An American Geek in a Halkeginian Court

by Inner Legions

An American commits cultural appropriation against a hapless Japanese youth. Typical, just typical. WARNING: CONTAINS RAW, GRAPHIC KIPLING. May only be suitable for mature readers.

29. Book Four: Machinating I

Machinating, Part I

Louise closed her eyes as the wind rushed past her. They needed to dive fast, so that when they dropped below the thick clouds of Albion's underside they would take but a moment to get below the Reconquista ships that were holding the siege, but she'd always hated diving like this. It felt like falling, and she wasn't even holding the reigns, and thus it reminded her of her childhood flights entirely too much. Especially when Eléonore had held the reigns.

But she wasn't a child anymore, so she wasn't going to scream. Even if the dive was far longer than anything her oldest sister had been allowed.

She might have whimpered a little when bright flashes lit up the evening, the light making it through eyelids that were tightly shut, and maybe she even buried her face into Jean-Jacques' back. But she didn't scream, and when the flashes stopped she was still alive, and they were still diving.

But after a long moment the dive started to level out, and Louise pulled back from her fiancée, wrinkling her nose. He clearly hadn't bathed since that morning, and the stress of the day had lent his sweat a sourness that was quite off-putting. Not as bad as a commoner man's usual chamber pot reek, but still very unpleasant

It had to be the stress. Jean-Jacques hadn't smelled like that during the ride from the Academy to La Rochelle, after all. For that matter, Jason's sweat, after her familiar exercised, didn't smell like that. In fact the lingering traces of his scent, even after he washed up each night before bed, had her wishing they were back at the Charming Faerie Inn so that she could snuggle up next to him. It was a good thing that he'd thought of letting her hold his shirt while she slept, or she might have given in to that temptation.

Regardless, once they were at the palace she'd have to send Jean-Jacques to bathe so that he could resume courting her properly.

They finished leveling out, and the wind subsided as the dweomer of Aanval's saddle was invoked. She opened her eyes and looked up to see clouds covering the underside of Albion far above them, with Reconquista ships looking like very small toys against the deepening twilight of the clouds and the sky.

"Little rose? How are you doing back there?"

"I'm well," she replied shortly. Ugh. Why did he have to keep calling her 'little', like she was still a child? It wasn't as if Jean-Jacques was a walking mountain like her familiar: Compared to him, almost everyone was little. True, her fiancé was hardly short. He was almost as tall as her father, after all! But he was lean, lithe, and pale like a willow tree, the handsome epitome of a man comfortable both in battle and a royal court. He was not three or four times her size, as Jason seemed to be. The idea of Jean-Jacques picking her up effortlessly and setting her on his shoulders was a ludicrous one, so she wasn't little compared to him, Hel take it!

Calling her his little anything made it feel like he thought her nothing more than a child. Although he'd already apologized to her for another presumption earlier that day, even if she was still feeling put out about that. Still, she oughtn't be too demanding while they were still renewing their acquaintance, lest her fiancé come to regard her as a virago, so Louise softened her voice before she continued. "What were those flashes of light when we were diving? Was Reconquista attacking?"

Jean-Jacques chuckled. "No, little rose." Hel take it! "I cast Strobing Flare, so as to catch their attention and hopefully delay any effective attack until our dive was too deep for them to target us."

"Strobing Flare?" she repeated, then swallowed to pop her ears. "Mother says that's used for signals." Which, was rather like how she and Jason had first devised the way to use their familiar bond to signal each other. Of course, no one would wish to create signals for each letter to spell out messages: An enemy would inevitably puzzle out the signals and then be able to then read them all! At least until a new set of codes for each letter was devised, and-

No, it would all be too much work to bother with, without the certainty of privacy that their familiar bond permitted. Jason's rudimentary universal auxilia weren't as useful as a familiar's ought to be, and for all their practice what they did have wasn't quite as convenient as speech, but it had already proven useful to-

"It is, yes," her fiancé replied, breaking into her thoughts. "But the sudden light can spoil aim, and if they waste their time attempting to 'decipher' my 'message', so much the better." He paused, then: "And it will have shown them that we're neither King James nor Prince Wales, and therefore hardly worth pursuing."

"Oh." Louise frowned. "Do you think the plan of sending supplies to them will help?"

"It could," Jean-Jacques allowed. "It might even be best to send a few cargo ships immediately, to aid Albion straightway."

"That sounds . . . do you think Her Highness could arrange it?"

"Princess Henrietta?" came the amused reply. "Why would we ask her? Surely Queen Marianne would wish to come to the aid of her brother-in-law and her nephew."

"Yes, but-"

"It's true, she's stepped back from her rightful authority as the Lord of Water, but Her Majesty's still on the Regency Council." Jean-Jacques paused. "And, judging from the mood of the Council, it' be easier to persuade them to send aid than to bear the full expense of preparing Tristain for war."

"Would Reconquista give up, if King James and Prince Wales take back Albion?" Louise asked. "They keep coming back, after all."

"So long as they're focused on Albion, we need not worry about an invasion of Tristain," came the reply.

"But, what about the infiltrators?!" she demanded. Then, quickly: "Her Highness told me about them in a letter, how they were suborning tax collectors-"

Jean-Jacques turned around to glance at her, offering an indulgent smile. "You mean the recent scandal involving de Montferat? Yes, that was quite exciting, when he found himself exposed by Count Motte and his agents. But," he turned back around to take the reigns once more, "this tale of Reconquista in Bruxelles seems quite far-fetched, a way to deflect attention and perhaps even buy some measure of clemency."

"But-"

"Little rose, I led the Guard against their supposed cells, and we discovered nothing more than the hideaways of smugglers. It's obvious that de Montferat was planning on fleeing with his ill-gotten gains to Germania and purchasing a title there. That he was discovered just before he could put his plan into action was surely the blessing of Brimir."

There was a pause, then: "Although her Highness has been quite obstinate with the treasure recovered from him. The Regency Council has proposed several sound ideas for the employment of those funds, but Princess Henrietta wants to give them out as alms to the commoners of de Montferat's former bourg, instead of using them for the good of all the commoners of Tristain! And then employ the residue to raise an army out of the slums of Bruxelles!"

Louise winced, and was glad he wasn't able to see it. Yes, on the face of it, the nobility were better placed to use funds for the good of all, as Brimir had charged them too so long ago. But as Henrietta had been forced to admit, not all nobles upheld that sacred duty.

And while she'd never seen the account books of the Charming Faerie Inn, Scarron and Jessica had been all too serious when they'd spoken of going out of business. If her Highness hadn't promptly returned what de Montferat had seized the night the tip race had ended, the faeries that she'd gotten to know and mostly like (Elena being a prominent exception, with Nicole now close behind) would now be out of work, and possibly out on the streets, having to beg or even whore themselves out to survive!

The Purse was under the authority of the Crown, and currently that meant the Regency Council. Henrietta should have handed over de Montferat's stolen gold, no matter how she disagreed with the Council on the disposition of said gold. Equally clearly, she had not.

Under the circumstances, Louise felt more than a little sympathy for her Highness. Even if it was a rebellion against lawful authority.

But perhaps she could use this as an opportunity to influence the Regency Council in favor of the plans that she, Henrietta, and Jason had come up with?

"Wouldn't it be good to clear out the slums?" she said, trying to sound as diffident as possible. "I've heard that the bravos infesting them cause no little trouble."

Jean-Jacques grunted. "Slum rats are an annoyance, nothing more. Still, if it keeps her Highness occupied and out of trouble, I suppose she could do worse than play with toy soldiers."

Another wince. Henrietta clearly hadn't been exaggerating when complaining about how dismissive the Regency Council was. Hopefully Jason's written-out excerpts of soldier training would prove their worth.

(As for the cadet and courtiers, well, Mother and Father already knew how to turn recruits into soldiers. Brimir willing, they'd do just as well with the young nobles.)

Her fiancé turned his head once more to offer another cool smile. "I'm about to Empower the windstone harness, little rose. Are you ready for it?"

Another surge of annoyance swelled up at the endearment, but Louise bit her tongue and only nodded. Part of her flight training as a child had included using windstone harnesses, in case the Vallière lands were overcome and they had to out-fly pursuers. The trick of it was to relax as much as possible, and not permit the turbulence to make her sick.

But it had been years since she'd last done it, and as their flight grew rougher she was grateful to be strapped in, and not need to cling to Jean-Jacques for support. (He truly did need to bathe!)

And while he was at it, he needed to stop suppressing his expressions around her. She'd been trained at controlling her expressions like any noble, which meant she knew how to spot it when someone was doing it to her. And the man she was going to marry should not be treating her like someone he needed to hide his thoughts from!

Brimir, at least when Jason's face went blank, it just meant that he was thinking his way through something. And if he did that a lot it was just because he was from a far away land and the customs of civilized people were strange and new to him. Void Above, the way he behaved it was as if he hadn't ever heard of comportment, and had so far got through life on the disarming friendliness that he seemed to want to show everyone, no matter how common- or noble-born they might be!

(He was even willing to still be friendly with Zerbst, Hel take it! At least Dame Tabitha had been around to chaperone when the oversized redheaded cow had used that forsaken Germanian game as an obvious ploy to once again try to seduce Jason away from his rightful place.)

But the question of Jason's 'rightful' place made Louise feel uneasy, as she hunkered down in her seat, Jean-Jacques' back filling her vision. So she deliberately relaxed, thinking of nothing until she'd found the rhythm of the flight, and her mind could once more wander.

She'd known, during First Form, that despite her abysmal evaluations she'd still be able to advance to Second Form as long as she succeeded in summoning her familiar. But if she failed?

