QUEEN OF RUIN

Longueville woke screaming.

Something grabbed her, almost smothering her in a soft warmth she found herself clinging to. Tiffania. Warmth was good, her mind nearly babbled as she sucked in large, gulping gasps of air. Her heart hammered within her chest as if it was trying to break out as she clung to whatever the warm thing was with everything she had. Warmth was good. It was the cold that was dangerous, and the cold had been everywhere. She did not even think of moving, half-convinced that the warmth would simply evaporate if she allowed herself to believe.

" - ueville, you are safe."

"Safe?" she croaked with a throat long gone hoarse from screaming, feeling like she had never known the word. Some part of her knew it. Some part buried deep seemed to thaw, allowing her to notice the little, inconsequential things. The smell of morning dew on wet grass and the earthy tones of scraped bark. The ever present chill in her bones had faded. The pain, the freezing, burning pain in her side, across her back and her face was gone. "Safe…"

"Yes, safe," a woman's voice told her. "Look, the dawn has arrived."

She turned her head and glimpsed a light blue on the horizon between the branches of gnarled trees.

She had eyes, she realized. They were in a clearing, surrounded by the stately figures of tall oaks and smaller saplings of spring. The shadows were stationary. There were no eyes looking for her. One of the trees on the far side held deep gashes, as if something was tearing its way through the forest. The wounds bled sap and was glittering with dark ice.

They found her, in the end. They had been so close.

"Dawn," she whispered. She closed her eyes, welcoming the familiar darkness as she forced her fingers open and pulled away from the warmth. Breathe, Matilda, she thought. In. Out. In…she buried her face in her hands, ignoring the way her shoulders shook with each breath. Some tiny voice was screaming at her about letting her guard down. She ignored it.

She packed the nightmares away in her head.

"Dawn," she murmured again. "I thought…"

"It would never come?" The voice she now remembered belonged to the foreign queen, Renia de Rutenia, asked with a soft, knowing tone. "Yes, the Haunting, it - it seems to last forever, doesn't it?" There was a rustling sound, as if the woman was settling in place. "It would have, had you failed."

Longueville shuddered, a chill violently seizing her spine.

Forever…

Slim, cool fingers gently pulled at her chin, lifting her head until she came face to face with the Dowager Empress of Rutenia. Longueville stared into blood red eyes, noticing pupils slit like a cat's widen and then narrow. The woman let out a slight gasp before her lips curled into a small, but satisfied smile.

"Oh, look at you."

With a gesture of her right hand, one of them burst from the rubies on her arm. She flinched back, but did not scream. She'd learned not to scream. No one heard her, no one but them. She watched warily as the thing siphoned water seemingly from the air, coalescing it into a flat, round plane of water.

Renia noticed. "I will not allow it to harm you."

Longueville smiled a thin, cold smile. "You don't say that it won't harm me, or that it can't."

"Because it would, if it could." The woman smiled back. "But it is mine, and I would not allow it."

"Wouldn't you?" Longueville knew what she saw in the other woman when they spoke briefly in the office. The hint of knowing in her smile, and callous disregard for anyone or anything not of use to her. She'd seen it before in many people and each one were monsters in their own way.

"Had I wanted you dead, there are less esoteric ways," Renia gently chided her and held the plane of water bound by a shadow out.

Longueville looked into her reflection.

Blood red eyes stared back at her.

The air in her lungs left her in a rush. She raised a trembling hand to her face and idly traced underneath her left eye.

"I - I can't - "

"Hmm?" The foreign queen raised a questioning eyebrow. "Oh, of course, it is a rather noticeable difference, isn't it?"

Before she could even respond, she found her jaw in a burning cold grip, the ruby on Renia's palm digging into her chin. It felt like she was grabbing something inside even as the queen's cold fingers burrowed into her cheek and jaw. The cold clenched within, as if something was being compressed and it burned.

Then she was let go, before she could do more than gasp.

"There," the queen said. "Good as new."

