"Well, there I was, hefting the old Von Zerbst broadsword in both hands – rrrawwrrr – when all of a sudden, an evil witch came out of nowhere. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Blitzhart, you dashingly handsome devil-slayer, what's wrong with a nice bit of witchy totty throwing herself at you begging for redemption?', and you're right, there is nothing wrong with that! But this wasn't that! This was one ugly old witch and she was going for my eyes! Well, Danny was having none of that, good lad, and cut her head off with a good ol' burning razor wind spell! Who else could have so many fine boys? No one but Blitzhart von Zerbst!"

Markgraf Blitzhart von Zerbst



Louise de la Vallière stirred from the depths of sleep. She woke from a terrible nightmare that she had just found that she was pregnant – and Wardes was the father! – to the crushing weight of her day to day life as a secretly-not-evil overlady. Even before she opened her eyes, she could feel it waiting for her, a pressure on her which would never relent and never give up.

Oh, wait. No. The great crushing weight on her damp chest was in fact Princess Henrietta's head.

After a moment's thought, Louise quickly checked that the head was still attached to Princess Henrietta's body.

It was.

That was a relief.

Now, why was the crown princess using her as a pillow? While Louise understood that, metaphorically, the righteous and proper place for the royal family was directly above their loyal servants, like the de la Vallières, in practice Henrietta hadn't used her in a pillow in years. And the two of them had been rather closer in size at that point.

And why had she been crying into her?

Carefully, awkwardly, Louise tried to squirm out from under the heavy weight. Henrietta shifted to keep the weight on her, and clung on tighter. Louise tried a little more vigorously. Henrietta's grip merely tightened. It was almost uncomfortably tight until she stopped moving and accepted her role with equanimity.

Maybe if she tried to slowly ease her way ou- no. No, that didn't work. Henrietta was apparently quite cunning when asleep, as well as being considerably stronger than her. So she couldn't get out, short of spontaneously developing a spell to turn into mist, or teleport.

Louise lay back and tried to remember how they got into this state of affairs. There had certainly been some wine involved. Not too much, though. Tolerable amounts. The amount that a pair of decent young ladies might drink, suitably watered down. Well, a little bit more than that, but not too much more. Really.

Poor Henrietta. Yes, that was it. As they had got deeper in their cups, she had started crying about that Albionese prince and about how her mother had been so callous and about how she had been so lonely for months and months and months. She had asked – no, begged – Louise to stay with her, because she didn't want to be alone. There had been a bit where she had started asking Louise what would happen if she was dreaming right now and when she would wake up, but Louise had been a little bit tipsy by that point so she wasn't exactly sure what the point to that question had been.

"… oh my… prince," Henrietta mumbled. "What are you… mmm…"

Louise froze. Given she had not previously been moving, that did not require much effort. The princess was shifting slightly. She might have a chance to get out of here.

"… you're… oh, naughty." Henrietta giggled.

Louise blushed bright red. She really didn't want to be here. With a strength born of mortification, she managed to squirm free from Henrietta's grasp and roll out of bed. Picking herself off the floor, she noticed that she was still dressed in the oil-and-rust-stained padding for her armour, and smelt none too fragrant because of it. She needed a bath. Which would happen away from here. And she could let Henrietta wake up. And then never mention any of what the crown princess had said in her sleep.

Henrietta let out a small, breathy exhalation which somehow managed to redouble the blush on Louise's cheeks.

Gathering her armour from where it had been discarded, the Overlady stalked off in what was definitely not a hasty retreat from her nominal prisoner.



Washed, dressed, and feeling a little more human, Louise returned to Henrietta's room to find a tousled-looking princess washing her face in a basin held up by a filthy dress-wearing minion.

She was almost vaguely certain she hadn't told Fettid to do that, despite the blur that was the previous night.

"Uh," she said.

"Oh, Louise Françoise!" Henrietta said happily. "Thank you for assigning one of your goblins to serve me."