If she'd failed to summon a familiar, then without being able to cast so much as a cantrip she'd have been declared inexprimé, and expelled in shame. And then the best she could hope for would be that Jean-Jacques would marry her regardless, and that some of her children might prove to have strong magic, even though Brimir had looked upon her with disfavor. As long as her husband didn't father any bastards with stronger magic, and thus have reason to set her aside . . .

Louise shook her head. None of that was going to happen, now. She had her familiar, and she was making faster progress with her cantrips than any of her peers had back in First Form. And never mind that First Form had covered far more in the way of theory, and thus set aside much less time for practicing spells. Or that her oddly large reserves of vis had permitted her to practice every spare moment of the day, alongside having more time to practice. She was not inexprimé, and as long as she had Ignite trained to Mr. Colbert's satisfaction by the time classes resumed after summer, no one would dispute that.

Except Jean-Jacques had disputed it, by hinting that it would be best if they married quickly. Even if he'd tried to soften it with the prospect of studying with Henrietta, it was obvious what he meant. And if it hadn't been so absurd to suggest that a powerful Triangle of Water study with a struggling Dot of Fire, she might have believed those softer words. Brimir, how she would have liked to believe him!

Marriage was supposed to be a time of joy, two souls uniting together under the blessing of Brimir, but in her nightmares the prospect had been one of woe, with her family looking upon the proceedings with shame, and Jean-Jacques staring at his bride with disappointment and dismay. Or worse, disgust and revulsion! And so she'd counted on the Springtime Summoning to quiet her fears, to prove that she not to be pitied or mocked-

And then her familiar had been Jason, so Louise had been soundly mocked anyway. But she'd also begun making progress on her cantrips, in no small part due to his guesses, and so she'd been able to put the thought of marriage out of her head almost entirely.

And as much as they'd needed Jean-Jacques to keep them safe on this journey, why did her fiancé have to reenter her life now, for Brimir's sake?! She should have had months or even years to train Jason in comportment, to accustom him to how he would be expected to behave around nobility, before introducing the two men to each other.

(And if the thought of introducing her familiar to her parents was even more daunting, then at least they would have some reason to be grateful to her familiar, for proving that she was a mage after all.)

Sadly, it hadn't helped that Jason had been introduced to Princess Henrietta as he had. The princess had been amused by him, and had chosen to be tolerant of his scandalously casual friendliness. And then, when they'd met in Bruxelles, she'd even decided he was worth listening to, granting him informal status as a councilor!

Of course it was Her Highness's right to condescend to treat any of her subjects as courteously as she pleased, but it meant that Jason had been given the entirely wrong impression of how he was supposed to behave around right-thinking nobles! And so once he'd gotten over the obvious surprise of meeting Jean-Jacques, he'd started his routine of asking questions and thinking about what it all meant, and that had been exactly the wrong thing to do.

Just like it would have been exactly the wrong thing to do around Mother or Father. Or nearly any landed noble, conscious of their dignity. Only royalty could be so confident in their status to be willing to suffer such impertinence. And only the truly desperate, as she'd been for so long, would be willing to grasp at such a fragile and unlikely wand, offered by such humble hands.

(Maybe she should try to visit Wales again, once he had Reconquista on the run? Perhaps his Royal father's Fool could take Jason in hand, and teach him how to be amusing in how he defied the behavior expected of commoners.)

But it was growing clear that Louise didn't have the years she ought to have been granted, to teach her familiar proper deportment. Which meant she needed to convince Jean-Jacques and her parents that Jason wasn't what they would have expected of a mere commoner, and that he deserved the respect that his wit was due.

If only they'd had time to discover more of his auxilia! He was a familiar, Mr. Colbert had proven that, but he'd remained as powerless as the day he'd been summoned, and they hadn't been able to find anything on the auxilia a human might express. Perhaps she needed to search for the auxilia that monkeys were known for?

Or perhaps Louise just needed to ask Henrietta to come up with an excuse to recognize Jason as a Chevalier. If it was merely the bottom rung of the nobility, one that even commoners could aspire to, it was still a title of nobility. With that, and the recognition that the Vallières were his patrons, he'd be able to get away with far more in terms of insolence.

But at the moment there was no excuse that Her Highness could use to elevate him, not without their recent activities coming under more scrutiny than they could afford. Although once she delivered her report, perhaps they could contrive some more public errand, one that would give Jason the opportunity to show his quality?

He did have quality, she knew he did, he wouldn't have charged de Montferat if he were a coward, no matter what Jean-Jacques thought of him after fleeing the handful of bandits at the dock. Jason just needed weapons that he knew, and hadn't he been working on that with Mr. Colbert? That pistol that had come apart like a puzzle?

It was something to think on, anyway. But maybe not where Jean-Jacques could hear. Her fiancé already disliked her having a 'secretary-tutor', and if he heard her plotting to elevate Jason to the ranks of the nobility, however lowly? well, it would be all too easy for him to assume that she was trying to elevate a lover.

Perhaps she should go ahead and let him know that Jason was her familiar, and thus no threat to their eventual wedding, some two or three years distant? It seemed the perfect plan, except that somehow she was reluctant to open her mouth and say it.

Well, she could always say it later. There was still time, after all. Time enough for both Jean-Jacques and her parents to learn to appreciate the value both of Jason's cleverness and his odd point of view. Time for Jean-Jacques to become comfortable with her, to let down the mask when they were together, to stop treating her as the little girl she'd been when they'd first met.

And time enough to find a woman who was right for Jason, because obviously she and her familiar were going to have to stop play-acting the first tentative steps of la danse d'amour, as the Gallians put it.

Louise frowned, her gut twisting with the thought. Clearly none of the women who'd shown interest in him were in that category, if the thought of him with any of them disturbed her so. None of the fairies would do, of course. The way they flirted, how could she be sure any of them were sincere? And Jessica was a dirty-handed cheating conniving underhanded cow of a commoner who didn't play fair!

Even Siesta-

Her gut twisted again. No, the maid wouldn't do either. Her behavior wasn't nearly as unsuitable as her cousin's, but Jessica was still her cousin, and that family connection was unacceptable. Especially if the head faerie prevailed on the maid to borrow Jason. Things like that happened far too often in the books that she liked to read.

Truly, when Louise considered it, none of the commoners were worthy of him. Besides, wasn't she going to help him become a Chevalier, so that his quality became more evident to all the other nobles? And wouldn't he be displaying magic eventually?

Clearly, Jason needed a noble wife.

. . .

Not Zerbst.

It would have to be someone gentle and loving, who wouldn't take advantage of him, who would appreciate his humor and value his wit-

Louise frowned. Perhaps she should have spent more time seeking to make friends during First Form, as she would have if her magic had ever cooperated with her. But she hadn't, and so she didn't know any of her fellow students well enough to know if they were like that. The one person she could count on to be loving, no matter the circumstances, was her older sister Cattleya.

Which was absurd, of course! A Vallière marrying a commoner, even one raised to be a Chevalier? The shock and scandal would be tremendous.

Except . . . how long had it been since Cattleya had received an offer of marriage? Her engagement had been broken off after she took ill and no medico or potion could cure her, or work more than temporary relief. It was unlikely that she'd ever survive having a child. (At least not without nigh-ruinous levels of care, that exceeded what was already being spent to preserve her life and what they could of her health.) Who would complain about Jason marrying a noblewoman that no one else wanted?

Her gut still didn't like it, but didn't her sister deserve someone who would love her and treat her gently? Someone who knew how to hold her and support her when it seemed like all the weight of the world stood against her? Someone who was just as nice to snuggle against while sleeping as Cattleya herself was?

Louise closed her eyes, trying to imagine it. Her sister and her familiar, lying side by side. Both of them unclothed, Jason turning to claim his husbandly rights-

No, no, that wasn't good. As her gut was making abundantly clear. Cattleya was too fragile to do that. Maybe a few times so that they could have one child to be their heir and of course their family would ensure the extra expense during the pregnancy, as difficult as it would be. But after that? No, her familiar wouldn't want his wife to suffer.

In her mind's eye, Cattleya was now clothed in her usual nighttime chemise, and Jason's outlandish nightclothes appeared on him, and the churning in Louise's gut subsided. Yes, that would be much better. She wouldn't need to worry about them at all.

They would each have their own pillows, of course. But that would mean a little bit of space between them, wouldn't it? So when Louise visited – and of course there would be frequent visits – wouldn't that be enough space for someone to slip right between them? And receive a pair of kisses to the top of her head, just before the warmth of their love lulled her to sleep?

Just the thought of it almost made her feel drowsy.

Although Jean-Jacques might not like the idea.

But, hadn't Jason said something about immoderate desires, back in Bruxelles? So wasn't it her sisterly duty to protect Cattleya, if it seemed like her husband's lust was overwhelming his sensibilities? Yes, she would have to schedule very frequent visits, just to make sure that her familiar was behaving. Kisses were nice, if some of her recent dreams were right kisses could be very nice, but there was no reason to him to go any further than that with his wife, at least once they had a child to raise.

Of course it was just a fancy, for now. But she slept so well, whenever she cuddled with Cattleya or Jason. And the thought of lying there, her head nestled on her sister's bosom, caught between the two of them-

Louise had never before fallen asleep, when flying on a mount with a windstone harness. But that evening, somehow, she managed it.

---

Jason had been on roller-coasters before, so he thought he knew what riding a dragon might be like.

Except Sylphid dropped so quickly that it wasn't even free-fall: For a few moments, gravity itself seemed to reverse, and it felt like he was being pulled up. She was somehow diving and accelerating faster than mere gravity could account for.

