Forenote: I am very fond of this chapter. I really am. To me, it was as perfectly written as Chapter 13 was not. Revealing a lot in a decent span of time, but still smooth. Or so I see it, and I do try to look at my work with an outsider's point of view. Parts of this chapter may be a little cryptic, so be prepared to think. And to review, of course. :slight grin: Oh, and I beg of all of you not to think any less of Eszti when you see the way she decides to go on with the task, but it's only because she requires Lady Asca's trust to carry out a plan of her own.

Responses:

Black Pixie 1, 2, and 3 – I'm actually a bit of a feminist myself – I can't stand it when men even make a sort of comment that degrades women, even as a joke. Clement was joking, but I hope it offends no one (except Eszti, lol) because it's meant to show that he's arrogant, which I'm sure everyone understands. And he does change, drastically, and just for Eszti too :grins: You'll see that in the beginning of Chapter 13.

YOU'RE A PINAY:is stunned into silence: I'm sorry, but it's just so rare

Lol, and hopefully the site will allow your many reviews – but is unpredictable, so we can only hope.

Shadow-of-loneliness - Ah, but what if I have a lawyer? HAHA!Didn't think of that, huh? Well, here's the next chapter - fast enough for you? And what's an ICT lesson?

Propix24 – Thank you; thank you very much. Most Harry Potter fanfics are written in a casual, light tone – the one I apply to this fairytale is much more serious. Novel-like, if I have the right to say so. When I am going to update, you ask? When I get enough reviews to kick away the discouragement. :grins:

Phillippa of the Phoenix – I don't like him either. Did she love the baron? Skim my rather long 'afterthoughts' and find out. Or read the chapter – including the 'afterthoughts' – and find out.

FIVE MONTHS, you say? That's… heartening. But I fell into a Writer's Block after this chapter, which I am very fond of. Hmm. Maybe some coffee ought to do the trick.

Kadesh – Ah, but you are a bit lazy, aren't you? No harm meant; I admit I'm like that too. One major reason I'm focusing on this story is the fact that I have nothing else to do. :dreads the coming of school:

You were right about the heated emotions, and there's a bit more of that in this chapter. Grief, anger, outrage, suspicion… lovely, aren't they? And Clement is trying to redeem himself ((courtesy of the strict scrutiny of TrudiRose, of course :grins:)) and… will, ultimately, be forced to suffer for her. A test, yes. But will he pass it? I am torn between options (fail or succeed)… both are very tempting.

Fireworksinmybackpocket – I am very fond of this chapter, and my Writer's Block is fading away with the more I read. I still think Chapter 13 was a sort of personal disappointment to me, but I guess it isn't total crap. I just hope this Chapter makes up for it.

Sleeping Wisher – No pattern? Oh, but this entire chapter reveals most of the pattern, because it is in this chapter that she unravels the real purpose behind her task. The only thinking left for anyone at this point is how she'll make her escape, bringing along the endangered Lady Asca and (now that she knows too much) Corinne.

Mellem – You have truly demonstrated genuine possession of intellect by suspecting the brother, Lord Donte. But I will say no more about him at the Forenote – that is unwise. :grins: Poor Clement indeed, and things don't get any better for him until much later. Things get worse, and then they get better. It's the classic way of life. And thank you for your view on Eszti… it's precisely what I was aiming for.

Vio Momen – She has no other choice but to be cold, if you truly think about it. She's been kidnapped and asked to do a task that may lead to darker intentions on a helpless woman who has just been recently widowed. One shouldn't really expect her to show any sign of warmth towards her captors, especially since they do not even try to conceal their low opinion of her. And if you thought her cold before, you cannot have possibly imagined her reaction in this chapter at all.

I do admire the fact that you think she should've fought back, because it is true that it is not like her at all to just sit and take in what he said without any sort of major reaction. She was only trying to be patient, so that she'd remain clear of mind when she thinks of what to do next. But in this chapter all of that changes; in other words, Eszti cracks. Still, we all saw it coming, didn't we?

Lol, I'm being timed because my dad thinks I spend too much time on the Internet and too little time doing chores and things like that. When I have my own flat, it would be a Virgo's nightmare, truly, because although I am generally neat, I could care less when I'm caught up in my hobbies. And when I'm angry, I sit down and sing, and it helps. Music is another hobby of mine, and I enjoy it immensely.

