Isabella stood rigidly before the painting that she’d chosen from among the artists of the city. The Archduke Felix’s estate in the capital was made of marble, and so the splendidly colorful paintings that she’d chosen seemed especially striking next to the architecture. Felix looked at each of the paintings.

  “They’re rather unconventional pieces,” he said, after having been silent for a long time.

  Isabella nodded. “I’m aware. That’s precisely why they’re going to be so effective.” She looked toward one of the paintings that was already displayed on the archduke’s wall, which had come from the era of Edgar the Great, and pointed at it. “At one point or another, that painting would’ve been considered unconventional. Conventions can change, and with the rise of a new king, I think the time is ripe.”

  “They are beautiful,” the archduke finally admitted. “It’s much more fitting to my tastes. Still… this is my daughter’s debutante ball, Your Highness,” he said heavily, maroon eyes looking upon her with a certain intensity.

  Isabella kept her composure, holding the archduke’s gaze. “The king trusted me with the ambassadorial reception, and it worked out even despite Count Faust’s interference. I can assure you that your daughter’s debutante ball will go similarly well.”

  Felix stepped up to the paintings thoughtfully. “If those people at the reception had spoken of my daughter that way, I’d have killed them with my bare hands.” He shook his head. “I can’t blame Edgar for being protective, even if it has been something of a misstep. Hopefully, he’ll be open to my counsel.”

  Isabella didn’t show a reaction one way or another because she knew that was a minority opinion.

  “I can arrange an escort for you,” Felix said. “I’ll be escorting my daughter, but I have some people that owe me who would be a fitting and respectable match for a princess.”

  “Duke Valerio has already agreed to attend as my partner,” Isabella said.

  Felix turned his head, a brow raised in surprise. “He’s refused even simple invitations to talk with me before.” When Isabella said nothing, he nodded. “Hmm. I can send out the invitations today, then,” he said.

  “Wonderful, Your Grace,” Isabella said politely.

  “But.” He shifted toward her. “I need to understand your stake in this. What you’ve offered has only benefitted me. I’d like to know what you intend to ask of me.”

  “Isn’t an alliance and connection with the archduke and the future queen sufficient motivation?” Isabella pointed out.

  “Supposedly. But I’ve been doing this for a long time. The north, by sheer fact of geography, is far more decentralized than Dovhain,” Felix continued. “I’m no stranger to schemes among my people. And I sense that you’re using me for something else.”

  Isabella considered denying it, but realized it’d ultimately be of no benefit to her. She looked at Felix and said firmly, “There’s the financial incentive. I genuinely believe in these paintings, and believe that the artists responsible can prove quite enriching for both you and me.”

  Felix looked over at the paintings, and then back to her. “Is that it?”

  “I want my success to come at the expense of Duke Albert’s,” Isabella said. “I want to destroy what he’s built. I want to see him driven low, and from there, lower still.”

  Felix smiled. “I can sympathize, somewhat. And…” the archduke rubbed his chin. “Where does Duke Valerio factor in?”

  Isabella’s fingers moved a little, belying her unease with that question. “That is the only point on which I’d like to ask a direct favor.”

  “Oh?” Felix held his arms out. “Tell me, then.”

  “I understand that you have a robust espionage network,” Isabella said. “That you prize information.”

  Felix didn’t say anything, but regarded her with a subtly different expression.

  “I’d like all of the information that you have on the Duke of the Isles,” she said. “Any records that you have, any reports… all of it.”

  “Would you like me to spy on him actively?” Felix questioned.

  “I don’t… I don’t know,” Isabella said, shaking her head in frustration. “People have told me things about him. As a matter of fact, the opinion is nearly universally the same. But speaking to him… I don’t get that impression.” She thought for a few moments. Would it be wrong to spy on him actively? She felt it would be. With her decision made, she lifted her head and said, “For now, I’d just like to sift fact from rumor.”

  Felix nodded. “That’s wise. I can certainly give you access. Ordinarily I’d charge a fee, but I’ll waive it in this circumstance.” He crossed his arms. “I’ll give you some advice. A year ago, I managed to get my hands on documents the Ambrosians call Relazioni. These are comprehensive reports on specific subjects—a country, a person of interest, et cetera. Their profile on Valerio is incredibly comprehensive and factual. If I were you, I would look at his Relazione first. They’re in my possession, and I can lend them to you.”

  “Relazioni,” Isabella repeated. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll remember that. Can I assume I’ll be able to access these after the event goes well?”

  “I’ll give them to you now,” Felix said.

  Isabella blinked in surprise. “May I ask why?”

  “Because my daughter likes you,” he said simply. “She may have trouble speaking well, but she knows when people are insincere. She can tell when people think she’s stupid or inept. She doesn’t suffer sycophants. If she didn’t believe you’d approached her with sincerity, we would’ve never spoken again.”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Isabella nodded. “I do like Abigail.”

  “My inability to help her frustrates me sometimes,” Felix continued. “She’s made friends before, of course. Sincere people. But… they’ve never lasted. I can’t understand why. At some point… she begins to push people away, or they drift apart naturally. Perhaps it’s because of what you said.” He looked at her.

  “What?” Isabella said innocently.

  “That I have no friends, and thus give terrible advice,” Felix answered.

  Isabella lowered her head and cleared her throat awkwardly. “She told you that, I see.” She looked back up at him. “It seems to me that you love your daughter. This may be prying overmuch, but I must ask… why do you want her to be the queen?”