If he'd been able to think, during those moments, it might have gone something like: Well, of course. She's built too heavy to fly according to strict laws of aerodynamics, so she's got to be using magic to fly anyway. Why not be able to magically add thrust to a dive? It'd be stranger if she couldn't.

As opposed to: AAAAAAHHHHHHH!

The wind tore at him, bringing tears to his eyes as they dove, the Reconquista ships flashing past in a split second.

Several terrifying seconds later, Tabitha finally pulled her familiar up, and Jason was able to wipe the tears from his eyes and look around. The ocean below was much closer now, only a few hundred feet or so.

The tiny azuretop looked up at the island and now-tiny ships far above for one considering moment, then gave a sharp nod and looked back to him.

"Tied in?" she asked.

"Doubt I'd have stayed on if I wasn't," he replied, not quite laughing as he took in a few shuddering breaths. But it obviously wouldn't hurt to recheck, so he went over the straps holding him, tightening a few that were maybe a bit loose, and then did the same for Wales, while Tabitha checked Kirche, still in a drunken stupor.

"Ready?"

At his nod, she Empowered the windstone harness, then leaned forward and whispered to Sylphid.

The dragon wriggled a bit, as if getting ready to pounce, and then they shot off. Faster than before, if that was even possible, flashing over the ocean below, the air tearing at them like a hurricane, he had to close his eyes-

Then the air dropped to a much more mild breeze. Jason opened his eyes, wondering why they'd stopped, but they were still speeding over the ocean.

Right. A nobilum for pilots, to keep the airflow manageable. Our barnstormers used goggles, right? Guess it's better to have something that protects everyone, especially if you've got passengers.

Passengers. Huh. The air was rushing past us faster than we ever felt it, waving our arm out the car on the freeway as a kid. So we're going at least 80 MPH, and probably well over a hundred. And we're flying.

We need to get our own flying mount, somehow. Forget motorcycles, you wanna get a girl revved up just take her out for a ride right above the treeline.

But how? Dammit, we're in a fantasy world, where are the loot drops?

Never mind, we'll look into it once we figure out how to get a title and make money. Then we take Louise-

His thoughts jolted to a halt. Louise. Who was going to the Palace with her fiancé. Who still needed to 'confirm' the relationship, but-

She hasn't said anything about second thoughts on that. No, she's expecting us to accommodate ourself to him. Dammit.

Fine. We take whatever girl we end up with on flights when we want to show her a good time.

Dammit to hell.

Jason shook his head, then looked out to the horizon, determined not to follow that train of thought and sour his mood further.

Then one of the stones in the windstone harness twinkled, and it suddenly felt like they'd gone over a bump in a road. And as if that was a signal for the rest of the harness, their speed picked up, and they began shaking, a steady steam of tiny jolts.

It wasn't too bad at first, rather like riding a car with bad suspension over a dirt road. But then that nonexistent road started to have pebbles, and then rocks, and then increasingly larger rocks.

Kirche, lucky girl, was still unconscious, and of course Prince Wales was in his magical suspended animation And Tabitha seemed to be fine, swaying with every no-longer-tiny jolt but still in control as pilot.

Which left Jason as the only one starting to feel carsick.

He did his best to calm his stomach, breathing slowly and deeply, and tried to loosen up the same way that the tiny azuretop sitting in front of him had managed. And maybe it helped, a little.

But not enough, and the motion sickness continued to build up, until finally he had to scramble to loosen his harness so that he could lean to the side and throw up without hitting any of the passengers.

The feast from that afternoon came back up as an unrecognizable mush – some abstract part of him noting that he couldn't even remember what they'd eaten, he'd been so busy paying attention to the political talk that had been going on at the table – and most of it managed to hit the air and fall away to the ocean below.

He was going to have to offer to help clean Sylphid off, when the flight was over.

But aside from the sour taste of stomach acid now in his mouth, he was starting to feel better. Except then they 'hit' an especially large 'bump' in the 'road', and his stomach rebelled again, and Jason found himself once more making an offering to the porcelain gods.

And it didn't matter that he couldn't remember what he'd eaten, because it clearly remembered him, and there was a lot of it coming back up. Even some of the fish from lunch was revisiting him, going by the flavor of the unwanted encore that his tongue and nose were being treated to.

Then Sylphid trilled in distress. Tabitha looked over her shoulder at him, then pulled her familiar to a halt.

Which meant that the rest of the vomit simply fell past the side of the dragon down to the ocean below.

Finally Jason felt he was done, and spat out what he could before sitting back up. "Sylphid can hover? I didn't know that."

"Yes. Not long."

"Right. Sorry about that." He shook his head. "I think that was everything."

Tabitha wrinkled her nose – no doubt his breath utterly reeked just then – and raised her wand. "Mouth," she told him. "Open."

"Uh-"

Apparently that was open enough, for a small blast of air shoved its way past his teeth and swirled around in his mouth for a moment before zipping out and speeding out and over the ocean, carrying no small amount of vomit-tainted saliva with it.

It left Jason's mouth feeling quite dry, but when after a few moments his salivary glands began replacing what had been removed, the taste and smell of vomit was nearly gone.

"Thank you," he offered gratefully. "Air version of Scour?"

The tiny girl nodded. "Better, for breath," she stated, before proceeding to cast Scour on Sylphid, where he'd managed to splatter the dragon.

He glanced over at Kirche and Wales, once again feeling a bit envious of their unconsciousness. "Well, at least I shouldn't have much more to bring up, but the rest of this flight isn't going to be any fun at all."

Tabitha didn't respond until she finished cleaning her familiar. Then she turned in the direction of Halkagenia, looking out over the water for a long moment.

Finally she turned back to him. "Haste. Needed?"

Jason blinked. Well- "It'd be good to be back at the Academy by dawn, if not before."

Her eyes narrowed, but then she looked up at the stars. "Can be done."

So saying, Tabitha did something to the windstone harness, and the stones embedded in it dulled and stopped twinkling. "Smooth flight."

She leaned forward and whispered to Sylphid, who shot forward once again. But this time there was no jolting, and other than the bit of breeze that the magical flight screen let through, once they were up to full speed there was no sensation of motion. "Sick, no more."

"Once again, thank you."

Her back to him, facing forward, Tabitha nodded.

Then: "The Academy? Not Bruxelles? The Palace?"

Jason blinked again. "The palace? What do you mean?"

Tabitha turned to give him an unamused look. "Your master. A message, to Prince Wales. A Vallière, as courier? From Tristain's Crown. The princess."

"Uh-" Didn't Henrietta say something about trusting Louise the way her mother trusts Louise's mother? Guess that's known, in some circles. "Obviously I can't talk about whatever it was."

The azuretop rolled her eyes. "Not the message. His body!"

She jabbed with her wand towards Prince Wales, limp and apparently dead, tied to the saddle harness like so much meat from a hunt. "To the Palace. Or a cathedral. Laid to rest, in honor."

Oh.

Yeah, that'd be the logical thing to do with the body of a dead prince, giving him a chance to lie in state so that Tristain, at least, could mourn the death of the Tudor line. It'd be strange if we didn't do that.

So have him lie in state for . . . how long would it be? Has to be more than a day, important people would want time to gather and show their respect. A week? Longer?

That could be convenient. Once Kirche wakes up and gets over her hangover, she can go right back to cock-blocking Wardes for us. Done it twice already, after all, and we didn't have to do a thing to aim her. Comes naturally, apparently.

Give her enough time, she might even manage to seduce him. And she doesn't do subtlety, so how long after that before she'd be rubbing it into Louise's face?

Which thought gave Jason a twinge of guilt. Wishing the pain of betrayal on Louise was not exactly the act of a friend. But how long before Wardes demands that she dismiss us? How big is the explosion going to be when he finds out that we're her familiar, and that we've been sleeping in the same room as her since we were summoned?

Let's face it, if we're not going to take Captain Tiago's advice and run, we need to figure out how we're going to survive our little mistress's marriage to a man who'll have good reason to want us dead.

So, the palace and a royal funeral? Let everyone show up?

Everyone including Louise's parents?

That brought a wince to his face. Great! More people who might want us dead. Or at least Louise has seemed pretty nervous about us meeting them.

And we'd have to hope that a master of Air doesn't happen by and notice the charade. And then, once Wales is buried, we'll have to break into his tomb and steal his body to revive him. If they don't have some embalming process that would kill him outright. When did we go from simple burials that people who were only mostly dead could survive, to modern embalming that they definitely can't?

Plus we'd never be allowed to keep custody of the chest and all the Relics inside.

Dammit.

"Well?" Tabitha asked, apparently a little tired of waiting for his reply.

"No," he told her. "Not Bruxelles. We definitely need to go to the Academy." So much for putting Wardes and Kirche together again. But it would have been nice if King James had given us a plan for what to do with Wales' body. We're gonna have to improvise.

The azuretop frowned, looking puzzled. Then her eyes slid to the Chest of State, and widened. "Relics of Albion? To the Headmaster? Safekeeping?"

Uh, actually, that sounds like it might work. Doesn't the Academy have a vault, and haven't they boosted security since Fouquet? Except- "Relics?"

She gave him another unamused look.

Jason grinned. "Sorry, Tabitha, I can neither confirm nor deny having been given custody of the Relics of Air to keep them out of Reconquista's hands. But I do need to go see Headmaster Os- Ozzy? Os-something-"

"Headmaster Osmond." Her eyes glinted as they looked over the chest, then over Prince Wales . . . and then her gazed fixed for a long moment on the ring on his hand.

Oh, shit, she's Air, does she know enough about the Relics of Air to figure out the whole game? He froze, waiting for her reaction.

Finally, Tabitha's eyes met his own once more. They were glowing, and she looked quite pleased. "Silent, I will be."

What?

"Reconquista, shall not learn. By my lips, nor Sylphid."

