The Kidnapping of Katarina

Make a bad one good, make a wrong one right

Power of love will keep you home at night

~ Huey Lewis

Chapter 4

It is through madness that we hate an enemy, and think of revenging ourselves; and it is through indolence that we are appeased, and do not revenge ourselves. ~ Jean de la Bruyere

Marquis Malcolm Fou Frampton disliked balls. Dancing was at best a way to exercise, in his view - and if he and his wife had wanted to exercise with each other, there were other places than the middle of a huge hall surrounded by his alleged peers.

Not that he let that on. No, good old Malcolm liked any excuse for a party. Banquets, salons, a day's hunting… anything where you could get a visitor away into a side-room and have a quiet chat. See what they're thinking, persuade them if possible, thank them for their wise counsel if not and avoid burning any bridges that you might want to cross later.

It would be social death to say how pointless a gathering where you had to be on display and not use the back rooms seemed, so good old Malcolm had to brave the floor and even occasionally host them. Like today's, for example.

"Congratulations, old man," a viscount burbled at him, as Frampton went past him. Perhaps thinking the slight emphasis on 'old' would pass unnoticed. "Your promotion, I mean. Lateral, but aren't they all at your level?"

"Not all of them," good old Malcolm told the idiot warmly and patted him on the shoulder in an avuncular way before moving on.

Not all of them. There was always down. Always, always, always. Like an abyss beneath him - one of the very few feudal lords who'd managed to take and hold a ministerial position under King Roland Rafa Holfort. It hadn't always been that way, but for generations now the Holforts had preferred their court lords for such offices, pushing feudal lords out on the old traditionalist excuse of 'shouldn't you go off an adventure'. Redgrave would have loved to see that.

And moving from the Treasury to the Ministry of Magic. Oh, if that young fool Allen thought that that was lateral then his brain was even more feeble than his father's had been. Scraping funds together for one demand or another, always carrying the blame when the funds were not available… At times, Frampton would have rather been demoted to Lord High Executioner. But no, good old amiable Malcolm would do no good there, so he'd clung on. He'd watched, he'd waited… and now Redgrave's own imbecilic offspring had finally made an opening.

Without the duke's voice in the king's ear, it had only been a season before Bernard Fia Atlee had been stumbling. Once the man's daughter - what was it with daughters? How fortunate that Frampton had none! - had fouled up, there was a need for a reshuffle.

Oh, no face was lost. Poor Bernard, good old Malcom would assure anyone. Just give him a quiet spot at the treasury where he can take the time to get his family back in order. And if that required that Dan Fia Ascart needed to move across to hold Atlee's former office in Foreign Affairs, well some steady hand was needed in the Ministry of Magic...

And if that meant good old Malcolm had to host a ball, well that was the price of doing business. And Marquis Frampton, lord of a household that had served the royal house back when certain dukes' ancestors were digging into dungeons on barren rocks and claiming princedom over everything they could cling to, would make the best of it.

Though dancing made talking to the men hard, it did at least provide a chance to open conversation with a lady if she was worth the time. While that wasn't common enough to make balls worthwhile, he could at least take some opportunity.

"Rebecca," the skinny marquis greeted his current target. "It's been too long since I saw you here in the capital."

"Malcolm!" Marchioness Rebecca Fou Dieke greeted him with a chaste hug and a kiss of the air next to each cheek. "Yes, you know I was never comfortable here but duty demands…"

Duty, meaning that her precious son had been a year and a half at the academy. No doubt she was here to evaluate candidates to marry the Dieke heir to. If the boy was very lucky, his opinion might be heard but was unlikely to be heeded. And no doubt Rebecca would never understand or forgive when the boy strayed the wedding bed as his father had. "Perhaps you would do me the honour of a dance," good old Malcolm invited the marchioness.

She accepted, of course. She was single - in practice, if not in law - and would be expected to dance. He was of suitable rank and well known to be very married. A harmless way to manage social expectations.

A very useful way to be able to talk, preferably while dancing around people too dim and too interested in each other to listen to a middle-aged couple's conversation.

"Congratulations on your promotion," she began as they took to the floor. "Long overdue as it is."

