Blair stood near the window. Rain poured onto the ground, while her legs itched to walk somewhere. The thing she liked most about spring was not being shut in the house anymore. Now it was finally getting warm enough to go outside, and it had to be raining.

She glanced behind her at everyone else. The entire family was evidently having some sort of awkward congregation in the parlor. Adelle and Lord Luck sat on the settee with Edith on a chair nearby. Adelle had a book in her hand, though she hadn't turned a page in half an hour. Lord Luck had one leg crossed over the other and one hand at his chin, apparently deep in thought about something. Her mother, on the other hand, was not even pretending to be doing anything useful. She was just hovering there, glancing at everyone and then down at her hands in her lap.

The room was silent. Not a normal silence either – the excruciatingly awkward silence when people ought to be talking but aren't.

It had been like this the entire time since Lord Luck came back and Madeleine left. Lord Luck and her mother ought to have been talking. They were married. Wasn't that what married people did – talk? Her mother and her father did, when he was alive. They could talk for hours on end and actually look happy about it. Lord Luck had a few conversations with her mother, but they were always awkward and halting. When Edith asked questions, he'd give short, stilted answers. Her mother would purse her lips together, like she wanted to ask more but couldn't quite bring herself to prolong the conversation.

Blair hated it. She crossed her arms and turned back to the window, looking out more purposefully now. The garden in front was turning into a lake. The few green stems that had sprouted were now being beaten back into the earth by pulverizing drops of rain. She let out her breath and listened to her irritated huff fill the silence of the room.

She almost missed – well, not missed, but… wished Madeleine was still here. Not that she wanted her presence as a person; she just missed the noise. Between the two of them, the house was anything but silent.

"Is the weather clearing at all, Blair?" her mother finally asked, breaking the still air with her words.

She glanced at Edith and raised one eyebrow. Her mother was probably desperate for some conversation, but it was a stupid question. She could easily see for herself that it wasn't.

"No," Blair said, turning back to the window. Silence. She considered pressing her forehead against the window, but she didn't want to look so dramatic – like she was pining for someone out there, when she was really just stifled in her own home. If only Lord Luck hadn't come back after all.

Then salvation in the form of a carriage on the road – a fancy one too, with a roof to keep whoever was in it dry. That would be useful on a day like this. If she had a carriage like that – well, she wouldn't be here. She'd be anywhere but here. They'd had a carriage like that in Shinsworth. It was probably still there somewhere, with their old house.

She watched as the carriage came closer, assuming it would pass by, but it didn't. The black box came closer until she could make out the curving golden designs, and then it turned onto the drive. It stopped at the shut gate, and a man came out in fine castle livery. He was a messenger, she thought, recognizing the look of him. None had ever come since they'd been living here, but royal messengers used to come to their house in Shinsworth to speak with her father.

The messenger opened the gate and walked up the drive. She turned quickly away from the window and glanced at the rest of them sitting on the furniture. They hadn't seen yet. If she got to the door before anyone else, he'd have to talk to her. Someone would actually talk to her instead of all this silence, and who knew what he would say? Something about Lord Luck's mysterious behavior, or… or something. It had be something worth hearing.

"I'll – be back in a moment," she said to the rest of them, as she nearly bolted for the door. She didn't wait for any response, just went and almost slammed the door behind her in excitement.

Then she really did run – down the hallway, past the staircase, to the front door. It was lucky Madeleine was gone, and Lane and Sara were probably in the kitchen, at the back of the house. She pulled the door open the moment the messenger started knocking. "Hello," she burst out, and looked at him expectantly.

"Hello," he said with a small smile, seeming amused by her winded appearance. "Are you… a lady of the house?" he asked, glancing her up and down as if trying to assess her status.

She nodded, too eager to talk to someone other than her family to be bothered by the fact that it wasn't obvious to him. "Yes. My mother is Lady Edith of Shinsworth. She's married to Lord Luck here."

The messenger smiled broader. "Excellent. In that case, I have an invitation for you." He reached into the bag at his hip and pulled out a blue envelope with silver calligraphy. "From the palace. You – and any other suitable, unmarried young women who live here – are invited to take tea with his highness Prince Ivan."