Lol, not everyone hates her – she only has a very … peculiar (and unpleasant) reputation as a noblewoman. However, the tight circle of friends that she holds dear to her are loyal to her beyond bounds, as you know, but I will not deny that her reputation is mostly due to the fact that she doesn't care in the least how others view her. Because of this, she does as she pleases and doesn't make any sort of explanation or excuse for it at all. But as you pointed out, she is very, very, very unlucky, but her skill and personality outweighs that, don't you think? The pattern would most likely be a sort of… connection to the organizer of the plot and the people Eszti have met, but I suggest reading this chapter to understand that cryptic missive.

Thank you very much for the advice, and I will try the journal idea, as it is an exceptional idea. :grins: Thank you.

TrudiRose – Thank you, and I am feeling better, even if a little ill. This chapter is much longer, and much more happens, and it is in here that the majority of the plot is revealed. All the thinking left should be dedicated to wondering how Eszti would get herself out of the intrigue in which she was shoved into. Yes, Clement was certainly feeling remorseful, and I figured that if there had to be just one person he should go to for advice, it would be Elaine. How does she pull it off? It's actually a very tricky strategy, but she does it well – she has to prove herself as a friend and more than just a well-wisher, and the rest is in the chapter, of course.

Tami – Thank you very much :grins happily: And now that the Writer's Block faded away, I am feeling much better. Resting did work, actually, along with the aid of a cup of coffee, and here's the latest Chapter. I hope I don't disappoint anyone :chuckles weakly:

Nebulia – Whoa, whoa, relax, lol, the Writer's Block is gone now, but thank you anyway. Your support means the world to me, especially since right now my only world in writing and reading. :takes the dust: So this is why I've been having insomnia lately:raises an eyebrow: It works very well though; you should sell it in stores. You'd make a fortune.

o…o…o…o…o

Chapter Fourteen:

o…o…o…o…o

The night was dark – dark enough to intimidate. Perhaps I had been thinking irrationally. It was true that I had indeed walked far to the tavern, passing the manor as noiselessly as a shadow, but I had doubts when I reached the tavern entrance. I was apprehensive, yes, but not enough to back down. I would have no answers by turning back and making my way back to the manor, and that was all I needed left. Time, and answers, and then I could devise a plan.

I only had to be discreet, and generally I was good at that – but my stubborn side sometimes won over, just as it did tonight. I did indeed prove to be mad by just leaving Lady Asca's home without a word to Huvyl, without bothering to disguise my absence. Well, I was stupid to be so bold, but I learned from my mistakes.

Gingerly, I knocked twice on the door, wondering if I should request entry or just stride on in. A man shuffled to get it, from what I could hear, and a lock was unlatched before it came open. He was a big man, brawny and muscular, and he eyed me warily.

"A traveling maiden, are you?" he asked gruffly. I drew myself up slightly.

"You could say that. What does it take to come in?"

"Two legs, little lady, but one is always acceptable," he answered, laughing, dropping his suspicious demeanor and letting me in. I came in and found myself in the den and bar, where it was small and cozy and warm and full of drunken men. They took up most of the couches and seats in front of the fire, but there was a spare seat near the liquor counter, where two other men sat.

I marched up there with dignity, and found I had a few jingling coins of silver in my frock pocket. How lucky. And I thought I came completely unprepared.

One man was horrifically drunk, consuming gulps of his pint between every two words or so. Another sat beside him looking tastefully bored. From what I could tell, he hadn't been dumping his face in liquor.

Perhaps he was conscious enough to provide me with answers. I stepped up to him and leaned against the counter with crossed arms, throwing my hair back and baring my neck. It seemed that the … less shy women found it easier to wheedle information from men, although it worked the other way around as well. Gehedrion was proof of that.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "And what would a pretty little lady like you be after, tossing your hair like that?"

"I'm visiting Merilian from Kione, and I have a few questions about the place. Mind if I inquire a little?" I said proudly, no trace of a suggestive smile on my face. I was all business now.

"Depends purely on the questions, obviously."

Quickly, I devised a story that could possibly excuse my nosiness in the affairs of Lady Asca and her late husband.

"I'm in search of employment," I lied airily. "As a cook. Not a tavern cook, mind, but a real cook. One who'd cook for those of a higher status. I've heard some months ago that a noble family lived near here. A baron, Lord –" for a second, I nearly panicked, trying to remember his name. What was the man's name? "Ezril, I believe it was? The fellow wasn't very clear on pronunciation."

"Ozril," the man corrected politely. I nodded and went on.

"Yes, that. Can he provide work? I'm asking beforehand because I won't let myself finish my journey and find that he's got five cooks, and a scullery maid to boot."

