Blood Bonds

Chapter Ten Part 2

The reason we keep going

The dream always started the same way.

It was during her twelfth birthday when Isabella's father was busy drinking himself into unconsciousness underneath one of the tables of the great ballroom. That way it wasn't him who had to deal with the fake smiles of the attendants, their empty promises, and their insidious whispers.

They thought of her father as a pathetic joke, a useless mage who would turn into an equally useless king.

The nobles loved him!

They laughed and joked about how he'd be their puppet, about how easy it would be to convince him to marry his daughter to one of them.

Fools, the lot of them.

It had been Mother who commanded respect. She was going to reign the useless prince in! Turn him into a man worthy of his position! But then she had to go and die during childbirth. Pathetic.

No one knew how that had happened. It shouldn't have been possible, not with some of the best water mages attending her. There were rumors that her husband had done it during one of his episodes of madness. Even if that was true, it was the daughter who had been blamed for it.

Kin-killer they called her.

She knew it.

She heard them.

But she bided her time. Once she was queen she'd break them and force them to repent.

No one would make a fool of her.

They claimed that she was cursed, and she'd make the best to live up to those expectations.

As she navigated the dance room, she caught sight of a short girl seated on her own, away from the main mass of people. She was next to a corner and couldn't be more than ten.

There was something in that girl that made Isabella's stomach twist.

It wasn't just the blue hair of the stranger that betrayed her royal stock. It wasn't just the way that the other nobles ignored her, leaving her to her own devises. It was the way that she was smiling and laughing while playing with a doll she kept close to her chest.

Isabella hated her.

"Give me that!" She ordered, pointing at the doll. The girl refused, shaking her head and pushing it firmly against her chest. "I told you to-" Isabella ripped at the doll, only to scream as the girl bit her hard. "You little-!" Isabella slapped the insolent girl across the face, leaving an ugly red mark, yet still she refused to let go of the doll.

"What's going on here?" An older woman stepped in, hands on her hips, and staring down at the two girls. She kneeled next to the attacked girl to check the mark. They were like mirror images; mother and daughter without a doubt.

The older woman asked something and the girl pointed at Isabella.

What would happen next should have been expected. She'd be yelled at and insulted. She wouldn't be harmed, though. Her status protected her from it.

And yet, that didn't happen.

"What is your name?" The mother asked in a soft voice. If she was angry at how her daughter had been treated, she didn't let it show, "If you don't want to tell me-"

"I am the princess!" Isabella yelled. Didn't those fools know who she was?

"So, is your name Princess?" The woman giggled and her daughter imitated her.

Isabella felt her cheeks reddening in fury. She could take insults, but no one would make a fool of her, "I'm Princess Isabella, you morons! And you'll show me respect!"

The girl cowered, seeking refuge behind her mother's body, the expression of soft calmness in the woman's face never abandoned her.

"Well, this is your cousin," The woman signaled at the girl, "And I'm your aunt." She gestured at herself, "We came here to celebrate and enjoy a good time." A time that Isabella had ruined, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Isabella ground her teeth together. What was wrong with that woman? It was like talking to a statue! Why was she being this insufferably nice?

"Why would you care?"

"No special reason." The woman replied, "I just like caring for people. And about that-" She took her daughter's doll and raised it to her head, facing Isabella. With her hands, the woman moved the doll's arms as if she was a puppeteer, "'Hello, I'm Tabitha the doll. Why were you being mean to me and my friend?'"

Was this a joke? She was even making a high-pitched voice! This had to be a joke at Isabella's expenses.

"Stop that."

"'Stop what?'"

"Stop with that stupid voice! And stop being nice to me! No one else is. Why are you? What do you want of me?"

The woman never broke out of character, "'I'm a doll, and making young girls happy is what dolls want. Don't you want to be friends?'"

Isabella would laugh if this wasn't happening to her.

"Why would you want to be my friend?"

"'Because everyone needs a friend, and it made me sad to see you all alone.'"

"I'm not alone!"

"'Then why are you here with us?'"

Isabella's mouth gaped open, not knowing how to answer that.

The woman lowered the doll, her smile never leaving her face, and offered it to Isabella.

Concern flashed over the daughter's eyes but the mother remained undisturbed by it.

Isabella accepted the gift and held it in her hands. She checked the weight. She checked the soft texture of the fabric.

This was a test!

The mother was expecting her to take the bait and punish her for it! Well, what if she did? It would be so easy to just take the doll and leave, who would stop her? The mother would try, but who was she to stand against the Princess?