"Uh," said Louise.

"I'm so glad you thought of that last night! I know we were both a teeny bit naughty and had a little too much to drink, but I suppose I must have just been a trifle susceptible." Henrietta giggled. "Or all your coarse living and general wickedness has hardened your liver against the blandishments of wine!"

"Uh," Louise tried. Gosh. She must have had a lot to drink to do something like that. "They're called minions, not goblins," she tried.

"That is nice to know," Henrietta said. "They're certainly a lot most civil than the last set of kidnappers I had! None of them have made any vile comments which the fourteen-year-old me had to look up when she got home because she didn't know what they meant!"

"It are because I ask Maxy for a vice on how to talk to fancy ladies," Fettid said shyly. "Maxy, he are famed par a moor."

Louise's mouth flopped open. Did she mean 'paramour'? Was one of her goblins a famed… no! No! She was not going to think about that! Not one bit! It… it was probably minion logic where they thought that a paramour was someone who took ladies' dresses off and stole the dress and everything in the pockets. Yes, that made a lot more sense and thus she did not need to find something to be sick in.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Henrietta shrugged. "A little under the weather," she admitted, "but, oh! Louise Françoise, trust me when I say that freedom as your captive more than makes up for the side effects of consuming a trifle too much wine last night!"

"That's nice," Louise said. She smoothed down the front of her dress, nibbling on her lips to redden them slightly. "In that case, let's go take advantage of Jessica while she's still hung over."

Henrietta blinked, eyes widening. "Excuse me?"

Louise blanched. "Um… uh, by that, I mean, take advantage of the fact that she's still hung over and thus won't ask questions about the dress designs you want and," she coughed, "yes! You see, she's a little bit evil and if you aren't careful she'll probably try to make you wear something scandalously low cut and black and… and there'll probably be a spikey collar or something like that and… and her dress will probably expose your underthings or worse expose that you're not wearing any at all because she's sort of the daughter of an incubus and thus she has some strange tastes in clothing and…"

"Louise Françoise, Louise Françoise," Henrietta said, sounding quite concerned, "please, please, remember to breathe! You are turning quite red!"

"I'm just trying to warn you!" Louise blurted out. "I like Jessica, but I don't trust her taste in clothing! Not one bit! Do you know how hard I had to push to get her to make me armour which covered my vital organs? And to get her to," she waved her hand up and down herself, "make dresses which are merely evil-looking, rather than… than trashy! I don't want to wear a dress with a neckline which reaches down to the navel! Who on earth thinks that kind of thing is practical? Well, apparently most evil women! Or," she added darkly, "evil men like it and then they tell people to make it for their consorts and it becomes fashionable. Oh yes! I bet that's what it is! Why, I think-"

"That really is gorgeous, though," Henrietta said admiringly. She reached out and stroked the sleeve. "What is that black fabric? It feels like silk. And those embroideries are incredibly intricate, albeit somewhat sinister. Gosh. I really do wish the court tailors were so good."

Louise blinked. "Um… uh, yes, yes, it's… uh, spidersilk, actually. From… um, an abyssal spider. Apparently it's tough enough to stop most knives and," Louise trailed off. She had to get better control of herself! What on earth was she doing, babbling like this? She pulled herself together. "Right! Follow me. Let's go and get you a new wardrobe! I'll go ahead, talk to her, get her in the right frame of mind, and then you can introduce yourself. Um, your highness."

"Lead on, my wicked captor," Henrietta said with a giggle.

Louise's luck was in. Jessica was in the kitchen, head slumped in her hands. Her face was an unhealthy shade greyer than usual, and she was making vaguely pitiful sounds as she stared down at a large sheet of paper covered in burning runes. Louise frowned. Jessica was, of course, wearing her disgracefully exposed nightwear, made worse because she had tucked her buttonless shirt into her underthings and thus they were exposed for all and sundry to see. She was also red-eyed and slit-pupil'd, but Louise couldn't really say much about evil-looking eyes. Not until she had refreshed the enchantment which covered up her own, at least.