The man looked surprised, amused. "You traveled from one huge country to another, just to find work as a cook?" he chuckled, sounding very unconvinced.

All right, I thought grumpily, glaring and letting my hair cover my neck once more. So maybe my story is a bit far-fetched. Humans are unstable, aren't they? Unstable, impossible, and flighty. Well, some are.

"Yes," I muttered angrily, "Is it my fault I felt the need to travel? Maybe I cannot return home to Kione, that I have nowhere else to go but for the one secure place that stranger recommended, do you think? Isn't that a possibility?"

"Of course it is, of course it is. No need to get so defensive, although I do confess you look quite striking when you do. Well, that stranger was a bit unreliable, miss. I wouldn't call it a "secure place". Lord Ozril is dead. Died from illness. Was a good man; his death was something to grieve for."

I faked a sharp intake of breath, and I stopped leaning, putting a hand to my mouth. Near-genuine sorrow filled my eyes. "Oh, I am so sorry. Such a shame, for a good man to leave his good woman widowed. It always is."

The man nodded solemnly. So he can be solemn, I thought. What irony. "I agree. And the poor Lady Asca has more to fear, I believe. So young, so very vulnerable, and without the protection of her older husband. He was eight years older than her, you know; their story is quite an unusual one."

But I was no longer listening; my mind swum. And the poor Lady Asca has more to fear.

"Wait, wait – go back! Did you say she has 'more to fear'? Do you know of anything that may endanger her?" I asked, letting my mask of composure slip a little. He was alarmed that I got so violent so suddenly.

"What, do you know her?"

"Can you elaborate on that 'danger'? Please?"

And then, he smiled like a true rogue, like Clement. I pushed the whim away, knowing I needed to focus.

"Well," he said. "That in itself is a darker tale. Darker news. Not a thing to just blurt out to total strangers like a mute man just blessed with speech. I'm afraid this is as far as I go with interrogations."

But I knew he knew something I should know, and I would stop at nothing to find out. I pulled out my coins of silver and jammed them into his hand. "Take these," I insisted. "And buy yourself some ale. And then tell me. Please? I have to know. I must."

He stared at the silver in his palm, and with a cool face he handed them back. "I am not tempted by money. But rather, by skill." And he laughed at my perplexed look. "I am challenging you, girl! At archery. If you do well enough to suit me, I will tell you what you want to know. Or need to know, apparently."

My face must've reflected the horror I felt within, for he laughed again. And taking my wrist, he led me outside through the back, into the cool dark night. For the first time since I first spotted him, I noticed the bow and quiver that was slung over on his back.

I was terrible at archery. My aim was appalling. This man was asking for the impossible.

But I was not without wit. "I have no bow for myself," I said sourly. "Do you expect me to throw sticks instead? This is rubbish."

"What high words for a cook." And he tossed me a second bow, where it was tucked away by the shadows on the wall. I caught it, irritated, and wondered if I were strong enough to cut the string. Then he'd have no excuse, and I would.

He pulled out his own quiver, drew it onto his shoulder, withdrew an arrow, and aimed it at the tree past the tavern gate, not yet shooting. "You see that tree? That's our mark. It's an easy enough target, even for one so inept at archery such as a cook. Now watch."

And he slid his finger abruptly from holding the string, letting the arrow fly. It hit its mark perfectly, letting several leaves get shaken onto the ground.

"You see that? That's what we call a 'bulls eye'."

"Oh, I am not entirely stupid," I snapped impatiently, taking an arrow from his back and fumbling heatedly with my bow. I set my position and released the string, but the arrow flew into the road, possibly ten feet from its mark.

The man looked on the edge of laughter, but contained himself and said unexpectedly, "My name is Artor. I am an archer once employed in Arvette for the army, but I came here to Whitewhey in search of a friend. It's a shame I haven't yet found him."

What's a shame, I thought with a set jaw, is the fact that you travel city to city in search of a friend, and yet you've found none.

"I suppose that would be explained by the fact that his mother says he died a month ago. Drowned." A closed, fierce shadow flitted over his friendly face for a frightening moment, and I took back my thoughts immediately.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be. It isn't as though you pushed him into the river, or anything. And now I will teach you true archery, and if you make a decent shot, I will tell you what endangers the Lady so."

I opened my mouth to utter a soft thanks, but the sounds of horse hooves distracted me. I heard yelling, and Artor and I turned to find two riders coming up to us. They were glaring at me, and stunned, I stared back, barely wanting to comprehend.