But there was a strange feeling in Isabella's chest, one that she couldn't identify. She looked down at the doll that hung lifelessly from her grip. She looked at the stiff smile and at the soulless eyes and felt… calm. There was something genuine in that expression. How could someone lie if they didn't have a mouth to speak with? How could someone betray her if they didn't have arms to stab her in the back with? How could they hurt her if they weren't alive to begin with?

Inch by inch Isabella extended her arm and gave the doll back to its owner, who received it in greedy arms.

"T-thank you." The girl said as she pressed Tabitha against her chest.

"You are- you're welcome." That was the first time that Isabella had said those words. "What's your name?"

"I'm Charlotte."

In the next memory, Isabella found herself running through the corridors of the palace, their palace since the king's death. She'd just received news about the murder disguised as a hunting accident, of her uncle's death, and her father's supposed grief.

Lies, lies, and more lies!

Why did people keep lying to her?

She burst into the room and there she found her father, seated on the throne and toying with his crown. Next to him was the bitch, the woman that he had summoned as familiar. And in front of them, forced to their knees by the bitch's inhuman puppets, were her aunt and her cousin. They were gagged and had ropes tied around their neck.

"Oh, pumpkin. I was expecting you," Her father greeted her, his smile putting in display those ugly yellow teeth.

"Let them go, father!" Isabella demanded.

"Oh, my, you're rebellious today. Sheffield, dear, what is that we do with rebels?"

"We behead them, my master."

"Well said, Sheffield!" Her father laughed, slapping his knees as a child on his birthday, "I wonder what it would feel like to have my daughter beheaded," He scratched his chin, "But I just killed my brother and I don't want to be repetitive. No, I still have games I want to play with you." He gestured at her to come closer.

"What do you want, father?" She asked in a trembling voice.

He jumped to his feet, waving his arms at his prisoners as if he was a bishop before his congregation, "I want you to pick one of them!"

A chill ran down Isabella's back, "For what?"

"One will live and the other will die! And the consequences will fall right on your shoulders."

Isabella looked at them, the terror in their eyes burning a mark in her mind.

Could she have fought her father? She was too weak. She knew how he really was. She'd seen that face that he kept for private when he tortured his enemies. Would she dare to stand against him even knowing what would happen to her if she failed to kill him?

She met her aunt's eyes. The older woman shook her head in desperation, gesturing towards her daughter. Was this how Isabella's mother was supposed to be? A compassionate woman ready to sacrifice her life for her daughter's sake?

How different would things be if Isabella's mother had survived?

How different would they be if she hadn't killed her?

She didn't want to lose her.

Elizabeth would forever hate her, but Isabella was fine with that.

At the end of it, Isabella was just a coward.

"My aunt. Let my aunt go."

The king beamed with joy, "See, Sheffield? Was I right or what?"

"Indeed you were, my master." That sycophant of a familiar replied in her monotonous voice.

"Oh, well. Kill her."

She should have seen that coming.

Of course, this was nothing more than yet another of her father's games. Did her choice even matter at all?

The puppet standing behind Elizabeth took hold of the rope around the woman's neck and twisted.

"No!" Isabella raised her wand, aimed it at Joseph's throat, but the powerful hand of a third puppet closed around her wrist, twisting it in an unnatural angle. Isabella yelled in pain as she was forced against the ground, another hand grabbing her by the back of her head and forcing her to watch as the light abandoned her aunt's eyes.

It took several minutes for the woman to stop moving, and then even more for the puppet to let go of the corpse.

Isabella felt tears running down her cheeks, "This wasn't what you promised me."

"Yeah, but what can you do?" Like a child Joseph hopped around, dusting his pants off. "Well, now that's done, what's there for lunch?" He asked his familiar.

"I ordered the staff to prepare duck, my king."

"How wonderful, Sheffield! It's so nice to have you around." Then he stopped, leaned over his daughter, and kissed her on the top of her head. "Don't take too long, pumpkin. You don't want your food to get cold."

Step by step, Isabella crawled towards the lifeless body of her aunt.

Standing next to it, Charlotte looked down at it with an empty expression on her face, as if still incapable of believing what had just happened.

Isabella would never forget those empty eyes that stared back at her.

The Gallian Princess awoke with a start, memories of the previous night crashing against her mind.

She had worked until her legs had given in and until her fingers had bled, but it hadn't been enough. Worried maids had forced her away. Forced her to rest. Isabella had tried to fight back but exhaustion had taken hold of her and her consciousness eventually faded away.