"My head," groaned Jessica, clutching at aforementioned body part. "I'm sure your minions are doing something funny to the drink. I never get drunk normally, you know. Or hungover."

"That's nice," Louise said, "and while you're in such a productive state of mind, we have to get started right away on what Henrietta will wear while she's my captive!"

Jessica staggered over to her metal-encased fridge, recovering a white glass bottle of milk. Gulping some down, she turned to stare blearily at Louise. "Maybe… tomorrow. Or this afternoon," she said pathetically.

"But think of the awards! The prestige! The ability to use a princess as a modelling dummy!" Louise said. She glanced around, to where Henrietta was giving her a thumbs up through the door.

"I've used a… prin'ess as a dummy before," Jessica groaned. "It makes it real hard to… check the back. Because it's your own... ow. Ow. My head. Stop being so loud."

"Now, now," Louise said, pitilessly, maliciously and loudly. "This isn't like you. You're normally much more determined to make your name in fashion than this. And it would be," she gasped, "a most dreadful affront if I was forced to tell Princess Henrietta that she will be forced to go around in old tired unfashionable clothing just because you were too hungover and self-centred to be able to work on your life's ambition."

Jessica glared at Louise as she filled a bowl with some kind of wheat product from a brightly coloured box covered in demonic runes. "You're a monster," she muttered. "A small, petite, well-bred, delicate-looking soulless fiend of evil wickedness and pain and suffering and sobriety and evil wicked suffering pain."

"That's not very nice," Louise said cheerfully, who was enjoying this perhaps more than she should have been. "That means you'll do it?"

"Fine! I'll get the measurements and… and stuff and talking and stuff done this morning." She stared blearily around the room. "So where is the princess we've been working so hard towards kidnapping?" she added, returning to her seat, and pouring the milk over her bowl of wheat byproducts. A whirl of demonic magic, and a spoon formed from the shadows of her sleeve. "Le's mphete hurr," she said with a full mouth.

Louise cleared her throat. "May I present Princess Henrietta de Tristain, rightful heir to the throne, and my current prisoner," she said, sinking into a curtsey.

"Hello," Henrietta said stepping into the room, essaying a small wave. "I've been kidnapped by my good friend, Louise Françoise."

"Hi," Jessica said. "I helped do the kidnapping. And also sorta kinda blew up your treasury, but don't worry, we took everything valuable out first."

"Oh, that's jolly good," Henrietta said. "I hated that place. And my mother deserves the repair bill. So you're the one who made Louise's beautiful dress?"

Jessica grinned. "Yep!" she said. "Hey, Lou, you didn't say she appreciates good design!"

"You should curtsey," Louise hissed at her.

Jessica stared blearily back.

"You know? What girls do when meeting important people?"

"No, I really shouldn't," Jessica said. She rubbed her eyes. "It would be a breach of… thingie. Protocol. I'm not meant to curtsy to anyone less than full reigning royalty, and only then from. You know. Ones which are all proper and stuff. Not royalty from wimpy little nations which don't count as real kingy regnanty thingies."

"Excuse me?" Henrietta asked.

Jessica yawned and stretched. "Princess J'eszika Moraudat D'aemonstrelle Obfuscata Xystene Elee'ze Imoegene Malevola Ebony Invidia Pyrene va S'kareryeon , Princess of the Blood-in-Exile of the Abyss, Vicomtesse of the Descending Spheres, Heir Apparent to the Rising Tower is most terribly pleased to make your acquaintance," she said, her mode of address leaping up by several social classes. She offered her hand in an exaggeratedly limp-wristed manner, and it was taken by Henrietta. "So nice to see you, cousin."

"Cousin?" Louise said weakly.

"Oh, it's just a formality, from one royal to another," Henrietta said, taking a seat at the table. "She's not actually my cousin."