"You foolish little child," Yukael snapped, his stern face glaring down at me from atop his mount. "What are you doing out here, conversing with men in a tavern? Or perhaps, doing more than just conversing. I seem to have forgotten through all of your attempts at maturity that you're only sixteen. What an actress you truly are, Lady Evetti."

Artor was about to deny any … extravagating when he heard my "title" and stared at me in shock. I looked back apologetically, and then shifted my gaze back at Yukael, glaring. "I was just having a bit of fun, Yukael. No need to throw a fit."

"Fun? Fun? Evetti, 'fun' is being obedient and not straying from your uncles. That is this 'fun' you speak of, the only fun you'll be having after this. And you nearly gave Huvyl a heart attack. Lord Donte explained everything, and we tracked you down. You leave deep footprints, little Evetti."

The second rider was, of course, my dear guard Gehedrion, who was looking so smug that I wanted nothing more than to slap him. Artor was looking very awkward and surprised, but he stiffened at the name of the lord. "Lord Donte?" he asked, his voice wary, and he snuck me a discreet glance of warning that the other two did not catch. Gehedrion and Yukael turned later on to stare at him, but I was wondering if that man had anything to do with the bandits. Surely not.

But no one would have dared to suspect him… and then things were beginning to fall into place. Corinne said Lady Asca did not inherit, and Lord Donte was her older brother… surely he inherited instead. So then why the need for more money, for the money a dead baron would leave his sister? That, however, didn't fit in right.

But I was aware of one thing: if Lord Donte played any role in this scheme against Lady Asca, then she was in danger. And I was expected to bring it about.

Marriage. Must result in marriage.

Gehedrion was coming down from his horse to put me atop it, but before I let him manage this I turned to Artor and said in a quavering voice, "We will meet again, Artor. Be sure of it. We have plenty to discuss. Tonight was a fine night."

I must have these bandits think that there was some sort of … development tonight, so that they wouldn't think I've been snooping. And it was working. Artor was looking quite outraged, Gehedrion was snorting in disgust, and Yukael was staring at me in disapproval.

But why, I questioned myself as I was forced away atop Gehedrion's horse. Was Lord Donte so greedy a man that even after inheriting the gold his sister didn't, he'd come after the fortune her dead husband had left for her? And I thought him handsome!

Still, I thought, I might be wrong. I must keep an open mind. Open eyes, and a mind ready for any other lead.

I looked back just once, and Artor was striding away.

o…o…o…o…o

"You stupid girl! You stupid, stupid girl! What were you hoping to do, endanger our plan entirely? Arvette isn't so far that no one will journey to expose you, you know! And I'm sure more than one of us would be willing!" Yukael was shouting as I stomped into the manor. Corinne, who had been waiting for me with a bandit gripping her arm, was staring up at me, frightened.

"I needed some time to myself!" I shouted back, turning on my heel and fuming at Yukael till my face turned red. "I was feeling suffocated, and I thought some time out wouldn't hurt. But it did, didn't it? Because my enjoyment will surely bring all your deaths? Although I cannot deny that the thought of all of you being tortured is quite pleasant."

This time, it was Gehedrion who spoke, feeling the need to support Yukael. "Time to yourself? Time to yourself? Yourself, and your paramour, you mean! How easily you replace the Prince in your heart, I wonder! Although I am not surprised, you being the devil's slut you are, throwing yourself at any man willing to offer you a place in his bed! I cannot have you yelling at Yukael, trying to correct him when you know you are at fault."

Gehedrion hit home; he struck a nerve, stretched it until I felt something in my mind snap. He had no right to bring Clement into this, no right to assume I didn't love him as I did. Feeling the color from my face drain, I took a few steps forward and – unthinking – slapped him as hard as I could, watching my handprint glow white against his dark cheek. And it wasn't enough; I couldn't help myself. I lifted my hand again and brought it hard against his face, harder this time. I felt Yukael grab my arms and I heard Corinne cry out my name in panic, but I was absent right now. No longer present.

Instead, I stood in an empty world where only Gehedrion and I occupied its space, in a world where revenge was the only thing I wanted.

And then everything – everything I worked so hard to suppress deep inside, worked so hard to tell myself I could eventually get over – came flooding out, as I yelled and cursed at him, kicking and trying to free myself, so that I could give him the good death he deserved.

I would've killed him if I could.

You had to have cracked sometime, the logical part of me thought with regret. You can't always expect to be strong. Sometimes things get to be too much, and they pile up, and they attack you eventually. And you have to fall – else, you'd be a god.