He held the envelope out to her, and she stared at him, not quite comprehending. Prince Ivan was asking her to tea. The prince of Wyndl was asking her to tea. Well – asking any unmarried woman of the household, apparently. It wasn't explicitly for her – but still. He was the prince, and she was invited to… see him, talk to him, drink tea with him? She reached out and took the envelope warily, wondering if it was some sort of a trick. She looked back at the messenger. "I don't understand. Why is the prince asking me to tea?"

The messenger gave a short laugh. "He's asking all of the ladies of the kingdom to tea. But only a few at a time. You're one of the first set, because you're close." When she only blinked at him, he pursed his lips and then said in a lower voice, "He's looking for a wife." He winked at her. "Good luck." He turned on his heel and strolled back up the drive toward his carriage. He climbed in and the driver sped away while she was still staring out.

Finally, she shut the door, stopping the rain from making dark, wet circles on the envelope and looked down at it. The prince was looking for a wife. By inviting ladies to tea. And she was among the first. For once, she was actually glad to live in Saimes. If she was in Shinsworth, she wouldn't have been one of the first, since it was farther away. Though, if she still lived in Shinsworth, maybe she wouldn't care. In Shinsworth, she was happy with what she had.

Everything then was better, brighter. Her father used to take her and Rafe riding in the hills, exploring the world, he said. He usually left early to go see her mother, and she and Rafe would stay out until evening. He trusted them – trusted Rafe maybe more than he should have, but Rafe behaved himself those times. They just wandered together. Crossing streams, climbing rocks, and heading back slowly under the setting sun, talking all the way.

She shook her head at her own thoughts. Her father was dead. Rafe was a useless lout who didn't care enough to write her a letter. This invitation was a chance at happiness, and she wasn't going to throw it away thinking of the past.

She was among the first – that was good. She could make more of an impression, and he wouldn't be caught up in anyone else. She had a chance, a good chance to marry him and be happy.

When she wandered back to the parlor, she opened the door and walked inside with all three of them staring at her.

"We saw the carriage from the castle," Adelle said. "What was that all about?"

She glanced at her sister and passed the invitation to Edith who was seated closest to the door. "It's an invitation," she said. "To take tea with Prince Ivan. He's looking for a wife."

"A wife!" Adelle exclaimed. She jumped out of her seat and dashed over to Edith, leaning over her to see it better. Edith took the note out of the envelope and read out loud.

"Ladies of the Pennyshire Estate, of Lord Arthur Luck of the village of Saimes, you are cordially invited to take tea with his highness, Prince Ivan Glorodell and his guest Sir Rafe Thornton at two o'clock in the afternoon on the ninth day of the fourth month of the twenty-seventh year of the reign of King Nicholas Glorodell of Wyndl."

Blair's eyes snapped to her mother. "Sir Rafe Thornton," she repeated. "What is he doing with the prince?" She had absolutely no desire to have tea with both of them. It would be terrible. It would be beyond terrible.

"I'm invited too, then," Adelle concluded, smiling. "I'm so excited! Not that I want to marry the prince, necessarily. I mean, I don't even know him. I met him that time in Shinsworth, but I never really got to know him. Not like Prince Thaddeus…"

Blair stared at her sister as she babbled on, shooting daggers with her eyes.

Adelle looked at her then. "Of course, with Rafe there – well, we'll all practically know each other already. It ought to be fun."

Blair clenched her jaw. Adelle would say something idiotic like that. "I don't want to have tea with Rafe Thornton. I've done that more than enough times."

Suddenly Lord Luck laughed and shifted in his settee to look at her. "What's wrong, Blair? Are you afraid Rafe will distract you from the bigger prize?"

Blair blinked a few times. Edith, too, looked slightly shocked, though she said nothing. "I don't know what you mean," she said at last, smoothing her skirt. "It's only that I find Rafe tiresome. I'd much rather get to know the prince without his interruptions."

Lord Luck smiled at her. "You really do want to get to know the prince, then? Have you picked him as your ultimate choice?"

She paused before answering. She was uncertain of why her generally absent stepfather was suddenly taking such a keen interest in her life. What business of it was his? She'd choose her words carefully. "I simply find Prince Ivan to be brave and noble based on my knowledge of him. Of course, I have no truly personal aspirations towards him, but if it so happened that he someday wished to make me his bride, I would be honored. As would any loyal woman of Wyndl."

Lord Luck gave a thin smile. "I see. But of course."