And then she had that nightmare again. It had been weeks since the last time she had to suffer it.

Pushing herself up, she found herself surrounded by a familiar room, with sunlight peeking through the curtains, and Charlotte seated on a chair at the side of the bed.

Her sister looked back at her with that same dead-like expression she always had.

It was the same eyes that-

No.

She wasn't going to think about it. She had more important things to do than despairing over the past.

Isabella straightened up, "As we're still alive-" She licked her lips. Her throat was sore and her mouth was dry, "-am I to assume that the creature is dead?"

Charlotte gestured towards the door. "Come in." The moment she gave the order, it opened. The first thing that Isabella saw were the backs of two maids pulling heavy ropes attached to a contraption on wheels. As they made their way in, Isabella could see what the contraption was carrying: a silver statue that had barely fit through the door. The maids set it on the ground next to the fireplace, and without uttering a word they took their leave.

With a swipe of her hand, Isabella pushed the covers away. Crawling down from bed, she walked up to the object.

The thing was one of nightmares. It looked like a human figurine carved on wax and left to melt. Solid droplets of metal rolled down the cheeks as if they were tears of pain. The clawed hands had solidified against the chest as if the thing had been fighting up to the last moment to liberate itself from its burning prison. And the grotesque face had been left with its mouth hanging open, its fangs bare, and forever frozen in an expression of impotent rage at what was happening to it.

Isabella loved it.

"Good," She said with an approving smile as she set the tip of her fingers on Urbat's silver-coated face. "It'll look good back home. It'll serve well as a reminder to those that- those that-"

Her lower lip trembled.

Looking at that face she wondered: how many maids had she lost last night?

Charlotte rushed to her side.

"I'm fine!" Isabella drove her away with a swipe of her arm, moving back to the bed under her own power. She needed a moment to think. She couldn't allow herself the luxury of grief, and so she'd turn that pain into anger that would guide her way forward. That was a talent that she had long since perfected. "This was his doing, wasn't it? Who else would have the power to control something like Urbat?"

The always serious Charlotte remained neutral on the subject. "No evidence."

Isabella chuckled. "Of course there isn't. There never is." They once called her father the 'mad prince'. A buffoon that was too incompetent to rule. He had proved them all wrong after taking the throne. He was mad alright, but his game had taken a cruel twist as he used them to ensnare his victims like a spider to its web. "Maybe he finally got tired of us and found the idea of killing us funny. Or maybe he was trying to send us a message."

After all, it wasn't like they could have kept their intentions hidden, even after Isabella had replaced their entire human staff with dolls. Their main protection had always been the hope that Joseph found in their rebellion a source of entertainment. Something to look and laugh at, not worth stopping.

"Wasn't expecting Vallière."

Charlotte's words caused a smile to spread over Isabella's face.

Her sister had told her about the pink one's disappearance during the summoning ritual. About her change and subsequent return.

Because of that, she had requested Charlotte to get a sample of her blood so long ago. A sample that had done nothing but deepen the mystery around that one's existence.

There was something different about Louise de la Vallière. Something distinctively inhuman, even when compared to the likes of Urbat.

"I doubt anyone was." A chaotic wildcard that, if the accounts from Albion were right, was strong enough to topple kingdoms. "The beast said she was a Void mage, but also that she was something else. Do you think that your friend, the red one, would know?"

Charlotte's eyes hardened. "No."

Isabella cocked her head aside. "Really? Would you choose her over our vengeance?" Her sister remained quiet. "Fine. We will do without her." Her mind wandered to the plans she had, and how the most recent events had affected them. Her mouth turned to ash. "How many did we lose?"

"Not that many thanks to Siesta."

The muscles of Isabella's neck tensed as she clenched her teeth. "That pet of yours," she spat in disgust. "For weeks now she has been the only thing you talk about. It's always Siesta this, Siesta that! I'm getting very tired of how obsessed you are with her!" She hated that name. She hated listening to it and the way her sister's voice was tainted with affection whenever she spoke it.

"You used her name."

Isabella flinched. "What about it?"

"Why do you hate her?"

What a stupid question. "She's an outsider," Isabella spat. "Unwanted. She comes in acting as if she belonged. She acts as if she understood what we went through." And yet there was so much more than that. Her presence was a direct offense against Isabella. If Siesta had remained on the sidelines, her existence would have been tolerated. But she hadn't known her place and started mingling. She started talking. And worse, she was heard. "Why do my dolls follow her?" She asked, clenching her aching chest. "They listen to her. Why? Why do you love her? Why do they?" The look on her doll's eyes was what Isabella hated the most. They treated their master with nothing but respect, but whenever that commoner entered the room Isabella saw in their faces something different: admiration. She saw a glimmer of warmth and respect that wasn't there when they were alone. Her dolls didn't want to be like Isabella but wanted to be like Siesta. "I made them so they'd never betray me, so why am I not enough for them?"