"Kyuuu!" the dragon trilled, and Jason still wasn't sure how he knew, but that was definitely agreement in her tones.

"Thank you," he offered, feeling quite relieved. "Did you, er, lose something to them?"

An expressionless mask slammed over Tabitha's features. She gave him a short nod, then turned back to look ahead to the horizon.

"Will fly, till dawn. Sleep, if you can."

The taste of his own vomit was nearly gone, and the ride was no longer bumpy. Both due to her efforts. Time to take her advice and get what rest he could.

It took a while nonetheless – it had been a stressful day, and a glass of wine to sooth his nerves would have been welcome – but eventually Jason did manage to drop off into a fitful slumber.

And then, later, it somehow felt like Louise was there with him, and he was able to sink into a much deeper and more welcome rest.

---

"Little rose?"

Grrr. "Not little," she mumbled, still mostly asleep.

The response was an indulgent chuckle. "I suppose you are beginning to grow up," her fiancé replied. Then he cast Levitate, and she felt herself rising into the air.

Her first impulse was to struggle – Levitate would often fail if the load it supported was uncooperative – but Jean-Jacques was only being helpful. Besides, he was a Square of Air, and she was much lighter than an ungainly cow like Zerbst, so she might not be able to break the spell. And that would be mortifying.

No, better to let him carry her, even if she was perfectly capable of walking on her own two feet.

"Where's Her Highness?" she asked, yawning. They had to be at the palace, so Louise needed to report.

"At this hour?" her fiancé responded. "Quite fast asleep, I'm sure. As you were, before we landed. Don't worry, little rose, you'll see her in the morning."

Louise did her best not to scowl. Being carried like a child and being called that stupid pet name? Insufferable! But if she scowled it would be taken as a pout, and she'd only seem even more a child to Jean-Jacques, Hel take it.

So she waited until she was put in bed, tucked in, and left alone to sleep before grabbing her pillow and scowling into it.

She hadn't been put to bed like a child in years! Why couldn't she trust him to treat her seriously when she was upset? Jason thought her upset moods were something to sooth away, at least when he wasn't laughing at her, like the night in the grass.

She flushed, then buried her head even further into her pillow. Because he'd obviously put her to bed after she'd fallen asleep, but it hadn't been anything like being put to bed by her father when she was younger.

Nothing about that night had been like when she was younger. She and Henrietta – and sometimes Wales – had needed to escape the Vallière maids. Not that she blamed them, the mischief that her Highness led the three of them in could be counted on to drive their mothers to distractions, but it meant that she'd never had maids catcalling the three of them as they ran off on one of their misadventures.

Stupid commoners. Always thinking of that. And then Jason had made his jest about his maid chaperoning the two of them! Stupid commoners, thinking stupid thoughts about what nobles did, and not caring at all about the sacred bond between a mage and her familiar!

And of course he hadn't meant anything by it: Jason had just been trying to make a jest of the situation. He'd understood that things had maybe been a little different back at the Charming Faerie Inn, so he hadn't done anything to shame either of them since returning.

But when she'd drifted off, cuddling against him and listening to the story, the catcalling and his jesting had combined in the most unfortunate manner in her dreams.

The grass that they were lying on had become thicker, deeper, softer, as comfortable as any bed. Siesta had vanished, sent away at some point, not even the rose scent she'd worn lingering. Only the mingled scents of Jason, his preferred mint, and the crushed grass had remained.

Their chaperone was gone, and the thought made her keep her eyes closed, but it had also brought a gleeful impulse to her, suppressing all sense and propriety. So Louise had called her familiar's name, low and inviting. And there he'd been, and when she'd reached out she had felt that he was in his nightclothes. The spark of glee flared, she turned towards him, his arms went around her, the world seemed to pause-

And then he'd kissed her, softly and almost shyly.

That wouldn't do. Not after Jessica had been so free with her lips. So Louise had done the best she could to imitate the head faerie, opening her mouth and pressing forward maybe just a little.

And Jason had responded, his hands pressing her against him, his mouth opening as well in response to hers – was that his tongue? You could use your tongue in a kiss?! – and then she'd been tasting his lips and he'd been tasting hers and Void Above had she suddenly understand why it looked like the head faerie had been almost eating his mouth.

It had been wet and messy and Siesta's books hadn't been lying at all.

She hadn't wanted it to end, but finally the kiss had wound down, and then it was time for whatever came next. But she'd felt so overwhelmed that she hadn't known what to do, so Louise had buried her face in his shoulder, where his neck met the side of his jaw, and waited to find out what he would do next.

Perhaps, she'd hazily speculated, Jason would move his hand lower down her back to pat her bottom. The customers at the Charming Faerie Inn had loved to pat and pinch her there, even though it wasn't swollen up like some of the other faeries. Or her familiar's maid. Or Zerbst. Brimir, more than one faerie had even expressed envy that her bottom had such a nice shape, even if it wasn't bloated. Envy that her costume didn't need to squeeze anywhere to make her bottom appealing to customers.

But the next thing she'd remembered was waking up in her bed the following morning. The smell of grass and mint and Jason had still been there, but that was because she was clutching his shirt. He wasn't in bed with her, the bedroom didn't smell funny like it had their last morning at the Inn, after she'd woken from a mortifying dream where her clothes had fallen off and someone was kissing her, light nips that weren't just on her lips or even her head, that had felt better and better but she wasn't ready to be married yet-!

And once again the kissing had all been a dream. And then there'd been the stab of disappointment, an internal wail that it had seemed so real! That she had to have slept in Jason's arms. That he needed to be back in bed with her, so that she could wake up in his arms properly.

But that would mean that'd she'd nearly been led astray. Or even that she'd been trying to lead him astray, and she would never command him to disobedience!

Except that in the dream she'd been hoping for exactly that, and had even been gleeful when it seemed she'd succeeded.

If anything, it had been worse than that last morning at the Inn, if not so immediately mortifying (or messy in her chemise), and it had distracted her from her schoolwork until she'd sat there and thought about it. Fortunately, Jason had run late working with Mr. Colbert, so she'd had the time.

Affection for her familiar was all well and good – some of the other Second Form were downright saccharine in how they interacted with their new familiars – but Louise had come to the unfortunate conclusion that she'd become too affectionate with her familiar when they were by themselves. Or at least in the wrong way. The Gallians were infamous for their elaborate webs of intrigue and affairs, and when her parents were young the phrase la danse d'amour had become popular among courtiers with nothing better to do with their lives but sneak around with each others' wives.

Or that was how her father had put it, more than once. Hopefully he and her mother would stamp that out among the rising generation of courtiers once they formed the Undine Knights. But if they knew she was using her familiar to play at the first steps of that wicked Gallian custom-

Louise flushed again into her pillow, an echo of how she'd blushed crimson once she'd thought it through. Affection for a familiar didn't extend to that, no matter what Siesta's books might have to say on the subject. And no matter that a not-so-small part of her had protested that dreams didn't count, that she hadn't done anything wrong, and anyway hadn't it felt nice? They didn't have to do anything dishonorable, and she wouldn't be the first mage to snuggle up with her familiar at night, either.

But Jason was human, or close enough that it made no difference, and that made all the difference in the world. And if she'd been disappointed to find out it had all been a dream, then some wicked part of her was longing to recreate it, and this time not have it end before . . . whatever came next.

So she'd been determined to protect her honor and avoid shame. Which meant sleeping badly, and feeling grumpy. And then furious when Jason had climbed into bed with her again, because she had slept well that night but it couldn't continue and how dare he be there as if they could keep going without shaming themselves and-!

At least he'd had the idea of her holding his shirt while she slept. There wasn't any risk of dishonoring herself with a shirt, after all.

And if a shirt didn't have shoulders to bury her face in, it also didn't have a mouth for her to be tempted to kiss.

Brimir, Jason was all the way over in Albion and she was upsetting herself because she couldn't kiss him.

She shouldn't need to, either. Wasn't Jean-Jacques close by? Kissing him wouldn't dishonor her. And he was several years older than her, so surely he would know about that mouth-devouring faerie kiss.

Louise frowned. Something about the idea of kissing her fiancé felt troubling. It couldn't be that she'd rather be kissing Jason, of course. She'd gotten used to his face quickly enough, and as he'd shed fat it had become a bit leaner and certainly that was an improvement, but Jean-Jacques was both handsomer and far more fashionable. In figure and deportment. It would take years of training for a barbarian commoner to aspire to look and behave acceptably at Court, especially during the Season.

And it couldn't be that it'd mean sleeping next to him. She liked sleeping next to people who cared for her. And if he took liberties after kissing her then that wouldn't be shameful at all, betrothed couples had more leeway for that sort of thing-

But it still felt wrong. Well, if she was going to behave honorably then she might as well behave honorably with her fiancé, too.

Besides, after flying her to the palace he probably hadn't bothered bathing before seeking his own bed, so he still stunk. Jean-Jacques needed to bathe before she'd do anything like kiss him.

Yes, that felt better. Cleanliness and honor.

And Jason would have certainly found time to bathe before he went to bed, as obsessed with staying clean as he was.

Could he possibly be still awake? He'd napped after breakfast, after all, and surely he'd help where he could to prepare for the expected battle in the morning.

[Jason]

But there was no reply, so he had to be asleep. At least he wasn't at the Academy, in reach of those forsaken catcalling maids.

Of course, that meant he was in the same castle as Zerbst, with no one to protect him.

She growled into her pillow for a moment . . . but hadn't Zerbst gone off to join some drunken revelers? Doubtless she was in a stupor by now. Perhaps even in a pile of bodies stained with all sorts of wanton filth. And overgrown cow she might be, but Jason would never wallow with her in that pile. So he was safe.