He kept looking at her until she turned her eyes away uncomfortably. Adelle broke in then, "Since it says Ladies of the Pennyshire Estate… does that mean Madeleine, too?"

Blair curled her fingers into fists. She remembered Madeleine's conversation with the prince in the procession. It wasn't long, of course, but… he helped her up off the ground. And then she said something to him so easily, like Madeleine said everything easily. As if nothing mattered but airing her opinions to the world. Madeleine could do what she wanted. She didn't have to act like a lady.

That meant she wasn't a lady, and the invitation didn't include her. She glanced at Lord Luck, hoping he'd feel the same way. They were all looking at him.

Something in his jaw tightened just a hair. "Madeleine has other obligations," he said at last. "She'll be at the castle, doing her job."

There was another uncomfortable silence. No one asked why Lord Luck had no qualms about selling off his daughter for money. No one asked why he'd never shown any concern about her scars. He simply didn't seem to care at all for the only daughter of his late wife.

Those were not questions that ladies asked – and at any rate, it didn't matter. She would win Ivan's attentions, even with Rafe there, no doubt trying to hinder all of her efforts. He didn't matter. Prince Ivan was what mattered. He was everything she wanted. A hero, who had lost things in war but survived and come home victorious. That was what she wanted. A hero.

Madeleine sat on her cot in the servants' quarters. It was evening, and she finally had a moment to herself. Most of the other servants were occupied with preparations for dinner, but she'd already laid out clothes for the king and queen and Ivan to wear. For the moment, she was free.

A candle burned on the small table next to her bed, and on her lap rested some sheets of paper. She held a quill hovering above the paper in one hand and clutched an ink jar with the other. Ivan had given her all these things when she asked him. He didn't even ask what she wanted them for – just handed them over from his desk without question.

She didn't want to write down her conversations with him for her father. She wouldn't have done it, but he'd come to the castle again. He asked to speak to her directly this time. They were put in a small room with nothing but a table in it. She sat on one side, and he sat on the other and simply said, "Madeleine, I hope you are keeping up with what I told you to do."

She'd bitten her lip and said nothing. Finally, she looked into his eyes and said, "I don't have to do it. I have this job, regardless of what I do or don't do for you."

He smiled then, in a way that suggested she was totally ignorant of the matter. "But you don't, Madeleine. And if you don't do as I ask, I can have it taken away from you. I don't have to let you back into my house either."

She looked down at the scratches in the table. "Well – but… I'll tell them. I'll tell Prince Ivan what you're doing. He'll tell his father and put a stop to it. The king will know you're a traitor."

He smirked again and shook his head. "Who do you think the king is more likely to listen to, Madeleine? One of his most trusted lords, or a scarred servant girl of no importance? The only connection you have that anyone would take seriously is me. I would suggest you don't forget it."

"I… but – " She had stuttered a little more, but in the end, there was nothing left to say. Her father was right. No one would listen to her. He could pin his crimes on her easily, and even if he didn't… if he threw her into the streets, where would she go? To Simon? She couldn't burden him with that. Even if he didn't mind, she did. She needed to be self sufficient, somehow. She needed to figure this out on her own.

So here she was. Pen in hand. She dipped it into the black ink and started to spread dark letters across the page. It didn't matter that much. She and Ivan didn't have any important conversations. It would be fine.

In a few moments, there was a knock on the door, and she jumped, spattering small drops of ink across the page. The other servant girls didn't usually bother knocking, since they all shared the big room. It could be one of the manservants, but they usually didn't come over this way at all, since they had their own room.

She stuffed the papers, pen, and ink under the bed and made sure the quilt was pulled down enough to cover them, then called, "Come in," smoothing her hair and trying to look less guilty.

It was Ivan. She leapt to her feet and made a curtsy. "Your highness," she said, "what are you doing here?"

He glanced around the room awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't meant to intrude. I just wanted to talk to you."

She looked around the empty room and then out into the hallway. If any of the other girls came in, this was going to look odd, even though there was nothing wrong between them. "Perhaps we should go somewhere else to talk?"

Ivan nodded. "We can go to my room."

She mentally noted that his room was not any better, but at least there would be less of a chance of anyone walking in on them. She gave a hurried nod, and they walked together out of the room. She followed him through several hallways and finally into his room where she shut the door behind her and turned to him.