Charlotte blinked at her passively, turning her head to one side and then to the other. "They are like us."

It was always her sister, the one who offered the most obvious answers. Of course, it had been so simple, but it took Charlotte to make it plain for her to see. Isabella felt like breaking down in laughter.

"They are fools."

She had molded them, she had taught them. She had wanted for her creations to transcend her, but in the end, she hadn't been able to give life to something better than she herself was.

From mothers to daughters, they were all failures in one way or another.

But the peasant had been different. Siesta was like an untainted mirror devoid of grime or rust. Isabella hated looking at it. She wanted to destroy it. She wanted to shatter it against the ground so she wouldn't be offended by its presence anymore.

But it was too late now.

Her dolls had fallen prey to that siren song. Now nothing but disappointment and despair waited for them.

"I want to kill her."

"Will you?"

She wanted to.

She wanted it so badly.

But the damage had already been done, so what was the point? And there was something else. A warm flame that Isabella thought long dead. She had seen Siesta rushing in to save the dolls. Had seen her fighting tooth and nail to keep them alive, and was still working when Isabella had finally passed out. Part of her felt relief at so many of her dolls having survived, but another revolted at the idea of that whore touching what wasn't hers.

A pang struck into Isabella's chest, reminding her of times long past and the happiest days that they had lost.

She had tried to spare her dolls of grief and suffering, but in the end, they had sought those things on their own.

"Fine!" Isabella yelled. "That pet of yours can stay. But she's your responsibility. At least make sure to bathe her because I don't want to suffer her stink." She clutched the side of her head, feeling the start of a headache. "And give her- I don't know. Gift her with a cow or something. Like a pig. Commoners like those, don't they?" The black one had saved several of Isabella's possessions and deserved something in return. That was just fair.

Charlotte replied with a grunt of acknowledgment.

"And call the blond one to my office," Isabella continued. "The male one. I have something to give him." The Tristanians had proven themselves competent enough. They'd be good tools to have at her side in the future.

Charlotte nodded and marched towards the door, but before she could reach it Isabella stopped her.

"Wait!" Her mind went back to the nightmare. To that time when she had tried to sacrifice her sister for the sake of another, and to all the times she had unleashed her anger and frustration on her. Isabella had abused her in body and mind time and time again, yet Charlotte remained steadfast at her side. "I never asked you. Once this is all over and Joseph is dead, will you kill me next?" That would just be fair, wouldn't it?

"No," Charlotte replied. "You did try to save mom." And with those parting words, she left the room.

Surrounded by a group of Isabella's surviving knights, Guiche's eyes lit up at what now rested on the Princess's desk. It came inside a box carried by one of the massive humanoids. It had looked almost comically small inside his grip, but once opened Guiche realized how monumental its content was.

They were documents, each one more valuable than one-hundred times its weight in gold.

"Where did you find all this?" He asked, picking one up. It described the movement of gold between several Tristanian and Gallian organizations. Movements that matched the ones he had been tracking down from the Tristanian traitors.

"For months I have been looking into links of certain Gallian nobles to the Reconquista of Albion. I tracked their activities to Honfleur and sent one of my maids to retrieve it." Isabella's tone grew grim as she clenched her teeth. "Some weeks ago the information arrived at my manor, together with that maid's head. That's how I started my hunt for the killer."

Guiche nodded, piecing together the chain of events that had led to their meeting. "And you believe that the killer was Urbat. It makes sense if we link her to the murder of Count Mott that Miss Louise was investigating. According to this, a lot of money stayed here in Honfleur -maybe to pay her- while the rest was sent through a network of Reconquista-aligned individuals to Albion." Henrietta needed to be informed immediately about the traitors in her court. "This is exactly what we needed." He raised to his feet so he could bow. "Your highness, from the bottom of my heart, thank you!"

"You proved yourselves useful," Isabella replied dismissively with a wave of her hand. "We share an enemy and I hope that I can call for you the next time I move against Reconquista."

"You'll get our help!" He couldn't keep his enthusiasm out of his voice. "That, I promise you. But may I ask why you kept this knowledge hidden from us?"

She snickered. "Because my vengeance came first, and you were useful for me to get it."

