After

by locktobre

After the events of The Princess and the Pauper, domestic bliss gives way to deepening mysteries. / Rated M for sexual situations, depictions and discussions of abuse, and mild violence.

21. Justice

2 Years Ago

"Are they going to hang us, Nack?" Nick asked, massaging his throat. "I don't think I want to be hanged."

"Just shut up," Nack whispered back furiously. "Just shut up and let me think!" His mind was racing, trying to find a way out of the cell that did not involve outright escape—and thus, a life on the run. There had to be something he could do, some way to convince them—

Queen Genevieve was walking toward them with Princess Anneliese trailing behind her apprehensively, along with several guards.

"Don't say anything," Nack said in an undertone, and Nick nodded vigorously. "Let me do the talking."

The queen stopped in front of them, and turned to her daughter. "Are these the men that kidnapped you? They seem to be in Preminger's employ."

Anneliese drew herself up. "Yes, that's them."

Genevieve nodded, and started to turn away.

"Wait!" Nack said, and his hand slipped through the bars, reaching forward as if to stop her. She took a step back, affronted, and one of the guards batted his hand down. "Sorry, Your Majesty," he said, massaging his hand. "But—please, you have to listen."

Genevieve glanced at her daughter, but Anneliese was staring at the men in the cell, her brow furrowed.

"Very well," the queen said stiffly. "You may state your case."

"We do work for Preminger, but you have to understand, he's been like a father to us," Nack babbled. "We're orphans, see—our mum died having us, and dad went a few years later. We were brought up in an orphanage, then we got kicked out—not even our fault, mind! Really it was just a matter of space and bad timing—but then Preminger found us, and he took us in. He got us our jobs in the mine, even, didn't he, Nick?"

Nick nodded dutifully.

"He gave you those jobs so that you could steal for him," Genevieve said disdainfully, pursing her lips.

"Would you go against your father, Your Majesty?" Nack said desperately, and he thought he saw her eyes widen, just a little. "We didn't want to do it, no ma'am, but we had to. We owed him. He took care of us."

"You kidnapped my daughter!" Genevieve shouted, her hands balling into fists. Her face was a very unqueenly shade of red.

"...Yeah, we did," Nick admitted, wincing, "but we're sorry, aren't we, Nick?" He elbowed his brother in the ribs. "And we didn't hurt her, did we? You're alright, aren't you, princess?"

Anneliese stared at him.

"And Nick—it's certainly not his fault. He's too stupid to know what he's doing. I bet he doesn't even know where he is right now, do you, Nick?"

"What?" Nick said, looking around.

"See? He's an idiot, he can't help it. He only does what he's told. You can't punish him for being stupid, can you, princess? It's not his fault. It would only be cruelty, and you aren't cruel, are you, princess?"

Anneliese's expression softened slightly, and Nack thought he might have her.

"That may be true... But even if Nick isn't to blame—if!—then that doesn't absolve you of anything," Anneliese said slowly. "You would still have to stand trial, Nack."

"But then who would take care of Nick?" he said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "He can't take care of himself. He's never been alone, and he couldn't survive if he was. I've got to take care of him, it's only right, Your Highness." He tried to plead with his eyes, calling up the same pathetic, wide-eyed look that had made strangers sympathetic to him while he was begging on the streets of Slade ten years earlier. He was older and uglier now, but maybe it would still work.

Anneliese dropped her gaze.

"Neither of you are going anywhere!" Genevieve cried, and she pulled her daughter away from the cell. As they walked away, Nack saw her lean in and whisper furiously to Anneliese, but he couldn't hear what they were saying over the clanking of the guards' boots.

Anneliese glanced over her shoulder as they turned the corner, and Nack wondered what would happen next.

But for the next few weeks, nothing happened at all.

The brothers sat together in their cell, eating the meals they were brought but doing little else. Nack grew more worried with each passing hour, while Nick kept asking what was going to happen to them now.

"I don't know," Nack snapped for the umpteenth time.

A full month passed, and finally something happened: Two guards appeared with a single pair of shackles. Nack's eyes narrowed.

"The princess wishes to speak to Nick, alone," said one of the guards, unlocking the cell. "Come on, then."

Nick stepped forward obediently, but Nack flung out his arm to stop him. "What does she want to talk to him for?" he demanded.

The guard shrugged. "That's her business, innit? Come on, now, we don't have all day."

"Nack?" Nick looked between the guard and his brother, confused.

Nack slowly lowered his arm, and the guard who had been silent clapped the shackles on Nick's wrists.

"It'll be okay, Nick," Nack said, although he wasn't sure. Perhaps the princess had decided to execute them one at a time? Or perhaps she did think it was cruel to punish simple Nick, but Nack had not positioned himself as caretaker enough that he would be spared, too.

Nick broke into an easy grin, quite relieved at Nack's reassurance. He waved goodbye as the guards escorted him down the corridor, and Nack waved back half-heartedly.

As soon as they were out of sight, Nack sank onto his cot and put his head in his hands.

After an hour, or maybe two, Nick returned, grinning and carrying half a sandwich.

Nack leapt to his feet as the guards unlocked the cell, then Nick's shackles. "What did the princess want?" he demanded, staring at the sandwich incredulously.

Nick shrugged. "Just wanted to talk, that's all. She's nice, isn't she?"

"Your turn, then," one guard said, and the other held up the shackles.

Nack looked between them and his brother, bewildered, but offered up his wrists and allowed himself to be led down the corridor. Nick waved at him, stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.

The guards led him up into the palace proper, and then into a parlor that was probably small by palace standards but could still comfortably fit Preminger's entire cabin inside of it.

The princess was there, as well as her tutor, sitting at a table laden with food. In front of them was also an array of paper, quills, and inkstands. The princess looked very calm, but the tutor's brow was furrowed.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Nack said politely, glancing out the window and trying to guess the time of day. He tried not to appear suspicious.

She smiled, not quite warmly. "Please, sit down."

A chair was pulled out opposite the couple, and Nack sat down. One guard left the room, but the other stationed himself by the closed door, watching intently.

"If you're hungry, please eat something." Anneliese gestured to the trays in front of her. "You can have as much as you like."

Nack's stomach rumbled, and he took a sandwich. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Do you know why I've asked to speak to you today?"

"No, Your Highness," he said honestly. He couldn't make heads or tails of her behavior. Why butter them up if she was just going to hang them anyway? Was she fishing for evidence? Had she asked Nick if his brother truly took care of him? She seemed to have a page of notes in front of her, but he could barely read as it was, and certainly not upside-down.

"I'd like to ask you some questions, if that's alright," Anneliese said, moving her page of notes to one side and replacing it with a blank one. "I'm going to write down the things you tell me so that I'll be sure to remember them."

Nack nodded, his brow furrowing.

"I would like you to be entirely honest with me," she continued. "Telling me the truth now will not get you in any more trouble, and in fact it may help you. Do you understand?"

He nodded, glancing at the tutor, who had not spoken at all. He wished he could remember his name.

Anneliese caught him looking. "This is Julian. I'm not sure if you got his name—before," she said, coughing slightly. Heat rose in her cheeks.

Julian gave a grim smile. "We didn't have much time to chat, no."

Nack had the distinct impression that Julian, at least, would have no problem seeing him hanged, and he swallowed, wondering just how much sway the tutor's opinion held with the princess.

Anneliese shook her head slightly, then looked back at Nack. "Are you ready to begin?"

Nack nodded.

"I'd like you to tell me how you met Preminger," she said.

Nack's jaw actually fell open, although he quickly closed it. "What do you want to know that for?" he asked, before he could think better of it.

Anneliese's eyes bored into him. "Humor me."

Nack hesitated, trying to think of an appropriate answer.

Anneliese sighed, picking up her page of notes. "Nick said that you were trying to pick Preminger's pocket. Is that accurate?"

So that was her plan, was it? Question simple Nick first, and get the bare bones of the thing, before getting Nack to fill in the details? But what did any of it matter? He didn't believe that he wouldn't get in trouble for telling the truth. The truth only ever led to trouble. That's why Nick could never be trusted with anything important—he was too stupid to lie.

But the royals already hated Preminger, didn't they? What would the harm be in telling the truth about him?

"Yeah, that's right," Nack said finally. "We didn't know who he was back then, of course, or we wouldn't've bothered him."