  Felix stared. “You’re right. You are prying overmuch.”

  Isabella fell silent, breaking her gaze away from the archduke.

  “I’ll send out the invitations,” the archduke continued. “And I’ll have the documents delivered to your quarters in the palace.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella said. “I’d like to deliver the invitation to the king personally, however. I believe it’ll be a much higher likelihood of his acceptance if I’m the one to do so.”

  Archduke Felix nodded. “I trust that you won’t disappoint.”

  ***

  Duke Albert sat behind his desk, reading through the invitation that had been sent to him. It was currently sending deep reverberations around the royal court, especially in the spheres that he associated with. While primarily framed as the debutante ball for Lady Abigail, daughter of Archduke Felix of House Balat, there were some bold additions.

  Lady Abigail has been sponsored by Princess Isabella, who will also hold an art exhibit containing some of the finest masterpieces of the new age. These pieces will be available for sale in the closing event—the auction.

  It was unusual, but not unheard of, for a woman of the same age to act as the sponsor—generally one’s sponsor was someone much older. When politics were important, countless traditions could be bent. It seemed that this debut was as political as it was ceremonial. The fact that Albert hadn’t received a single inquiry or request regarding the art exhibited at this ball meant that they were reaching around his auction house for artists.

  There was a knock, and Albert called out, “Enter.”

  The double doors parted, and his head attendant walked in, a painting covered by cloth in tow. His man knew to immediately place the painting on the easel, and then step away. Albert stood up and walked over.

  “It was completed just this afternoon, Your Grace,” his attendant said. “Only the artist and myself have seen it.”

  Duke Albert beheld his personal commission. It was a piece depicting a pirate being pierced by half a dozen different weapons, bleeding copiously while his face twisted in fear and dread. The model wasn’t Duke Valerio himself, of course, but it was close enough that Albert could smile at it.

  “Place it in my bedroom for tonight,” Albert said calmly.

  “Of course,” the attendant said, quickly throwing the cloth back over the painting so that none could see it. “And per your instructions, Lady Bernadetta is ready to see you.”

  “Ah.” Albert limped back behind his desk, and sunk into his chair. “Send her in.”

  “At once,” the man bowed, then retrieved the painting and left.

  Duke Albert busied himself penning his acceptance to Lady Abigail’s debutante ball while he waited for Bernadetta to arrive. In a few moments, he heard light steps pass by his door, and looked up to look at Bernadetta. He admired her for a few moments. Nothing could compare to Isabella, of course, but her black hair and purple eyes, coupled with her regal way of dress, did inspire some admiration.

  “Your Grace,” Bernadetta greeted, curtsying lightly.

  “Why do I pay you?” he asked her at once.

  Bernadetta’s posture straightened. “I… I know what this is about. Your Grace, she’s been refusing to even receive my letters, and the staff have made it clear that I’m no longer welcome in the royal palace.”

  “Why do I pay you?” he repeated, the very image of calm.

  Bernadetta lowered her head. “To spy on Princess Isabella.”

  “No,” Duke Albert said. “I pay you to make her love you. I pay you to have her think that you are her sole ally in this life, to earn her unfaltering trust, and to be her rock when storms rock the royal court.”

  Bernadetta looked unsettled, but said, “What am I to do when she’s committed to avoiding me?”

  “You’re to come tell me,” Albert continued, his voice of calm so undisturbed as to be unnatural. “What’s happened between you?”

  “She’s been like this since the coronation,” Bernadetta said exasperatedly. “All of the sudden she acts like I’ve the plague. I haven’t said anything untoward about her or to her. I’ve been nothing what you’re paying me to be. Believe me—I wouldn’t jeopardize our arrangement by being foolish.”

  “I’ve been watching Isabella since she was a very young girl. I’ve always been her protector, even when she doesn’t see it. It’s important for me to be present in her life, even if it’s through you.” Duke Albert leaned forward onto his desk. “If I loved someone, I certainly wouldn’t let them simply stop speaking to me unilaterally. That’s the mentality you need.”

  Bernadetta swallowed. “…Your Grace?”

  “You’re Isabella’s cousin on her mother’s side, yes?” Albert asked.

  “Yes,” Bernadetta confirmed. “The only cousin on her mother’s side.”

  “Then consanguinity won’t be an issue. Edgar is going to arrange you to be engaged to Prince Rupert,” Albert said. “You’ll become a princess, and therefore less restricted in visiting her at the palace.”

  Excitement shone in Bernadetta’s eyes, but she said, “Which is Prince Rupert again?”

  “He’s the sickly one,” Albert explained. “Edgar permitted it because he’s likely impotent. He’ll be attending the debutante ball. You will be his partner.”

  Bernadetta looked a little disappointed, but still curtsied. “Thank you for your largesse, Your Grace.”

  “My what?” he said.

  “Your… generosity,” she explained with a slight sputter.

  Albert stared for a few moments. “Reforge your connection with Isabella at Abigail’s debutante ball.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she promised.

  “I’ll prepare a gift. I know Isabella’s tastes well,” he explained.

  Bernadetta nodded. “That should help. Isabella always loved the gifts of yours I gave her.”

  “Are there any gifts you’ve given her that I haven’t chosen?” Albert pointed out, but then shook his head. “Never mind. Be off.”