Longueville blinked, breathing harshly as she clutched the cold skin of her face. The water mirror was presented again, and this time she could see the bloody coloring of her eyes was gone. She let out a long hiss, stamping out the familiar urge to fight back against the pain. To retaliate. She let it simmer. She let it warm her from the inside where no one could see.

"No warning," she rasped instead.

"It hurt, I know," Renia said softly. "Pain is an important part of the process. It would be best, if you were to get used to it." The woman stood, banishing her mirror of water and Longueville watched as the thing crawled back into the gem it came from. She could see the tiny, silver lettering around each gem and the subtle blue glow. "I will not claim to be the best teacher," the queen said, absently brushing off stray bits of grass that clung to her green and gold dress. "However, teach you I will, should you wish it."

Longueville scrambled to her feet. She immediately felt light-headed and stumbled, grabbing onto the rough bark of a nearby tree to steady herself. She forced herself to speak.

"I have a choice?"

"I will not teach someone with no will to learn," Renia said blandly. "So yes, you do have a choice in this." She stepped in close. "You can walk away," she said with a voice barely above a whisper. "You wanted power, didn't you? And you have it." With a gentle finger, the queen reached out and tapped her on the forehead. "It is just waiting for a contract. Take care it does not eat you alive."

Longueville snatched at her wrist, before she could pull it back. "Who taught you?"

"My parents," Renia said. "My mother out of spite, my father out of pride."

Longueville hesitated. Once, she would have assumed that parents only wanted the best for their children, and would do their best to teach them properly.

Once, she would have assumed.

"I retain the right to stop at any time?" she asked, watching Renia's face closely.

The woman did nothing but smile. It was an honest, innocent smile that hid nothing. It was only the fact that her eyes were the color of blood that kept her from believing it. "Of course."

This woman could lie to the face of a Romalian inquisitor and no one would know, Longueville thought.

"I will join you for lunch," she said instead. The sky was brightening. The warmth of the sun's rays seemed to chase away what chill remained in her bones. "If that is acceptable."

"I will look forward to it," the woman replied as she turned to head back to the Academy. Osmund's secretary followed her, eyes still darting in every direction with every shadow they passed. The queen looked over her shoulder often and sometimes her mouth opened as if about to offer encouragement, or a soothing platitude meant to put her at ease. And each time, Longueville gave her a sick looking smile.

In the end, she said nothing.

And they returned to the Magical Academy of Tristain in silence.

Marie slipped into her room a little later that morning with the slumped shoulders, bags under her eyes of poor sleep and the general air of a kicked puppy. Renia buried her smile, because in the end the girl did come back. She set her book aside and rose from her seat. She reached out once the girl was in range to lay a gentle hand on her uninjured shoulder. She didn't flinch, and there was no sign of tension so she followed through and pulled the servant girl into a light hug.

"You had a terrible night," she said, voice full of unfeigned sympathy. It was true, any night that belonged to the demons was terrible. "I should have been there - "

"No!" Marie pulled back, suddenly full of fear. "No, I - "

"Did nothing wrong," Renia finished. Count Mott in reality had been more or less innocent of anything more than being a lecher, but for a sorceress, reality could be subjective. The Mott in Marie's memories was nothing less than vile. "From the state you were in when you came back - and Siesta - "

Marie flinched violently.

"She's fine," Renia said softly. "I made sure of it, nothing sleep won't heal. The rest will come in time."

"Does...does she know?"

"She knows you defended her from a brute, and took a sword to the shoulder in return." She ghosted fingers over the suspicious lump underneath Marie's dress. "You dressed this yourself," she stated, already knowing the girl wouldn't risk the questions that may arise from going to the infirmary. "Sit," she sighed, already knowing she would pay for this in pain later. "Let me heal it."

It was the work of but a few seconds. More time was spent undoing the mess of bandages and cleaning the dress than closing the wound.

"Thank you," Marie murmured as she probed her shoulder with a cautious finger.

"Do I deserve thanks?" Renia asked mildly. Marie's blue eyes flashed, but instead of acting out of anger, she curled into herself.