Anneliese nodded and made a note.

"We weren't very good pickpockets back then, so he caught us. We were scared out of our wits when he started going on, saying how dare we and didn't we know who he was and how important he was—but then he stopped and said maybe he wouldn't turn us in." Nack shifted in his chair. "If we agreed to come work for him."

"Is that when he brought you here, to Astraea?" Anneliese asked.

Nack shook his head. "He brought us out to his mum's cabin. Never the city proper. He didn't want us to be seen together."

"That cabin belonged to his mother?" Anneliese asked, scribbling furiously.

Nack rubbed his chin. "That's where Preminger lived with his mum, growing up, but I dunno if it actually belonged to her. I think it might've belonged to his dad? But he said nobody came there anymore after she died, not even him, because he went off looking for his dad after that and never came back to it. But we fixed it up. It was a good hideout because it was close to the mine and nobody else knew it was there."

Anneliese frowned, sidetracked. "Why did he go looking for his father?"

Nack shrugged. "He never knew him, because he was a bastard. But once his mum figured out she was dying, she wrote a letter telling him all about the affair, and left it for him to find when she was gone." He took another sandwich. "His mum died out there, you know. She had the letter in her hand and everything, because she knew it was gonna be soon. Preminger buried her himself."

"Is that why you think the cabin is haunted?"

"What?"

"I overheard you and Nick discussing something about a ghost," Anneliese said pensively, tapping her chin. "I didn't really understand it, but it did give me the idea to disguise Serafina."

"Nick believes in ghosts, because he's an idiot." Nack rolled his eyes. "I don't."

"It certainly seemed like you believe, too," she said, smirking slightly. "But perhaps I was mistaken."

Nack was about to protest, but Julian cut in: "Back to the matter at hand," he said, seeming impatient. "Preminger just told you all of this? About burying his dead mother and the letter and looking for his father?"

Nack shifted uncomfortably. "Well... Not exactly."

Anneliese waited, putting her hand on Julian's when he seemed about to speak again. She shook her head minutely, looking expectantly at Nack.

Nack looked at the ceiling, avoiding the princess' intense gaze. "It's not too hard to get him talking, once you get a bit of wine into him and start telling him how great he is, and how impressed you are by him. And then he'll pipe right up about how truly impressive he is, coming from nothing, how hard it was being a bastard peasant who clawed his way up." He snorted. "You just let him run his mouth, and sooner or later he'll spill something you can use."

"I see," Anneliese said, taking a note.

Nack realized that this was not the way one spoke about their father figure, and he straightened up. But if he said anything that sounded like it came from a loyal son, they would think that he was still on Preminger's side. He chewed on his sandwich while he tried to think of what to say next. How should he play it?

"He is a great man, or so I thought," he said finally. "He took care of us when we needed him, so we owed him for that, you understand, don't you?"

"I understand," Anneliese said neutrally.

"I swiped his letter once," Nack admitted, after another moment's silence. "I wanted to know what it said. Didn't get much from it, though. Can't really read." He shrugged.

"I take it you became a better pickpocket over the years?" she said lightly as she wrote something down.

He gave a noncommittal nod, cursing himself for bringing it up.

"Is that how you acquired a key to the mines?"

"I—what?"

"The mines are locked at the end of the day, and you had access there after hours. Did you take a key, or did you pick the lock?"

"I... took the key," he said. He had, but he could also pick locks—and if he admitted that, she might decide his cell wasn't secure enough.

Anneliese nodded, and then consulted her notes again. "Let's backtrack a bit. Nick said you were born in Slade, is that correct?"

"Yes." She seemed to be waiting for more, so he gave a heavy sigh and continued: "Our mum died having us, like I said. Dad died when we were five. We ended up in the orphanage."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Anneliese said, and Nack stared at her. "I lost my father two years ago. I can't imagine losing him when I was only five."

He had a funny feeling in his stomach, realizing he had something in common with the princess. Somehow he had never connected the fact that the king had died to the princess losing her father.

"Thanks, princess," he muttered, not quite meeting her eye, but he saw her give a small smile.

Anneliese took a breath and straightened her shoulders, then continued, slightly more businesslike: "Why did you get kicked out of the orphanage, Nack?"

"I told you," he said, "it was only a matter of space and bad timing. Lots of orphans coming in, the older ones get kicked out to make room, you know how it goes." He shrugged.

She nodded, making a note. "And you met Preminger after that?"

"Yeah."

"There was a horse at the cabin, and I took him when I was escaping," she said, with a strange look in her eye. "Where did you acquire him?"

"Preminger bought him for us, I dunno where." Nack shrugged. The princess seemed slightly disappointed by this answer, for reasons he couldn't fathom. Who cared about a horse? Did she think they'd stolen it? Horses were too big and cumbersome to steal, and someone always came looking for them. It would be far more trouble than it was worth.

"I see. Then I think I have one last question for you, Nack." Anneliese drew herself up before continuing: "Do you know what Preminger's plan was? You said he was going to marry me, but I don't quite understand that. Perhaps you have some insight."

Nack felt a twist of guilt, remembering the mine, how he had taunted her. He swallowed and set his jaw. "He had us stealing from the mine, after hours, for the past ten years," he began. This much she already knew, or had guessed, so there wasn't any harm in confirming it. "We'd work during the day, and then we'd go back during the night for a few hours, when we knew it would be empty. Preminger thought if he was wealthy enough, he could buy your hand whenever the kingdom went broke."

"I see." She made a note, not looking up. "And that changed when my mother decided to betroth me to King Dominick?"

"Yeah," he said heavily, shifting in his seat. "He thought if he made it look like you ran away, the king would leave. Then he could rescue you, and the queen would be grateful to him..."

She glanced at him. "And he didn't think that King Dominick would return once it turned out I'd been kidnapped, instead of running away?"

"I... don't know if that crossed his mind," Nack said uncertainly. What was she getting at?

"I see. And once it was revealed that I'd been kidnapped, with Preminger as my rescuer... who do you suppose would have taken the blame for kidnapping me?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

Nack tried to process what she was saying. If Preminger was going to play the hero, then the villain would be...

"I suppose... it would have been us," he realized.

Anneliese nodded, seeming satisfied. "That's what I think, too. He's not much of a father figure, is he?"

Heat surged through Nack's veins. Preminger had made quite sure that Anneliese had not connected him to the kidnapping, and Nack had not questioned this, because of course Anneliese couldn't know about it—she was meant to be Preminger's bride. And once Anneliese was supposedly gone, trapped in the mine and crushed under debris, Preminger had been quite content to appoint Nick and Nack as his groomsmen for his wedding to the queen. But if the kidnapping had worked, if Preminger had "found" her like he planned... He was ready to throw Nick and Nack to the wolves, wasn't he?

Nack stared at the princess, feeling sick.

"I think that's all for today," Anneliese said tiredly. "Thank you for talking to me, Nack." She waved to the guard, and he left his post at the door to come stand behind Nack. "Do you have any questions for me, before Bruno takes you back to your cell?"

Nack looked between the princess and her tutor, then at the guard, before standing up. "Why are you doing this?" he asked desperately. "What's the point? Are you going to hang us, or not?"

"No, I'm not going to hang you," she said. "I think I'm going to let you go."

Nack's jaw fell open, and this time he did not close it. Anneliese nodded to Bruno, and he led the man back to his cell.

As soon as they were alone, Anneliese dropped her quill and sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. Julian took her free hand in his, giving her a small smile that she returned faintly.

"I'm still not sure I understand what you're doing here, but you seem to think it went well."

"It did." She extricated her hand, and picked up her two pages of notes, comparing them. "I think I learned a lot more than he thought he was telling me. But that was the point."

Julian nodded, although he didn't quite understand.

Anneliese caught sight of his expression. "I'm trying to be fair to them."

"But why do you want to be fair to the men who stole from you?" Julian burst out, tired of holding his tongue, and she flinched. "To the men who kidnapped you?"

"It's only been a month, Julian," she said calmly. "I don't want to make any rash decisions just because I'm hurt and angry."

"They kidnapped me, too," Julian reminded her. "Don't I get a say?"

She pursed her lips. "You think they should rot in the dungeon, and that's because of what they did to me, not you. I don't think you can be objective about this, but I can. I can at least try."

