Tony would have simply ripped the guts open and punctured the bladder.

***

They had to dig together. Anthony threw the soil away from the pit, and Lily used a plank to rake it away.

She wanted to cry again, but she resisted the urge.

It was not the time or the place to show her weakness or Lofrayne would immediately make use of it.

Hang in there, Lilian.

When the pit was deep enough, Lily nodded to Lofrayne, indicating that they had to put the body there. The baron nodded, but instead of obeying her, he started to rummage through Ellis' pockets. A pile of coins, a knife, another knife... Nothing eye-catching. Once, he had been a person. Not anymore. Anthony didn't let Lily put his cloak there, either, saying that they needed it. She didn't argue. The dead didn't care; the living needed warm clothes.

She helped make a burial mound, waited for Lofrayne to leave, and finally dropped the facade, breaking off two twigs, making a cross, and sticking it on top of the grave. A blessing of sorts.

Here, they believed in Aldonai, not Jesus. They had their own rules and rituals. Still, she needed that.

"Our father, who art in heaven..."

Lily didn't really know any other prayers, but she had to pay her due.

Rest in peace, Ellis. We didn't get a chance to talk, but you saved me. You helped me escape the ship; it's not your fault that Lofrayne tagged along. It just turned out this way. It just happened.

That's how the gods entwined our destinies, and we can't change them. Not now.

Tears came again, and Lily didn't even try wiping them. Her hands were dirty; if she touched her face, she'd look like a nightmare. It would be better to go to the sea and wash it later when she calmed down.

And the tears kept flowing.

For how long would she have to keep steeling herself? As long as it takes.

Confucius had once said that a hammer shattered steel but also forged steel. One, however, needed a steel heart under that steel armor, and Lily didn't have it. Hers was flesh. She was a real living person who felt fear, pain, and longing, who wanted to forget everything and fall into a hysterical fit...

But she couldn't because she had never been alone once in her life.

At first, she had Alex and her parents. How could she fail them? Then there was Miranda, her people, Jerisson, the children... All of that stuck together, one thing to another, and every time, there was someone weak, someone to help and support. And that's what Lily did.

In a way, nothing changed. She had her baby. Her child was inside of her, and she couldn't allow herself to come undone. She couldn't collapse on the ground, sobbing, beating her head against a tree, biting the soil... What else had those helpless romance movie heroines been doing?

Actually, forget it; how did they manage to keep their make-up even after a tantrum? Now that was real heroism!

Lily chuckled. Alas, she would never get to watch TV again, even if, at that moment, she would have settled for a menstrual pad commercial.

The moment of weakness was over. Lilian Earton pulled herself together and looked at the grave, then made a sign of the cross over the mound.

"Rest in peace, Ellis. Requiescat in pace. And goodbye."

And then she left.

***

Anthony Lofrayne was sitting in the boat, and his thoughts were grim.

They were in the middle of nowhere, with barely enough clothes, weapons, and food supplies, as well as god-awful prospects. Honestly, that was enough to make a man weep. That's probably what the countess was doing—sobbing her nose off.

Tony wondered what that sailor had babbled to her. He should ask when she returned.

He didn't have to wait long. Lily came back in half an hour.

"Are you sitting, Lofrayne?"

"I am, as you can see," Anthony agreed. "Lilian, please confide in me. What was it you heard from that...that..."

Tony couldn't find a good enough word and started thinking.

Lily snorted.

"Don't worry, Lofrayne. Ellis promised to get me home."

"He did?"

"Naturally, I accepted his offer."

"And how did you expect to accomplish that?"

Lily shrugged.

"A stroll through the woods isn't a big challenge."

"A stroll?!" Lofrayne was aghast. "Lilian, can you even imagine the distance to civilization?"

"Ten or twenty days," Lily said, nodding. "I know. So what?"

Lofrayne stared at her in awe.

"And...how are you going to travel?"

Those weren't paved streets of a city. There were no horses, no palanquins...

"By foot. Through the woods." Lilian's mood was rapidly improving.

Anthony rubbed his forehead.

"Forgive me. I don't get it."

"Say, Baron, have you ever been in the woods?"

Anthony felt insulted. What kind of man did she think he was?

"I’m a nobleman!”

“So?"

"Of course, I hunted!"

Lily let out a flippant chuckle.

"I get it. But have you been to the woods?"

"Where did you think I hunted, Countess?"

"Just call me Lilian. We'll save time on ceremonies," she said in a dismissive tone. "So, you only hunted?"

"Yes."