"That's a relief," Louise said.

"Yes, the infernal blood in my family is considerably more distant than that," Henrietta continued. "I do believe… yes, by why I can remember of the genealogy, it was one of my great-great great grandmothers on my father's side who was a consort of the King of the Abyss. Or was it great-great? Focus, Henrietta, focus! It was Isabella the Beautiful, also known as Isabella the Turnskin, who was the daughter of Charles the Vile, anyway."

Louise flickered through confusion into shock, before finally settling on breathed relief. It was known that the royal family was rather… heterogeneous in its ancestry, after all. And at least from what they said, she didn't have the same demonic ancestry. Charles the Vile had been the father of Louis de la Vallière, so if that was where the slightest taint in the royal family might have come from, she didn't have infernal ancestry. She pursed her lips, and mentally corrected that to 'from that specific branch of the family'. Her honesty forced her to admit that her relatives had probably engaged in carnal relations with demons at some point, and so she had to hope that they had taken the appropriate care.

"Oh, I think I recall Father… um, saying something about… ow, that," Jessica said, taking another sip from the bottle of milk. "He was the Great Beast at the time, yeah? Wasn't it that… like, the king sold his daughter to the King of the Abyss for some kind of magic flower which was supposed to give immortality or crap like that? Well, either way, they did the nasty and she started worshipping him too."

Henrietta nodded. "Of course, then the King of the Abyss was banished by a noble duke, the mightiest warrior in the land. Why, no man could shoot like that hero, nor could they fight like him. Who could defeat a man like that?" She frowned. "Of course, Isabella the Turnskin tried to hide that she was an apostate who worshipped her banished consort after she married the duke, but she sort of gave away that there was something there that wasn't there before when a magically animated candlestick stabbed one of her rivals to death. Or maybe it was when she turned into a demon-witch and tried to steal the moon. Well, either way, her daughter banished her mother from the world." She tilted her head. "So, what, that makes us… second cousins thrice removed and half-purified?"

Jessica shrugged. "Dunno. I never got the grip of cousin stuff."

"Oh, me neither! It always seems so complicated and unnecessary! And then my tutors were complaining so much about me not putting the effort into learning it and blah blah blah."

Jessica nodded. "Yeah. So, um. If you want cereal, feel free," she said, waving vaguely in the direction of the looming bulk of the iron fridge.

"Serial what?" Henrietta asked quizzically.

"Anyway!" Louise said loudly. She glanced down at the burning-rune covered papers before Jessica. "So, what do the journals say about what happened yesterday?" she asked. "That is today's one, yes?"

"Yes, it's hot off the presses," Jessica said. "Uh… we're not the main story. That's the report on some speech my aunt gave…"

Louise pouted. How dare the queen of the succubae steal her rightful place as the most important thing which happened yesterday!

"… and incidentally, I told you that you needed to be higher profile with your escape," Jessica said. "If there aren't pictures of you escaping on a windship or something like that, you can't beat my aunt's cleavage for catching the attention of the imp on the street."

"Well, not yet, but maybe with some spells… maybe something flesh rotting or…" Louise blinked. "Sorry, I was thinking out loud," she said. "Please, continue."

"I don't follow," Henrietta said.

"So, yeah," Jessica continued. "But we do have a smaller section on the front page, and it's continued on page four. Which," she flicked through, "oh, that looks like a rather nice picture of the palace on fire. Urgh! Why didn't that make lead? Everyone's seen my aunt's boobs before. It's not like she hides them or anything. I bet it was them pushing the story down because… well, this is the Los Diablos Times and Eloudiegh is the editor, so see! This is another example of the way that my aunt and her spawn seek to further their totally unfair total domination of stuff, and suppress any attempts by a hard-working newcomer to break into the fashion industry!"