"You were all for letting them rot, too, until you visited them," he grumbled. "What did they say to you?"

"I already told you—"

"Right, right, that Preminger was like a father to them." He snorted. "A likely story! You heard how Nack talked about him!"

"They were orphans," Anneliese said, and he snorted again.

"So what if they were? I'm an orphan, too, and I've never stolen from the crown to bankrupt the kingdom. I've never even thought about it."

"Yes, but you grew up in the palace with me, with my parents, and they're wonderful," she said, growing impatient. "Maybe they never stood a chance, growing up the way they did." She inhaled deeply, trying to compose herself. "I'm going to be queen one day, Julian. I have to learn how to do things like this, how to treat people fairly and with compassion. This is important, not just for me, but for my kingdom."

Julian's expression softened, and he put his hand on hers. "I suppose you're right."

"This is what you taught me." She shook her head slightly. "You don't seem to like seeing your own lessons in practice."

"I'll admit, I find it difficult to be objective where you're concerned." He brought her hand up, and kissed it lightly.

She blushed, twining her hand with his and longing to kiss him, but he had already made it clear that he preferred to wait. For how long, she wasn't sure, but she hoped he would change his mind soon.

It was still so strange to freely hold Julian's hand without the fear of being caught, but the past month had brought with it a whirlwind of changes.

On her return to the palace, Anneliese had finally met her intended fiancé, and in the same meeting had politely told him she was not interested; Dominick had laughed at that, and assured her that he wasn't either. With that out of the way, she had asked if he would be open to negotiating a rather large loan instead, apologizing that it came on the heels of her rejection, but time was of the essence. He had agreed, and they had come to terms: She would use his money to stabilize the kingdom while she tried to diversify Aurelia's industries, and in the meantime she would sell the geodes she had discovered in the derelict mine. She hoped to pay the loan back in full within ten years, although she acknowledged it may take twenty.

From Julian and Erika, Anneliese had pieced together what had happened while she was "away," as her mother had come to call it, and why Bruno had refused to let her enter when she came to the gate. Bruno had apologized a thousand times, but Anneliese had waved him off; in any other situation, he was only doing his job—how could he have possibly guessed that the princess in the palace was a doppelganger? Julian and Erika had apologized for their part as well, but they had only been trying to help her, so she accepted their apologies perfunctorily and suggested they all just try to move on.

Once funds had been procured, Anneliese had used a small portion of the money to pay off Erika's and Bertie's debts to Madame Carp, and they had each nearly cried with happiness. Anneliese also troubled to make it publicly known that she no longer supported Madame Carp, or any shop with conditions like hers; she was sure to make good on her promise to take her business elsewhere. With no employees left and her name dragged through the mud, Madame Carp sold the building on the first offer and left Astraea to try to remake her business somewhere she was a little less infamous.

Anneliese had also begun working with her mother's new chief advisor, Mathieu Dubois, to begin measures to formally outlaw indentured servitude.

Bertie, Anneliese was shocked to learn, was heavily pregnant and had been desperately hiding it from Madame Carp, terrified by the thought of her baby one day ending up in Erika's situation. She had been hoping to run away to Hilgovia with her fiancé before the baby came, as he had family there, but they had not managed to save up enough gold before Anneliese had intervened. With Bertie's debt wiped clear, they got married immediately, and not a moment too soon, as Bertie gave birth the very next day. She and her new husband, Diederik Marchand, were startled to discover that there was not one baby, but two—and when one girl was blonde, and the other brunette, they decided there were no more fitting names for them than Anneliese and Erika.

Anneliese offered Bertie a position in the palace as a seamstress, once she had recovered, but she politely declined, moving instead to the Marchand family farm to raise her children. She and Diederik thought they still might move to Hilgovia one day, for a fresh start, but now that they didn't have to run, she thought it wiser to stay in one place until her twins were a little older. Anneliese told Bertie that she was always welcome to request help from the palace, should she need it in the future, and left her be.

Erika had been waiting for the wedding and birth before deciding what she wanted to do next, and in talking with Anneliese she expressed an interest in touring Europe to sing. Anneliese supported that wholeheartedly, and gave Erika a sizable sum of gold to fund the first leg of her tour. When Erika tried to protest that it was too much, after the princess had already paid off her debt, Anneliese insisted it was nothing.

After much internal and external debate, Erika's final argument against leaving was that it wouldn't be safe to take Wolfie with her, at which Anneliese offered to take care of him while she was away, which would make Serafina happy, too. Erika hemmed and hawed for a week, but in the end she decided that Wolfie would be fine in the palace, and after a tearful goodbye with him, soon she was off, brimming with hope and promising to return with new stories of the grand places she'd seen.

After Erika left, Dominick finally decided to return to Dulcinea, having hung around on the pretext of assuring that the loan's funds were being dispensed appropriately. Nobody had believed that, but they didn't challenge him, either, and agreed that his leaving after Erika did was only coincidental.

Anneliese was a little sad to see her new friends scattering so quickly, but she knew she would see them again one day.

With no other pressing matters to attend to, she had finally decided to tackle the punishment of Nick and Nack. Queen Genevieve had reluctantly agreed to leave it to her, and to stand by whatever decision she made, but she made no such concessions for Preminger, and Anneliese had no desire to argue for him, or indeed see him ever again, so she didn't press the point.

Their meeting with the kidnappers in the dungeon had been rattling around in the back of Anneliese's mind as she went about helping her friends and trying to keep the kingdom on its feet, and now that they were taken care of, or well on their way, it was time to put her plan into action, despite both her mother's and Julian's misgivings.

Anneliese had begun her inquiries with the overseer of the mine, a man named Geoffrey Beckenbauer. She had become familiar with him while detailing the new mining operation, but he was still very flustered when asked to take a private meeting with her.

They sat down to tea, and Anneliese asked him about Nick and Nack.

Geoffrey hesitated at first, but after she stressed the importance of his honesty, he gave it: "Nick and Nack? They're fine boys—at least, I thought they were. Preminger brought 'em in, oh, ten years ago? Asked to have 'em set up in the mine, and never came back again to look after 'em. Scrawniest boys I ever saw, in the beginning, and they never really filled out. Stronger than you might think, though. Anyway, I thought maybe they were his bastards at first—I mean, pardon my language, princess—but Preminger never seemed to care about getting 'em promoted or anything. I guess now we know why." He shook his head. "Never really suspected anything about it."

Anneliese made a note. "Were they good workers?"

Geoffrey nodded. "Always punctual, more than most of my crew, in fact. Nack's a quiet sort, usually watching rather than talking. Nick says whatever's in his head, always babbling on about this or that, but he's harmless. Or so I thought," he added hastily.

She made another note. "Did you ever notice anything missing from the mine? Tools, equipment, anything of value?"

He thought for a moment, stroking his beard. "Not so I'd notice, I don't think. Things move around sometimes, but I just put it down to the rats. Guess not."

"Do you think that they're violent?" Anneliese asked, and Geoffrey looked stricken. "Have they ever been a part of any physical altercations?"

"I dunno about violent," he said uncomfortably, "but Nack knows how to throw a punch, if that's what you mean. He isn't given to it usually, but sometimes, well, you know how it is."

"No, I don't believe that I do."

He shifted in his chair. "Well, Nick's simple, yeah? And Nack's not the nicest to him, but that's his brother. If anyone else says anything, well, Nack'll have their head. It was more in the beginning, or when anyone's new. Not often. But that's just brothers, you know? I've got four myself, and some days I'd throw 'em in the river, other times I'd drown to save 'em." He shrugged.

"I think I understand," Anneliese said, making her final note, and then she'd thanked Geoffrey for his time and sent him on his way.

Julian didn't understand why any of this mattered, but Anneliese continued with the next interview on her list: Priska Sturm, the headmistress of the orphanage in Slade.

For this, they traveled to Slade, rather than arranging for Priska to come to them, and Anneliese relished the opportunity for a completely sanctioned visit to a new place.

She was not quite as happy when she actually arrived at the orphanage's doorstep; the building was rundown, and grim, dirty faces peered at her from unwashed windows. But she steeled herself and entered with a smile on her face, Julian at her side, and waved at the little eyes she saw peeping out from the doorways she passed.