I was weeping and cursing and yelling when Yukael dragged me away.

o…o…o…o…o

It'd be so much easier if I were truly insane, I thought irresistibly, staring around my locked chamber. No one would think me sharp enough to fulfill any devious plots, no one would ever fall in love with me, no one would ever ask me to play a noblewoman, no one would expect me to wait weeks to go home. It wasn't fair.

I wasn't insane; I was aware of that much. And no one was fooled either. They just thought me very ill-tempered, and close to despairing, if not insane. But it's close enough.

The locked door to my chamber was unlocked, opened, and revealed Yukael and another bandit coming in slow procession, carrying a quietly sobbing Corinne in tow. Dumbfounded, I looked from Yukael to the bandit, and then watched Corinne with concern. Why was she crying, I thought desperately. Why is no one coming to her aid?

Yukael was the first to crack the frosty silence. "We've thought up a few more terms for you," he said in a tight voice. Tight with anger. "No one here can think it fair that you go on being treated like a noble under this roof, and so we've decided that you won't." At my skeptical expression, he pressed on. "Under this roof, you'll be a servant, watched constantly, kept at a reasonable distance from every one of us. You'll only resume your Evetti mask when past this threshold, or in the presence of anyone who doesn't live here. When not doing chores, you'll be in this room – alone, of course. But if you do call for Miss Corinne here, we'll bring her over. You can also see her during servant duties."

But I was irritated, angry at the fact that they brushed aside her crying as if it did not matter at all. "She's weeping, and I'd like to know why. What have you done to her?"

"Oh, nothing physical, if that's what you think. Everything was verbal. We didn't lie; we told her what would become of her if she didn't help us in keeping you in line, and we told her that she'd share in the consequences if your task failed." Yukael shared a meaningful look with the other bandit, who shook Corinne slightly.

Corinne looked up and begged for forgiveness with her eyes, but mine told her that there was nothing she had done that I had to forgive. Everything was their fault.

I thought myself with so many choices before, but now they were limited drastically; Corinne's life was beginning to be another that hung in the balance as well. I had no choice. If I didn't carry on like I was truly going to complete my task, Corinne would get hurt – and I couldn't allow that. But if I did complete the task, it was almost certain that Lady Asca would get hurt. And I would probably suffer both ways, because if I did complete the task, they surely wouldn't let me survive – I would've known too much.

I bit my lip. Well, here I was – trapped between options. So if I didn't like either choice, I'd have to plan behind their backs. I'll make my own solution, and I'll let no one who doesn't deserve it suffer. No one would take advantage of me like this, or of anyone I held dear to me, or of anyone else who didn't deserve it.

I'd have to be careful.

Faking a look of meek submission, I stared at Yukael bleakly and looked over at the trembling Corinne again, and I drew a ragged breath. "Just don't hurt her. Promise me that, or we have no deal. I want no one to suffer because…" I broke off, but carried on valiantly. "Because of me. Is that understood?"

The other bandit laughed, let go of Corinne who immediately scuttled to stand by me – what had they done to her – and together we watched the two bandits leave the room. But before Yukael locked the door, he turned and stared directly at Corinne. "When next we come in here, you'll come with us," he ordered curtly, and it was then that he truly left.

There was silence for a moment or two, but it was broken by a sob from Corinne.

"Oh, Rozenta, I'm so sorry, but they – they hurt me, and threatened to torture me and kill me if I didn't – if I didn't cooperate… it's so unfair that they would treat you like that – they have no right – they're crooks, all of them – it was good of you to slap Gehedrion like that. He deserved it." She sniffed slightly.

I had to smile at that. "I felt so… free, when I gave Gehedrion what he deserved. My patience is only so stretched. But don't worry, Corinne – I'll find out what it is they're trying to do, what they're planning, and what role Lord Donte plays in this. And then they'll face justice – the whole lot of them."

But Corinne was looking at me in puzzlement. "Lord Donte? But I thought he was out traveling. At least, that's what the bandits say he's been doing."

I paused. "Corinne," I implored softly. "Who is the owner of this manor?"

Corinne paused as well – still adapting to being my new source of information, I guessed – but answered warily. "Lord Donte, older brother to Lady Asca. I am sorry I did not tell you this earlier, but I was still scared. But I would've told you the truth, had you asked the right question."

The right question! Oh, how could I have missed it? And my thoughts raced again; the danger to Lady Asca was right within her home, and she didn't suspect a thing! Everything was making sense now… the tales of the nobleman's traveling and his prolonged absence… and it seemed that even stealing the family inheritance from his younger sister didn't satisfy him. Now he was after the fortune of her dead husband.