"He wouldn't have listened," she replied quietly. "How he was...he wouldn't have listened."

"Not everyone does, I'm afraid." Not everyone does. Everything would be easier if everyone could be trusted to act rationally and reasonably, but she knew from experience that was not the case. If it were, she would not have been poisoned. "Not without extra leverage, something to force them to listen and even then…"

"Even then?"

"Sometimes there is no solution to be found in talking." Renia risked a small, somber smile. "You did nothing wrong in my eyes, for what it's worth."

She could tell by the way some of the tightness around Marie's eyes eased that it was still worth quite a bit.

Good.

She knelt before the girl in the chair. Marie's breath caught for a moment, and she knew the significance of the gesture wasn't lost on her.

"Should anything come of it, I will defend you to the best of my ability." Never mind it would only be because if anything did come of it, she would be incriminated as well. She was gambling on the very human tendency to rationalize and the preference to believe what made sense. And what made more sense? That Count Mott had unwisely made some powerful enemies or that he picked on the wrong maid?

The mess demons made was...distinctive, and so she had them clean it up with a few adjustments. A few solid illusions of some extra bodies, a few clues and one 'survivor' of the attack.

She hadn't thought to conceal that village.

She thought Edmund would have understood.

Marie was still trying to find the words, so she held up a hand to stall her. "Please. Allow me this."

"Allow?" Marie said, with a wondering tone.

"Yes." Renia frowned slightly. "I know it might seem strange, but you can say no to me, Marie. I will always respect it."

The girl smiled. It was weak, but it was there. "Are all nobles of Rutenia like you?"

No, Renia thought. She had not a single equal, nor kindred spirit. The closest might have been Eldbert's whelp who lived most his life as a peasant serf, but even that comparison paled. There were decades of suffering in between.

"Some," she said. She waved a hand dismissively. "Others have egos the size of Mount Elbrus, be glad you don't have to deal with the likes of them."

"I am," Marie offered. "Glad." She made a face. "Some of the students here…"

An idle curiosity struck Renia. "My summoner, how was she?"

"Arrogant," Marie answered immediately. "Very sensitive to disrespect."

"Cruel?"

Marie glanced down at the floor.

"No," she admitted. "Never."

"Then not a lost cause." Renia crossed the room back to her chair and the book beside it. She settled back into the chair, kicking one leg over the other as her pale blue and silver dress fluttered. Her right arm was bare, exposing her scars and her hair in a simple, loose ponytail. She had never been one for the elaborate, fanciful hairstyles of the court, but her head did feel naked without the weight of her crown.

It was a trick of the mind, nothing more.

"You have the day to yourself," she decided, finding the page she was on. As Osmund said, the amount of research they did on the Familiar Summoning ritual was appalling. This piece was full of religious verses, approved dogma and speculation masquerading as history. She was half-wondering why she was even reading this drivel. The only thing even remotely informative was the descriptions of Familiar runes.

Familiars weren't all the same. They were summoned to fulfill a purpose. Whether that be a simple specialty in providing additional senses, for protection or attack, something in the magic tailored the summon to suit a role.

There was no telling what her intended role had been. Not without allowing herself to be branded first.

"Shall I come back for lunch then?" Marie asked, slipping off her chair.

Renia pursed her lips. "I have plans for lunch today, Longueville will be joining me and the invitation may extend to Vallière." The servant girl made another face. "I would never refuse you attendance, Marie, but - "

"It's fine," the girl cut in quickly. "It's time I should spend with Siesta anyway."

Renia glanced up from her book at that, brow furrowed in an expression of hesitance. She made sure to pitch her voice softly and slowly. Few people didn't want to believe the best of those that appeared genuinely concerned.

"You will let me know if she is handling it alright?"

Marie's face softened in turn. "Yes, of course I will."

"Thank you."

The girl smiled and performed a small curtsy. She had been working on it, Renia noticed. It was a bit more graceful and more elegant than it had been days earlier. "If I may be excused, your imperial majesty?"

"You may."