Priska had not been headmistress fifteen years ago, when Nick and Nack had been put out, but she'd been there long enough to have known them. While she seemed quite in awe of the princess, she did not restrain herself when asked about Nick and Nack's childhood: "Ha! Them? Wretched little beasts. They always had twitchy fingers. I'm not at all surprised how they ended up."

"How do you mean?" Anneliese asked.

"They were always taking things, always making excuses when things went missing, always lying and saying they didn't do it when they got caught." Priska shook her head. "And the fighting! Nack picked fights every other day!"

"Why was he picking fights?"

"How should I know that? He was always fighting, and Nick was always crying about something or other," Priska said dismissively. "When they turned fifteen, the headmaster at the time decided he'd had enough and put them on the street. Good riddance, I say."

Anneliese thanked Priska for her time and asked to see the records of Nick and Nack's time there. Priska pulled out a logbook, and Anneliese asked Julian to study it for her, as he was better at absorbing large amounts of information quickly, and had his own special shorthand for taking notes. He studied it for the better part of an hour, while she toured the building with Priska. Anneliese smiled and waved at every child she saw, but they all averted their eyes or bowed to her before scurrying away.

At last, Julian had finished, and they said their goodbyes and made their way to their carriage.

Their guide to the city was the Captain of the Slade guard, Eric Tremblay, and he had waited patiently for them during their visit.

"Did you get what you were after, Your Highness?" Captain Tremblay asked as they settled into their seats.

"Maybe," Anneliese said, troubled. "Julian, what did the logbook say about their father?"

"His name was Alvin Schumacher, and he made shoes," Julian read off. "He died when they were five."

Anneliese nodded, thinking. "Captain, will you please direct us to the oldest shoemaker of whom you are aware in the city? Thank you."

Captain Tremblay raised his eyebrows, but delivered the address to the driver without comment.

When they came to the shop, the Captain disembarked with them and led the way inside. The shop was empty except for a tiny old man sitting at a table, who blinked owlishly at them through his spectacles. He broke into a grin when he saw the Captain. "Eric! Have you been out dancing all night again? Worn through your soles, eh?"

Captain Tremblay reddened but shook his head. "No, not this time, Walter. This is Princess Anneliese. She would like to ask you something."

"The princess!" Walter leapt to his feet, and bowed so low his nose was nearly level with his knees. He straightened up, adjusting his spectacles. "Goodness me! Hello, princess!"

"Good evening," she said. "Is there somewhere we can sit and talk for a moment?"

Walter nodded, and began moving around piles of leather until he had unearthed a second chair.

"We can stand," Captain Tremblay said, as Walter moved toward another towering pile. Julian nodded, and he and the Captain stepped away, looking at the various shoes on display while keeping a curious ear on the conversation.

Anneliese sat, and Walter threw himself onto his own chair. He bounced around with the energy of a man a quarter of his age, which she found strangely endearing.

"We haven't been properly introduced, have we, princess? Walter Marchand, maker of the finest shoes in Slade! Or so I like to think." He winked at her.

"Marchand?" she repeated, surprised. "Do you know a Diederik Marchand?"

"Diederik? Let me think." He tapped his chin for a moment. "Diederik, Diederik... Yes, I think one of my cousin's grandsons is called Diederik. They've got a big farm in Astraea, there's lots of them, but I think one is called Diederik. The family's so large, you see. We've spread all over! France, Hilgovia, Germany, Bulovia, Dulcinea—"

"Thank you," she said firmly, deciding she would ask Diederik later on to confirm this instead. "I think that's the one I know."

"Splendid! Is that what you wanted to talk about?" He paused, his face falling. "Has Diederik gotten himself into trouble? I don't believe he would, princess, they're all good boys over there, I'd swear it on my mother's grave, I would."

"No, no, that's just a coincidence," she said. "What I would like to know about is a man named Alvin Schumacher, who died about twenty-five years ago."

"Alvin?" Walter repeated, tapping his chin again. "Alvin, Alvin, Alvin..."

"He had two young sons," she said, as he continued muttering to himself. "They were called Nicholas and Alexander, or Nick and Nack—"

"Aha! That Alvin! Oh, I remember him. He was one of my apprentices."

"He was?"

"I've had many apprentices," he said, with a fond look in his eye. "I take them all, so some folks come from far away to train with me, and I do my best with them. Some have the talent, and some don't, but I think it's only fair to give everyone a shot. Sometimes people can surprise you! Wouldn't you agree, princess?"

"Yes," she said, "I would."

Walter grinned at her, then clasped his hands. "What did you want to know about Alvin?"

"I wanted to know whether you remember anything about him, or his family."

"Alvin had the talent," he said proudly. "His boy Nick did, too, even though he was only, what, four at the time? He spent a lot of time in the workshop, so he could be looked after, and picked it up right away. Nack... he didn't have the knack, unfortunately. But I don't think he wanted it, really. It's hard to tell when they're that young, but sometimes you just get a feeling." He shook his head. "I liked Alvin, and I would have kept him on, but then he got married and started working in his father-in-law's shop instead. But then he died not long after Alvin and Nadine were married, and they decided to take it over for him rather than selling it, a way to remember him, you see. Then at least something good would come out of such a loss. Him and Nadine ran that shop together until she died having the boys, and that really knocked the wind out of him. I really thought he might be done for. I offered to have him come back here, but he wanted to keep the shop up, in her memory and her father's. He said it would be nice for the boys to have a piece of their mother, like she'd had a piece of her father, and I thought that was a nice idea. I visited him whenever I could, but it wasn't often enough, I don't think." He sighed. "Alvin was actually starting to get back on his feet, before the fire."

"The fire?"

"It took out a whole street," he said sadly. "Never been sure what started it. So many died... I was traveling at the time, but from what I heard when I got back, Nack got out of the building just fine, but Alvin went in to get Nick, and he simply never recovered. He wasn't even burnt—neither of them were!—but the smoke..."

Anneliese nodded sympathetically while Walter dabbed his eyes.

He cleared his throat and continued: "Anyway, I never saw the boys again after that. I'd heard they'd ended up in the orphanage, and I thought maybe I ought to do something about that, but I was old even back then, far too old to keep up with five-year-old boys day in and day out, and I've always got apprentices coming and going..." He sighed heavily. "I wonder where they ended up?"

Anneliese hesitated for a moment, and then she told him.

"Oh dear," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said awkwardly. "When I came here, I wasn't expecting Alvin to be a friend of yours..."

"It's alright, it's quite alright," he said faintly. He seemed to visibly deflate, his boundless energy leaking out of him before her eyes. He looked so small and frail without it.

"I think something good can still come out of this," she said after a moment, and then she explained what she wanted to do with Nick and Nack.

The Captain and Julian exchanged astonished glances upon hearing her plan, but said nothing.

Walter, however, was very happy, and by the time they'd all said their goodbyes, he seemed to be filled with new energy, bouncing around his shop again as they left.

"Your Highness..." Captain Tremblay said as they settled in the carriage. "Did you really mean what you said in there? You want to let them go?"

"I think so," Anneliese said. "I'm not sure yet."

And all of this had led to today, with her final interviews being with the culprits themselves.

A servant came to take away the last of the uneaten food, and then they were alone again.

"Anneliese..." Julian began, looking fixedly at their clasped hands. "There's still something I don't understand. Perhaps you can explain it to me."

"Perhaps I can," she said, and then she waited.

"I understand why you think it's your duty to be fair to all your subjects—and it is, you're right about that. And in following you through these interviews and inquiries, I can understand why you might feel Nick and Nack, in particular, are deserving of sympathy. But what I don't understand is why you think they deserve it, and Preminger doesn't. What makes it so different? You're quite happy to let him rot in the dungeon."

Anneliese stared into space for a moment, absent-mindedly pulling away from Julian and folding her hands in her lap.

"There are several reasons," she began quietly, seeing nothing. "The first being that my mother has decided to handle Preminger. She's still considering her options with him, because he has—or had—many political allies, and because she has known him for so long. I think she may decide to leave him in the dungeon, but I'm not sure yet. But she allowed me to deal with Nick and Nack because I asked it of her, after seeing them, after seeing how scared they were. I wanted to see if there was any merit to what Nack said before I decided.

