“Claude may not like it, but there are certain things that need to be done for smooth succession,” a man said, speaking to a group of armored knights. “The remaining holy paladins are congregating in the royal palace. The estates of the favored princes in the capital, however, are largely undefended. We need to eliminate threats to King Claude’s reign.”

  The man produced a map of the capital, marked in certain places.

  “These are the places that you need to hit,” the man said, tapping each with his finger. “There won’t be any fame or glory in this. There can’t be any payment, beyond what you loot. It’ll be risky, too. But for the sake of King Claude’s unopposed victory… kill the princes in this estate. Show no mercy.” The man leaned away. “As far as we’re concerned, I didn’t give these orders tonight. You didn’t carry out these orders tonight. It’ll all be out of sight, out of mind. King Claude will be furious… but he’ll move on, given time. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” the soldiers shouted.

  “Then move out,” the man said decisively. “And long live the king.”

  ***

  Isabella wandered through the garden of Felix’s estate alone, turning her head about in search of Abigail. Things were going well inside—despite her concerns, the simple fact that the art was genuinely fantastic coupled with the king’s tacit endorsement proved tremendous fuel to set the fire going on its own. It proceeded far better than she might’ve hoped for, even.

  But… the archduke’s support was on thin ice. She didn’t think she’d have much luck with the archduke himself, but his daughter was another story.

  “Bella!” a woman shouted.

  Isabella turned her head, narrowing her eyes when she saw Bernadetta walking toward her.

  “Bella, thank the gods,” the woman said, her breathing slightly heavy. “I thought we might never have the opportunity to speak.”

  “Bernie,” Isabella said evenly, trying not to act affected. “Have you seen Lady Abigail?”

  “No,” Bernadetta shook her head. “You look splendid today, I must say. I wanted to give you something.” She held out a small box that she’d been holding. “I’ve been carrying this around all night.”

  Isabella took the box and opened it quickly. It was a ruby necklace which put the garnets she wore tonight to shame. Isabella liked it almost right away. In the past, she might’ve accepted it uncritically, or perhaps refused it out of some misguided sense of loyalty to her cousin.

  “How could you afford this?” Isabella asked instead.

  “Well… that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Bernadetta said excitedly. “Remember how you said you thought I was like your sister?”

  Isabella wished she hadn’t, but she nodded. “I do.”

  “Well… we are,” Bernadetta said, with a joyful, happy smile.

  Isabella cocked her head back. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m getting engaged to a prince,” she continued, putting her hands on Isabella’s as she held the box. “I’m even being allowed to relocate into the royal palace! Prince Rupert gave this to me, and I… I thought you should have it. It’d look far better on you than it would me, and I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “Why is a prince getting engaged to a granddaughter of an irrelevant baron with no inheritance?” Isabella continued.

  “It’s all thanks to you, Bella.” Bernadetta smiled as if she thought Isabella was the loveliest person in the world. “Thanks to all you’ve done, all you’re doing… by the gods, this event today. It’s beyond words.”

  Isabella looked right into Bernadetta’s brilliant purple eyes, entirely removed from the situation. Ever since she’d woke up back here, she’d wondered if somehow Bernadetta’s hatred had evolved; that it hadn’t existed from the start. Deep down, Isabella wondered if she had made this person standing in front of her turn to hatred, envy. She had the fear that it had been her own actions that had soured things between them, not the other way around.

  But this was simply ridiculous.

  “I should give my thanks to Prince Rupert,” Isabella said, shutting the box somewhat loudly.

  “That’s…” Bernadetta grasped Isabella’s hand. “He gave me so many gifts I don’t think he’ll realize I gave this to you, but… I don’t want him to know. Let this be our little secret.”

  “Prince Rupert didn’t give you this,” Isabella said decisively. “Who did?”

  “What?” Bernadetta’s face looked like a perfect mask. “Bella, you think I’m…”

  Isabella felt tempted to throw the box then and there as she was overwhelmed with hurt. She realized it, now. Their friendship had never been real. Someone was pulling the strings from the beginning. The only one that she could even think of was Duke Albert… but Bernadetta had been at her side through all of that, consoling her, listening to her… and she’d been there long after it, as well. Who, then? Why was Bernadetta doing this?

  “If I take this to the jewelers in the capital, who do you think will say ordered this piece?” Isabella asked.

  “Take it to the…?” Bernadetta seemed on the verge of tears. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bella.”

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Tears won’t hold you up in argument,” Isabella said coldly. “I don’t even know who you are. Don’t speak to me again.”

  Isabella turned away, for whatever reason still clinging to the box. She knew rationally that she should pry for more information, but… deep down, she knew who was behind this. It hurt her more than words could express. She stopped in her tracks as she saw Duke Valerio walking through the gardens toward her particularly intensely. He had a strange look on his face, one that she’d never seen him wear before. It was almost… frightening.

  Soon enough, he stood over her, and leaned down to whisper, “We have to go.”

  “What?” Isabella looked at him. “What do you mean? What are you even talking about? The event’s barely begun.”

  Valerio looked all around, then whispered to her quietly, “Edgar II is dead.”

  Isabella’s heart started beating faster immediately. Edgar was dead, and far earlier than she remembered. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised, but… now? Why now?