She gave herself roughly a half hour after the girl left. She didn't get much done during that time as her mind wandered too much, knowing what was coming. She couldn't help it, much like she couldn't help her weak stomach in the aftermath. If she did it now, hopefully she would recover in time for midday meal. She retrieved her Arcanum from her dresser, feeling the familiar cold weight settle on her arm as she braced herself on her chair.

Payment? She directed to a select few.

Pain!

Blood!

And once more, it began.

She shut herself away inside, paralyzing her vocal cords so they wouldn't have the pleasure of hearing her scream. She looked away from her book to the windows, while her flesh boiled off her bones and her lifeblood stained her dress.

She chose this.

Her sense of self snapped back viciously, making her gasp in the quiet room. The lack of pain was so jarring, for a moment she didn't know what to do with herself so she just sat there, listening to the pleased murmurs of her demons.

She forced herself to stand, instantly feeling lightheaded. She stole a glance at her fingertips.

Pale blue.

She clucked her tongue. Blood loss symptoms, of course.

There was nothing for it. She was not about to incur another debt hiding the effects the last one left on her. She would just have to suffer through it. Some part of her regretted not pushing Marie harder on how she used the ruby, forcing her to confront that the magic of the gem was not like the magic of Tristain's nobles. And yet, maybe that would have done nothing. It was likely the girl didn't know any better. As a commoner, she was functionally magically illiterate and wouldn't be able to describe magic in any way besides the word 'power' and whatever dogma the Church pushed on its populace. Explaining the differences at this stage would do more harm than good.

A pity. It would make things easier if she had someone to trust with her weaknesses. Edmund had always -

She stopped for a moment. A feeling not unlike being kicked in the chest by a mule came over her for a moment, but it soon faded.

Weakness was death.

Entrusting another with her shortcomings was the height of foolishness.

She would have to suffer through this, alone.

Nothing she wasn't used to.

She changed out of her blue and silver dress, fighting shivers as she put on her white pearl encrusted gown. The layers helped against the chill caused by blood loss, but she decided against wearing the fur lined cloak that came with it. It would make it too obvious that she was cold. The pale blue of her lips was easily hidden with light makeup, but and her fingers could be ignored easily enough. She stripped off her Arcanum and laid it within the dresser once again.

She was more or less ready for her customary afternoon tea, delivered by a girl she didn't know and had no interest in knowing. She nearly inhaled the liquid, craving fluid to replace what she lost. If she hadn't made the explicit request for no special treatment from the kitchen, she would have customized lunch to include foods rich in iron and water no matter how inconvenient it was.

But she had.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

To renege or not to renege.

She could always make the excuse of being sick. She knew she was paler than usual, and the sick feeling in her head and stomach did not have to be feigned.

She sighed again.

No, this was only temporary. The memories of those that worked in the kitchen fulfilling her request would last longer.

She poured herself another cup and sipped at it. The warmth pooling in her stomach was welcome as she picked up her book once more. With a cup in one hand, she flipped the page with her thumb.

A primer, she decided.

The runes were the only lead she had. The sooner she could read the esoteric language this form of magic used, the closer she was to reversing the spell. Or perhaps it would be better to see if it could be blocked? Had she not mistaken the tear in the world as one of Руин's tricks, what would have happened? Would it have let her be, or would it have forced the issue?

She was ready to assume the worst. That even were she to escape this nation without a mark on her, she would be brought back on little more than a girl's whim.

She could kill the girl, she considered.

Sacrifice the potential of her freedom from her contract, for assurance of her freedom now.

She almost laughed, managing just an amused huff as she turned another page. When had she ever gotten anywhere by being hasty? She stood to lose much more than she gained by rushing, and she might never get another opportunity.

No, the girl would live for now.

Might as well invite her to lunch then.

Tracking down a servant to relay the message was easy enough. Doing so without her dizziness getting in the way was much harder.

In the end, they both arrived on time.

Longueville gave her a look as she noticed little Louise already at the table, nervously twisting her hands in her lap.