"I've been spending much more time in the village, and at the mine, and even before that I spent that night in Madame Carp's shop, and it's been so illuminating. Madame Carp held Bertie's and Erika's lives in her hands because they owed her so much money—but it wasn't even a lot! Not to me, not at all. Even the money I gave Erika for her trip really was nothing to me, even if I only said that so she would take it. Every day I'm learning about things that I take for granted, things that my people don't have, ways that my people are suffering...

"If Bertie and Erika owed Madame Carp, if they stayed with her because there was nowhere they could run, despite how much they suffered under her hand—am I to believe that Nick and Nack are any different? When the choice given to them was following Preminger, or going to prison? He was one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, and he gave them a place to stay, he gave them jobs, he told them to do what he said or he would turn them in... And why wouldn't they? When they had no alternative?"

Anneliese blinked rapidly, and Julian placed a hesitant hand on her back, watching her face with wide eyes.

"And for all that... It wasn't personal. They didn't know me—they knew of me, because I'm the princess, of course—but in the end they were only doing what they were told. I think I can forgive that, in time. I may not now, but I don't want to put them to death just because I think it will make me feel better. I don't think it would. I think I would regret it, maybe not now, maybe it would take ten years, but by then it would be far too late for them. So I am trying to be fair. I am trying to see how one might be put into circumstances far beyond their control.

"But Preminger... He was the one in control. He knew me. He knew my mother, my father. He planned this whole thing, lying to us the whole time, scheming and conniving and trying to twist our circumstances until we had to submit to him, too. How can you ask how it's different? You knew him, too. How can you not understand how that feels?"

"I—" Julian began, but she didn't seem to notice him.

"He wanted to marry me, Julian," she continued, shuddering. "I don't know how long that was a part of his plan, maybe he intended to marry my mother if my father had died sooner. Maybe we're entirely interchangeable to him, as long as he would end up as king. But he's been working toward this for ten years. Do you know how old I was ten years ago? I was ten. I was a child when he decided that I was going to be a pawn in this.

"And that doesn't even begin to cover what he did to my mother! My mother, who chose him as her advisor, who trusted him, who leaned on him throughout my father's illnesses and the decline of the kingdom. He was her friend. But it was all a lie. He never cared about her, or if he did it was not enough to stop him from doing this. He tried to have me killed, and then turned around and twisted my mother's arm so that she would marry him. He thought he'd just murdered me, and he stood at that altar playing innocent.

"It's beyond disgusting. He makes me sick, and I never want to see him again. Even if it didn't work, even if he failed, the fact that he tried this at all means he is not the man we all thought he was. He's selfish, and he doesn't care about anyone but himself, not even Nick and Nack, even though they're the only reason he even got this close. I don't care if he was a bastard, if he had to claw his way here—I care what he did once he got here. And all he did was prove that he can't ever be trusted. I could never trust myself to be objective where he is concerned. My mother can deal with him. It is her right to do whatever she wants. I don't care."

Julian nodded fervently, stroking her hair, and she finally looked at him.

"As strange as it may sound, I want to trust Nick and Nack," she said plaintively. "I want to believe that people can be good if given the chance, and that they can change. I want to believe that trust can be rebuilt once broken. Maybe it's stupid of me, maybe it's beyond foolish to place all my hopes on them, but I want to give them the chance. I need this, Julian. I need it so badly."

"I understand," he said gravely.

Anneliese was quiet for the rest of the day, even as they visited the Marchands' farm to speak to Diederik. He confirmed that Walter was indeed his grandfather's cousin, and that a better man one could not hope to meet. He was thinking of apprenticing with Walter himself one day, as the cousin he and Bertie had planned to meet with in Hilgovia was also a shoemaker who'd apprenticed there, but he wasn't sure yet. Anneliese nodded along, glassy-eyed, as he gave this information, not seeming to take it in. She said hello to Bertie, and spent a moment cooing over little Anneliese and little Erika, and then she and Julian returned to the palace.

Anneliese spent the evening composing letters to Captain Tremblay and Walter, and then she went to bed.

In the morning, a guard informed her that Nack wanted to speak with her, and so she had the parlor dressed for tea again, and then brought him up.

Julian was much calmer this morning, and he seemed to look at Nack with new eyes, trying, Anneliese hoped, to see it her way. They were both very curious as to what Nack wanted to say.

Nack bowed before taking his seat this time, and didn't take anything to eat.

"I lied to you yesterday, princess," he said, staring at his hands. The shackles clinked as he fiddled with them.

"Oh?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, and I guess before that... But Preminger wasn't like a father to us. He never cared about us or anything. I said it thinking you might spare us from the gallows, but then—" He looked up at her, bewildered. "Then you said you might let us go." He ran a hand over his unshaven face. "I don't understand it."

She said nothing, watching him impassively. He squirmed under her gaze.

"I never really said when, but we didn't meet Preminger when we were kids. We were twenty, plenty old enough to know right from wrong. At least, I was, Nick'll do whatever you tell him and not think much of it, because he trusts me to look out for him. We'd been on the street five years at that point, after we got kicked out of the orphanage—and I lied about that, too, it wasn't just space and timing. We'd stolen something and gotten caught—"

"What did you steal, Nack?" Anneliese interrupted.

"I—what?"

"I would like to know what you stole," she said, looking at Julian's notes from the orphanage's logbook.

"Some food from the headmaster's private store cupboard," he said, looking down at his hands again. "He was always lording it over us that he had it, and one day I'd had enough and took some. I gave some to Nick, and someone saw him with it and asked where he got it, and of course he told the truth." He shook his head. "Telling the truth's always got us in trouble, and I've gotten out of the habit."

"I see," she said.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what you said," Nack said, looking up again. "About Preminger meaning to blame us for everything. I don't pretend to be smarter than him, and I knew he never cared, but I didn't realize—I just—" He ran his hands through his unkempt hair. "But you realized that, and you seemed like you wanted to make sure I knew it, and I couldn't figure out why. And I thought, maybe it's because she wants to let us go, so she's saying that she feels bad for us, being lackeys, but we weren't, princess, we knew it was wrong. At least, I did. Nick—maybe you should let him go. He might be okay on his own, I dunno if he needs me as much as I said. But I knew what I was doing. I tried to tell myself I didn't have a choice, because it was between letting Preminger walk all over us and going to the gallows, but I did. I should've left. If I could do it over again, I would, princess, I swear it." He put his head in his hands.

"I see," Anneliese said. "And you don't think you deserve a chance to do just that?"

Nack raised his head and stared at her, wide-eyed.

Anneliese told him that she had spoken to Geoffrey Beckenbauer, Priska Sturm, and Walter Marchand, and what she had inferred from them: Nack really did take care of Nick, and always had. They didn't make a habit of stealing when they didn't need to or weren't ordered to, as nothing of note had gone missing from the mine in ten years except for the key, which they needed, and the gold, which Preminger wanted. The orphanage was a miserable place to grow up, and they had been accused of many things for which they may not have deserved blame, as there had been little to no evidence recorded for most of their misdeeds. When they did deserve the blame, they had served their punishments with far less fuss.

This had all been more or less confirmed by her interview with Nick. He'd spoken very fondly of his brother, and lamented their time in the wretched orphanage, but he lit up at the mention of the shoe workshop. He said he wished he could go back there again, and Anneliese said she may arrange that for him.

With Nack, she had mainly wanted to assess whether he was still loyal to Preminger, and he had proven to her satisfaction that he was not.

And just now, when he had admitted to lying, she was more sure than ever that he deserved a second chance. If he didn't think he deserved it in the first place, once he'd got it, why would he waste it?

"I may have lied to you, too," she said at last, when she'd told him all the rest. He was looking at her quite strangely. "I said I would let you go, but there will be... provisions. Certain terms that you would have to meet."

Nack nodded very seriously. "Whatever it is, I'll do it, princess. I promise."

Anneliese smiled at him.

Nack was taken back to his cell, as the final preparations would take a few days to arrange, but by the end of the week, two carriages left for Slade: One containing Anneliese and Julian, and one containing Nick and Nack.

They arrived at Walter's workshop early in the afternoon, and were greeted by Captain Tremblay and a few of his men, who looked rather nervous. They bowed to the princess as she exited the carriage, Julian close behind her.