"I was perhaps in something of a rut at the Treasury," he admitted. "But with the recent shake-ups…"

"Mason," Dieke said flatly. Disdainfully. "How could he be so foolish?"

"To do what he did, or to get caught?" To an extent, Frampton respected the gall of the ploy. If it had worked, Mason would have been well placed to play kingmaker and king's counsellor for the next generation. Of course, it had not worked and Mason faced official disgrace, substantial punishment and being remembered as a marquis brought down by a pack of children.

She made a face. "Failing is its own punishment, but to agree to summary judgement by the crown rather than a court of his peers? Madness."

"No, not madness." They twirled upon the dance floor, Frampton watching out for anyone with more than a half-wit between any given couple. "Worrying, but not mad. The only reason is that there is something to this matter so damning that David was willing to take a fall rather than see it brought before a court, and so scandalous that the king is willing to cover it up for a clean resolution."

That, he could see, worried her. "He had a duke's daughter abducted by a duke's daughter, to frame the family of another duke," the woman pointed out. "Short of incriminating a marquis, it would be hard to make things worse… oh wait."

Good old Malcolm laughed a little at the joke and sweet little Becky giggled, and then they were out of easy earshot of the Ascarts and could get down to business.

"As the new Minister for Magic, I have their reports," he informed her. "And even poor deluded David Fou Mason didn't want to be handed over to the Temple for heresy."

That got through to her.

"Heresy?" she whispered after a moment. "How does that cross the desks at the Ministry of Magic? Surely that is solely the remit of the Temple."

"It is when it involves dark magic. The whole 'magic' part, you understand." Frampton gave her a very dry smile. "It'd be a terrible embarrassment to have it made public, so I can see why his highness would rather not advertise the matter."

"And I would imagine that being burned at the stake would make it rather hard for Marquis Mason to pass his titles and lands to his son," Rebecca mused. "Have you any idea what he will be facing instead?"

"A year in custody, with his lands administered by a crown-appointed governor who will be responsible for arranging reparations to the other families involved. After which time, David will be free to abdicate his titles to his son and vanish into exile with whatever funds he manages to hide away."

It sounded generous. Too generous, really.

The marchioness' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Custody of whom? And what sort of reparations?"

"I believe Duke Claes has offered to take the erring Marquis in hand."

"...he's a dead man," Dieke concluded matter-of-factly. "His exile will be at the bottom of the sea, wrapped in a hundred yards of metal chains."

"Dead is dead," Frampton pointed out. "And that would be kinder than how the Stuarts would likely deal with him." Their father had been a nightmare to deal with and in this regard, most likely the four Stuarts of this generation would follow in his footsteps.

Marchioness Dieke nodded quietly. "And the reparations?"

"At the least, Duke Berg will find the repairs to his mansion covered. But if anything else is uncovered - and one assumes that they have been instructed what to find - there will be justification to peel away some of Mason's vassals and perhaps even his direct estates. It's possible his son will find himself reduced to a count, while the remaining lands go to the younger Stuarts on their marriages."

She frowned. "Ian and Gerald, but it seems the youngest would have little need."

Frampton arched an eyebrow as they continued to dance. So she knew something he did not. Well, he wasn't dancing with someone he considered useless. "A fourth son marrying a fourth daughter would usually have few prospects."

"Accusations have been raised among Mary Fou Hunt's three half-sisters," Rebecca informed him a little smugly. "With no male heir, the first born daughter Lilia and her husband - Lord Forton - were heirs presumptive but if she was found to be the daughter of her mother and an elf…"

Frampton frowned. "Hunt's first wife was a political choice," he conceded in a neutral tone. The same was true of his marriage, which had worked well, and of Rebecca's to Marquis Dieke… which had not.

To put it mildly.

"My information suggests that were a certain device that detects elf blood to be brought into their company, all three of the elder Hunt daughters would find themselves embarrassed. I have not, you understand, put this to the test myself. But if Lady Mary is the next heir, then Prince Alan is logically to be the next Marquis Hunt. Stuart-Hunt, perhaps."

"That would at least reduce confusion if multiple distinct domains fall into the hands of the Stuart household," agreed Frampton. "We appear to be in a year of many scandals. One hopes that neither of us need to concern ourselves with such?"