And so was Louise, for no matter how momentarily tempting the thought of his shoulder was, the distance between Tristain and Albion was an insurmountable barrier even if she was inclined to give into that temptation.

Which she wasn't, of course. And even if there'd been room for him on Aanval's back, here in the Palace they would never dishonor each other.

But . . . if she pretended that one of her pillows was his chest and shoulder, no one had to know.

Nor did anyone have to know if Louise pretended so hard that it almost felt like he was there with her, the sense of his body and breath, the slow beat of his heart, all around her like a warm, comforting blanket.

She was asleep before she knew it.

---

"Louise? Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, if you don't wake up this instant I'm calling your mother to get you out of bed!"

She was tumbling out of the bed and onto her feet before the improbability of the threat registered. Then it was time to glare at a certain mischievous princess.

"Haven't you learned Awaken yet?"

Henrietta laughed. "A Fire cantrip? Even if I did, it wouldn't be nearly so diverting!"

Louise's glare wasn't going away any time soon. "You wouldn't think it was funny if she'd ever woken you like that."

"But I'm the princess, so of course she never would."

Her Highness was a dear friend, truly, and they'd had so much fun as children. But there were times when she was impossible, and it seemed like today was going to be one of those days.

"Now come! You didn't even have time to change into a chemise, so you're probably dying for a proper bath."

Or maybe not.

---

"You haven't asked me about the letter, yet," Louise pointed out, swirling hot water around her back with Flow.

Henrietta shrugged. "If it was a disaster, you'd have already said."

That was fair, and received a confirming nod.

"So you can tell me the details at breakfast! Besides, I have something to tell you myself."

"You do?" What could it be?

The princess leaned over until they were pressed together, and could whisper into each others' ears. "I needed to keep my mind off of Albion, so I've stayed busy with designing the wand," she uttered, too soft for anyone to overhear even if there'd been anyone in the room with them. "It's much closer to the optimum you predicted, now."

"Truly?" Louise perked up. Maybe it was annoying that she hadn't had time to work on the wand herself, but- "You've stayed with my design?" That was certainly flattering.

Her Highness nodded. "I could have tried other formulations, but if we want a design that hedge mages would be able to make themselves, I need to stick with what I can do with Mix." Then she shrugged. "It may take longer this way than if I were using stronger spells, but it wouldn't prove the design, would it?"

"No." Her design was being used to develop a new type of wand, one that would be considered the standard to aspire to for . . . for hedge-mages. Because no one else would need that much help with a cantrip, and Arise wasn't even considered important enough to focus on if one's affinity happened to interfere with Water spells.

It was enough to sigh over.

"What's wrong?"

"I designed a wand formulation that zero nobles will need," she admitted through gritted teeth. "Once again, I'm Louise the Zero."

"And it's not worth doing, since it well help commoners instead?" Henrietta drew back, now looking disappointed, and that wasn't fair!

"No, it's-!"

The princess leaned back in. "You know, Agnes still manages to slip me news from time to time. She says that those two street urchin faeries have been practicing every day, but they struggle to make ice. That they speak of how easily you did it, and how they're looking forward to having a wand formulated for the task. Was your effort worthless, then, because it was for their sake?"

Louise groaned. "You know it's not. But it's yet another thing that we can't speak of, because I'll be mocked for it if the other students learn I'm designing wands for hedge mages."

"Then perhaps they should be sent to work at a tavern," Henrietta rejoined, as tartly as a whisper could allow. "They could learn to eat without wands, and be nice to drunken louts trying to trifle with them!"

"Zerbst would probably enjoy that," she muttered in reply. "But they'd still have tools to eat, soon enough."

"Oh?"

"Jason's people have tiny ladles and pitchforks that they use to eat with. He convinced Mr. Colbert to make some for him. They seemed practical enough, so the idea should spread quickly."

"Tiny ladles?" Her Highness repeated. "For soups?"

"Or ice-cream." Which brought a reminder of the first time the spoons had been used, and why it was very good that her familiar wasn't at the Academy and subject to the blandishments of the maids.

"Oh, yes!" the princess breathed. "I've received a reply from Professor Colbert, he had several designs for bicycles that he was looking forward to testing, but I should send to him about the spoons, so that the faeries can have the design."

"Do they continue to merit your favor, then?" Not the happiest thought, especially if Jessica lobbied for Jason to return to Bruxelles to spend time at the Inn-

"Of course!" This was followed by an emphatic nod that was more felt than seen. "Scarron was able to find several families who were driven out of their shops and into the slums by de Montferat's thieving. I've returned what they lost, and most of them – or their heirs – have chosen to reestablish themselves in their old bourg. Let Reconquista try to sap their loyalty now!"

Oh. Was that what her fiancé had meant? "Jean-Jacques said something about distributing alms?"

Now it was Henrietta's turn to sigh. "That's what some on the Regency Council are calling it. I've tried to tell them otherwise, and I even had Count Motte's man speak to them on the subject, but I think he only bored them to sleep."

Louise wrinkled her nose. That round little toad of a man, trying to lecture? She wouldn't have wanted to listen to him, either. "Will there be enough left over to fund training the slum convicts?"

"Oh, yes. Have you read those training examples? I sent them to Agnes, and she asked around and came back with some ideas for implementing them without straining the Purse."

"No, I was busy trying to design a wand formulation for Mix. And the Academy wanted me to work through all the assignments that Madame Chevreuse gave on applied spellcasting." Another sigh. "I had to think about using magic in different ways, so I suppose it was good to do them, but I'd rather have spent that time working on Ignite."

"Are you having trouble with it?" Her Highness asked. "If you need to spend time on it today-"

"I'm getting better!" Louise quickly declared. "It's like how it is with the cantrips: I have to drill out the explosions, and I don't quite have the effect I ought, but I'll manage soon. It's just taking longer because it's a Dot, not a cantrip. But I have the feeling that once I have the trick of it, other Dots of Fire should be much easier to cast."

"That would be wonderful!" the princess gushed. Then she looked up to a window above. "But I think we need to finish our bathing, before they serve our breakfast and it grows cold."

"Surely they wouldn't do that!"

"Well, if I want it fresh from the kitchen and without having to wait, I need to tell them beforehand when I expect to eat," Henrietta replied. "I can't just snap my fingers and have my food appear direct from the Void. I'm a princess, after all, not a saint!"

Louise giggled, conceding the point. "I'm still learning Flow, and I haven't learned Dry yet. If you want us to finish quickly-?"

The wicked grin on her friend's face was not reassuring. "You trust me to clean you off, after last time?"

"That was years ago! Haven't you grown up since then?"

Her plaintive plea for sanity was met only by that same wicked grin, so all she could do was close her eyes, pinch her nose shut, and wait for the deluge.

---

Louise kept her head down, staring at her breakfast plate, keeping her mouth full and chewing slowly, while a Levitating brush worked at untangling her hair. Because she should have mentioned that Prince Wales had destroyed Henrietta's letter back in the bath, but the princess had waved it off until breakfast.

Which was now, and she could only delay things by eating and brushing her hair for so long.

It still made sense, and she knew that her friend would come around quickly enough. But Jean-Jacques was also there so they wouldn't be able to speak as frankly about the contents and he hadn't liked it when Jason had been the one to be there when she'd conferred with Wales-

"You know," Henrietta told her, breaking into her train of thought, "if you want to avoid talking about whatever went wrong, you should figure out some other delaying tactic. I've seen you do this too many times at breakfast with your parents not to recognize it."

Louise swallowed. "There wasn't time to brush my hair before bed, or before our bath," she mumbled, then quickly filled her mouth with another bite of quiche and resumed chewing.

The princess sighed. "How bad could it have been? If Reconquista intervened you'd have already warned me."

"More concerns regarding Reconquista, Your Highness?" Jean-Jacques frowned. "I assure you, we never encountered them in our journey."

"Which means it's time to confess. What happened, Louise Françoise?"

Brimir forsake it, she wasn't going to be able to put it off any longer. A swallow to clear her mouth, a quick sip of light wine to keep her throat wet, and then Louise set down her brush and Levitated over the sealed envelope containing the list that King James and Prince Wales had written out.

Henrietta's smile was bittersweet as she unsealed it with the Ring of Water, but then her expression became confused as she read the contents. "This is not what I was expecting-"

"I know," Louise interrupted, "but it would be good to present it to the Regency Council, wouldn't it? We could buy time to prepare for Reconquista and strengthen Tristain's relationship with Albion, and with hardly any cost to the Treasury."

"If they can break the Reconquista fleet as they claim, then certainly," Her Highness agreed. Then she looked up with narrow eyes. "But this wasn't why I sent you to Albion. What happened to the other message?"

"There was no other message, sealed or not," Jean-Jacques announced, in studiously neutral tones. "I of course looked over your luggage to ensure that nothing was left behind in Newcastle. Little rose?"

A flush was already rising under the princess's regard, and the statement from her Captain of the Guard was not helping.

"There wasn't one," Louise admitted, feeling smaller than she liked. This wasn't anywhere as bad as facing Eleonor when her oldest sister was in a chastising mood, but if her friend and her fiancé ended up disapproving of her choices . . . it was going to feel worse, somehow.

"Prince Wales had what you asked for, in safekeeping," she started.

"I'm glad my cousin kept it safe," Henrietta commented. "But even with the renewed hope he and His Majesty speak of, it's still too much a risk to let it remain there. Especially in light of recent events."

Which of course was a reference to the betrothal with Prince Atma, for all that it wasn't wise to admit to anyone that something existed that might be used to wreck the new alliance with Germania. Or, perhaps even worse, give the Germanian Emperor an excuse to demand concessions that the betrothal negotiations had avoided conceding.