Captain Tremblay nodded to one of his guards, and the man opened the carriage, letting Nick and Nack out. They were no longer in shackles, but looked at the guards apprehensively.

Walter noticed the commotion and bounded out of his shop. "Boys! You're here!" he cried, and he clasped Nack's hand, then Nick's. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you again, I don't know whether you remember me—but my, you look just like Alvin! And Nadine, too, oh what a lovely woman she was." He beamed at them. "Come on, then! Let's get to it!" He turned and beckoned them into the shop.

Nick followed him happily, looking around the workshop in wonder, but Nack hesitated, looking at the princess.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he said, as earnestly as he could. "You won't regret this."

"I hope that I don't," she said, smiling sadly.

He turned and walked into the shop, and outside he heard the two carriages drive away.

---

Now

Nack woke up at dawn, sitting up and scratching his head in the pale light. He yawned hugely and stretched, then rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes, finger-combing his hair.

"C'mon, Midas," he said, yawning again. "Time to go see the guards."

Midas grumbled but stood up and followed Nack down the stairs.

The princess' terms were quite easy to follow: They were not to leave the city limits of Slade, but could go anywhere they wished within it. They were to return to Walter's workshop every night. And every morning, they would see one of the guard and confirm that they were still here, and had not stolen anything or hurt anyone. The last were difficult to prove on their word alone, but the guards around the city had come to recognize their faces, and watched out for any impropriety as they went about their lives. Anneliese hoped that they might one day scale back the meetings with the guards to once a week, and then once a month, depending on how it went, and that one day they could be trusted entirely to simply go about their lives again.

In the beginning, a few guards had come to the workshop every morning, but they were often late, sometimes straggling in past noon. Nack didn't care to wait for them so he could go about his business—as he didn't want to be gone when they came to check—so after a few weeks he asked Captain Tremblay if he could come to see them, instead. After a letter to the princess asking her permission, the switch had been approved.

Her reply had also come with a query for Nack, read to him by Walter: Would he like to have Preminger's dog? She had first asked Preminger's half-brothers, but one of them had a small grandson, and didn't think Midas could be trusted around him, while the other had no interest whatsoever. She was at a loss for what to do with him.

Nick had protested that Midas was mean, but Nack thought that Midas must be getting old by now, as Preminger had had him for as long as they'd known him. Perhaps he'd mellow out with age. He asked Walter to write back that they would accept Midas, if she had nowhere else to send him. It was the least they could do for her, after she'd given them their freedom.

So it came to be that every morning, Nack would walk to the guards' office with Midas, confirm that he was still a law-abiding citizen, and then return to the workshop to continue his apprenticeship. Originally, he had dragged Nick along, too, but Nick preferred to sleep late, and after once again confirming with Captain Tremblay, it was decided that Nack could be trusted to speak for the both of them. Nick was perfectly content to sit in the workshop all day anyway, and would never dream of causing trouble on his own. He and Walter got along famously.

Nack spent a good bit of his free time with Midas, trying to bond with him, but so far he had only managed to get him to stop growling at everything, which he supposed he must consider good progress. But it didn't feel much like progress.

What did feel like progress was how the guard treated him after two years. They had been quite suspicious and skeptical at first, but as months passed without incident, they began to relax. He no longer felt their eyes on him whenever he was out and about. He was even on friendly terms with several of them.

This morning, Linus and Lucino were standing outside the guards' office.

"Is he in yet?" Nack called as he approached, Midas trotting at his heels.

Linus nodded, and Lucino laughed. "You'll never beat him in here, Nack. He's awake before dawn."

"I might one of these days, you never know." Nack shrugged, grinning, and entered the office. He waved hello to Gaël, who was sorting paperwork at the front desk, and then walked past him to the Captain's office.

Captain Tremblay sat at his desk expectantly, a faint smile on his face as Nack knocked on the door jamb. "Come on in," he said, gesturing to the empty chair in front of him. "How've you been?"

"Same as yesterday, same as every day," Nack said easily, sitting down. Midas lay at his feet, looking apathetic.

The Captain nodded. These meetings were little more than a routine at this point. "Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" He looked down at the logbook in front of him and picked up a quill. "Did you return to Walter's workshop last night?"

"I did. It was a bit after sunset."

Captain Tremblay made a tick in the logbook. "Did Nick as well?"

"He didn't leave at all yesterday, he was too excited about the new leather we got in." Nack shook his head affectionately, wishing he could have Nick's enthusiasm for the work.

"Ah, I'd heard about that, I saw Walter in the square yesterday." Another tick. "Have you stolen anything since we last spoke?"

"No, sir."

"Not even someone's heart?"

Nack guffawed in surprise. "With this face? Not likely, Captain."

"You never know," the Captain said quietly, making another tick. "And what about Nick?"

Nack shook his head. "Unless you mean from me," he amended. "He took half a baguette I was saving."

"Would you like to bring charges against him?" the Captain asked in his serious way.

Nack pretended to consider it. "No, not today," he laughed. "Maybe tomorrow."

"I'll see you then," the Captain said, making a final tick. "Carry on, Nack."

Nack dipped his head, then beckoned for Midas to follow him out of the office and into the street. The sun had fully risen now, and people were beginning to pepper the streets. The smell of baking bread and cooking meat was starting to waft through the air.

"Do you smell that, Midas?" Nack said, sniffing appreciatively. "I think that's roast pheasant." Midas turned up his nose, and Nack rolled his eyes. "More for me, I guess. Come on, boy."

Nack located the correct stall in the square, and bought a small packet of meat, tearing off a piece to eat as he walked.

"Are you sure you don't want any, boy?" he asked, holding out the piece, but Midas wasn't looking at him. "Midas?"

Midas streaked across the square, and Nack stared for a bewildered second before stuffing the packet in his pocket and taking off after him.

"Midas? Midas!" he called, weaving through the crowd gathering in the square.

Midas ignored him, galloping down the street. As the crowd thinned, Nack realized that Midas was following someone.

They were small and wore a dark cape, and had scraggly gray hair, but Nack could not recognize them from the back. He wondered who could possibly have Midas' attention. He hated everyone, except—

Midas stopped short in an empty alleyway, staring intently into the shadow cast by the neighboring building, and Nack skidded to a stop alongside him, clutching at his ribs.

The person in the cape was nowhere to be seen.

"What the—?" He tried to follow Midas' eye line, but the alley wasn't so dark that someone should be able to disappear in it.

And then Preminger seemed to melt out of the shadows.

"Hello, Nack. Have you missed me?"

Nack took a step back, but Midas bounded forward, mouth dropping open and tongue lolling happily—and then when he got within a foot of Preminger, he suddenly stopped. He sniffed the air, and then began to back away, hackles raised and growling in a way that Nack had never heard before.

"Et tu, Midas?" Preminger tutted, dropping the hand he had raised to greet his dog.

Nack's hope that his eyes were playing tricks on him, that Preminger had merely been concealed in the darkness instead of appearing out of thin air, evaporated as Midas planted himself between them.

Midas loved Preminger. He had been listless for the past two years without him, and had only seemed to keep himself alive out of spite and perhaps the hope that he would see his master again one day.

If Midas was reacting like this, then this was not his master.

But it was, wasn't it? Underneath the beard and wild hair, his face was the same. He still had the same long nose, the same high cheekbones, the same bright amber eyes...

"What are you doing here?" Nack croaked. He did not believe that the queen would ever let Preminger go, and the princess certainly never would. And if they ever did, certainly they would not let him loose in Slade, where Nick and Nack resided, no matter how sure they were that the brothers' loyalties had changed—perhaps they'd send Preminger to his family's estate, but never to Slade. No matter how much trust they'd earned in the past two years, it was certainly not enough to tempt fate like that.

"I came to see whether you'd be interested in joining me for my newest endeavor," Preminger said idly, seeming unperturbed by Midas' growling.

"No," Nack said, before he could think better of it. He should have found out what Preminger wanted first. He was going about this the wrong way—

"Don't tell me you plan on working in that shoe shop for the rest of your life?"

"How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"Oh, I heard lots of things while I was in the dungeon. And I've seen much more since I've been out." He gave a sinister smile, his eyes gleaming.

Nack's blood ran cold at the thought of Preminger lurking, invisible, to watch them go about their business. He tried frantically to remember whether Midas had seemed unusually unhappy in the past few days, but could not.