She coughed. "So, uh. It's basically noted as breaking news, and there's some information, but not much. It does have the headline 'Iron Maiden traps Tristainian Princess' which is pretty funny, and, uh, we'll just skip over that speculation on motives and oh! Look, it does mention you were shortlisted for Best Newcomer at the Cabal Awards!"

"What was that bit about motives?" Louise said suspiciously.

"Just something scurrilous printed to probably try to discredit you since Eloudiegh is the editor and she's a total bitch," Jessica said, rising to trap Louise in a one-armed hug. "Still! I'm pretty pleased with this! We got pages four and five, and there's even a sketch of you in armour attacking that underpalace in the Abyss a bit ago! So the armour got shown!"

"Hurrah!" Henrietta contributed. "I'm glad to be helping."

"Um… isn't she a bit happy to be kidnapped?" Jessica whispered. "Like, I'm pretty sure this isn't how it's meant to go. Not that I have experience with princess kidnapping."

"We're old friends," Louise whispered back, "and she was being held captive by her mother and the Council. I've promised she'll be treated properly as long as she cooperates, so she's glad to actually be allowed out of a single room and have people to talk to."

"What a cunningly Evil plan," Jessica said approvingly. "The best jail is one someone doesn't want to escape from."

"What are you whispering about?" Henrietta asked curiously.

"Ah, your evilness!" Gnarl said cheerfully, wandering through holding a bowl of cockroaches which he was noisily eating. Henrietta's face screwed up in disgust at the sight, and Louise was confused why for a moment, before she remembered that unusually verbose goblins eating cockroaches wasn't a normal sight. "I am glad to see that you are up and about. It is a lovely spring morning and the birds are singing. You need to wipe them out!"

"Morning, Gnarl," Louise said. "Your highness, this is my…" she searched for a word, "chief advisor, Gnarl."

Gnarl's chest puffed out slightly. "Indeed, and may I compliment you on your beauty, your highness," he said, inclining his head. "I advised one of your… oh, I lose track of the generations, but I believe she would have been a half-sister of one of your great-great grandfathers or so. You look rather like her. Only time will tell if you have the same fascination with augury and disembowelment."

Henrietta blinked. Louise suspected it was somewhat from the comparison, but mostly from the novelty of a goblin who used long words.

Gnarl turned back towards Louise. "Your sinfulness, you will be needed in the Great Hall at your earliest convenience. The most exquisitely Evil of activities awaits your gleeful participation."

Louise's head slumped down in despair when she realised what awaited her. "Oh no," she whispered.

"Louise Françoise, whatever is the matter?" Henrietta asked, eyes widening. "What does this Gnarl wish for you to do? Unholy rituals? Human sacrifice? Unspeakable deeds to captured prisoners? Foul and depraved acts?"

"Worse," Louise said weakly. "Paperwork."

"Indeed!" Gnarl said happily. "We have a great deal of accountancy to get through with regards to the classification and evaluation of the proceeds of your latest raid! Why, I am quite beside myself with glee at the prospect of adding up the total in your treasury! And let us not forget the value in the knowledge you have acquired! I do believe you now may have enough that I will need to quiz you to see if you are ready to begin investing in infernal industries!"

"Jessica, see to Henrietta's clothes, and… just get to know her," Louise ordered, flapping a hand distractedly at them. "If you don't want to do that, you can come with me and help me with the bureaucracy."

Jessica swallowed. "I'll behave myself," she said, nodding quickly.



The Great Hall was alive with the sound of precious things being handled, often poorly, by minions. Orders were being yelled and in general they were not making the situation worse. To the noise of this hubbub, Louise was working on the stacks of papers which Gnarl was sending her, while he oversaw the counting operations.

Leaning back in her chair, Louise worked her hand which was cramping up. Looking at the clock beside her, she was surprised that two hours had already passed.