All Lily could do was sigh.

Yeah, right. Hunting.

Hunting meant horses, tents, a wagon train, blanchers... The difference between a hunt and a camping trip was the same as between traversing the Siberian taiga on foot and backpacking through Europe with all of its motels, gas stations, and cafes—everything for your money.

But taiga? Even if a shower of diamonds fell upon you from the sky, you'd curse and drop them right there, as it meant an excess load. A knife was worth more there than any jewels.

When she returned, she would have to ask Jerisson to give her a nice weapon as a gift. After all, her throwing knives were gone! The baron's fault, by the way.

Really, how had she dared to drop her guard? She should have aimed better instead of yawning; that way, she would have killed Lofrayne instead of sitting next to him on his land.

Of course, Lily was overstating her bloodthirst. She wouldn't kill him even in the present situation, although for a different reason. She needed a sidekick. Someone to keep watch at night, help her defend herself in a pinch...

"You've never had a camping trip? Oh..."

He hadn't. It had been some time since the last war, and border squabbles were a different thing. They didn't require that.

Nobody was arranging backpacking tours, either. The only type of tourism practiced in the entire world was pilgrimage. Lily suspected that it wasn't going to change anytime soon. Well, whatever. She had her own problems to take care of.

It would have been so nice to sit tight, develop medicine, teach the youngsters, but no! Wellster, Avester...

Ugh.

On the other hand, she had brought home a souvenir from Wellster; maybe Avester wouldn't fail her either?

As for staying alive in the forest... The sea might be Lilian's problem, as her father had never been posted there, but the woods were different. The forest was her loyal friend and ally.

So what was it like, growing up in an army town?

Many of them were located just next to a forest, if not in the middle of it. A forest where you could pick berries and mushrooms, gather herbs, go skiing in winter, and in summer, just lie on a clearing and relax or play Cowboys and Indians, hide-and-seek, and other such games.

Keeping children at home was impossible. The adults didn't have a choice: they were forced to teach their offspring to navigate the woods using a compass, the sun, the stars...anything.

Lilian didn't have a compass, and the constellations here were different, but the sun was basically the same as on Earth, rising in the east and setting in the west.

Crossing the forest while navigating by the sun was a piece of cake. Lily wouldn't even sweat if not for other factors. Weapons, clothes, rations—all of that was necessary, or her fate would be unenviable. Boots were the most important issue. It's not like she could walk through the woods while wearing silken shoes fit only for pacing a tiny cabin, and a dress wouldn't do, either. Fortunately, Ellis had warned her about the coming escape.

She recalled an incident from her days as Aliya.

Back in college, Alex had come to her for the weekend, and a few acquaintances tagged along, wishing to go to the woods. She and Alex agreed, and...

On the appointed date, Aliya and Alex were waiting for the others in the agreed-upon spot, dressed in military fatigues and army boots, backpacks in tow. The others were there, too...wearing short shorts and sleeveless shirts. One girl was dressed in leggings and high heels, another a dress. The local mosquitoes had a field day with them. Aliya thought that the population of the entire forest came together for a feast. Soon, the company parted ways, and Aliya and Alex went straight into the thicket. They had a great time, too.

But a long velvet dress was definitely not something one could wear if they wanted a forest stroll; that was a fact.

Lily didn't want to explain all of that to the baron. Instead, she let out a sweet smile.

"Anthony, I assure you, I can walk through the forest as much as I have to. I won't be a burden."

"Really?"

"Yes," she replied. "Actually, you'll be a burden to me."

Anthony clearly didn't believe her, but Lily didn't care. She still hadn't paid him back for the abduction, not to mention Ellis' murder.

So they were in the woods. It meant that she could look for the right herbs...what were the ones with a sedative effect? Not many could be found at the start of summer, but still...

Passionflower, windflower, motherwort, peony, valerian, rosebay... Lily knew a lot of them, but another thing troubled her. None of them were fast-acting. One would have to keep drinking the infusions for a month for them to start working. It wouldn't be possible to send the baron to sleep and abandon him in the forest. Shame.

Maybe it would be easier to poison him? An exotic spice made of henbane, a spurge laurel sauce... Although it was a bit too early for the latter. Oh, nothing was too good for the baron. She'd find something else. Hemlock, cowbane, wolfsbane, dittany—the list was long. A spoonful was a cure, but a cup could poison. Lily had gathered all of that once and still remembered those plants.

Well, she could try. It's not like she would feel any remorse. None whatsoever. Lily didn't care about the baron at all. That man knew what he was doing, and if he died by her hand, so be it.

