As Isabella got a grasp of the situation and her course of action, she also weighed her options for removing the unwanted problem of Duke Albert.

  The first two of her routes were eliminated rather quickly: assassination. Specifically, assassination of either Duke Albert or King Edgar II. Isabella herself had never ordered an assassination, nor had she ever outright dismissed the idea. She believed that the two might warrant such a fate, frankly, but dirt like that was quite difficult to keep clean of.

  Besides, it was a pointless line of questioning: she had no resources or allies.

  Making Albert’s interest wither would be impossible. She’d tried that. In one of the lowest moments in her past life, she had tried disfiguring herself. The calmness with which Duke Albert had her injuries treated by the best priests had frightened even her, and from there, she truly lost all autonomy. Every waking moment, she was surrounded by Duke Albert’s men, who never spoke a single word to her. Guarded, infantilized, isolated from all, and forbidden from stepping a foot outside her room… it had drained all hope from her, day by day.

  Isabella shook her head, dispelling the memories. But that hasn’t happened to you anymore. It didn’t happen. It won’t happen. It was all a nightmare, but you’ve woken up. Her logical brain could argue the point well enough, but the arguments did little to dispel the memories, the tightened stomach, or the fear in her chest.

  Isabella had considered breaking apart King Edgar II and Albert somehow, but Albert had always been quite adroit at keeping the king placated. Edgar was a great admirer of the arts, and Albert fulfilled that need. Besides, she had no one to call upon for this task. Isabella was largely friendless. She had always been a solitary, lonely girl.

  I need a shield, Isabella decided. A ship to sail the stormy sea. No one can survive in tides of change as fierce as these without aid.

  To that end, she had isolated several patrons she might be able to call upon.

  Isabella sprawled out a map across the desk in her room. It demonstrated the different noble holdings throughout Dovhain. Alongside it, she placed her list of names.

  The first two have no holdings, she reflected.

  Arthur of Hamore, the Archwizard’s heir. Edgar would undoubtedly assent to match between them, but… Arthur had never married. He’d publicly expressed his intent to remain unwed years ago, and had stayed with that commitment all of her prior life. She couldn’t think of anything to sway him from that. His abstinence had made Isabella more comfortable around him as queen.

  The second landless figure was the illegitimate son of the archbishop, Cesare. It was a far more dubious choice. Cesare would found a grand mercenary company, but that was later in his life. The archbishop, Pius, desired a politically advantageous match for his son. He’d probably assent to the marriage, but King Edgar never would.

  Neither are worth the time to pursue, Isabella decided. But I should try to cultivate a friendly relationship with Arthur.

  Isabella peered at the remaining names. There were more than she thought, frankly, but few of them were trustworthy… and even fewer would see any value in a marriage with her, a princess with a mother of no renown.

  She set her fist down. “Speculation is useless…” she muttered.

  Isabella had assessed the situation. But the more time that she spent in planning, the more chance there was for opportunities to slip out of her grasp. Time had taught her that staying cooped up in her room writing letters would only get her so far.

  Isabella pulled the sash to summon her attendant. Not too long after, Alice entered.

  “How can I help, Your Highness?” said the girl brightly.

  “I need to speak to the king,” she said decisively.

  Alice’s smiled wavered somewhat, but she nodded.

  ***

  “You want to attend,” Edgar repeated what Isabella had said. Servants diligently trimmed and filed his nails. “What business could you possibly have at the ambassadorial reception? Is this about your engagement?” He studied her. “I fail to see how it could be. The arriving guests hail from a merchant republic.”

  Isabella chose her words carefully so as not to trigger his paranoia. “Yes, Your Majesty. And their patricians are forbidden by law from marrying outside the republic.”

  “Are they? Hmm.” Edgar pulled his hand away, studying his nails before he devoted his full attention to Isabella. “So? Explain yourself. Seeking outside allies, perhaps? Hoping to be spirited away by some brutish republican?” he pressed tauntingly. “If you’re going to ask for a chance to prove your worth, don’t bother. I’ve given you one. Finish the meal in front of you before you ask for seconds.”

  “I received a very fine education in managing an estate,” Isabella said. “I know the art of stewardship and diplomacy well. I’m confident that I can secure better trade deals in the ambassadorial reception than the kingdom currently enjoys.”

  Edgar laughed, waving away the servants that’d been tending to his nails. They skulked away eagerly, and he devoted his full attention to her. “Are you honestly trying to say that you know better than my attendant diplomats?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Isabella nodded.

  Edgar’s amusement faded from his face, and he walked very close to her. He retrieved his sheathed sword which had been leaning up against the wall, and traced its pommel, handle, and hilt with his finger. His eyes stared into hers, and she did her best to stand proud without giving the impression she was challenging him.

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  “Why?” he finally asked.

  “Those in attendance wish to maintain the status quo that our father established.” Isabella explained. “But many of those deals were made years ago. Now, the royal court is at the apex of its power.”

  King Edgar inhaled, and though he tried to conceal his expression, Isabella could tell that he liked her words.

  “And why should I not simply pass that directive on to those who are already attending?”

  “Because they have no interest in further strengthening the crown’s position,” Isabella said. “Whereas all that I have is tied only to the Dovhain name.”

