Underneath the yoke of King Edgar II, things had felt desperate and tightly constrained. Everything had been at its worst, then—there was a sense of impending doom, always, and a certain arbitrary nature to everything that led Isabella to walk on her toes at all times. One wrong move might find her walking the same path that she did in her last life.

  But now, as she and Valerio started to speak to the councilors, she wondered if it had always been this easy to sway the minds of people. The councilors that were ostensibly opposed to her agenda—largely because they were allies to Duke Albert and relied on his dominance of the art world—were happy to allow her residence in Duke Valerio’s home. It would damage her reputation a great deal, and reputation was paramount in this day and age.

  For the councilors that were neutral, it was a gentler game.

  ***

  “I might be willing to consider it…” Prince Alfonz said, a faithful loyalist of his brother Claude and general in the army. “But I’d like you to introduce me to the painter responsible for that painting by the name of The Serene Reverie. His art style spoke to me, and I have a commission for him. There’s a young woman and her dog that I’d like him to paint in a very similar style.”

  Isabella blinked at him in surprise. “Would that young woman be Marietta, your mistress?”

  Alfonz shifted in his seat, but eventually nodded. “Indeed. Is that a problem?”

  “I can arrange a meeting without trouble after the council meeting,” she promised easily. “She’s a lovely woman. I’m certain that the artist can capture her in splendid fashion.” Isabella didn’t name names in case Alfonz decided to run off and meet Edward of Lonlily without her help, reneging on their deal.

  “Wonderful,” Alfonz said. “Then, as fellow couples indulging in love…” He looked to Valerio. “I’ll wish you two the best of luck.”

  Isabella felt herself blush at the implication, but didn’t correct the point. She noticed that Valerio didn’t, either, and looked at him a little questioningly as they left Prince Alfonz’ chamber.

  Of course… things weren’t always so smooth.

  ***

  “I won’t dirty the reputation of my wife by allowing her half-sister to go gallivanting about, engaging in sin in the den of her fiancé,” Count Ferrat said uncompromisingly. “If I allow the dignity of the royal family to be tarnished, then my own dignity is compromised in turn.”

  Isabella was prepared to accept that it would be impossible to earn his vote, but she heard metal against metal and turned her head. Valerio had drawn two knives, and ran them against one another.

  “You know, Count Ferrat… I do have that right, don’t I?” The unpleasant noises of screeching metal filled the room. “When I’m deprived of something that I want, my natural instinct is to deprive the person that deprived me in turn. If you don’t vote… what part of you do you think I need to cut off to make us equal?”

  Ferrat stared at Valerio hard.

  “If you’re a count… and I’m a duke… certain transgressions would be far more easily forgiven.” He twirled the knives, and even though Isabella had been looking right at his hands, she couldn’t even tell where they’d disappeared to. “You have to ask yourself how much I’m willing to pay for revenge.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Ferrat asked.

  “Warning you,” he rephrased. “A subtle, but appreciable difference.”

  At that, Isabella stood up and left the room with Valerio. Once the doors were shut behind them, she glared at him.

  “Why bluff him?” she asked. “Why make an enemy for no good reason?”

  “Bluff?” Valerio repeated incredulously. “I’m hurt.”

  Isabella didn’t know which one she thought was worse—that he wasn’t bluffing, or that he was. Regardless, she sighed and carried on.

  ***

  They churned through councilor after councilor, having far more success than Isabella thought was possible. Thinking of it, her request wasn’t so inordinately unreasonable, especially not when it concerned the Duke of the Isles. It was a small thing to request to receive the goodwill of a man with the title of duke. She hadn’t realized how much of a boon Valerio’s presence was until she felt it. With every conversation he was involved in, she came away grateful for the simple fact that he was taking the time to do this… and a growing curiosity as to why.

  Eventually, though, she came to a conversation she’d been somewhat dreading.

  “Archduke Felix will see the two of you now,” his attendant said, bowing before walking away.