"How dare you?" Nack found himself saying, and words kept tumbling out of his mouth, every vile thought he'd had about the man over the past two years bubbling to the surface: "How dare you come here, after everything that you did? You used us, you used everybody, and you were going to have us take the blame for you when you'd set the whole thing up? And you have the nerve to come here, to ask for my help? I shouldn't be surprised! It's just like you! You can't do anything by yourself, can you? You're such a pathetic, sad old man that you couldn't be happy being one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, no, you had to be the king, didn't you? You had to manipulate everyone, you had to go out of your way to alienate anyone and everyone who ever thought that you were a good person! Why couldn't you ever have enough? Why was it never enough?"

Preminger narrowed his eyes.

"The princess gave me a second chance, she gave Nick a second chance, even if we didn't deserve it. How dare you think that I would ever waste that for you!"

Preminger stared at him for a moment, as if he had never seen him before.

"It is quite fortunate for you that I have decided that I don't need you after all," he said softly. "I shouldn't like to disturb the princess' favorite pets, so I shall take my leave now. Goodbye."

He whirled around and took off at a run, far faster than he had been before. He disappeared around the corner before Nack could blink.

Before he could think, he tore off after him.

He was vaguely aware of Midas galloping at his heels, but he kept his focus straight in front of him, trying to keep his eyes on Preminger's dark form as he wove through the now-bustling streets and knowing that at any moment, he could simply disappear.

Preminger was toying with him.

Nack did not see Ludovico until the man had jumped in front of him, his hands held palm up. "Nack, Nack, where are you going?" he cried, his feet braced in case Nack ran into him. "This is the edge of the city! You can't leave, you know that, Nack, what are you doing?"

Nack slowed, ignoring the guard and staring past him.

Preminger looked over his shoulder and winked before vanishing into thin air.

Ludovico put a hand around Nack's arm. "I can't believe you tried to leave, Nack, what's gotten into you? I'm going to have to report this to the Captain!"

"The Captain?" Nack repeated blankly. "Yes, take me to him."

Ludovico called over Leonhard, who was nearby, and they frogmarched Nack across the city, Midas trotting behind them and whining.

Nack was vaguely aware of being deposited in the same chair he had occupied just an hour earlier. He heard Ludovico explaining that he had seen Nack running toward the edge of town, and that at first he'd thought he was chasing Midas, but Midas had been behind him.

"I see," Captain Tremblay said gravely. "Leave him to me."

Ludovico nodded, and he and Leonhard left the office, shutting the door on their way out.

"Nack, what happened?" the Captain said, and his voice was softer than Nack expected. "You were doing so well. Why would you try to run away?"

"I wasn't," Nack said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "I wasn't running! I saw—"

"What did you see?"

"I saw Preminger," he said. "He's gotten out of the dungeon somehow! I saw him! He disappeared, right in front of me! I guess Ludo didn't see him, he was moving so fast—he isn't human, not anymore." He looked down at Midas, who was sitting up quite straight, still alert. "Midas knows, just look at him."

Captain Tremblay looked at the dog, and then back at Nack.

"Preminger has two half-brothers, as I understand it," he said slowly. "And a nephew. From what I know of them, they all look strongly alike. Perhaps you saw one of them?"

"It was him," Nack insisted. "He knew me, he knew Midas, and Midas knew him, but it wasn't him, either. He was different, somehow, and Midas knew it."

The Captain gave him a pitying look.

"I know how it sounds," Nack said desperately. "I know how it sounds! I know that if Preminger had escaped, the whole kingdom would be on alert—but if he can vanish like that, who's to say they saw him leave? Please, sir, we need to warn the princess, the queen, everyone! Please, you have to believe me!"

Captain Tremblay stared at him for a long moment.

"I want to believe you," he said finally. "I'll admit, I find the idea of Preminger breaking out of the dungeon far more plausible than the idea that you would decide to run away after two perfect years, and in broad daylight no less. You aren't stupid. You know what that would mean for you."

Nack nodded vigorously, his expression full of anguish.

"As I understand it, Preminger is under guard around the clock," Captain Tremblay said. "I heard ten men at last count, but the queen adds more all the time. She's very determined to keep him locked away." He paused. "If he really did vanish right in front of you, then that sounds like... magic, perhaps, or something close to it. But I've never heard tell of Preminger being a sorcerer—some strange stories about one of his brothers, but not him. You knew him for ten years; did you ever suspect such a thing?"

"No," Nack admitted. "But he was always traveling. He could have met someone powerful that way, someone powerful enough to get him out and give him powers of his own. Maybe." He ran a hand through his hair. "Please, sir, we have to warn the princess. If Preminger has escaped, then she is in danger. If I'm wrong, then we've only wasted her time. But if I'm not, then we could save her life. Please, sir."

Captain Tremblay nodded slowly, then pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and loaded up his quill. "I do believe you're right, Nack. I'll write to her at once."

---

Preminger's blood was boiling in his veins as he left Slade. His feet barely touched the ground as he raced toward Astraea.

It had occurred to him on his journey here that he did not know whether Nick and Nack were still loyal to him; and if they were, could they be persuaded to risk their freedom for him? He did not have anything to offer them for their service, and he could make no guarantees for their safety or wellbeing. Surely it was a fool's errand, made even more foolish when he began to wonder whether involving Nick and Nack would break the terms of his contract with the witch. He had pledged that he would murder everyone the witch had named—would it count if Nick or Nack did the deed, if he had given the order? In the eyes of magic, did it matter?

Whatever the witch had said about merely being "disappointed" if he did not do as he had been bidden, he had no illusions that she had been truthful with him.

However, all of this had come to him far too late, and once he was here, he decided he may as well see what they were up to. The witch had not set him any sort of time limit, but he did not intend to dawdle for very long. He thought perhaps he would finally learn how Nack had talked himself and his brother out of the dungeon.

Although he found it annoying at the time, in retrospect he considered it quite fortunate that the guards that had been assigned to him for the past two years were incessant gossips who nattered on about every little unimportant thing. He had listened to them, because there was little else to do—but this had turned out to be quite useful, because several weeks after his initial imprisonment, he had heard a highly interesting tidbit: Nick and Nack had been sent to Slade.

Preminger had hardly believed his ears. Why had the princess decided to let them go? What made those two imbeciles so special that she would stake her precious royal reputation on their release? He hadn't pressed the guards for details, because he hadn't wanted to give them the satisfaction of knowing that he actually listened to them, so he was left to endlessly, fruitlessly speculate as the conversation had turned away from that which interested him to the inanity of so-and-so's new baby and whose wife was thought to be having an affair.

After their provisional release, Preminger waited for the news that Nick and Nack had broken the princess' terms, that they had run away, that they had been caught thieving, but it never came. The well of gossip seemed to run dry.

If he had been frustrated before, he was livid now.

He had mastered becoming invisible at will as he traveled to Slade, and when he had finally reached the city, he sought out the guards' office, thinking he may follow one to wherever Nick and Nack were, when they went out to check on their charges. But to his surprise, he saw Nack come to the office of his own volition, Midas in tow, and then leave, whistling tunelessly as he walked down the street.

Preminger had followed him back to the shoe shop, careful to keep his distance and growing angrier with every step.

Nick and Nack were going about their merry lives, and he'd been left to rot in the dungeon. How could that be justice? They had been in it together, the three of them; but of course the princess took pity on the two wretches. Of course. She was weak-willed and soft-hearted, and she had believed whatever sob story Nack had spun for her. Of course she had.

He was quite ready to be rid the insipid little princess once and for all. Her, her family, her friends... Perhaps he would even come back for Nick and Nack, once he had fulfilled his contract. He had considered doing it now, but if he did away with them with the princess alive, that could alert her that something was amiss. It wouldn't do to waste the double the witch had so graciously placed in his cell.

Not for the first time, he wondered what King Dominick had done to invoke the witch's wrath. She had mentioned a daughter—perhaps a bastard whom the king had refused to legitimize? A spurned former lover? He had played her scant words over in his head, but he couldn't make any guess as to her motives. Nor could he fathom why the witch had chosen him, of all people, to carry out this task, not least because she was surely capable herself. The possibilities weren't endless, but remained endlessly tantalizing, and he doubted very much he would ever find out one way or the other. But what he wouldn't give to know what had happened there...