The worst thing about being an overlady, Louise felt, when all things were taken into account was probably the amount of work which went into it. Her underlings seemed to have it much easier. The minions were – with the exception of Gnarl – morons to a goblinoid, though a few of them seemed to be upgrading to idiot. Cattleya – well, Louise loved her sister dearly, but for all her many virtues it did have to be said that Catt wasn't the brightest member of the family, and was sort of, in the best possible way, a blood-crazed psychopath barely kept in check by a thin veneer of manners and standards of behaviour. And Jessica spent her time down in the forge or working on cloth which, yes, fair enough, was probably hard work, but it was merely physically demanding.

None of them, apart from maybe Jessica, had to face up to the horrors of double-ledger accounting.

Louise tried to look on the bright side. At least when she was back home, she would have picked up many valuable life skills, like estate management, accountancy, and of course military strategy. All of them were sought-after wifely skills. Surely any man would want his bride to be versed in such skills. Rather than, say, being an overly busty cow called Kirche von Zerbst, to give but one example.

Idly, Louise wondered how her one-time rival and arch nemesis was doing. No doubt she didn't have to do this much paperwork. She could probably just smile at a man and he'd do it for her. That almost sounded tempting, but Louise stood strong. There was such a thing as standards, after all. And more prosaically, the only human male she really knew even a little bit right now was Emperor Lee of Cathay, and she a) had only danced with him at a party, which had been almost the sum total of their interactions and b) wasn't stupid enough to trust him with details on her accounts.

Gnarl shuffled up. "Things are going satisfactorily, your wickedness," he told her. "You have made quite a handsome profit from this previous operation. The little dears were most industrious in their looting."

"Very well, Gnarl," Louise said.

He did not leave.

"Your malevolentness," Gnarl said, "I do believe that as per the inventory of the treasury I found, there should have been a certain ruby contained within the vault. Might you have found it? Or was it missing? This is something of a fair degree of importance."

Louise pursed her lips. Should she show it to him? Would he just go and look at her hand anyway at some point if she didn't tell him?

Uh. Yeah. Obviously. He broke into her room at night and read her stories. Of course he'd contrive an excuse to look at the Gauntlet. She held out her hand. "I found it in the treasury, but when I touched it, it fused to the metal," she said. "It won't come out."

"Ah, yes, I haven't seen that in a long, long time," Gnarl said, stroking his goatee. "That is one of the four great gems the Gauntlet was forged with. Water, earth, fire, air." He sat down on his high chair. "Long ago, you see, the free races lived in harmony. Then everything changed when the first overlord attacked. Only a band of the mightiest heroes could stop him, and… well, they did. But Evil always finds a way!"

Louise was, by upbringing, rather inclined to support brave coalitions of heroes opposing a domineering overwhelming Evil. This left her in a somewhat awkward position when she found herself in the theoretically overwhelming Evil's role. But, she reassured herself, she wasn't actually evil, and since she actually controlled these two potent evil artefacts, they couldn't end up in the hands of someone who was really actually really bad.

"This, specifically, is linked to water," Gnarl said, looking closer at the gem on the gauntlet. "It was always said that one was in Tristain. The last I heard, air was in Albion, fire in Romalia and earth in Gallia, but that was nearly a century ago and much will have changed." The old goblin smiled. "After all, do you think it is just coincidence you found this stone? It made its way to you, your evilness. The others may as well. They can hear you calling. You wear the Gauntlet, and it longs to be whole. Something like this will shake the very foundations of the world."

"Um," Louise said.

"Usurpation in Tristain. Regicide and treason in Albion. A mad king in Gallia. And… well, there's probably something or other going on in Romalia," Gnarl said. "Think about it, your evilness. Fell deeds are afoot, or rather, ahand."

Louise swallowed hard. That wasn't… her fault, was it? No! No, that was ridiculous. The Albionese Civil War was a decade in the making, and open fighting had been going on for at least two years. Gnarl was just being a stupid evil old goblin.

"Now, the question is," Gnarl said, grinning, "where on earth the Helmet, the Shroud and the Armour got to. None of them were in the tower, your wickedness. If the Gauntlet detects where the rest of it is… I would advise that you listen to it. Advise most strongly."