I was certain that he was behind everything because he would have no other reason to lie about his whereabouts, especially to his entire household, and why else would he lend his manor to bandits?

Had I still been so naïve and stupid, I would've actually gone up to the bandits, proclaimed that I discovered their plot, and run off to play heroine, but I had learned. Learned to think, learned that death and death to those dear to me was not worth the glory of triumph, learned that careful speculation was usually essential to executing a risky plan.

So, instead, I sat in silence for a bit and let a plan put itself together in my mind.

"Corinne, I think I know exactly what your lord has been doing."

o…o…o…o…o

When I awoke in the morning, I was as silent as stone, but as dutiful as a servant loyal to his master. I worked alongside Corinne, who guided me and taught me the correct way to carry out chores, and we spent the entire day cleaning. I was introduced to the other servants, and being given the same chores as Corinne, I was mercifully always among company.

And I knew without a doubt that the bandits were at a loss to my sudden obedience, even if some – such as Gehedrion – were so arrogant as to be convinced that I had truly bent to their will.

So in the afternoon, Corinne helped me to freshen up and to choose a dress – seafoam green and soft – that would be appropriate for a visit to Lady Asca's.

"Rozenta," Yukael had said to me before I left the house, "If you even think of trying anything that would jeopardize our plans, we will have your precious hand-maid slaughtered before your very eyes, so you may see exactly how it will be done for you. And don't think your precious Prince will know immediately that we'd taken your life, for we have more connections that you may think."

Connections. Certainly.

And Huvyl and I left to visit the Lady again, and when we met up with Elberto, he explained that Lady Asca was feeling well enough for company. Especially company she had already been impressed with. At this, I snuck a glance at Huvyl, who was looking smug.

Lord Donte was quite pleased with my presence – or so it seemed. Perhaps he just occupied me to monitor my every move. I had no doubt that he knew my purpose for being here.

"Ah, so you've decided to come back," he said, inviting me to sit beside him with a grand gesture of his hand. Play along. And I did.

"I couldn't very well stay away, now could I?"

"I expected no different."

I brought the topic to his sister. "And when will Lady Asca come down to greet us? I'd like to give my condolences directly, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, not at all. She will be down soon; she is simply dressing. You know how much time you women insist on spending when it comes down to get ready for anything. It is always worth it in the end, though," he said charmingly, eyeing me up and down. I promised myself that if I didn't sick up on him at that moment, I would have nothing else to prove to myself.

But he did know how to flirt.

"I suspect that was a compliment, yes?" My own response surprised me.

"Perhaps."

But I was saved – oh, mercy – from answering when Lady Asca came down the stairs. I had heard from Corinne that she was only twenty, but from what I could see she actually looked worn and weary. She was as pretty as her brother was handsome, and both were tall and thin, but there were distinct differences – he had dark hair while hers was clearly auburn and it came down straight and silky rather than in thick curls, and her features were very delicate and feminine. Her expression was tragically beautiful, with her sad, liquid brown eyes and her unmoving, pale lips. I could tell she had been a true beauty when she was happier, but her husband's death impacted her immensely.

Her gaze sharpened as she came down the stairs, Huvyl close behind. She looked at me, and at Donte, and her eyes sent him a silent question.

"This is Lady Asca, cousin of Lord Huvyl, come to send her condolences," he explained eagerly. "You should speak with her. You two would be fast friends."

How can he speak thus, barely knowing me at all?

Lady Asca did not seem enthusiastic at all to meet another sympathizer; her expression clearly read, "Not again. Why won't everyone just leave me be?" But I had a task to do, and a plan of my own to accomplish.

"Lady Asca!" I exclaimed with exaggerated exuberance. She stared at me in surprise. "It is good that you are well. Very good. You have met my cousin, I presume? Do you get along well?"

"Fairly." Her tones were dispassionate, but they sounded silver all the same.

"Oh, that is good. Would you come down with me for tea?" And Lord Donte was about to speak again – probably to fuss – but she waved it off with annoyance, as though she didn't want to hear any more of it. She motioned to Elberto to bring tea, and she took a reluctant seat by me. Her eyes studied me, and I could see that due to recent events, they had lost their youth.

I took a sip of my tea; it was practically sugarless. A less mature version of me would've wrinkled her nose distastefully. "I send my condolences for your loss. Although I didn't know him, I am aware that his departure was quite dire. My cousin and I hope you will manage efficiently – are you sure you two get along well?"