  Isabella took him aside, and spoke intently, “How do you know?”

  “My people got word to me,” he said. “There are soldiers, mercenaries, roaming the streets and establishing themselves. Some estates are being raided, and princes murdered. I can’t ensure you aren’t marked for death similarly. I can’t ensure the archduke isn’t involved.”

  Isabella’s brain ran through her options. Even if she refused him… there was a high likelihood that the event would break up on its own once the remainder of the people got the news. The auction would be cancelled, and Archduke Felix might keep her there as something of a hostage of sorts until things settled down.

  “I can offer to take you to my estate, but I don’t think you’d like that,” he said. “I can get you back to the royal palace, alternatively. The holy paladins are congregating there, and you should be safe under their watch. Mercenaries won’t dare break into the royal palace. Either way… I don’t think you should stay here.”

  Isabella closed her eyes, remembering the dark nights that occurred after a new king rose to the throne. She could remember all too well the soldiers and holy paladins storming in and around her quarters. The shouting, the screaming. The bloodstains, half-cleaned by morning time. Sometimes there were bodies, fires… but always, there was pandemonium when a king fell.

  “You’re shaking,” Valerio said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Isabella. You’ll be fine. If you want to stay here, rely on the archduke… I’ll do what I can to help you on the outside. I’ve got someone contacting your hired sword, Randolph, regardless. If you want to leave here, you’ll be safe in the palace—besides the holy paladins, my people on the inside will keep watch.”

  Isabella looked at him, trying to calm her tremors. “I don’t want to go back,” she said firmly. “We’ll go to your estate.”

  Valerio looked surprised. “Are you serious?”

  “No, I joke in times like this,” she managed dryly despite her unease. “Of course I’m serious. Let’s go.”

  “You’ll be safe there,” he vowed. “More than safe.”

  “If you can… make sure a palace maid named Alice doesn’t get hurt,” Isabella asked of him. “She has brown hair and eyes, and she’s small. She’s my personal attendant.”

  “Alice,” Valerio repeated. “I’ll tell them. For now… come on. Let’s not draw any attention.”

  Isabella and Valerio walked deeper into the gardens. Even Isabella had been surprised at her own decision, but…

  I’m tired, she thought. So tired of all this. If he truly is baiting me, luring me… if this is all an act… at least I’ll know right away.

  As they walked, Isabella saw Abigail. The lady saw her, too, looking at them. Isabella wanted to break away, to speak to her, but there was no time. Any minute, the event might end. She passed her by, a storm of emotion and thought rumbling through her mind.

  ***

  Cesare roamed the streets of the capital, walking quietly in the dark of the city alongside all of his men. While all of the other soldiers and mercenaries were raiding estates, pillaging on behalf of Prince Claude… he knew that the most money to be made would be on the streets. Fleeing princes and princesses were like prizes to be captured, and then either ransomed or handed off to his father.

  “Boss,” one of his scouts ran up to him. “We got one. White-haired woman, being escorted by a knight and some well-dressed, tall dandy.”

  Cesare whistled, and all of his fellows came to attention. He waved, and they got the command to follow. He looked back to his scout. “Lead on.”

  ***

  Isabella walked with Randolph and Valerio, holding her heels in one hand and the jewelry box in the other. She could barely walk, let alone run, in them. The stony road of the capital hurt her bare feet, but she could easily ignore that what with everything going on. There was shouting, smoke, crowds of people running about and looting. Randolph had helped them avoid the worst of it.

  As they walked, though, Randolph stopped and said, “Hold on.”

  Valerio stopped, looking back. “Sense something?”

  “Seven men in the alley to the right, four to the left,” he said certainly. “An ambush.”

  Valerio produced a knife. “Lead her around,” he said. “I’ll take care of it, make sure they don’t follow further.”

  Randolph nodded, and Isabella followed her condottiere quietly.

  “Might not be a good time… but I think a bloody raise is in order,” Randolph said, walking down the alleyway with his sword drawn. “Far be it for a gentleman like myself to extort a lady in her time of need, but I do quite enjoy living, and roaming the city in a night like this makes that a mite difficult.”

  “Agreed,” Isabella said.

  Isabella heard a blood-curdling yell, and instinctually moved closer to the wall. Randolph led her through tight alleyways, and she feared encountering someone alone in them… but they encountered no one, winding around the buildings before they emerged on the other side of the street which they’d parted ways with Valerio.

  When they had bypassed the ambush, the Duke of the Isles walked out of a dark alleyway with one leg of his pants covered in blood. There were great splotches of blood all over his sleeve, too, and the dagger he held was still dripping. He wiped it down with a handkerchief and stowed it away. The sight of him made Isabella’s breath catch, but she realized there wasn’t so much as a cut on him.

  “Any trouble?” Valerio asked. Isabella shook her head.

  “Just you,” Randolph said, shaking his head. “Where’s this estate?”

  “Not much further,” he said. “Come on.”

  Isabella walked with Randolph and Valerio, casting a brief glance back to the alley. She couldn’t see a single body, but there was a solitary trickle of blood forming a pool out of one of the alleys. As ever, she only saw hints of his violent nature rather than witnessing it firsthand. That almost seemed to be by design. She looked back at Valerio, wondering if her choice to come to his estate had been a mistake.