Such were some of the pitfalls of marriage alliances, as every landed noble needed to know and pass on to their children. Henrietta had been taught them, as had Louise.

And so had Jean-Jacques, which was why the Princess didn't want to admit to what she'd sent for out loud. He was clearly one of the members of the Regency Council who doubted her fitness to act as his monarch, and those doubts did not need to be reinforced.

So Louise needed to be circumspect. "I know you were expecting it returned, but we decided that it was best to destroy it, and ensure that it could not fall into Reconquista hands."

Henrietta's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth-

But it was Jean-Jacques who replied first. "How could this token or missive that you refer to be lost to Reconquista, once it reached the palace? Little rose, if Reconquista had influence here I would know."

"But de Montferat-"

"I already told you, he was in league with smugglers and nothing else! Perhaps they had contacts with Reconquista, as part of their illicit network, but they're all fled now. And de Montferat's tale of tax collectors being 'suborned' has proven nothing more than that, a tale. I have questioned them myself, and their accounts show nothing more than the usual and expected tallies."

"I expect some of them were taking what they felt they could," the princess commented. "Murmurings over the most recent tax collections have been greatly reduced, from what I understand."

"You're still speaking with that commoner woman who used to guard you." Jean-Jacques sighed. "Your Highness, you must stop consorting with her. There are too many recent whispers of her proclivities."

"Shall I cease to associate with those I know are loyal to me?" came the dangerously mild response.

"But a Protestant!? They may be a reliable source of taxes, but they're hardly a step removed from the Easterling heathens!"

"Captain Wardes, I'm going to marry an Easterling heathen, for all that Prince Atma aped the necessary piety while in my presence. I assure you, Agnes is many steps removed from them."

His eyes flashed for a moment.

But then: "I stand corrected, Your Highness," Jean-Jacques told her, and bowed. "Nonetheless, regarding this errand, with its token that was to be returned but instead was destroyed? Little rose, you should not have sent me from your side, when you were conferring with Prince Wales. I could have given you a superior assessment of the risks involved."

Henrietta's eyes widened once more. "I, I confess, I hadn't thought of that when I asked you to safeguard Louise Françoise, Captain Wardes."

"Yes, she only permitted her secretary-tutor-"

The captain broke off as he caught Louise's wince before she could smother it.

"Little rose," he began dangerously, "was that commoner the one who persuaded you to cast aside the mission you were given?"

"It wasn't like that!" she protested, feeling a sudden sickness in her belly. "Jason knew that Reconquista still had influence in the palace, from what Her Highness told us-"

"'Jason knew'!" her fiancé hissed. "You put your trust in a foreign commoner, and think to justify your decision!?"

"I was the one who told them of Reconquista's remaining influence," the princess admitted, albeit reluctantly. "And shouldn't Louise trust Jason?"

"A 'secretary-tutor' with no magic of his own, claiming the necessary skill to teach a young mage?" Jean-Jacques sneered. "A likely story! And his absurd claims to know of the laws of the world, and of time itself! As if he'd been granted the secrets of the holy Void!"

"I have met the man, if only briefly, and he seemed knowledgeable enough," Henrietta pointed out, sending a questioning expression to Louise.

Who made sure her fiancé wasn't looking directly at her, then gave the princess a tiny head-shake. No, this was not the time to reveal Jason's status as a familiar.

"Any successful mountebank will seek to seem knowledgeable!" Another sneer. "How has your magic progressed under his tutelage, little rose? Surely you've Dots to boast of, by now!"

Louise felt herself crumpling. This was turning out to be worse than when Eleonore berated her!

But then Henrietta came to her rescue. "Enough, Captain Wardes. Grant us privacy, that I may inquire more closely into this matter."

Jean-Jacques took a deep breath, nose flaring, but nodded curtly. "By your command, Your Highness."

The scowl did not leave his face as he marched out of the room.

A swift casting of Discreet Room followed his departure, and then the princess gave her friend a very level look. "Was Jason the one who suggested destroying the letter?" she asked.

Louise nodded, not trusting herself to speak without breaking down entirely.

"I very much wanted it back," Henrietta said. "So I'm not happy about that. But do you think he was correct?"

A moment to gather herself. "I don't-"

Another pause, and then: "You'd have to tell me. Was the letter passionate? Or, or even salacious, like he guessed?"

The princess froze. "He . . . guessed."

"I didn't tell him about the lake!" Louise protested. "I wasn't there that last time, remember? So I don't know what happened, or if you . . . encountered anyone."

Her Highness sighed. "You knew what'd I'd planned, though. You're certain you didn't let it slip?"

"I weathered Mother's questioning without giving anything away, so I wasn't going to slip up around Jason." Again a pause, before, reluctantly: "But he saw that you aren't happy to marry Prince Atma, and then Prince Wales kissed the letter, and that let him reason it out."

"Oh." Henrietta sat back. "Brimir willing, no one else shall find themselves positioned to make such deductions. And it was in a cypher, but I suppose that if Reconquista acquired a copy, they might find it worth the effort to break it. Especially if they knew it was from me to him."

Louise winced. "Jason's guess was correct, wasn't it?"

She got a frown in reply. "Captain Wardes was also correct. A man who claims to know so much, in so many areas, and so glibly . . . but I think it may be the ice-cream that persuades me."

"The ice-cream?" That seemed an odd reason to place trust in anyone.

"That it can be made with rock salt, and the need for ice greatly reduced. Or that adding flavors before freezing it can yield such satisfying results. Jason treated those nugget of lore as common knowledge, to be casually spread rather than hoarded." Henrietta shook her head. "If he were the mountebank that Captain Wardes fears, surely he would have demanded a price for their revelation!"

She smiled ruefully. "He hasn't produced much in the way of proven marvels, after all. Not yet. Although your Mr. Colbert seems to have found him inspiring. But the ice-cream is something real. And as I said, Agnes has looked over his notes on training, and she thinks they are sound. Although she's still awaiting replies from some of her contacts."

The princess let out her breath in a deep sigh. "I'm still not happy. But your familiar's guess? He was not wrong."

Oh. Oh, Merciful Brimir. "Will that be a problem? When you wed?"

Henrietta shook her head. "We didn't take it that far. And even if we had, there are remedies."

Louise rolled her eyes. "I know. Eléonore even-"

She broke off and shook her head back. "As if I was going to take a lover, when I knew Jean-Jacques was waiting for me!"

"Yes, and speaking of which," the princess replied. "'Secretary-tutor'? You haven't told him about Jason?"

"Everyone either doesn't believe it, or mocks me for it!" Sigh. "He hasn't asked about my familiar. Perhaps he thinks I'm repeating First Form?"

It was Henrietta's turn to shake her head. "You can't keep it from him forever."

"I know. But now isn't a good time."

"Perhaps, but Captain Wardes' criticisms are only a step from demanding that you dismiss your 'secretary-tutor'." She frowned. "Would you like me to tell him? Give him a chance to calm down before you face him?"

Louise winced. "Would he calm down, or would he demand that I dispose of Jason and try for something more suitable, and with a known element?"

"Surely he wouldn't, unless he could make a case for your familiar being a malevolent spirit-"

Henrietta cut herself off, then closed her eyes. "And he is singularly unimpressed with the Church, like the most strident Protestant. An Inquisitor might well conclude precisely that, and then the decision would be out of your hands."

That was not something Louise had ever considered, and she paled. "You won't-!" she began, pleadingly.

"No, I won't," Her Highness assured her. "A malevolent spirit would seek to corrupt and destroy, and doesn't Jason wish to do the opposite?"

"That's true." A deep breath. "I will tell Jean-Jacques. But first I need to prove to him that my familiar is not a mountebank, and is a valuable counselor."

"Well, he doesn't trust my judgment, and it isn't safe to call on Count Motte as a witness to his character," Henrietta noted. "So perhaps you might wish to delay until Mr. Colbert begins to gather attention with his new machines, and can then share the honor with his partner.

"That aside, I'm sure I could have hid my letter somewhere. I wasn't planning to let anyone else read it, after all!"

"But I thought you hadn't uncovered Reconquista's influence, here!" Louise protested. "And maybe Jean-Jacques doesn't believe it, but we know they were spreading their influence."

"True," the princess conceded. "But he has been diligent in reexamining those who spend time here in the palace. I think it would have been difficult for him to not discover suspicious behavior, and so it would not surprise me if the Reconquista agents have withdrawn, for the time being."

"But they'll be back, if that's the case."

"I know." Henrietta smiled slightly. "Agnes is also looking into the issue, and for all that she lacks the resources of my Captain of the Guard, she possesses skills that he lacks. So perhaps her investigations will shed light onto Reconquista that his have not."

Then she frowned. "And perhaps the letter is best destroyed, but I would have liked to read it again, if only for one last time."

"I'm sorry," Louise offered. Which obviously couldn't be enough, but it was all she had to offer.

"What's done is done, and I shall reconcile myself to it. But I think I shall favor solitude today."

"Yes, Your Highness." It was an obvious dismissal, and she wasn't feeling hungry anymore, so Louise stood up to leave.

Only for the princess to stand up with her, and surprise her with an embrace. "We're still friends, you know. I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Thank you, Henrietta."

---

The best thing to do might have been to spend the morning practicing, but Louise was feeling wrung out by the confrontation at breakfast. So by mid-morning, after some desultory attempts at practicing her remaining cantrips, she found herself heading back to the bedchamber for a much-needed nap.

[Louise][are you awake][?]

The sudden, unexpected contact almost made her stumble.

[Jason][?]

[if i am not][Jason][then someone has broken in and we are in trouble]

She wanted to laugh, but he'd gotten her into so much difficulty – and with Her Highness! – and Louise was not happy with him.