She didn't take any drink or food, but just continued watching me with growing suspicion. "Yes, I'm quite sure. He agrees with nearly everything I say, but tries to be charming. But charm doesn't appeal to odd women like me; let him know that. I am not willing to entertain any suitors at the moment, for the most obvious reasons. So. Now that you've sent your condolences; is there anything else you must say?"

This woman was nothing like what I had expected, but I couldn't expect a just-widowed noblewoman to be any warmer than this.

"That I wish he'd only leave you alone, but he is too fond of you. Won't shut up about you either, if I may say so. I wouldn't be here had he not dragged me along. Says he needs a woman in his life, needs to settle and establish his property and land with a lady and heir. Very selfish of him, but he's a businessman. I just thought I'd warn you." Gain her trust first. Then coat Huvyl's name with sugar.

The first sign of interest flitted across her face. "You speak oddly. As though you find sophisticated speech tiring. That is good. I'd like to try that – to speak in fragments, that is – but I am watched constantly, and so much is expected from me. They think me too odd already, but I try not to care what they think." She was trying to go on as though her husband's death didn't happen… trying to convince herself she was strong enough to overcome it. Anyone with just the slightest pinch of sense could see that. She'll crack one day, I thought sadly, knowing she didn't deserve it. She proved herself a strong woman, not just breaking down and crying her beloved's name repeatedly at the feet of a guest.

And the first sincere feeling emerged within me, warming my crisp tone a little. "There is no need to pretend everything's all right," I warned her softly, trying to be as gentle as can be with a brash personality such as mine. "I know you are masking pain right now. But if you bottle everything like this, you'll crack and face the unpleasant consequences." I grimaced a little, to show her I was speaking from experience. "I am not someone who will judge you as the others do; I have known my fair share of hardships. I have come with more than sympathy – I have come with a will to help. Perhaps if you… if you cry a little and weaken your resolve to prove your strength… then maybe you'll get over it, little by little. I expect nothing from you but sheer honesty, and you are not showing it."

I felt so ashamed, using my talent with words to support a lie. That was heinous, but I had to go through with at least gaining her trust first if I wanted to at least bring about my… idea.

There was a quick show of emotions in her face, going from forced calmness to shock, then to relief and gratitude, but then to sharp anger. "What would you know?" she spat, probably furious at the fact that I was speaking as though I could understand her, when in the world of grief one automatically assumed no one could. Understand, that is. "How can you talk to me like that, when you know the pain is so fresh? Have you no consideration?"

"There is no true healing without a bit of suffering along the way," I quoted wisely, thinking of a physician.

And the first signs of success made itself known to me; the brightening of her eyes, some liquid threatening to fall, and the Lady putting a hand to her eye, obviously trying to fight the impulse. She stood abruptly, glaring at me.

"I am fully healed; I am fully recovered. I am strong enough to carry this burden alone, thank you. No help needed; not from you, or from your clingy cousin, or from my nuisance of a brother. He never cared much about me before, but obviously he's got a change of heart. Don't you want to leave?"

"You're lying to yourself. You miss him; you love him. Why dishonor his death by pretending as though it didn't affect you strongly, denying what you know you feel inside?" Oh, but Lord Ozril was probably spinning in his grave, knowing I was merely deceiving her.

"Sto – stop it! You have no right! Don't talk to me like this." But she was too busy brushing away tears to really raise her voice. I pushed on, feeling more than cruel and more than ashamed. I tried to be a little more gentle.

"I'm truly sorry I have to talk to you like this, but you shouldn't lie to yourself. I'm only trying to help you; I can see when a grieving woman is going about things wrongly. It pains me when I see someone in grieving hurt themselves unintentionally. At least grieve properly." All right. So maybe that last part didn't come out as soothing as I now wished it did.

She had finally fallen silent, but I saw her clutch at the wall as she felt her knees buckle slightly. I pulled her firmly down and made her sit, and still the hard-headed woman said nothing. And she was letting the tears fall; slowly, at first, but then faster and faster, and more full with pain, rapid and racing like a stream.

"He died in pain, you know," she finally said, in a hoarse whisper. My heart went out to the poor dear instantly. "Trying t – to say my name, but coughing. Oh my God." And then she hid her face in her hands, arching down and resting her forehead on her knees, crying softly. During these times, people would pat the weepers reassuringly on the shoulder, but that hardly seemed appropriate now. She'd probably bite my hand off.

So I sat patiently, watching her with concerned eyes, waiting for her to put herself together. Elberto, Donte, and Huvyl came in once or twice and were outraged to see her crying, but I shushed them and ushered them away like a protective nanny nursing a traumatized child.