She stared at the sea and thought that she had a chance to escape, and if so, she'd be a fool not to take it.

Go through the woods? She could do it.

Tame the baron? That was within her power, too.

Return home? That was the hardest part. Lily was absolutely sure—the problems would start as soon as she reached people. People always meant trouble. The woods had never posed a challenge. The woods were like math: everything was logical and made sense. Just do what needs to be done, and everything would be fine. But as soon as she reached Avester or Ivernea... That's where she'd get problems.

After all, what was she in this part of the world? Nobody. Screaming about her title, telling everyone her name would be stupid. She'd only leave herself open.

Basically, she was in her own little world: a strange and hostile world, and she had to go from point A to point B to get home. And this world would fight her; Lily was sure of that. It would scheme and plot against her, opposing her plans. It was a scary one, this new world, but how long could she keep being afraid?

As a future doctor, she had been taught not to fear anything. A surgery meant a surgery. A delivery meant a delivery. Nothing to be afraid of, really. What the eyes fear, hands do.

In this new world, she wasn't Countess Earton; she was simply Lily.

Do you really think she can't handle it? Think what you will, but Lily was starting her own play. Goodness knows, Entor of Avester, you'll regret taking me! You will all regret it!

Resolute, Lily turned to Lofrayne.

"Let's see what we have, Baron. We have hard days ahead of us."

Anthony chuckled, and suddenly, Lily felt a flush of mad excitement.

A new world, you say? Strange and uncharted?

She couldn't care less. She would investigate, discover, and chart it out.

I'm not locked in here with you; you're locked in here with me!

Lily straightened her back and headed right toward the sacks. She had to take inventory.

Brace yourself, Avester, for I'm coming.

As Her Grace smiled, somewhere far away, in the capital of Avester, His Majesty Entor suddenly hiccupped.

Was it a hunch? Prescience? He didn't know, but he was about to find out.

The End of book 9

A Medieval Tale series

Book 1: First Lessons (Find it on Amazon)

Book 2: The Clearing (Find it on Amazon)

Book 3: Palace Intrigue (Find it on Amazon)

Book 4: The Royal Court (Find it on Amazon)

Book 5: The Price of Happiness (Find it on Amazon)

Book 6: For the King (Find it on Amazon)

Book 7: The Right of Vengeance (Find it on Amazon)

Book 8: The Road of Kings (Find it on Amazon)

Book 9: A New World (Find it on Amazon)

Or you can find the whole series on Amazon. (Find it On Amazon)

More by Lina J. Potter

Legends of Radenor

Book 1: Half Demon’s Revenge (Find it on Amazon)

Book 2: Half Demon’s Fortune (Find it on Amazon)

From the Author

Dear friend!

Thank you for reading! I was happy to share this story with you and hope you liked it. If so, please, remember to leave a review, it will support me a lot.

I sincerely read all yours reviews and comments, they help me and inspires me so much, I do really appreciate each and every of them.

In appreciation you can find a sample of the second book of A Medieval Tale series further.

Thank you, my friend!

-          Best wishes, Lina J. Potter

https://amzn.to/2T6x0a6

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The main character starts her story just like Lilian: with waking up in another world. She is dreaming of coming back home and has a long way ahead of her in a fantasy land filled with elves and other magical creatures.

I suggest this book to everyone who likes fantasy, adventures, strong female characters, magic, and fairy tales.

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She will never accept this. Kiran will run away back to her freedom and lifestyle. Her restless soul won't abide either her cruel father or her potential husband. No matter how difficult it might be to confront the whole planet. They might be stronger physically but she is a cadet, after all, and cadets never surrender! Too bad that Eeristan might not survive the changes that she desires strongly.

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About Lina J. Potter

Call it inspiration, the voice of a Muse, or plain obsession... but I felt I had to write it down or else my brain would explode with all these characters longing to come alive.

Lina J. Potter has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember. She started putting her tales on paper when she was around ten years old. Despite that, the first her story came alive only in 2011.

Her literate pseudonym helps her saving her family and daily routine inviolable. She is laughing while remembering how her colleague at work decided to discuss A Medieval Tale series with her, having no idea she was speaking with the author herself.

Nowadays Lina J. Potter lives in the town of Tambov with her husband, daughter and two cats. She has a light-hearted approach to writing. Whenever she is not writing, you can find her practicing karate and lace-making. She avoids personal publicity and shies away from the literary limelight, preferring her quiet life to focus on writing.

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