[i am trying to take a nap before lunch]

[i am about to do the same].[hope i am not keeping you up]

[not in bed yet] Louise frowned. [how are you able to sleep][?][is the battle over already][?]

There was a long pause.

[tabitha flew us back to the academy last night].[i just spoke with the headmaster]

Another pause.

[you should probably be ready to comfort the princess]

That was the last thing that Henrietta wanted of her right now! [what happened][?][!] she sent, wishing she could add some extra urgency to the message.

[reconquista had agents at newcastle] Jason told her. [they poisoned prince wales]

Louise's breath caught. If he'd been poisoned, and the assassins had known their business, then- [is he dead][?][!]

[on the very edge of death][,][when we left].[king james was furious][,][and thought we might be the ones responsible]

Then it was a good thing that the town of Cymru, capitol of the March of Harjall, had been cut off by the latest uprising. A Wind Dragon could outrun even a warship, and be gone far beyond sight before it tired, and King James would have no dragons of his own to order a pursuit of Tabitha and her familiar.

[the final battle is probably happening right now].[i dont know if they got a message off to Bruxelles before it started][,][but you should receive official word sooner or later]

She grimaced. Henrietta had been upset about the loss of the letter. When she found out that her beloved cousin had also been lost, mere hours after the letter was destroyed? No, this was not the day to bear such tidings.

[her highness is upset that you had the letter destroyed]

[uh][,][i did not].[wales did]

Louise rolled her eyes, and resumed making her way to the bedchamber. [it was your idea]

[granted].[you did not have to mention that part to her]

[was not planning to][,][but jean jacques figured it out]

[oh]

[he is furious]

There was a pause.

[well he never does seem to like it when i act on my own]

She scowled, for all that Jason couldn't see her. [do not be difficult][!]

[not trying to be]

[you manage anyway][!]

Another pause, during which she reached the door, entered her bedchamber, and began changing into a chemise for her nap.

[fair enough] Jason finally sent. [so have you told him i am your familiar yet][?]

[now is not a good time for that]

[okay].[so what kind of trouble can he cause][,][and how can we prepare for it][?]

Her chemise finally on, Louise lay down and Levitated her blanket up over her and tucked it under her chin. [trouble][?] she repeated.

[right now he thinks i am just your retainer].[can he make you dismiss me][?]

[no].Not until they were married, and then only if she was never given her own estate to supply income. [but he could write to my parents]

This time the pause was especially palpable.

[that could be awkward] her familiar offered in an obvious understatement.

[very] she agreed. If Jean-Jacques found out from someone else that Jason was her familiar-! [you need to do something impressive in public as a display of quality][,][so that he learns to respect you]

[i am working on stuff with mister colbert].[i will see him this afternoon][,][and i have more ideas to share]

[good].[and make sure you stay of out trouble with those catcalling maids][!]

[uh][,][little mistress][,][they think I am part ogre and might eat them up].[that is not going to be an issue]

[good]

Except that his personal maid might be trouble, the way the girl had been acting since they'd returned from Bruxelles.

But then: [by the way][,][the headmaster gave me a spell for you to try].[so come back as soon as her highness is okay]

Headmaster Osmond had a spell for her? Not just another unusual exercise that no one else was required to perform?

Henrietta was going to need comfort once she found out that Prince Wales was dead. But for a moment Louise was tempted to borrow a pegasus so that she could fly to the Academy, retrieve the scroll, and come back to the palace.

She wouldn't have the princess's company that afternoon, after all, and she rather wanted to avoid Jean-Jacques until he calmed down as well. So she was going to be practicing the rest of the day once she woke up anyway.

But, if she went to the stables, she'd probably have to ask permission to borrow a mount. With the way the day was turning out, she might even have to ask the Captain of Guard. Her fiancé, in other words.

The prospect did not appeal, and she still had cantrips that needed work. They would have to do.

[Louise][?]

She sighed. [looking forward to trying it out][,][but now i need a nap]

[fair enough][,][little mistress].[now that I have had some breakfast][,][going to nap myself][,][before i go visit mister colbert].[pleasant dreams]

[to you as well]

Pleasant dreams? With everyone angry at her? She would have to pretend that the pillow was Jason's chest again, and indulging herself like that was certainly improper.

But if Jean-Jacques wanted her to dream of being in his arms, he needed to treat her like she was growing up, be more open with her, and stop getting so angry over trifles!

With a righteous sniff, Louise buried her face into the pillow, just as she had the previous night (or very early morning), and did her best to remember the sense of her familiar's presence.

After a short interlude where nothing seemed to be happening, it proved remarkably successful.

---

A feeling of alertness suddenly woke Jason out of a surprisingly comfortable slumber. It felt like he would have been amazingly well-rested, for a nap taken while sitting up on a flying dragon, if he could have just gotten a few more hours.

But he was now undeniably awake – and Tabitha was there, turned around, wand pointing at him.

"What-?!" he started, heart freezing. She'd said she wasn't going to tell anyone, but-

"Academy," the tiny azuretop told him, before turning back around and using her wand to point.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision . . . and there was the Academy, spread out before them.

Oh, right. Awaken. Useful cantrip, that.

The sun was low on the horizon, just coming up, a faint smell of breakfast cooking was wafting up to them-

Then Kirche shifted, and began snoring very loudly.

Jason glanced over at the redhead. "Has she been doing that all night?" he asked. "There's no way I could have slept through that!"

Tabitha gestured with her wand, Kirche shifted again, and the snoring quieted. "Many times, yes," she confirmed. "Tiresome."

Okay, apparently he had slept through it. "Yeesh. I know that drunks can be loud, but-"

"Will put . . . I will put her to bed," came the response. "You?"

Uh- "I need to speak with Headmaster," dammit, Tabitha had said his name just last night-! "Osmond?"

"Osmond, yes."

"So, does he have an office? Could he be there already?"

The azuretop shrugged, then leaned forward and whispered to Sylphid. In response the dragon began gliding forward, approaching the massive central dome. As they circled it, a balcony near the top of the spire came into view.

The dragon came to a hover next to the balcony, so they could all see inside through large glass windows. Where, yes, an old man sat at an ornate desk, puffing at a pipe as he glared down at some paperwork.

Then he looked up, and gave a start in surprise.

A moment later, a woman's voice could be heard. "Dame Tabitha, if you need to speak with the Headmaster, it would be helpful to make an appointment first."

A look around the office through the windows showed a verdetress sitting off to the side behind a much plainer desk, holding her wand to her lips almost like a microphone.

"The lady has a point," Jason muttered to his pilot, "but I really do need to speak with him."

Tabitha shrugged. "His hand. Hold it."

His hand-? She must mean Wales.

And so it proved. As soon as he took the prince's hand she gestured with her wand, the harness securing them came undone, and they were Levitated over to the balcony. His luggage and the Albionian Chest of State followed a moment later.

Meanwhile Jason was doing his best to keep Prince Wales from falling ignominiously to the floor. The prince wasn't heavy, but he was still dead weight, a fleshy puppet with its strings cut.

He glanced up as he was wrestling with the task of holding Wales up, and caught Tabitha cracking a rare smile.

"Yeah, yeah, it's probably funny to watch. Get out of here, go splash Kirche with cold water or something!"

The tiny azuretop nodded almost imperceptibly, then guided Sylphid down and away.

"For a skinny-ass pretty-boy you're surprisingly hard to hold up," Jason muttered to the prince, before giving up and laying him out on top of the Chest of State. Which sunk a few inches, but was still able to handle the extra load.

With that taken care of, he picked up sack that he'd used as his luggage bag and slung it over his shoulder, before grabbing the Chest with his other hand and approaching the door to the Headmaster's office.

Both Osmond and the woman – she's gotta be his secretary, right? Haven't we seen her somewhere before? – had given up all pretense of attending to their administrative tasks, and were staring out the windows at him with, respectively, mildly curious and disbelieving looks.

He let go of the Chest of State to try the door. It was locked, so he settled for an awkward wave and a sheepish smile.

In response, the Headmaster shook his head, then raised his hand – without a wand – and made a small gesture. The door opened, and Jason quickly entered the office, hauling the Chest behind him.

"I already said you need to make an-" the secretary began, before breaking off. Then exclaiming in surprise: "Is that Prince Wales?! Why isn't he breathing!?"

With that, Headmaster Osmond stood up and crossed the office with a speed that belied his venerable appearance. He stooped over the prone form of Wales, and examined the body closely.

"Not a bad plan, for removing the prince from danger," Osmond eventually allowed. "And of course you carry the Mask with you, so as to revive him?"

Because if we don't have the Requiem Mask, this looks a lot less like rescue and more like kidnapping, or even the close equivalent of murder.

"Got it with my luggage," Jason confirmed, giving the sack over his shoulder a shake for emphasis. "So you're a Square of Air? I would have guessed Water, since we're in Tristain."

That got a smirk from the old man. "Yes."

"To both," the secretary muttered, rolling her eyes. "And more."

"Mm." The Headmaster continued to smile, and stroked his beard. "I've lived long enough to find mastery of a single element all too limiting. So. Jason, is it?"

"Uh, yes, sir."

"You and your master have proven adept at hiding people without my help. Why come to me, now?"

Jason couldn't help but flinch. "I, uh, I guess that your tracking spell was able to go through the wards on her suite?"

"That seems a reasonable guess," the older man agreed, his eyes glinting with humor.

"I hope that wasn't a problem."

Osmond stopped smiling. "If it had been, I would have had to ship that pretty young maid off to Count Motte when she re-surfaced. It ended well enough, and the gossip among the servants about her misadventures with you and your master have proven harmless and diverting.