  Archduke Felix served as Prime Minister to Claude, the most prominent position on the council. It was a position won by merit. At governance, Felix was an expert. The role had previously been handled by Duke Albert, who Claude had no love for. Felix and Albert had vied for the role throughout much of her previous life, but for now, Felix had won it. Earning his support might sway the entire meeting.

  “Could I ask you to wait outside?” Isabella said.

  Valerio gave her an indecipherable look, but eventually nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

  Isabella smiled at Valerio and gave him a nod of thanks, and he gave her an encouraging pat on the arm. She entered into the archduke’s study in the royal palace. It was an exceptionally cold room, unlike most other places in the royal palace. It was unheated, it seemed—the hearth went unlit, and the walls remained undecorated with furs or other such things.

  Archduke Felix sat behind his desk, watching Isabella as she entered.

  “Your Highness. I’ve heard about what you’re asking,” Felix began without preamble. “Your request concerns the integrity of the royal family. Compromises made for you can be made for others. I see no reason why your current quarters are lacking.”

  “That isn’t why I’m here,” Isabella said, looking at the Archduke squarely. “I wanted to inquire about the art that was in your estate at the time of the troubles after Edgar II died.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “It was safely delivered back to the artists, as per the instructions in the event something like this happened,” Felix said, quickly and deliberately. There was no friendship in his tone. “Was there anything else?”

  Isabella gave a quiet sigh of relief. She wanted a strong relationship with those artists. “I also wanted to offer my apologies. To you… and to Abigail.” She lowered her head. “Everything happened very fast. I never had the chance to tell her, or you, what was happening. And… the things Edgar II said to her… I’m terribly sorry.”

  Felix leaned back in his chair. “Don’t try to manipulate me.”

  Isabella swallowed nervously. Then, she bowed. “Thank you for your time.”

  She turned to leave, and quickly walked out the door she’d entered from. Valerio looked at her questioningly, but followed along with her as she made to head to another wing of the palace. She tried to act unaffected, but she was worried about this gambit of hers. A few moments later, she heard the door open behind her.

  “Your Highness,” Archduke Felix called out.

  When she turned, Felix walked up to the two of them. “Yes?” she asked, trying to sound like she wasn’t relieved she’d judged him properly.

  Archduke Felix’s maroon eyes danced between her and Valerio, and then he held out his hand. There was a small pile of letters. “Even amidst the chaos, five people reached out to me inquiring about the artists that you chose. As such, I believe these inquiries belong to you.”

  Isabella looked to Felix’s eyes, and then hesitantly took the papers off his hands. “If you returned the paintings, then… you could’ve responded to these yourself.” And cut me out of the deal, she thought.

  “I could’ve,” Felix agreed.

  Isabella looked to Valerio, somewhat at a loss. Then, she looked back at Felix. “Thank you, archduke.”

  “Abigail was worried about you,” Felix continued. “Be at my estate at midday tomorrow to ease her concerns. That’s my asking price for supporting you two.”

  “But… I don’t understand,” Isabella said. “Claude is already married. Abigail can’t… I can’t help you anymore, archduke.”

  “You can’t,” Felix agreed.

  Felix straightened his coat, nodded to Valerio, and then turned and walked away. Once he’d shut the door behind him, Isabella looked at the letters in her hand. She was baffled by that exchange.

  “Didn’t you say something about failing?” Valerio reminded her, looking at the letters with her. “Those inquiries seem awfully fruitful for a failure. It makes me wonder what your successes look like. Walking on water? Turning lead to gold?”

  Isabella looked up at him. “Inquiries are only inquiries. I didn’t succeed.”

  Valerio studied her. “It’s very hard to get you to take credit for something.”

  “I think… I think those were all of the people I needed to speak to,” she said. “Now… we wait.”

  “I suppose so,” Valerio agreed. “Now, I think it’s long overdue for you to sit. The cuts on your feet haven’t entirely healed. Let’s go the royal gardens.”

  ***

  Isabella sat in her favorite pavilion with Valerio, a nervous storm disturbing her stomach. It made her quite anxious to think of the royal council going on without her interference. If she were there, her chances felt better, greater. But… it appeared she wasn’t alone in her angst.