"Peace," Renia said with a small laugh. "She is also interested in the discipline, and would only benefit from observing your lessons." Left unsaid was the understanding that the exact nature of how Longueville came to the 'discipline' wouldn't be revealed. The woman's oath prevented it. "Louise, Miss Longueville will be joining us, as she has already met her first spirits willing to contract with her."

"Really?" The girl gasped, before remembering her manners. "I'm sorry, it must have been difficult?"

"It was…" Longueville's eyes glanced over at her and she made a small motion, giving explicit permission. "Harrowing," she finished.

"O-oh…"

"It's not for everyone," Renia said quietly. "But for those who succeed, it can be immensely rewarding. You have it in you, I can tell."

As she closed the door, she heard Longueville's whisper. "You're good at this, aren't you?"

Unbidden, Renia's eyes drifted closed for a moment. Longueville had needed little prompting, an emphasis on power was all that had been needed. Louise required a more delicate touch. Just enough to keep her intrigued, but not quite enough to take the plunge into the realm of a sorceress.

An in between. A middle ground. One where failure was not fatal, but success would validate everything.

Reading people and seeing that fine line was a habit she had gotten into. Fifteen years was not so easy to shed, it seemed.

"Yes," she said simply.

She wished she wasn't.

She wished she wasn't.

She took her place at the head of the medium length table. It was a pretty piece, made out of some red wood with vine and leaf patterns burned into it then lacquered over. A thin line of silver ran around the edge, partially hidden underneath the long white tablecloth. Lunch today was some kind of bird, she didn't think to ask, with a variety of side dishes ranging from lentils to berries. Part of her suspected the kitchen was putting in the extra effort on her behalf anyway, but she could not complain.

Both of her guests waited until after she lifted the first bite to her mouth to do the same. She almost rolled her eyes. Yes, she remembered that little quirk of etiquette, and she'd never bothered with it, much to her husband's amusement. Edmund had adhered to it almost religiously, as had her 'uncle' Lord Maxwell.

Perhaps that should have told her how much Edmund valued rules.

Stop it, Renia, she admonished herself.

She plucked the red gem from the palm of her right hand and placed it on the table in front of Louise. One of the useful ones. Useful, but rather stupid, more like a dumb animal than any of the others. It was devoid of imagination and insipidly dull. Out the corner of her eye, she could see Longueville tense. To the woman's credit, it was subtle. Just a narrowing of her eyes, and a tightening of her mouth that she couldn't hide. She turned her head a bit, just so Longueville could see her smile. The woman's eyes flickered, and all traces of tension disappeared.

Ah, so she was used to taking cues from someone, and knowing less than she wanted to. Out of choice or necessity? Still, she obeyed, which told her that the secretary didn't share her sense of pride.

Mother would have loved her.

"Until we travel to Lagdorian, you will be lacking on practical experience," she told the pink haired girl. "Trust me, contracting a major spirit is not something you want to do with no experience."

Louise raised a hand and paused over the ruby, looking up for approval.

"Go on," she gave it with a nod.

The girl grabbed the ruby and then stiffened as the demon within manifested, curling around her forearm.

"T-there's something on my arm!" Louise hissed, her grip on the ruby becoming white-knuckled.

"Louise, breathe." Renia soothed. "Breathe, child. It will not hurt you."

A flash of macabre amusement flashed over Longueville's face.

"O-okay," Louise took in exaggerated mouthfuls of air, but eventually her grip on the ruby loosened. "Okay, I'm fine. I'm fine."

"Good," she said. "It's an animal, Louise. Nothing more clever than a dog or a horse, but don't forget to respect it. A dog bites and a horse can kick."

Slowly, the girl brought her other hand around to poke at the creature wrapped around her arm. It would feel like air and shadow, a tactile pressure but no sense of hard or soft. No scales, no fur, no texture.

By the time Renia polished off her salad, Louise was petting the demon on the 'head' with a little smile.

It wasn't enough to rid Longueville of her fear.

Smart of her.

"Lesson one, the contract," she began. "There are two ways to handle this that I know of, predetermined and 'at will.' Technically three, but it is...risky." There was no harm in explaining, she decided. She would not be her mother. "For the sake of completeness, I will include it."