As grim as that answer was, it was one that a logical part of Guiche's mind could understand. "Well, we'll be glad to have an ally in you."

She leaned forwards, giving the boy a careful and calculating look. "Don't disappoint me."

With those documents in tow, Guiche marched away from Isabella's chambers.

Outside them he found his dear Montmorency talking to Louise's aunts.

"Ladies." He greeted them with a gesture of his head. His dear looked at him and her cheeks went red as she lowered her eyes to the ground.

That gesture didn't go unnoticed by the twins. "Lord Grammont! What a lovely morning. We were asking Lady Montmorency here where she'd been because she wasn't at her room when we-" Daphne's comment was quickly interrupted by Amethyst ramming an elbow into her side.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Montmorency sniffed, turning her head away from the vampire ladies. "So, Guiche, did the Princess have anything useful to say?"

"Oh, yes!" He patted the bundle of papers he carried. "Our mission here is done. We're going back to Tristain."

Montmorency beamed at that, locking him in a tight embrace.

With their arms wrapped around each other's waists, they went to get their belongings. It would take some time before the maids would get them a carriage for the journey back, but in the meantime, they'd spend their time in the courtyard.

There they found the last members of their group: Charlotte and Siesta talking to Louise and Kirche. This last one looked at the happy couple with a grin that made Montmorency turn her head away.

"So, it seems that someone got lucky-"

"I already made a joke about that, Kirche," Daphne said.

"Curse you!" The Germanina raised a fist in fake anger. "So, we were talking with Louise here about what to do and she told me that was mostly up to you."

All eyes turned to the boy and he found himself flinching.

It wasn't the attention that intimidated him, it was Louise's presence. Discovering that she was a vampire had already been a surprise, but a Void Mage too? That would certainly explain where her insane power came from.

Who else knew? Did Henrietta? The twins hadn't sounded surprised by the revelation. Neither Kirche nor Charlotte had. It was only him and Montmorency.

There was a lot that he didn't know.

He coughed into his fist. "Well, our job here is done." He explained it to them as he had explained it to the twins. "So we'll be departing back to Tristain at the earliest."

Louise looked satisfied with that answer. "Good. We're going back with you."

"You are?" Guiche asked with no small amount of surprise. "I thought that after you left the Academy-" He let his words linger, not sure how to continue them. At the palace, there had been a rumor circulating about a fallout between Louise and the Queen, but he hadn't dared to inquire about it.

"We are," Louise confirmed. "It's time for me to go back and have a talk with Henrietta. There are some things I need to set straight with her. But what about you? Did you get what you came here for?"

"Yes, but I'd prefer not to discuss it in the open. I'll give you some details during the trip back and later discuss it in depth once we're with the Queen and Lady Agnes. Sufficient to say that, with Lady Isabella, we agreed on an alliance against the traitors. Your help, Miss Vallière, would be appreciated." The events of the previous days had done nothing but further confirm how easily Louise could dictate the course of a battle. She'd be invaluable in the conflicts to come.

"You have it. Charlotte is Kirche's friend so I'll get grappled in whatever she and her family needs."

"Oh, you do care!" Kirche squealed in joy, locking Louise in a hug. One that, surprisingly enough, the Tristanian didn't fight against. "You'll also want to know that Lotte here has promised to look into the pile of things we found at the vampire's lair and send us a cut later. I haven't yet decided what to do with the treasure we liberated in Tarbes, and I don't even want to start thinking about what to do with this one."

Oh, yes. That was another thing to look into. What they had found would end up rewriting several history books, something that would only contribute to the group's coffers.

And talking about Tarbes, he turned to the commoner of the group.

"Will you be coming with us too, Miss Siesta?"

The maid shook her head. "Thanks for the offer but no. Charlotte has offered to buy my contract from Headmaster Osmond, so I'll start working full-time here. There's a lot I want to do but I'll remain in contact with all my friends from the Academy."

"I'm sure they will appreciate that." He placed a hand on his fiance's shoulder, who looked happy with the answer. The two of them had become friends, but it wasn't something that Montmorency wanted to make public. Same as it had happened with Miss Carmen, who was probably asleep and they'd have to wake up to not leave her behind. "In that case, I think we're done here." He immediately regretted those words as another name came to mind. One that he felt ashamed for having forgotten. "What do we know about Lucina's state?"

The meeting turned grim. Kirche turned her head away and Louise's fists started shaking in silent anger.

"She's awake but refuses to speak and hasn't eaten yet," Siesta explained, her words coated in sadness. "I requested a couple of maids to stay with her."

