Ulysses grasped the armchair tightly, veins pulsing. He closed his eyes, still feeling the sting of his cheek where The Prince had struck him. His grip tightened, and his nails dug into the oak wood. Between gritted teeth, he swore softly. The Prince had not been pleased with his failure, and had degraded him. He glanced at the spectral hound on his left. The wolf growled with displeasure, its ruby eyes gleaming from the darkness the armchair cast. Ulysses chuckled sadly. "Do not worry," he said. "We'll get our revenge soon."

But his brow furrowed. "We just have to rely on The Prince's most trusted servant." He snarled fiercely, and his hand clenched the wood so tightly that his knuckles went white. He spat out her name with detest. "Crow."


Lydia watched the pasting trees and felt the uneasy prickle at her stomach. The Prince . . . She closed her eyes, and Ulysses's haughty voice flowed back into her mind. Soon. The Prince would be coming soon. Her stomach made a somersault at that thought. She glanced nervously at Edgar, who was sitting on beside her on the carriage. What was he thinking? His ash mauve eyes revealed nothing as he stared through the other window. Nico leaped gracefully onto Lydia's lap, his eyes gleaming. "Lydia? Are you okay?"

Fear made her heart pulse quicker. "Fine, Nico. Just fine." He did not look convinced, but didn't argue. He wrapped his tail around his paws and lay on Lydia's lap, comforting her with his warmth. But Lydia did not feel comforted. Her legs quaked from underneath her gown, and she had to clench her hands to stop them from trembling. If Ulysses was that strong, then how powerful is the Prince?

Her eyes wandered over to Edgar. She stiffened when she noticed that he was staring at her, his eyes sad and uncertain. He slowly lowered his eyes to his lap.


When night has fallen the next day, Lydia crept over to Edgar's study and slowly opened the door, peeking through a crack. Edgar was sitting, writing something by the light of a candle. His head was bowed, his cheek resting on his knuckles.

Lydia bit her lip in frustration, brows furrowed. He had stayed up all night, worrying and continuously writing until his hand fell off. She had no clue was he was doing, but Raven stopped her from getting involved.

By Edgar's order, not doubt. Lydia thought irritably. She had gotten her chance to spy when Raven went to fetch some tea.

"Miss Lydia."

The unfathomable voice was quiet, just enough so that Edgar couldn't hear, but Lydia flinched, warmth seething into her cheeks. The hairs on the back of her neck tingling, Lydia quietly shut the door, cursing at her luck, and turned around slowly. "Raven, I—I was just . . ."

His face neutral, Raven was balancing a tray of cups perfectly in his hand, the sculpted teapot and delicate teacups never giving the suspicion of faltering. His emerald eyes bore into hers, betraying nothing, the gleam in them giving her the impression that he could see conventionally through her. His voice still in its feathery whisper: "Please leave Lord Edgar be, Miss Lydia."

Lydia was still mumbling for a reply as Raven slipped past her guard to stride through the study door, closing it behind him. Lydia clenched her hands, the fabric of her gloves stretching over her knuckles, and released a pent-up breath. "What am I to do?" she murmured to herself. Leaning against the door, she bowed her head in defeat and watched her fists tremble in her lap.

"I'm not helpless, I'm not helpless . . . I'm a fairy doctor. I must have some abilities that could aid me . . . but what?" Lydia pondered this, biting her lip as she did, but nothing that she could think of could be useful. What should do?

"You aren't helpless, Lydia; far from it."

Lydia started and glanced down by her feet. "Nico!"

Nico was there, waving his tail ever so gracefully. His bright eyes staring up at Lydia, he traced the tip of his paw against the lip of the whiskey glass in his hand. "The Prince isn't the only one here that has power; you do too."

"But how can knowing how to treat brownies and talking to fairies be any help when you're working with the Prince?"

Nico shrugged, his eyes shining with a renewed light. "I have an idea."

"Oh? What idea is this?"

"A good one." He beckoned with his claw for Lydia to come closer. When she did, he placed his paw against her ear. "I have connections from inside the Prince's network."

Lydia stifled a gasp, grabbed Nico by his scruff of his neck (despite his protests) and carried him around the corner before speaking. "You do?" Lydia said incredulously. "Why didn't you tell us before?"

He snorted. "How could I, when the Prince's spies could be anywhere? (And geez, Lydia; why did you have to grab me so hard?)" Rubbing the back of his neck, Nico took a swing from his cup, wiping his muzzle on the back of his paw. "Besides, it wouldn't do Edgar any good with it."

Lydia sighed and tapped her foot. "You still don't trust Edgar, Nico?"

"Yes," He glared at her shrewdly. "And you shouldn't too, Lydia. These are dark times. It's already hard to find who you can trust."

Lydia smiled forcefully, and crouched beside him, trying to appear charming and sweet. "Hey, Nico, if you tell me what it is, I'll buy you a new tie."

Nico's ears perked, and there was an unmistakable flash in his eyes. He seemed to struggle with himself. "No, Lydia." He forced out. He chewed on his lip. "I—won't—tell!"

"Even with two vests?"

"N-No!" If cats could sweat, Nico definitely would be. His left eye was twitching, and his lower lip trembled. He stuffed his paws into his ears. "Don't tempt me!"

"Please, Nico!" Her eyes grew wide.

"I'm not listening!"

Lydia sighed and sat on the ground, exhausted. "Will you ever tell us?"

Nico glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and his demeanor calmed. "Ah, ah." He wiggled a claw in her direction. "It isn't a secret if you share it. But don't worry," his eyes gleamed mysteriously again. "the plan's a good one."


The next morning, Edger met the other two in the lounge, handing Lydia a cup of jasmine tea before sharing the big news. "A duchess?" Lydia exclaimed. "But, I thought, with all that's happening—"

"I won't let the Prince smear our hospitality, regardless of the circumstances." Edgar smiled his charming smile, and returned his teacup to its saucer. "Helena of France. She was traveling around, and she just happened to drop by an invitation to warn of her arrival. She's coming this night, I presume."

"Really?" said Tompkins, who had just come in to announce lunch. He chuckled softly, the creases around his mouth deepening. "I hear that Lady Helena is the most beautiful woman in Europe."

Raven glanced at Tompkins, while Edgar leaned forward and clasped Lydia's hands in his. His eyes held an edge of earnest. "If she does come, Lydia, then just so you know, I would never be interes—"

Lydia gazed at him with a look of incredibility, cheeks flushed. "What are you talking about?" She yanked back her hand, and averted her face. "Whatever you do doesn't matter to me . . . Now, if you'll excuse me . . ." She jumped to her feet and stalking out the room, her face still burning. That fool! What did he think I was thinking of, anyways? Yet as she rounded to corner, Lydia smiled without meaning to, and glanced behind her to make sure that no one was following.

She smiled for two reasons: That Edgar would care that much to say so, and two, that this was the first time in days that Lydia had truly smiled. All because of him.

Edgar smiled to himself as he dismissed Tompkins. "Raven," he said as he placed the teacup back on its saucer, "have you ever heard of Lady Helena before?"

"No, Lord Edgar."

"Hmm." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Neither have I." He leaned back on the couch and turned his head to look at Raven. "Can you please watch this . . . Helena for me, Raven? I have a feeling that this is going to be a very, very, interesting visit indeed."

He brought his tea to his lips again.