Rebecca did not smile. "The closest I have come to dark magic was ten years ago, a foreign mage was caught having abducted commoner's children for some dark rite or rites. He was put to death, of course."

"Naturally. One hopes for a kinder fortune for the children - people are so stirred up when their children are endangered."

The marchioness looked away, to hide distress perhaps. "We advised their parents not to open their coffins, to remember the children as they had been and not… as they were. One of the coffins was weighted with sand, lest they wonder why it was too light. I have always wondered if - had I been quicker or more decisive, would I have been able to make that girl safe as well."

Frampton's mind raced, but he reached up slightly to stroke Rebecca's upper arm in reassurance. "You were swift enough that the heavens granted your son Sirius his health. If that is not affirmation that you did well, I cannot imagine what would."

A loose end was unfortunate, but if nothing had turned up in ten years then the girl was likely long gone. One did what one must to ensure a stable succession. And as long as you cleaned up the mess, no one wise would dig into the matter. After all, the kingdom's security rested on clear inheritance of the various domains through each generation - nothing could be more deadly if it went awry. That was Prince Julius' greatest failure - if he hadn't also ruined Redgrave's influence, Frampton would have cursed the boy's impulsive decision. As it was, he wished the little idiot well, so long as he stayed out of politics. And if he had children with the Lafan girl… well, loose ends that no one else tidied up could be useful in a decade or two.

Rebecca nodded in agreement. "The saintess' god appears to value action over prayers."

"Since we are speaking of young Sirius…"

"I don't recall you having a daughter, Malcolm. Certainly not of the right age."

"I do not," he confirmed. "But others are more fortunate in that regard. Have you made any decisions yet as to his future wife?"

"It is too early to say. He must marry well, enough to offset his father's behaviour."

Frampton nodded in agreement. "With one marquisate potentially being torn up, it's important that those of us with the proper backgrounds show our respectability and loyalty. With the marriage alliances between the royal faction and the traditionalists so shaken, old certainties no longer appear to be quite so stable."

"And do you see how they might pan out?" Rebecca asked suspiciously.

"There are two dukes with unengaged daughters only a little younger than the young Lord Sirius."

Her eyes grew distant and then flickered as she looked across the room to one of the noblemen currently beset by requests to dance.

Auld Rafa Ades had been a beautiful young man, his wife much envied until the hollow nature of their marriage became apparent. She was gone, and now the duke had grown into a handsome mature man… at least in his looks.

"I assume that you do not propose I should link my Sirius to the Redgrave girl," she concluded. "Given the girl seems likely to wed the Claes' boy."

"Or perhaps Gerald Rafa Stuart. I understand that Duchess Miranda has conveyed to the young lord that their support would not waver if he felt another marriage was more politically fruitful in his road to the throne."

Rebecca made a face again. "Preferring to be the power behind the throne rather than place her blood upon it. She was always cautious. Do you think he will accept that?"

"I doubt that it will matter. Of the four Stuarts, there's the flirt, the musician and one who burns brightly - but those who do that rarely burn long. If I must put faith in one of them, to be a suitable king then it will be the second son."

"The king's choice, of course."

"Naturally." Good old Malcolm smiled warmly. "And it is fortunate that there is a choice for him to make that would be so well received."

"I had heard he was not a pliable one."

"A pliable king would sway between strong voices. I prefer one who, once convinced, remains steadfast. He is apparently devoted to his fiancee, despite the recent scandal. Indeed, closer than ever with her."

He saw Rebecca's eyes soften just a fraction. She admired fidelity within a marriage, for the grass was always greener. "There is much to what you say. One hopes the king will make a wise choice. As to Duke Ades… I find it hard to admire a man who legitimises an illegitimate son as his heir."

Frampton shrugged. "One does what he must. He has no son within marriage, despite Bellerose's ludicrous efforts to pass her daughter off as one. And while she was alive he was clear about the legalities."

"True." She frowned in consideration. "They are of good lineage, I will concede that. And I presume you would rather he not fall back into line with Redgrave's traditionalists."

"That is a consideration - about as welcome a thought as your husband returning to take to politics."