Guiche's breath came in short gasps. Miss Siesta hadn't voiced it, but the reason for the watch was clear: after what that girl had gone through, there was no telling what damning decision she could take. "My prayers go to her, and you." It pained him that praying was the only thing that he could do to help, but it warmed his chest that there were people like Siesta who could carry the burden when he found himself unable to.

At the end of the day, he was a soldier. That's what he aspired to be. He may have failed Lucina but he'd make sure not to fail again.

In Tristania, the skies were a steely grey. Rain poured down in thick sheets, washing over the streets, digging puddles across, and turning the outskirts into lakes of mud. Commoners and nobles alike sought refuge from the deluge inside their homes, but Her Majesty's Musketeers weren't allowed a break from their training.

"Come on, ladies! Move! Move! Move!" In the training field of the royal army, an obstacle course had been built, mud-caked recruits crawling, running, climbing, and vaulting over the various obstacles. And looking down from above in her tower, Chevallier Agnes barked out her taunts, driving her women to push harder and harder. They had come from all over the kingdom attracted by the promise of service to their queen and country, but Agnes had no doubts that most were already regretting that decision.

This batch would go to fill in the numbers of the reformed first squad, and they were all females as that was the squad intended to act as Henrietta's bodyguards. A pointless gesture to protect the queen's purity, in Agnes' opinion. She was perfectly aware that one's purity could be lost to people from all ways of life, but that was the hand she'd been dealt.

And the worst card in that hand was the one who had presented herself as Milynette.

"Milynette, you better speed up or we'll leave you here!"

Most of the recruits were young commoner girls, all with tan skins from working under the sun, and calluses from tending the fields. There was the odd lowborn noble or bastard here and there, but at least they were all girls accustomed to heavy labor.

Not so Milynette. She was wearing a scarf and a hat that covered most of her face, but what little skin one could see was pale and smooth. It was also clear that she had never exercised in her life.

The rest of the platoon was forced to wait under the rain for the lagger to finish the course, arriving almost a minute after the second to last did.

"Everyone!" Agnes announced descending from the lookout, "Go clean yourselves and go meet Marcus at the shooting range. But not you, Milynette. I want to have some words with you first."

As they walked away, one of the recruits very purposely ran into Milynette, pushing her to the ground.

Once the other girls had left, Agnes approached the downed girl who was panting for air. Putting an arm under her shoulder, Agnes helped her up.

"Your highness, are you alright?"

"No," the voice of Queen Henrietta replied. "I think I'm going to throw up. Oh, yes, there it comes." She pulled her scarf down and crawled next to one of the trenches. There she emptied the content of her stomach.

"Yeah, I remember my first time too." Agnes smiled, patting Henrietta's back. "You know you don't need to do this, right?"

Slowly and carefully, Henrietta pushed herself into a seated position. "The rulers of Tristain have always been warriors. I don't want to be the first one who doesn't even know how to tell the difference between the grip of a sword and the pointy end."

"Well, if you wanted to learn swordsmanship, there are better places for that. But if you can endure my training I promise you that I'll turn you into the best sharpshooter this kingdom has ever seen."

"That works for me." That was when, venturing through the rain, an owl arrived. The familiar of one of Henrietta's assistants, Agnes realized. Tied to one of her legs, there was a folded letter. "What is this?" Henrietta untied it and started reading, and as she did her face lit up in joy. "It's from Lord Grammont! He said that he succeeded in his mission and-" Her voice wavered- "Louise is coming back with him."

Agnes threw her head back and released a hearty laugh. "Well, congratulations are in order I guess."

Henrietta suddenly found her own feet fascinating as her cheeks turned red. "Oh, shut up. You know it's not like that."

"Maybe not but Louise is your closest friend." Agnes and Louise may have had their differences, but she knew how much the Queen appreciated her. Henrietta may also be the only one capable of keeping the wild mage under control. "And she's the best weapon we have." Heavens knew they'd need her in the months to come.

"I don't like when you call her that," Henrietta muttered, pushing herself up. "But I better leave to prepare for their arrival."

She headed towards the palace, but before she could take another step she found a hand gripping her by the wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?" Agnes asked, her lips curling up.

"To- do my job. As a Queen."

"You have a council. Let them do their jobs too. In the meantime, Milynette still owes me a run through the shooting range."

With a groan, Henrietta put her disguise back on, and like a condemned man she marched to where the rest of the girls had gone.

Agnes would be lying if she said she didn't find all this slightly entertaining.

...