  “You’re a woman,” Edgar pointed out, stepping away as he tied his sword to his belt. “The envoys would view your attendance as an insult.”

  “Women aren’t barred from public offices in the Republic of Ambrose,” Isabella said, prompting a disbelieving stare from Edgar. “They’ve even once had a Serene Dogaressa instead of a Serene Doge.”

  Edgar’s stare finally broke into a smile. “You seem to be growing up. It’s good of you to step up for me. Overdue, even.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Isabella lowered her head.

  He stepped about, thinking, then looked at her decisively. “How confident are you of succeeding?”

  “At maintaining what we have? One hundred percent. At gaining more? Ninety percent.”

  Edgar looked to his bodyguard. “She broke it down into percentages. Isn’t that quaint? Would that every one of the imbeciles around me could do such a thing.” He looked back at her, then said decisively, “Very well, sister. You’ll be the primary ambassador for the reception.”

  Isabella’s hands clenched involuntarily. “Primary ambassador, Your Majesty? But Count Faust—"

  “It’s a temporary appointment, mind. I don’t trust Count Faust,” Edgar interrupted. “Worked for our father for twenty years, did nothing but good service. He needs to know that he can be replaced. He needs to work harder. In case he has anything planned, he needs to know that the crown is always watching.”

  Isabella swallowed her thoughts: Generally, if you have a loyal servant… you reward them, no? You make sure they’re going to stay loyal. But he’s punishing loyalty?

  “I can’t speak the Ambrosian language as well as Count Faust can,” Isabella said cautiously, honestly not wishing for the appointment.

  Edgar held his arms out. “Well, make do! Do I need to spell out every little detail?”

  This will make me some enemies, Isabella thought. I just wanted to attend, and now I’m angering the primary ambassador of the kingdom, and his allies that benefit from his appointment.

  The role came with its downsides, but all told, it would offer opportunities in equal measure if she handled it properly. Some would come to think that she had the king’s favor. Pivotally, it would give her an excuse to talk to several of the prominent nobles in attendance, each of whom had an interest in the relations with the Republic of Ambrose. Three of the people she might get engaged to in way of Duke Albert would be in attendance.

  “I will ensure my conduct is unimpeachable,” she promised.

  “Spare me the promises. Just do it right,” King Edgar said. “I’ll have a reward prepared for you if it does. What do you want? Art, a horse, some new dresses? Jewelry?” Before she could answer, he shook his head and walked for the door. “I can’t be bothered. I’ll give you some coin if you do well. Just buy what you want.”

  Isabella smiled. That was precisely what she would’ve asked for.

  ***

  On her way back to her quarters, Isabella veered from her path and went to the furthest wing of the palace. The royal palace was built on a hill overlooking the capital. There was one tower in particular which bridged off a great distance, suspended in the air above the city. It was the residence of the Archwizard and his students.

  “Your Highness…” Alice said nervously. “Are you sure we should be here?”

  The path to the Archwizard’s residence was a large bridge on which gargoyles looking inward had been placed on every inch. They seemed like a demonic guard of honor that might welcome a returning king. There were no knights or guards anywhere, but the place seemed more dangerous than any other wing of the palace.

  “We’re fine,” Isabella promised.

  Isabella walked to one of the gargoyles that was slightly off-center and pushed in its nose. A light came on in its eyes.

  “Inform Arthur of Hamore that Princess Isabella is looking for him,” she spoke toward the gargoyle.

  A few moments later, the light in its eyes dimmed. Isabella stepped away calmly. Alice looked all around at the gargoyles ahead while Isabella watched the door leading into the tower. In time, it opened. Arthur, dressed as properly as ever, crossed the bridge with his typical mask of propriety on his face.

  “Your Highness shouldn’t be aware of the messenger gargoyle,” Arthur said in way of greeting. “Only the king and those within the Archwizard’s residence should know.”

  “Is knowledge a crime?” she asked in turn.

  “No, but…” he sighed, then adjusted his glasses. “Someone may think I told Her Highness of it.”

  “But you didn’t,” she responded.

  Arthur looked around, then back at her. “I haven’t found anything like the condition Your Highness told me of, but I’m still looking.”

  Isabella shook her head. “This is another matter. Would you like to attend the ambassadorial reception tomorrow?”

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Why does that matter?”

  “I’ve been appointed the primary ambassador,” Isabella said. “And I can help you attend.”

  Both Alice and Arthur, who were hearing this news for the first time, looked at Isabella in a mixture of disbelief and caution.

  “Meaning no disrespect toward you… I find it difficult to believe King Edgar would appoint a woman to that role,” Arthur said.

  “It was his spontaneous decision,” Isabella explained wearily. “He gave me the title temporarily when I expressed my desire to attend to buoy the crown’s position.”

  “Hmm.” He nodded, crossing his arms. “Even if you’re lying, there’s no harm in indulging you. What’s your offer?”

  Isabella looked at Alice without a word, indicating she wished to speak to him alone. Her attendant dipped her head and backed away, taking the signal well. She liked Alice, but liking and trusting were separate matters. When Alice was sufficiently far away, Isabella looked back.

  “I’ll help you secure a supply of magic materials that can only be found in the Republic of Ambrose,” she said, making him raise a brow. “In return, you’ll help me form a mana lock so I can begin practicing magic.”