Rebecca's laugh was not chilling, it was warm and amused… but her eyes were like black ice. "Do not concern yourself with Regulus. Once Sirius completes the academy and is old enough to inherit, I expect little difficulty in having his father deemed legally dead."

Frampton put that together with discussions of chains and the deep blue sea. Good old Malcolm would have shivered, but the Marquis and the Minister behind that mask admired the resolution that Rebecca Fou Dieke showed. And having an ally with a spine could be very useful in such troubled times. "I have perhaps monopolised you too long - shall I reintroduce you to our old friend Auld Rafa Ades?"

It had taken days for things to settle down after the festival and then Katarina's absence. Anne hadn't left her alone and unguarded for the better part of a week, and she was rarely without one or more of her friends. Not that she was complaining - she liked having her friends around, but even so, it felt strange.

At least the mid-term exams results were out and she hadn't flunked anything so she was free to forget everything she'd learned so far… wait, no. End of term exams could still cover that material. Which was horribly unfair.

Leon had arranged for the Big Stein to be kept within the hangars of the academy, so it would be convenient for her if she needed it again. Or if she just wanted to play with it. Practice! Practice with it. Not play.

"THUNDER SWORD!" she shouted and swept the sword down.

Keith parried. He'd been doing that a lot. "If you shout your attacks, everyone will be able to predict you," he warned. "Anyway, we should finish now. It's almost time for dinner."

Katarina yielded the point and returned the knight-armour's sword to its weapon case. "You're getting better, Keith!" she encouraged him.

"Thanks. Fighting Brad… I should have been better than that."

"Well, just keep getting better and then one day… Although," she added, "It's probably best if you don't end up fighting him again."

"I won't, as long as you stay out of duels with Lord Arclight."

"Is he still a lord? Now that he's been disinherited, I mean."

"Yes, Katarina," her brother sighed. As if that hadn't been a totally legitimate question.

Getting out of the knight-armour, and then changing out of her piloting suit didn't take that long. She'd even washed up so Katarina was feeling nice and fresh when she waited for Keith outside the arena.

"Katarina!" he called as he rushed out to join her. "Why didn't you wait for me in the changing rooms?"

"Because you won't come into the women's changing rooms and I'm not supposed to go into the boys changing rooms?" she pointed out.

He gave her a frustrated look. "I notice you say that you're not supposed to go into our changing rooms, but not that you won't. And you could wait at the door."

"I am at the door."

"The door to the changing room!" Keith took her hands in his. "Please don't go off on your own, big sister. Last time you did, you got kidnapped."

"Aw, Keith." She gave him a big smothering hug. "Don't worry, it was just the once."

"It shouldn't even be once!" he protested in a muffled voice. "We were all really worried."

Well, he kind of had a point. "I'm sorry, I'll try to remember."

Keith freed himself. "I suppose that that's all I can get." He took her arm and they walked towards the main campus.

It was getting later in the year, not yet cold but definitely cooler. Katarina waved to a few girls she knew as they passed, and some of them blushed rather than waving back. They must be swooning over Keith, she realised. "You're not turning into some sort of playboy, are you?"

"What? No!" he exclaimed. "...what even is that?"

"The sort of boy who lures young women in and does… this and that with them."

He went crimson. "Katarina! Of course I wouldn't do that."

Well that was alright then. He was much less likely to fall for Olivia and then crush Katarina with his golems if that happened. Of course, that was only if Katarina attacked Olivia, so it was pretty unlikely, but there were lots of potential variables going on. What if he fell for someone else? Katarina had to defend herself and his beloved got hurt. That could happen! Love made people do strange things - look at Selena.

Well, only if she and Ian weren't having public displays of affection. Her own ears felt warm and she suspected they'd gone red.

"Where do you even learn about things like that?" her brother went on. "Violette said that you wouldn't even look at Prince Ian and Lady Selena once they reconciled."

"Just because I know about it doesn't mean people should look at them. They were holding hands, Keith. Right out in the vegetable patch."

"You do know that they're not going to find a baby under a cabbage patch, right?"

"Of course not!" Katarina exclaimed. "But holding hands leads to other things and eventually it gets to baby making. You can't be too careful. Romance novels just sneak it up on them all the time. Everything's going well, there's a happy couple and then dot-dot-dot."