"Well, what is it?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He hesitated, looking at the floor. "I know you said you wouldn't help, but… I'm having tea again with other ladies, and last time went so horribly, I was hoping you would change your mind."

She blinked a few times. "I can't really inform you of any of their houses being burnt down, your highness. I don't know anything about them."

"But you do," Ivan said quickly. "I'm having tea with the ladies from the Luck estate. Blair and Adelle. They're your… mistresses."

She glanced at him. Was that what he thought? "Stepsisters," she corrected, without thinking it through.

"What?"

She looked at the floor, rubbing her foot over a stain that she couldn't remove no matter how hard she scrubbed at it, refusing to think about the idiocy of what she'd just said. He didn't need to know that. "Blair and Adelle are my stepsisters," she said at last.

"They – but – " Ivan's voice sounded utterly lost at this new information. "Their mother is Lady Edith, from Shinsworth. Lord Luck is their stepfather. That means… Lord Luck is your father."

She glanced up at him and nodded, forcing a smile and raising her head high. "You've finally put two and two together, your highness. My last name is Luck, after all." Her voice was cruel now – the same haughty tone she used the first time he spoke to her, telling her to stay out of the street to avoid being trampled. But more irritated than amused now. Angry, even.

"But you never said… I assumed your name was just from the estate you worked at. Not that you were actually…"

"Actually what?" she asked, louder now, scars flaring. "The forsaken daughter of a lord? His daughter who isn't good enough to be treated like flesh and blood?"

Ivan was silent. "I… I just didn't realize," he said. "I'm sorry. But then why are you working here?"

"Because my father sold me."

"What do you mean, he sold you?" Ivan asked. "Madeleine, no one can sell you. You're a human being, not some… livestock." He crossed over to her until he was directly in front of her, a few feet away. He stretched his arms forward a little, then brought them back, like he wanted to touch her but wasn't sure how to do so properly. She almost laughed at his attempt.

"He sold me," she said again. "And trust me, he can. But it's not a sudden thing. He's never treated me like his daughter. I've worked for a long time. It's just always been in my home before."

"How long have you been working for him?" Ivan asked.

She shrugged, looking away from him, and rubbed her right arm with her left hand. "I don't know. It's not like I woke up one day and he forced me to be his servant. It… started after he married Edith, I suppose. Then it was clear that Blair and Adelle were ladies of the house, and… I wasn't. But he wasn't really even there. It was Edith's doing, maybe. But even when he was there… he wasn't." She pursed her lips together, her anger mostly extinguished now. She just felt tired.

"What do you mean?" Ivan asked.

She dragged her eyes slowly to his and then looked away again. "It's just… growing up, he was always away on business. And when he did come home, he'd keep to himself. For a while, I had governesses, and I'd always ask them why he didn't want to see me. But they never answered. After he'd been home a day or two, then he'd call me into his study sometimes and ask me things, like… if my reading was going well. What I spent my time with. He always sat across a table from me. He never touched me."

She was shaking now. It started in her fingers with a slight tremor and then moved up her arms, and now she felt like she was shaking all over – like a leaf still stuck on a tree in winter winds, blowing back and forth. She'd never told this to anyone. Not even Simon. She supposed he understood more or less how it was between her and her father, but she'd never actually spoken of it before.

Ivan looked troubled. He didn't say anything, but kept looking at her with a tight jaw and slightly squinted eyes. "I'm sorry, Madeleine. I'm sorry."

The room started to blur then, because he could have said he was sorry in an offhand way, but he said it like he meant something. Normally when she saw him talk to someone – even when he talked to her – it seemed like he was only halfheartedly paying attention, like his mind was always somewhere else, drifting in the trenches of his mind, but now his whole attention was on her.

He finally seemed to make up his mind to do something with his hands and stretched them out, taking her right hand in both of his. He still had calluses from war. She wondered if they'd ever go away. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Can I… can I do something for you? Is there anything I can do?"

She looked away from his face then, at their hands folded together. She'd only told him half the story. She could tell him the rest. She could throw all her problems at his feet, and he could do what he would with them. That was what a prince was supposed to do, wasn't it? Take care of his people?

But she thought of her father being called in for questioning. She thought of him deflecting accusations, turning it all on her. It was her fault, somehow. She was the one taking notes on Ivan's behavior. They'd find them under her bed, they take into account her relationship with him – her winning over his trust, so she could… attack him, or something.