"I… I understand," Louise said. "Thank you Gnarl."

"Very wicked, your evilness," he said, slipping off his chair. "I will go back and make sure the little darlings don't try to set the gold on fire. We will delay than until we wish to smelt coins with your face on."

"I think that can wait," Louise said hastily. "Thank you again, Gnarl. I have paperwork to do."

She watched him go. Louise sighed, and rested her forehead on her folded arms on the table. Urgh. She didn't want to be some chosen one of evil. She just wanted to get her self-appointed mission done, and go home. And she also didn't want to do any more paperwork today. None of the evil wicked tyrants in the stories had to do this the day after kidnapping a princess. This was quite dreadful.

Her stomach grumbled, just as more paperwork in Gnarl's neat hand cascaded onto her desk.

She hoped Henrietta would be done with Jessica soon. She needed someone to talk to. Complain at, really.


...


"… and so I told him, 'You're the cultist, not me. You're the one who should be down on his hands and knees!'," Jessica said, chuckling as she sketched something out. The flames in Jessica's plush and very red room danced as she laughed, the shadows twirling on the wall. Brazen demonic masks leered down from the walls.

The general decadence of the room was somewhat ruined by the half-done sketches pinned up everywhere, and the clearly work-in-progress loom sitting in the corner. The pile of clothes in the corner also did not serve the malevolent aesthetic.

Henrietta's eyes momentarily widened, and then she broke out laughing too. "My goodness," she said, when her breathing was under control, "that's something indeed. You know, the only people who aren't my mother who've talked to me for almost a year have been the maids, and you wouldn't believe some of the tales I got from them. But it seems that men have that much in common everywhere."

"Yeah, you said it," Jessica said.

"Even though your demons and cultists don't seem to do quite so many things with roosters," Henrietta said, still giggling.

"Wait, what?" Jessica went momentarily cross-eyed, opened her mouth, and closed it again. "I don't… I… what?"

She blinked, deciding to avoid the topic, and changed the subject. "Okay!" she declared. "Right! So, I have an initial first draft for the dress. This is just concept work, you understand, and this will probably change once I get your measurements and we get to hash out a design in practice. Oh, do you want some wine?" she added, pouring herself some from a bottle under her desk.

"Thank you very much," Henrietta said, rising and coming over to examine the sketches. "Hmm. I don't think I could really run in that," she said critically, pursing her lips as she traced out the green and silver chalk sketch before her.

"You're not meant to be able to run," Jessica said. "You are sort of our captive."

"Yes, but there's a difference between the customary and conventional constraints which I, as your prisoner, should have, and simple bloody-minded inconvenience, pardon my Romalian." Henrietta took a sip of wine, and squared her jaw. "I have spent the last year in uncomfortable and unstylish dresses intended to help correct my posture. I haven't even got to wear a simple shift! I am jolly well not going to put up with not being able to move my legs properly!"

"Hmm. Well, I can take it up to the knee and…"

Henrietta shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "I like the length, and it'll cover up my calves. They're just too… too blasted muscular." She sat back, tapping her fingers together. "What if you had slits up the side, to allow me to move. Up past the knee. Maybe more like… hmm, yes. To the mid-thigh."

Jessica blinked. "You'd wear that?" she asked.

"I am the one asking for it," Henrietta asked primly.

"Lou kicks up a fuss whenever I do things like that."

"Louise Françoise," Henrietta said, "is a rather conservative girl who dresses like her mother. I would rather die than dress like mine."

"Really?"

"Really. I will wear literally anything you want if it would shock my mother."

Jessica grinned broadly. "This," she declared, "looks like it could be the start of a wonderful friendship. Henri, you are wonderful!"

"Please call me 'Henrietta'." The princess coughed. "In addition, I have a number of other small criticisms about it, and the general styles involved. Shall we start with the rather high neckline? Should I assume that is a design Louise Françoise favours?"