---

3 Years Ago

Marisol hadn't spoken since Sebastian had pried her away from Dominick. He had tossed her across the room like she was nothing, and she'd hit her head and was rendered unconscious; and when she awoke, she was in the dungeon. She did not say anything, or look at anyone, or respond to anything they did or said, not even when she was bundled out of that cell and into a carriage, and then put in a different cell, hundreds of miles away. She did not eat. She did not sleep. She sat silent, simmering with rage and immobilized with fury, for days. The guards whispered to each other, but she did not hear them over the ringing in her ears. Her clenched fists drew blood from the nails pressed in her palms, but she did not react to the pain.

She could have gotten out. Of course she could have. She could have killed all the guards. She could have knocked down the prison. She could have set the world on fire. But she didn't want to do that. All she wanted was for Dominick to love her. For him to obey her. Was that so hard? So unreasonable? She was direct with him. She told him when he was doing things wrong. But he never listened to her. How could he be so selfish? How could he string her along for months, only to pull the rug out from under her now, when she was so close to finally fixing him? It was unbearable.

She could have left, but she didn't need to. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone came to get her.

She wondered whether her mother or father would come first. She hoped for her father, of course. Her mother doted on her, but Marisol had long since learned anything her mother had to teach her, and she had grown quite bored of her otherwise. Her father didn't seem to love her at all, and that was unbearable. How could he not love her? His own daughter? Her mother implied it was because of the kind of thing he was, that he was just incapable of it, whatever he said to the contrary. That simply could not be. It was because Marisol was not like him, not nearly enough like him for him to care. He was disappointed in her, no matter what he said. He was a horrible man, and he didn't love her at all—

But he was here.

Marisol moved for the first time in days, her face splitting into a grin as she watched her father stride into the room. He was doing magic; she couldn't see it, but why else would all the guards suddenly slump over, unconscious though they remained standing? She unfolded herself from where they'd set her on the cot, finally standing. She released her clenched fists, dried blood flaking from her palms. Her father stood a ways back from the bars of her cell, and he had that blank expression on his face, the one he always had unless he was trying to emote.

"Father!" she said gleefully. He loved her after all! "You came!"

He didn't say anything.

"Are you finally going to take me away with you, father? Please, I want to see what you see, to do what you do! It's all I've ever wanted!"

"I'm not going to do that, Marisol," he said softly.

Her manner, which had been childlike and pleading, changed at once, and her eyes blazed, full of fury. "Why don't you want me to be like you? Why are you so cruel to me? How can you be so heartless?"

His expression hardened into disdain, but he did not otherwise react to her shouting. "Do you even understand why you're in that cell?"

She laughed, incredulous. Surely her own father wasn't going to take Dominick's side? The side of the man who'd betrayed his daughter? Who'd broken her heart and sent her away without so much as a goodbye?

"I'm not here to get you out," Arsenio said, still softly. "I'm here to keep you in."

Too late, Marisol realized that the stone walls and floor suddenly felt much more solid. She grabbed the metal bars, which she could have torn through like paper moments ago; but now she yanked at them ineffectually, as powerless as a human.

Until now, she had never understood when her father said that magic need not be impressive to be effective. But she had not seen a single thing; he had not waved his hands or said a single magic word. And yet, he had been weaving a web of magic around her cell, trapping her in it like a rat in a cage, since the moment he stepped through the door.

Marisol gave a wordless scream, flinging herself at the bars, and when she ricocheted back, she turned to clawing at the walls, trying to smash the bricks like she could have only moments ago. How could he do this to her? How could he be so cruel? So absolutely heartless?

She caught sight of her father out of the corner of her eye; his expression had changed to something between pity and revulsion.

He pitied her? He had done this to her! How could he? How dare he!

"I'm sorry, Marisol," Arsenio said.

"Why do you hate me, father?" Marisol cried miserably.

He said nothing, only staring at her with that same sad, disgusted expression.

As the silence stretched, Marisol gave another frustrated scream, stamping her feet and clawing the stone walls of her cell until her nails bled.

Eventually, she tired herself out, and she sank onto the cot, folding herself up again as she dissolved into pathetic sobs, saying over and over, "You hate me, you hate me."

"I love you, Mari," Arsenio whispered.

"LIAR!" she screamed, magically magnified, her voice rattling dust free from the ceiling.

He turned away, waking the guards and rendering himself invisible. The guards, for their part, were none the wiser, although some of them did look curiously into the cell and wonder when their prisoner had started crying. But they shrugged it off, somewhat glad to finally see some sign of life from her; her absolute stillness had been beyond unnerving.

Arsenio left the prison, Marisol's accusation reverberating in his skull.

If he had been able to focus on anything else, he might have seen Reina coming. Then again, maybe not.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, stepping out of the trees, and he stopped in his tracks.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then he dug his heel into the dirt, bolstering the magic he'd laid around the prison behind him. She raised her head sharply, seeming to follow the invisible path of magic back to the low brick building.

"What have you done?" Reina rushed up to him, grabbing him by his collar. He didn't answer her. "What are you doing, trying to keep her there? Your own daughter?"

"She nearly killed a man!" he burst out, ripping himself away from her.

"So what if she did?" Reina said implacably, and he felt cold.

"What do you mean, so what?" He wasn't surprised. He knew she was like this. He knew it. But that did not stop the feeling of dread creeping down his spine.

For all Arsenio had worried that Marisol's coldness came from him, he knew, deep down, that it did not.

"He led her on!"

"She beat him! And when he finally got up the courage to break it off, she—"

"She loved him," Reina said, and he could not tell whether she really believed that, or if she was defending her daughter the way she always had.

"You don't hurt people you love," he said, although he knew this was lost on her.

"Why do you even care about this, Arsenio? What does this man matter? Just because he's a king? And so what if he is?" Her eyes narrowed. "Unless he's special to you. Is he one of your special people? One of your pawns in that game you play?"

Arsenio set his jaw.

Reina's expression twisted into something that was like a smile, but decidedly not. "It's nice to see you finally admit that you care more about your game than you ever have about us."

"It isn't a game!"

She laughed, and the sound was entirely without humor. "You play with humans like dolls, making them do whatever you want. Of course it's a game."

"And what do you call it when you 'play' with humans? With their blood and bodies and entrails? What do you call that?"

"I call it magic," she said simply. "They're only humans, Arsenio. They don't matter. None of your special people ever have. Once they're gone, nobody will ever remember them. Nobody will ever care about their stories! All your time carefully crafting their lives is utterly wasted. You abandon your family for them, and what do you have to show for it? They don't know you. They'll never even remember you. They will never, ever care about you the way you do for them."

"It doesn't matter," he said firmly, although she'd wounded him far more than he cared to admit. "Even if nobody remembers them, I do. Even if they don't care about me, I care for them. It isn't about glory, it's about people. Humans leading human lives. You think that doesn't matter, but for me, being there for them is the very best part of being alive."

"It's the only reason you're alive," Reina spat.

Arsenio shrugged, which seemed to only enrage her further. She launched herself at him, bowling him over, and raked her nails across his face.

She continued to slash at him, her nails lengthening into razor-sharp talons, screaming all the while.

He simply laid there, waiting for her to tire herself out.

Reina could not leave a mark on him. Her nails could pierce him, but they would never leave wounds, and he would never bleed from it. He could barely even feel it.

She wrapped her hands around his throat, and he said with the last of his air, "You know that I don't breathe." He stared up at her, nonplussed.

Eventually, her strength seemed to give out, and she collapsed on top of him, sobbing.

He sat up, cradling her in his arms, and he held her until she pushed him away.

"You can't keep her in there, Arsenio," she said, wiping away her tears with the heel of her hand. She glared at him through puffy red eyes. "You simply aren't powerful enough."

"I think that I can," he said, and he picked himself up and dusted himself off. "But I suppose we'll see, won't we?"

He offered her his hand, and he helped her to stand up.

Arsenio looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. He shook his head before turning away, looking for all the world like any common traveler as he strolled down the road.

Reina watched him leave, and when she had judged the prison to be out of his immediate perception, she made a beeline for the low brick building.

"I'm going to get you out of there, Marisol," she whispered furiously, laying her hand on the stone, "if it's the last thing I do."