With a smooth movement she unclasped the gold latch at her shoulder and slipped her Arcanum off her arm. She presented her bare right arm, scars and all.

"My scars, surely you can tell what caused them?"

Both of her guests leaned forward.

"Um.." Louise began, paling.

"It's writing," Longueville said, a sharp gaze traveling the contours of the markings. "You wrote your contract on yourself?"

"I was not the one that did the writing." She let her eyes drop to her lap, as if ashamed. "I was young, reckless and didn't pay nearly enough attention to my words as I should have."

Young, yes. Reckless, never. She knew exactly what would gain Руин's attention.

Louise blanched, casting a side look at her arm.

"I'm teaching you now, so that it does not happen to you," Renia said strongly, reaching out with her scarred arm to gently tap Louise's closed fist. "This is an example of a predetermined contract, everything is written down before hand and agreed upon. A written contract, just like those you are already familiar with."

"Like a service contract," Louise volunteered. "Terms, compensation and punishments for violating the agreements."

"Just so." She chewed on another bite of - what was this - duck? Quail? Everything tasted different without gold leaf and truffle. "It has its obvious advantages. Everything is settled once and for all, but of course the down side…"

"Let me guess, can't fix loopholes after the fact?" Longueville asked. The woman leaned back in her chair, hand coming up to brush a lock of green hair behind her ear. "And if something comes up you didn't foresee when you wrote the contract up, there's nothing you can do about it?"

"Precisely. No addendum or additions allowed. You would need to break the agreement to forge a new one which...is not recommended, to put it lightly." Breaking an agreement in that manner meant you died.

Painfully.

It also meant that if a situation came up that the demon didn't foresee, say a mage that could banish or kill demons, there was nothing it could do to prevent her from taking advantage of it.

"But at will lets you do that?" Louise ventured and was rewarded with a smile.

"Yes, at will means that you make individual bargains and set the terms anew each time." She gestured towards the girl's arm. "Keep in mind what I said about spirits and their bargains, and ask that one to move your cup."

It might refuse, which would tell her more about how her shadows viewed the girl. It might price it exorbitantly high out of spite for someone that was its anathema. It could do neither, but demand its usual of pain or blood.

Blood would be easier. For such a small task, a bit of blood was something Louise could easily provide without any uncomfortable questions. It was unlikely, but if the girl was strong enough to simply demand compliance, it would obey rather than risk punishment. It was useful, but so dense it would be no big loss if the girl accidentally...accidented it.

It was also not at all subtle.

The girl's face scrunched up for a moment before she straightened in her seat.

"Spirit," she commanded with an imperious tone of voice. "If you were to move my cup to the other side of my plate, what will you require as compensation?"

She flinched then, head tilting backwards before she blinked.

"...it said it wants more petting."

Renia's mind went blank.

Did it just -

She recovered eventually, shaking what she knew had been an absolutely dumbfounded expression off her face and let her surprise carry her into a short laugh.

"A simple enough request, yes?"

And when this lunch was done she was going to find out exactly what it had been thinking, even if she had to wring it out of it.

The girl nodded, already scratching the demon's 'head' with enthusiasm. After a few seconds more, the shadow uncoiled itself and darted across the table. To the outside eye, it would appear as if Louise's cup just disappeared only to reappear on the other side of her plate. Some of the watered wine spilled, as the girl had not specified how she wanted it moved and from the way she cringed, Louise already knew her mistake.

She chose another ruby, and tossed it to Longueville. The woman caught it as if she was catching a live snake. The demon manifested, choosing to hover over its gem.

Renia smiled as she took a sip of her wine. "I will not allow it to harm you."

Longueville met her eyes.

She held the woman's gaze, lifting her cup. "Trust me?"

The woman had the slightest scowl, just a brief furrowing of the eyebrows and small frown.

Never, that expression said and Renia snorted into her cup.

Never was a long time.

And when Longueville took that final step to becoming a sorceress, she would have a lot of time.