"Dot-dot-dot?"

Katarina mimed what she meant.

"An ellipsis," he said in comprehension. "Well at least Sophia's not sharing anything more…" he coughed and broke off. "Anyway, Bartford is more likely to be a playboy than I am."

"I hope not, I think Clarice would be really unhappy with him if he did that."

Keith shook his head. "Anyway, I want to collect something in the Council wing. Come in with me."

Katarina was about to protest that she could manage on her own for a few minutes, but given poor Keith was so worried she decided to let him have his way. "Alright."

The council wing was quieter than usual. The only person in the hallway was Lord Dieke, taking some papers upstairs. Katarina gave him a wave and a smile, which he returned gently before carrying on.

"It's just in here," Keith declared and opened the double doors to the meeting room. Everything inside was dark for a moment and then, just as Katarina started to realise that it was full of people, Gerald lit all the lamps with a casual wave of his hand.

"SURPRISE!" All her friends were there, plus a lot of the other student council members and there was cake and other sweets on the table - as well as savoury food. A banner was hung above the table declaring 'Good job rescuing yourself'.

"Three cheers for Katarina," Nicol directed and the students present all shouted hurrah three time as she looked around in surprise.

"Keith, Keith! It's a surprise party!"

"Yes, Katarina." He smiled. "I helped set it up."

"I'm so surprised. I've never had a surprise party before!"

"Not for want of trying," Gerald muttered as Mary and Sophia moved in to offer Katarina plates.

The next hour was a whirl of conversation with everyone, between making sure that food was being eaten. She spoke to Violette, who told her she had plans to take up the sword again, so Katarina offered to spar with her. Then Clarice told her a little about what to expect for the next year or so at the academy, which sounded like fun except the lessons.

Gerald wanted to talk about the school trip and which of the destinations Katarina wanted to go to, which was odd because they were picked randomly to ensure that every student got to go to a different destination every year. So she was going to get to visit all of them over the three years.

"Are you and Scarlet going to be competing over exam results again?" she asked as her cousin approached, offering her some little cocktail sticks with sausage, fruit and cheese on them.

"No." Gerald shook his head. "Although congratulations on coming first," he added to Scarlet, accepting one of the treats. (Katarina stacked four on her plate.) "But there are more important things in life than exams."

Katarina's cousin looked thoughtful. "Yes," she decided in her usual measured fashion. "Although I don't know many yet. Perhaps I'll find something like what you mean sometime."

The blond prince nodded. "Not upset over Leon being with Clarice?"

That got a shake of Scarlet's head. "No, he was mostly keeping boys from bothering me. Being his friend does the same now that he has such a reputation."

"What sort of reputation?" asked Katarina curiously.

"Ah… that he'll go to any lengths for his friends," Gerald told her. "A lot of people still think that he was piloting your knight-armour when it knocked down half the Berg mansion. Given that Duke Berg hasn't destroyed him, that suggests he got away with it."

"Oh." She frowned. "Should I explain it?"

"I don't think so."

Scarlet nodded. "Having a formidable reputation is an asset."

Katarina's next visit was to Leon, who was talking to Princess Hertrude. "Are you having fun?"

"I am," the princess said politely. "I would thank you for inviting me, but I gather that this isn't how it works for a surprise party."

"I'm glad you came, after all we're friends, aren't we?"

The dark-haired princess looked surprised. "Ah, yes… I don't think I have had much chance to make friends before coming here. I hope Hertrauda is making friends back in Fanoss."

"Your little sister?" asked Katarina.

"Yes, she's touring the principality while I'm here. Neither of us has spent much time outside our home castle since our parents died."

"I'm so sorry," Katarina told her, pulling her a hug. "That must have been really hard for you. I don't know what Keith and I would do without our parents."

"Um…" Hertrude was stiff in her arms, as if she wasn't used to being hugged.

"Alas, since immortality is a pipe dream, we're probably all going to face it someday, but that's not really an ideal subject for a party," Leon suggested gently. "But my best advice is to have friends and other connections to support you during hard times, whether it's bereavement or something else."