"Yes, she…"

"Lower it."



Louise's gauntlet chimed. She glanced down at it, glad for the distraction.

"What is it, Catt?" she asked, putting down her pen and massaging her aching hand.

"Nothing much, nothing much," her older sister said. "This thing and the next and incidentally I'm going to be a teeny-weeny ittle-bittle later than expected."

Louise paused, and stared straight ahead of her. She wouldn't sigh. She promised herself that she wouldn't let any of the emotions she was currently experiencing show when she asked the next question. "How many people are dead, Catt?" she asked wearily.

Damn. Failure.

"Oh, lots and lots and lots of people worldwide are dead, little sis! Everyone who isn't alive any more is dead. And also possibly everyone who hasn't been born yet; not quite sure whether they could as dead, or just un-alive, and whether that's different from being undead. Like me!"

"… how many people are dead because of your actions since the last time we spoke?" Louise asked, fighting hard to resist the urge to thump the table.

"Well, a few…"

Louise relaxed marginally. Perhaps this wouldn't be quite so b-

"… dozen men, horses and dogs. In my defence, they were all soldiers loyal to the Council and they broke into the house where I'd found somewhere to hide during the day and were being dreadfully rude to this nice young girl who was helping a poor innocent noble maiden caught out during the night." Cattleya coughed. "I was the noble maiden, in case you didn't guess," she said helpfully.

Louise stared deep into the fireplace. When she spoke, each word came out like a drawn blade. "Cattleya? What. Did. We. Agree?"

"Okay, Louise, I know you're using your angry voice, but in my defence, they were shouting a lot and they had swords out and they were threatening to burn the house down and I hadn't fed at all so if I got injured I'd die for real! Well, at least until someone found my ash and bled on me, but you wouldn't even know where I was! And I don't want to die. Double die! Whatever! Oh, and they said they'd kill the jolly nice girl who was helping me if they found that she was helping 'traitors'! I panicked and I know I wasn't meant to, but I did. I hope you're not too angry with me," Cattleya said in a tiny voice.

Louise was indeed too angry with her. She was in fact angry enough that she could not deal with this right now. "Just get back here right now," she growled. "And don't kill anyone else along the way! I mean it!"

"Okay! I'll head straight back! In fact, I'll head straighter than straight back! I'll go find you more goblins along the way! And more wolves for the cute little darlings, so they can ride them! I promise promise promise I won't let you down and I won't drink the blood of any humans unless they totally deserve it and are threatening innocents!"

"Don't drink anyone's blood!" Louise snapped. "Even if they deserve it! We are going to have to talk! A proper talk when I've calmed down, and… how are you even out and about! The sun's still up!"

"Uh… remember, little sis? The clothes from Jessica? I even get to use my super-duper-amazing vampire talents as long as I'm not in direct sunlight!"

"… just get back here right now."

"Righto! I'll just get you your wolves and goblins as I get right back here! And also, uh… can you ask Jessica how you wash blood out of this leather? She said it was blood-proof, but it's leaking? Oh! And another thing, you know that nice girl I mentioned! Well, I hired her as a maid and she's with me right now and we're coming back because I realised you needed another maid because we need to look after the princess! All right! See you soon! Lots of love! Bye!"

Louise gritted her teeth. She needed to find something to vent her rage on. Something that wouldn't involve her shouting at her sister and saying something she'd regret later. Something which was totally morally acceptable. Something which could allow her to let out her anger without in any way it being a sin. Something which every sane individual would go 'yes, she acted righteously in doing that'.

There was a jangle of bells behind her. "Prithee, overlady! All hail to thee! Queen of Evil Things Done With Her Sinister Hand!"

Perfect.

"She Who Sleeps With Princ…arrrrrrrrrrrgh!"

Flame roared, lightning cracked, and Louise went about making herself feel better.