If she said anything against her father, he could have her arrested – killed, maybe, and no one would believe her. Not the king or the queen, and not Ivan. She'd lose his trust. Somehow, that seemed worse than everything else.

She looked at their hands once more and drew hers out of his. "No," she said. "It's fine. I'm fine."

He still looked into her eyes with that curious, attentive expression. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You shouldn't have to live like this."

She sighed. "A lot of people have to live like this. Why should I be any different?"

Ivan looked at her. "But it's your birthright. You were born to be nobility."

She smirked. "It's all just chance. Do you think Thaddeus had any more or less right to the throne than you do? It was just chance that he was born second."

The look on his face changed then, like a stone wall rising up between then. He was back in his own head, focus gone. Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned Thaddeus. It was obviously still hard for him. She was about to change the subject but stopped, thinking suddenly that this was how he acted whenever his brother was brought up. He shut out everything else. This was the sort of information her father was looking for – though it seemed like a fairly normal response to grief. "I'm sorry," she said after a moment, "for… bringing him up. You must have been close."

He looked at her with a seemingly confused expression. "I… we – " He pursed his lips together. "It's… strange, that he's not here." He paused for a moment and looked at the floor, then lifted his eyes back to her with a pained expression. "Do you really think he had just as much entitlement to the throne as I do?"

She shrugged at him, frowning. "It was just an example. I mean, you could have been born the other way around. Why do you ask?"

He shook his head slowly. "It's nothing. I just…" He trailed off, staring into the wall behind her.

"Do you miss him a lot?" she asked. She knew she shouldn't pry, but… she'd just poured out a lifetime of secrets of her own. Didn't that give her some right to ask personal questions?

Ivan looked back at her. "Sometimes," he said after a moment. "And sometimes, I just… I can't understand."

She nodded. "That makes sense. I can imagine it would be hard to comprehend why he's gone."

Ivan looked at her for a long moment. He didn't entirely seem to be agreeing with her. He just looked lost.

Finally she took in a breath. "Well, what was it you actually wanted to know, Ivan? How to behave around my stepsisters to avoid their condemnation?"

He let out his breath and nodded, looking slightly more revived. "Yes. That was what I wanted to know. Although it seems less important now. Do you want me to tell my father about Lord Luck? I'm sure he could do something for you. It's not right. You should… well, you should be coming to tea along with your stepsisters, not cleaning the castle."

That thought was an odd one, considering the reason for her stepsisters coming to tea. She shook her head quickly. "No. It's pointless. I could never be a real lady anyway. I don't look the part."

"Madeleine," he said, but she just shook her head again.

"Blair is the only one you need to worry about. But then Rafe will be with you, so she'll most likely be otherwise occupied. Although…" She considered her stepsister's recent infatuation with Ivan and tried to decide whether or not she should inform him. "She might be more interested in you than him, actually. Just don't bring up anything about her and Rafe in the past. If you want to have a pleasant time, you should separate them as much as possible. Otherwise, they'll just argue. Adelle either won't say much or she'll chatter endlessly. It's difficult to say. But she'll likely be pleased with anything you say or do."

Ivan nodded slowly. She supposed it was too much information for him to really swallow all at once. "Do you… think I'll be all right?" he asked at last.

She took in his desperate expression and suddenly laughed. "Yes, Ivan, I think you'll be fine. They haven't had their house burnt down. It would probably be wise not to discuss Lord Luck either, though. He's a bit of a sore subject for all of us."

Ivan frowned. "Why? I understand for you, but… the rest of them?"

She pursed her lips together. She shouldn't have said anything. She couldn't tell him about her father deserting the army to attend to his… conspiracy concerning the royal family. "It's just… he didn't write to us," she said – that was half the truth. "While he was gone, we heard nothing from him. It was like he abandoned us all."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

She let out her breath. She got out of that easily. "But you'll be fine, I'm sure. Just… talk to them. Try to smile a bit." He looked at her with a wary expression, and she smiled at him. "Good luck, your highness." And with that, she turned and let herself out the door, walking slowly down the hallway.

"Goodnight, Madeleine," she heard him call after her.

I hope everyone has a lovely New Year! And if you're reading this, drop me a line!