Katarina was having a much happier conversation with Sophia about the adventures of the Alluring Count when Marie approached, accompanied by Julius and Jilk. Her friend looked nervous, and Nicol moved in protectively.

The little blonde girl curtsied to Katarina. "Lady Claes, I'm very sorry that Nanaka was involved in the plot against you."

"Nanaka?" Katarina thought for a moment. "Oh, your servant?" She hadn't noticed, but now that it was mentioned, when was the last time she'd seen the little demihuman. "How was he involved? Is he alright?"

Marie looked nervous. "Uh, no one mentioned it?" she asked.

Nicol cleared his throat. "I believe Nanaka was the one who lured you away from the changing rooms."

"...but isn't Nanaka a boy? I'm sure it was a maid who took me out into the grounds." Katarina tried to compare her mental image of the boy with the maid she'd seen. "Wait, that was him?" The maid looked so cute! That was adorable!

Marie nodded in agreement. "I'm terribly sorry, I had no idea at all that he'd do such a terrible thing."

"Well, it wasn't that terrible."

Sophia pouted. "Katarina, he led you into a trap so that Marquis Mason's agent could steal you away from us!"

"Well, yes. But it wasn't all that bad. And he helped me finish getting dressed, which was…" Oh, wait. That meant a boy had helped her do up her dress. "Could we not mention that to Keith?"

"L-lady Katarina!" Sophia exclaimed. "How terrible!"

Nicol reached over and restrained his sister. "Remember, Sophia. He is being thoroughly punished for his offences."

"Are you going to be alright without a servant?" Katarina asked Marie, eager to change the subject. Sophia looked like she might be about to cry. "I'd be lost without Anne."

Why did Marie and her friends look nervous at the mention of Anne? "Um, I think I'll manage," the little girl said bravely. "I never had a servant before anyway." Her eye caught Katarina's wrist. "Oh, that's a lovely bracelet, could I look at it?"

"Sure!" Katarina held her wrist out so that Marie could see it clearly. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Where did you buy it?" asked Julius. "Perhaps we can buy one for you, Marie."

The girl seemed to shiver. "No, no," she said hastily. "I'm just looking at it."

"I don't know where it came from anyway," Katarina explained. "I found it in the dungeon."

"There's jewellery in the dungeon?" asked Julius. "I'd never heard about that."

"It was in the forbidden part of the dungeon," Nicol told him. "Anyone going into those levels will be severely punished."

Marie looked curiously intent. "Thank you for showing me the bracelet," she said in a distracted tone. "I'm glad you've emerged unscathed from your ordeal, Lady Claes."

"What was that about?" Sophia muttered. "It's suspicious, as if she saw the bracelet before."

"You don't think she lost it down there?" asked Katarina, worriedly. If so, she should give it back.

"No, or if she did then she went somewhere she never should go," Nicol said firmly. "The bracelet is yours, Katarina."

A hand rested on one of Katarina's shoulders, the other reaching past her to take her empty plate away from her. When had her plate emptied?

Gerald set the plate on the mantelpiece as she turned around to face him. "Katarina, there's something I need to tell you."

Oh? Oh! Her eyes went wide. He must have found someone! Oh gosh, who was it? How had she missed the signs? "Um… sure? What is it?"

The prince rested his hands on her shoulders. "There's something I realised when you went missing. I always thought that I had all the time in the world - or at least until we finished the academy to make this clear to you. But when you were kidnapped… When we couldn't find you, all I could think was that I might never get the chance."

What was he talking about?

One of his hands slipped down and around her back, the other up to behind her head.

"Katarina Rafa Claes," Gerald told her, eyes only a few inches from her own. "I love you. I want to marry you. There is no one else in the world I think about, that I will ever feel this way about. Our engagement is not and has never been for form."

And then he leant forwards and Katarina's mind went dot-dot-dot.

The party dissolved into confusion after Katarina fainted in Gerald's arms. For a moment it looked as if Keith and Gerald would come to blows until Nicol and Alan got between them. Meanwhile Mary carried Katarina over to one of the chairs with some help from the other girls.

Leon looked around for other peacemakers and reluctantly stepped up to Gerald. "Your highness."

"Call me Gerald!" the boy snapped.