"I am thinking of a color," the woman began and Renia felt her eyebrows raise a little, approving in spite of herself. Jumping straight to conceptual commands was ambitious and a clear test of how far commands could be pushed. "What is the price for changing the color of my shirt, nothing else, to it?"

It was pain. It was simple enough to see the woman stiffen in her chair for a moment after her shirt changed color. Longueville gave her a jaundiced eye and Renia could do nothing but shrug. She did say it was best to get used to pain, after all.

They - she hesitated to label it 'playing around,' but in essence that was what happened - played around with their loaned demons. She kept a tight hold of them, every so often curling her fingers to let them feel the weight of the geas upon them.

Behave, was the unspoken message and they did.

Longueville was short, but precise with her wording. Decent enough for an at will binding, but Louise…

She was better suited to a predetermined contract, Renia thought idly, watching as yet another slightly off wording left the girl's hair in shambles.

"Fix this!" the girl almost howled, gesturing towards her bird nest of hair. Playfully, the demon reached out and straightened a single pink lock right in front of her eyes, so she couldn't miss that was all it did. Louise fumed, instinctively reaching for her wand.

And there it was.

As soon as her fingers curled around the wand, that faint taste of something acidic scorched the air around her.

"Louise, please," Renia cut in.

The girl went stiff as a board, and then nodded mechanically, retaking her seat. No doubt she forgot just whose company she was keeping. A bit of a strong reaction to such a light rebuke, there had to be a bit more than that there.

Her loaned demon quiety undid its mess without prompting and vanished back into its ruby, like an animal seeking shelter from a storm.

Or prey running from a predator.

"That is the third method," she said after she finished savoring her sip of wine. "If your soul is strong enough, you can simply demand obedience." She shook her head, sighing. "I don't recommend it, as soon as you weaken, your slaves will turn on you."

Like they had when she had been brought low by the magic eating spores.

No, she didn't recommend it at all.

Louise's eyes dropped at the word 'slave' and Renia resisted the urge to capitalize on it. She learned this language from the girl. The attempt at clever word use of servant instead of slave had not escaped her. She knew when someone was trying to use a euphemism to obfuscate, and the girl was a hundred years too early to pull one on her.

Servants don't have brands.

"But it will do in a pinch, or when you really can't afford the Price." She let her head fall back onto the back of her chair and looked up at the ceiling. Careful here. Be very careful. "There are other options for covering debts made to spirits, in fact if you were so inclined, you never need pay a single one yourself."

Longueville caught on first by the way her eyes widened then narrowed in thoughtfulness.

"You mean I can - "

"Make someone else pay it for you?" Renia finished Louise's sentence. "Yes, in the same way a blacksmith can make his apprentice fill an order in his name." But not nearly as elegant. "Your father could give you the responsibility, a king could demand tribute from his subjects. It needn't be that strict, you could ask your friends to alleviate your burden."

Or your prisoners, without the asking.

She caught Longueville's eye and gave her a slight bob of the head from side to side.

More or less, was the message.

It didn't count as a loophole, not really. A demon's ability to interact with the living world was limited, making them somewhat dependent on sorcerers and sorceresses. If they were able to satisfy their dark hungers whenever they wanted, she wouldn't exist as she was. No, in the end, they didn't really care who paid the Price, just that it was paid and they were able to feed. There were limits to how far one could stretch the 'in place of' rule, but it could stretch.

Her subjects. Her soldiers. Her knights. Her peasants. Her chil -

Her breath left her in a rush.

Demons would take anything they were given.

But it must be given.

"I'm fine," she waved Louise off as she palmed her face with her left hand. "I'm afraid I haven't slept well, is all." She gave Longueville an out by nodding towards her. "We both had very long nights."

"Oh!" Louise straightened in her seat, crossing her legs. "I was...wondering, perhaps your imperial majesty wouldn't mind a trip to the city?" Her cheeks turned red as she forced the words out. "Give Tristain a chance to impress you!"

Renia paused.