  Valerio twirled that dagger of his through his hands. It seemed to be a habit of his. Whenever he was nervous, angry, or perhaps just bored, he would occupy his hands with a dagger or two. He didn’t even need to look at it not to cut himself. She’d seen some of the other side of him today—the veiled threats. And, frankly, the unveiled ones. It made her less uncomfortable than she’d have thought.

  “Her Highness Isabella of Dovhain,” greeted a royal crier suddenly, making her jump a little. “Duke Valerio of the Isles. I have a royal mandate with me.” The man unfolded a paper. “The king and his council have granted permission for Princess Isabella to relocate her domicile to the Duke Valerio’s estate. This allowance is caveated with the condition of a daily wellness check from the holy paladins, and the fact that Princess Isabella’s safety is to be the total responsibility of Duke Valerio. If she is injured, Duke Valerio bears full responsibility.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella said politely, not quite processing things.

  At that, the crier nodded and walked away. Isabella looked over to Valerio, who looked at her with an expectant smile.

  “Looks like you’ve gotten everything you wanted,” he said, leaning onto the table.

  “I…” Isabella fiddled with her fingers. “I guess… I guess I did.”

  Isabella couldn’t rightly say why, but a few tears escaped her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, but Valerio stood up from his seat and kneeled at her side. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, then laughed. “I’m just… happy. I got everything I want!” she acknowledged with another, fiercer laugh. “And the conditions are lighter than I expected. Daily wellness check from a holy paladin. I thought I might be assigned one to follow me at worst. I suppose they want all of them watching the king after what happened to Edgar II.”

  “Seems that way,” Valerio agreed. “I got worried there. Maybe you started crying at the prospect of living in my estate.”

  “Your estate is lovely,” she disagreed at once. “And I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay. For doing all of this.”

  “Plenty of room,” he said simply.

  Isabella thought more. “I can’t keep sleeping in your bedroom, though.”

  “My, how quickly young love blossoms,” said a woman’s voice.

  Isabella’s head jerked to the side—her reaction wasn’t quite as extreme as Valerio’s, who had a knife drawn and pointed a moment later. There was a bird perched on the railing of the pavilion. She was almost certain it had been the one to speak.

  In the far distance, a green-dressed woman walked out of a hedge maze, carrying a dainty green parasol. Isabella recognized her at once.

  “Igraine?” Isabella asked.

  “Yes,” said the woman and the bird at the same time. “I made a promise, didn’t I, young lady? I promised that I would help you as best I could.” She approached closer, and the bird flew to her shoulder, perching beneath the parasol.

  “A mage,” Valerio said, not putting his dagger away. “You know this woman?”

  “Yes,” Isabella said, putting her hand on the wrist holding the dagger. “She’s promised to be my teacher, so put that away.”

  Igraine looked at Valerio. “You must be the master of the domain I was unable to pierce,” she said. “You have quite the formidable mage in your employ. And you yourself… powers I can’t qualify swirl within you.”

  “Your teacher,” Valerio repeated, then put away his dagger. He looked between her and Isabella. “I apologize, then.”

  “When I told that young man Gaspar that you were in the Duke of the Isles’ estate, I thought you were being held captive,” Igraine said to Isabella. “But after what I’ve heard… sleeping in his bedroom? My word. Even I wasn’t quite so bold your age.”

  “It’s not…” Isabella began, but closed her eyes. “I’d only sound defensive if I disputed you.”

  “I don’t care at all, my girl,” Igraine said with a shake of her head. “The only important thing to me is keeping my promise.”

  Isabella opened her eyes brightly. “You have what you need to help me form my mana lock?”

  “All that and more, Isabella,” Igraine said with a smile.

  Isabella took a deep breath of excitement. When she’d made the decision to stay, she’d felt that she had sacrificed a great deal. But after today, where everything went so well… she felt more heartened than she ever had in her life. Both of them, in fact.