"Gerald. I'm not saying you're wrong, but do you really blame Keith for being worried about his sister's wellbeing?"

"Ah…" The fire mage pulled back slightly. "No," he admitted. "But he still shouldn't accuse me of taking advantage of her. She's my fiancee."

Leon settled his shoulders. "Yes, but do you mean that as in 'your friend'... or 'your pet'?" he asked quietly.

The prince flinched, and then his eyes chilled. "Bartford…"

"Please, call me Leon," he said with a smile. "I'm not saying you were wrong to tell her your feelings. And while kissing her was a mistake, I don't think you could reasonably have known that beforehand. But please remember: kissing her is not a right that you have because you're engaged to Lady Claes, any more than she could demand it of you."

"I'd happily let her kiss me!"

There was a snarl of "Over my dead body!" from behind Leon.

He tried to ignore Keith's protests for a moment. "But do you think she would if you didn't want it?"

"...ah." Gerald relaxed slowly. "No, I don't believe that she would."

The two young men exchanged nods to confirm that they had reached a mutual understanding. "Maybe have a talk with her. It's pretty clear now - though not so much earlier - she's not feeling as ready for this as you are. Figure out where the boundaries are, and how to tell once she is ready for more."

"Keep your lips off my sister!" Keith shouted.

Leon took a deep breath. "Excuse me, Gerald."

"Not at all, thank you for your advice."

The dark haired boy turned sharply and met Keith's gaze, the other boy still being restrained by Alan. At least he'd not tried to use his magic, so he wasn't completely out of control. "Lord Claes, are you mad because your sister fainted… or because you're not the one who kissed her?"

The room fell dead silent. Keith's jaw sagged, cutting him off almost mid-word.

"My goodness, is that how it is in that family?" Hertrude asked very quietly. Presumably the young princess wasn't aware that Keith had been adopted by the Claes, due to their lack of a male heir. He was one of the duke's distant cousins, and taking him had provided an heir while also keeping the peace within the household of Viscount Coleman, whose bastard he was. The court viscount hadn't really been prepared to raise a mage with Keith's potential, much less when his wife and legitimate sons treated the younger boy as an insult to them.

"You might want to think about that one, because if it's the latter then you're just as likely as his highness to have been the one to push Lady Claes outside of her comfort zone." Leon reached forwards and pushed Alan aside. "And if it's the former, perhaps looking after her should take priority. Don't you think?"

"I…" Keith straightened his lapels, looking away. "Ahem. You make an excellent point, Lord Bartford."

"I would suggest that once you've determined your heart's feelings, perhaps you should also have a chat with Katarina. Probably not at the same time as Prince Gerald. If we've learned anything this year it's probably that relationships between more than two people can cause complications."

It was possible that Katarina might later decide to be happy with both Gerald and Keith, but that was a landmine that Leon was very happy to run screaming away from. Duchess Claes would probably have him murdered just for voicing the possibility, and the politics would be almost as bad as Julius' gaffe.

"If we could have a couple of volunteers to help Lord Claes take our guest of honour back to her rooms?" Leon asked brightly.

"I can carry her!" exclaimed Keith.

"Doors," the other boy said simply. "And someone to carry a bag of leftovers. You know she'd hate to see food wasted if we're wrapping up the party now."

"That might be best," Nicol confirmed. "Thank you, Lord Bartford. Sophia, if you would set some food aside for Katarina, I'll escort you, Keith. For security, if you prefer."

The flaxen-haired young earth mage yielded the point, lifting his sister into a princess carry. Nicol opened the door for them and they left, Sophia scurrying after them with two napkins loaded with treats.

"I believe I will also withdraw for the evening," Hertrude declared. "Perhaps I may follow Lady Claes' example and take a little of the food along, rather than bother the servants for any supper tonight."

"I'll join you, if you don't mind," Angelica offered - implicitly taking over as the princess' escort for the evening. "What would you like to take?"

Leon gave the blonde a grateful look as she joined Hertrude in distracting everyone with a debate over what to take. After having to calm down both Gerald and Keith, he was a little on edge to also have to deal with Hertrude's sometimes waspish humour. Several other students - particularly those not on the council - were eager to empty a few plates 'for the road'. He wondered how many of them realised that the plates they were most eagerly working on were those whose contents had been provided by Olivia Campbell.