There was little chance of anything on the backwater world impressing her, but the idea was not without merit. Her gowns were suitable for now, but if she was going to make a trek in search of the Paths, she needed appropriate clothing. She didn't much care if leather and steel were considered improper for a noble lady to wear or not, she'd rather be alive.

"A trip to the city," she mused out loud. She glanced down at her left hand. Unlike the right, it had a few calluses of wear and use.

Edmund had gotten faster with the sword of his father, Andale.

She would know.

She taught him.

"Why not?" she said with a smile. "It sounds like it would be worthwhile."

Louise beamed back.

That evening, Osmund signed more papers, threw others away and set more aside to tackle later. The candlelight was just beginning to burn low, putting more stress on his tired old eyes. The sun stained the sky a bloody red as it sunk beneath the horizon. He stood up and stretched, popping sounds coming from his back. He sighed, bending from side to side and popping his knuckles.

He took his seat, took up his quill and paused.

Sitting in the chair across from him was a small figure in a heavy cowl that covered everything but a delicate chin.

"Erm," he began, mentally rewinding time to see when exactly this person got there. "Can I help you?"

"I am hoping you can," the voice of a young woman spoke. She raised her hood, revealing shoulder length reddish hair pushed away from her face by a silver diadem. "Headmaster."

"Princess Henrietta," he said with some surprise. "I was under the impression your party was still a day's ride away."

She smiled impishly, but it didn't hide the tiredness in her eyes. "I went ahead."

"Of course," he sighed, giving up. "You are eager to meet the Dowager Empress, I wager."

"Yes, I am," she replied with a resolute nod. "Please," she leaned forward a little in her chair. "What is she like?"

That was a very good question.

"Patient," he said after a moment.

Any other noble would have strung him up by his ears attempting to get solid answers from him, no matter that he wasn't able to give them. Patient, yes, with a preference for white. Now what else...she may or may not have ruled for a decade. She might be benevolent, or was it just her patience they were seeing? She might have been like Louise when she was younger, maybe. Perhaps. How much that said about how she was now was anyone's guess.

"She has built a rapport with some of the servant girls at the Academy," he finished. Her husband croaked who knows when, her son was somewhere between thirteen and seventeen he guessed and the implications about her nation were terrifying.

He'd never pierced the veil. The dragon never awoke. He simply couldn't say more.

"...is that all?" Henrietta ventured after another moment.

"I just realized she hasn't told us much about herself," Osmund admitted with a shrug. "I wouldn't say that she avoids the subject, she's just…" He had another word to describe the foreign queen. "Wary."

"Understandable, is it not?" Henrietta said with a troubled frown. "I would be as well, in her position."

Osmund lit a bit of pipeweed and settled back into his chair. "May I ask what the plans are regarding my royal guest?"

"Nothing more than mutual satisfaction on all sides," the princess said. "If Louise truly has the ability to simply summon her from her country, then we must negate that risk. It would go along way to reassuring the nation of its security, perhaps a few more concessions to prove that Tristain means no ill will and has no intention of enforcing the contract."

"Hmm." Osmund thought back to that meeting in his office where Louise recalled her ritual and upon the word 'servant' the Empress' cup shattered. They were going to ask the woman to submit to a toothless contract. Surely she would understand? "She strikes me as a reasonable woman, but I would act with caution. Perhaps the concessions first?"

"Of course!" Henrietta smiled. "We need her good will if everything in your missive has your backing?"

"Every word," Osmund nodded.

"Yes, then we approach her as friends and potential allies. Do you know how she feels about Louise?"

"She seems fond of the girl." Osmund exhaled a puff of smoke. "Has volunteered herself to teach Louise some of her nation's magic and invited her to lunch today."

"Yes, her magic…" Henrietta bit her lip. "Cardinal Mazarin has...reservations, but I'm sure it's nothing that can't be fixed over the treaty table." The girl tried out an optimistic smile. "Yes, this situation is more of an - an opportunity than anything else. I - I almost can't wait to meet her tomorrow."

Osmund smiled indulgently. "I'm sure she would be thrilled to meet you, your highness."