A painful strategy to proving one is "honest", I thought, flinching at my own cruelty. But effective nonetheless. And it was all I could think of here. Oh, she'd hate me for this, if only she knew. But I have something to accomplish, and I won't let any emotional weakness stop me. She'll thank me in the end.

But it was all for the better, for what I had said was true: every word. She couldn't just harbor everything inside of her like that, and although I had been pushy, it was the only way to get her to succumb. She was unbelievably good at holding her ground.

Eventually, her tears came to an end, and she found herself again. Sitting straighter and brushing her hands across her damp cheeks, she studied me calculatingly. "Who exactly are you, Lady Evetti? You manipulate well; I cannot think of anyone else who could bring me to tears like that. But you are right; you are right. I was being foolish, thinking I was godly enough to pass off his death with a shrug. You brought me to my senses; thank you. But I still distrust you, you know," she said with the slightest curl to her lip.

"Oh, I know."

"Your attitude was too good to be true; I thought instantly that you must want something from me. It's rare for a person to just offer help, advice, assistance," she sniffled delicately. "Especially in the noble's world of intrigue and deception." She paused. "I don't know what it is about you, or what it is you said to me, but I suddenly have some sort of inkling that you may be someone to trust."

Oh, was she terribly mistaken.

"I don't know why I'm inclined to … talk to you, to befriend you," she continued in more affable tones, "but maybe it is because you are the only person so far who has bothered to really help me. Everyone else has only sympathy to share, but no real will to help."

I was actually at a loss for words. My heart was torn between shame and mild pride.

Focus. Focus. Focus at the task at hand. Tentatively, I wondered how to phrase the question, and soon I let it slip out. "Lady Asca, would you tell no one if I said you were in some… mild, indirect danger?" But she didn't answer, for the door had opened to reveal Lord Donte and Huvyl.

"It's late. Lady Asca is still ill and I'm afraid we cannot afford to have visitors for dinner. Perhaps another time. Ah…" Lord Donte added, looking pleased that his sister and I were conversing like friends and that she was looking much better. But it was more the former than the latter, probably.

Seeing him sent off danger bells in my head. Lady Asca and I couldn't discuss any potential "schemes" when he was in the range of hearing. Hurrying up quickly and smoothing my skirts, I nodded apologetically to my new friend. "I have to go. It is late. I am needed at home. I will try to visit tomorrow, if my schedule allows. Goodbye, friend."

And Huvyl and Lord Donte followed me out of the manor, looking smug. I still hadn't seen Lady Asca's expression.

o…o…o…o…o

It might've been a lie, saying that I had a schedule, but I did have things to do. A plot to continue unraveling, a conversation to have with Corinne, a fake letter to think up, a plan to theoretically perfect, and a long night's vigil to keep me thinking.

o…o…o…o…o

Afterthoughts: For the first time in a long time, I have actually satisfied myself. I actually like this chapter. A lot. More so than the rest. Shocker, I agree. Much has been unraveled, and a great deal of plot has been put into action, although more smoothly done than in Chapter 13. Oh yes, I redeemed myself in my own eyes with this chapter. Chapter 13 – to me – was a nightmare to write.

If anyone has noticed, I had been trying in past days to shorten events – especially conversations. I had always envied those that knew how to do it, and still write so eloquently. As for myself, I tend to digress but I later find myself very reluctant to cut out anything. I had practically cut the beginning of Chapter 13 ((the short sequence with Elaine and Clement)) bald, and still I think it's a big long. And I actually had a LOT more to the conversation here between Lady Asca and Eszti ((more than 75 of the conversation, probably)) but I cut it out, thinking it unimportant. It was merely the tale of the romance between Ozril and Asca, but if anybody would like to see it ((I am rather proud of it, and I'm saving the excerpt in another file :sulks stubbornly:)) I have it available. All it takes is a request, and an email address. But if you don't, I understand. I know the version of the conversation I have provided here is still very long, and plenty others may have other things to do than just read.

That said, I actually find I am improving as a writer in the sense that I am learning to avoid digressing. It may be odd for any past reader of mine to see me write so… briefly, but believe me, when you adapt to it you'll find it a grand improvement.

I know this session of 'afterthoughts' is a total contradiction to my conviction of speaking briefly, but this will probably be the longest note I leave to any of you. So appreciate it.

And on I go to write out Chapter 15, which is the fast-paced unfolding of Eszti's mysterious plan. Keep an eye out for it.

P.S. – Even if it looks like you'll never see ((read of, actually)) Artor again, don't you dare forget him.