"My goodness, Lord Bartford." Mary Fou Hunt waved her fan idly as she approached him. "I didn't realise that you were so wise in the ways of love."

"That's your loss," Clarice Fia Atlee observed somewhat sharply, taking Leon's arm. The two girls exchanged social snarls - baring their teeth at each other in a dominance display wasn't exactly the definition of a smile to Leon's mind, dictionary be damned.

Mary was the first to break the contest. "One cannot say that you don't place your lessons into practice yourself," she murmured. "And to beard such dragons, I see that you are already receiving the traditional rewards."

"Mistakes can happen in any relationship. How you deal with them is a mark of how much of a future it has though," Leon answered, evading the implied question of exactly how intimate he and Clarice were. "Can I help you, Lady Hunt?"

"As tempting as it is to expose myself and my own fiance to your razor sharp analysis, it's actually another matter I'd like to discuss," the young lady said. "Perhaps we might step into one of the other rooms?"

"I'm sure that could be arranged," Clarice agreed. "Shall we steal you away to the drawing room, Lady Mary?" The 'we' was slightly emphasised.

Leon didn't think Mary had any intentions that threatened Clarice, and since she nodded in agreement it seemed likely that he was right. After taking leave of her fiance, Alan, who was retiring with his brother to their dorm, she accompanied the two of them to the quieter room.

"The topic I wish to discuss is somewhat sensitive," Mary began. "Lord Bartford, I believe you are well aware of the recent rise in the number of marriages broken up over infidelity - specifically with the idea that elves are not as infertile with human ladies as was previously thought to be the case?"

"I've some familiarity with the concept," he told her drily.

"I thought you might - since I rather gather your own father's marriage was the first to raise that particular issue."

"The former Baroness Bartford admitted infidelity under rather more public circumstances than she had intended," Leon answered carefully. "And elected not to contest the divorce when the outcome was very clear. I cannot say that an elf was involved."

"But nor do you say it is not." Mary noted shrewdly. "And the rumoured devices that can determine if one has an elf in one's immediate ancestry are said to look very much like the device that the good Director Larna Smith of the Ministry of Magic's Magical Tools Department presented to you that very evening."

Damn, that was impressive information gathering. "I'm very sorry," Leon told her, bowing slightly. "But I am bound by high and potent powers not to discuss that matter."

"...some form of magic binding?" she asked curiously, causing Clarice to look alarmed.

"One does not lightly dismiss a warning from the father of the young lady that you're courting," he clarified.

Mary tsked in annoyance.

"My father?" Clarice muttered. "That… He never said anything."

"I would imagine he takes the request for discretion as seriously as I do, given the one who asked him to convey the desire for silence to me."

"A royal command?" the younger girl asked in a frustrated tone of voice.

"You might think that," Leon answered. "But I couldn't possibly comment."

"Botheration."

"Why exactly are you curious?" Clarice asked. "Is someone suggesting that your mother was…"

"Dallying?" The busty young woman shook her head. "Not my mother, no. She didn't have a contract servant. But the first Marchioness did have an elf in her service throughout her married years. My sister Madelaine's husband has his eye on father's title and if Lilia were found to be half elf…"

"...that sounds rather risky," the elder of the two noblewomen mused. "What if his own wife is also tarred by that brush."

"Neither he nor June and her husband have a chance at it while Lilia's the heiress," Mary pointed out. "In that respect they've little to lose but father's goodwill in pursuing the claim. And father is rarely willing to make the loss of his favour count for much these days."

She looked sad and Leon recalled that Marquis Hunt had been widowed twice, a wound that pained him to the point he'd scorned all pressures to provide his family with a third wife who might mother the four daughters from his first two wives.

"If I had one of those deuced detectors, I could settle the matter and they'd stop pestering me to take sides."

"If you had," Leon pointed out, "They might all turn out to be part elf. If that happened, you'd become heiress."

"I don't want to be a Marchioness," Mary huffed. "They're all evil."

I think that means you're qualified to join their ranks, Leon thought. From the twinkle in Clarice's eyes, she was thinking much the same.