"Likewise, secret nighttime visits with Her Royal Highness are nothing to comment over, as she and your master are childhood friends, and much can be excused with that. Errands that remove Miss Vallière from her studies are more problematic, especially when I am asked to alter the records afterward, but she has worked hard to make up for her missed classes, and a shorter errand during the summer months is much less worrisome.

"Although I would like to know: Does your master expect to return soon, or will she be taking the rest of the summer as a holiday, now that her lessons are made up?"

"Pretty sure she's coming back," Jason replied with a shrug. "Her assignments are done, but magically Louise has only been catching up to where everyone was at the end of First Form. I'm pretty sure she'd like to try to catch up with her Second Form peers before they return after summer vacation ends."

The Headmaster looked mildly relieved for a moment. Then he frowned severely. "Hiding a friend from danger is one thing, but here is the heir to a doomed dynasty. How long do you think you can conceal him in your master's bedchamber?"

That got a wince and a blush. "I wasn't thinking of hiding him with us at all. Honestly, sir, at this point we're pretty much making it up as we go along, and I wish King James had given me some idea of what to do next."

"You've involved yourself in Royal intrigue, and you're improvising!?" the secretary interjected incredulously. "You'll bring death down on everyone you know that way!"

"Calmly, Miss Longueville," Osmond told his secretary, then gave Jason a serious expression. "But she's not inaccurate. You truly have no plan?"

"Well, I couldn't take him to Bruxelles!" he protested. "If I revived him then everyone would know, including Reconquista. If I waited until he was buried and tried to make off with his body to revive him in secret then something would go horribly wrong with that and again, everyone would find out . . . unless Reconquista found out first and killed us both during the skullduggery."

He paused. "And putting him in proximity to Her Highness seems like a great way to bollocks up her betrothal to that Germanian prince. But I heard, during the Motte visit, that the Academy is pretty independent, almost its own nation. So if I'm going to get help from anyone, you seemed like my best bet."

The Headmaster stroked his beard again, his expression unreadable. "And how do you know I do not myself share sympathies with Reconquista?"

"Uh, I don't, but-" Jason thought quickly. "If you were getting everyone to train up to go off on another Crusade, wouldn't it make sense to have the teachers focus on how to beat the elves? What kind of magic they use, how they fight, and so on? Wouldn't you have replaced Mr. Colbert with someone who'd guide his students to be eager to set the heathens on fire?"

"Well reasoned," Osmond allowed. "But by the same token, what evidence is there that I care about the affairs of kings and thrones beyond the Academy? After all, I have not sought to extend the borders of my authority beyond what is needed to support us. Kingdoms come and go, and indeed, many small holdings have been swallowed up by their neighbors since the last Crusade."

Can't argue effectively there, we don't know the local history well enough, what's our angle? Ah-hah! "Sure, they have, but the Academy hasn't. And as long as you're on decent terms with Throne of Water, Tristain is a buffer between you and the tides of politics and war. So preserving that buffer has to be worth something."

"Are you arguing that Reconquista will overthrow Tristain, then? Perhaps I shall negotiate favorable terms with them, much like I enjoy at present."

"I really doubt that," Jason replied. "Can I offer some examples from my history on why that wouldn't work?"

The Headmaster raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"Alright." A deep breath. "This is from a play, but the play is taken from history, recent enough that the records are pretty good." He lightened his voice to a low, accented tenor. "'So, now you give the Devil the benefit of law!'"

Back to his usual baritone, albeit using received pronunciation as best he could: "'Yes! What would you do? Cut a great road through the law to get after the Devil?'"

Tenor: "'Yes, I'd cut down every law in England to do that!'"

Baritone: "'Oh? And when the last law was down, and the Devil turned 'round on you, where would you hide, the laws all being flat? This country is planted thick with laws, from coast to coast! And if you cut them down – and you're just the man to do it – do you really think you could stand upright in the winds that would blow then? Yes, I'd give the Devil benefit of law, for my own safety's sake!'

"Now, that's about a country from my homeland, not from Albion, but I've heard that Reconquista is doing away with something they call the Great Compact. And it's supposed to protect the rights of commoners, highlanders, and islemen. So if Reconquista plans to cut down all established customs, who will stand in the winds that will blow then?"

"Prettily spoken," Osmond said. "But you say this is from a play." Nonetheless his eyes seemed oddly intent.

"That one, yes. Got a few more that are purely historic.

"There was an order of knights who protected people who journeyed through dangerous lands, that they might visit holy sites on pilgrimage. And the knights carried out their sworn duties well, and administered the estates set aside for their support, and over the centuries they prospered and grew in prestige.

"And they were men, not angels, so they suffered the temptations of the flesh, denied by the rule of their order. But the bulk of them were men who sought to live righteously.

"Still, they did grow wealthy. And eventually there was a king who looked on their wealth with avarice, and seized upon dark rumors spawned by others who were envious of that wealth, and had the entire order of knights executed and their possessions seized, so that he prospered from their destruction.

"Now, the Academy is hardly a knightly order. But conquering Halkagenia is going to be an expensive proposition. Tristain doesn't need to loot everyone in reach, but Reconquista probably does."

Headmaster Osmond's regard stayed unwavering. "A logical conclusion, but I have no way of verifying your tale's accuracy."

Jason grimaced. "Can't help you there, and I haven't studied enough local history to know if there are any parallels. But are wars of conquest expensive affairs around here?"

The Headmaster's eyes narrowed, but then he nodded.

"Well, then." He shrugged. "Believe me or not, as you please. Shall I go on?"

Osmond nodded again. "Another tale, yes. Continue."

"I'll skip over similar stories, except to note that if a king needs a great deal of wealth from you to help finance his wars, or if he owes a great deal of wealth to you, lent to fund wars that have emptied his treasury, it would be very convenient for him if you were convicted of treason, or heresy, or practicing evil magic. Anything so that your assets are forfeit to him.

"But moving on. In a land called France, the weather shifted and farms became less productive. The nobility wanted a bigger share of the declining wealth to retain the style of living they were accustomed to, the cities were full of people growing hungry, and a man led a revolution to overthrow the king.

"But afterward his followers began turning on each other, throwing accusations of conspiracy and treason against the new order and competing to have their enemies executed before they in turn could be accused, convicted, and killed. The man who led the revolution was himself executed, and ultimately their new order collapsed under the weight of mutual antagonism.

"But another country, later, did not collapse after a revolution. Because one man – one very brutal man – was able to stay in power, and so terrified his enemies and underlings that they waited until well after his natural death to announce it.

"Their army was not the best – the commissars that accompanied units were more interested in finding traitors than they were in nurturing talent, and so they found traitors rather frequently – but they became very good at sending spies to weaken other nations before invading and conquering them. At supporting rebellious groups that, because they were supported by a foreign patron, could not be hunted down and destroyed, because the true leaders of those revolts were out of reach and always able to recruit more rebels."

Headmaster Osmond continued to stare at him with piercing eyes. "And you believe that Reconquista will attempt this?"

"Probably," Jason agreed. "Princess Henrietta was quite concerned about the possibility of Reconquista infiltrating Bruxelles, and I understand that she uncovered some spies there recently."

"You understand it," the Headmaster repeated, with more than a hint of irony.

Shit, he must have guessed why Henrietta wanted him to alter the records of when we returned. "Yeah. And then at a feast given by King James, which Louise was invited to attend, he said that he believed Reconquista must have a foreign patron, for otherwise they could not avoid being hunted down on a small island, where the only escape from the island is through airship.

"Pretty sure Reconquista isn't just going to send spies and saboteurs. Pretty sure they are the spies and saboteurs of some hidden patron on the continent. If that's the case, then they aren't going to make peace until the Academy is utterly subjugated. And then they'll move on to their next target."

"Mm. So you believe that there will be a frenzy of bloodletting unless Cromwell is strong enough to hold power."

Jason shook his head. "The frenzy of bloodletting will happen regardless: Reconquista is composed of people who learned to take power through conspiracy and assassination. Those are the tools that they'll have when they disagree, and those are the tools that their peers will know how to use as well. A nest of vipers, once they start to turn on each other.

"The only real question is whether Cromwell will survive or be cast down and replaced."

Osmond suddenly turned to regard Prince Wales, lying on the Chest that still floated a few inches above the floor. "And you have your candidate for the man to replace Cromwell."

"At this point I think he's the only way to avert generations of oppression and horror. I described what the new landed nobles are going to be doing to each other. With the Great Compact now dust in the wind, what do you think they'll do to their underlings, when seized by whim or appetite?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from the secretary.

Two heads turned to regard her. (The prince, of course, remained insensate).

"Headmaster, do you think he's right? Are his stories relevant to Albion?"

"That could very well be the case," came the suddenly calm reply.

Jason sagged slightly in relief. He'd been caught up in answer the questions, explaining what he was afraid was going on . . . but there'd been an undeniable tension in the air. Stronger, even, than when he'd had to defend his thesis.

But now the secretary was feeling less than placid, as she paled. "I-"

But she was immediately cut off. "Miss Longueville, I declined to inquire after your family when I hired you, but do you, perhaps, have an interest in Albion?"

The secretary swallowed and nodded. "I would appreciate the use of an Academy messenger bird after my duties are finished today."

"Granted." Osmond turned back to consider Prince Wales, laying in repose. "I very much dislike interfering in the game of kings and thrones, as I said. But Reconquista seeks to conquer the Blessed Realms, by their own words, and they would not be restful neighbors."

He then gave Jason a hard look. "I will not give public support to Prince Wales. The Academy has been independent since the decline of the Romalian Empire, when it was nothing more than the Tower of Bothe, erected to support the western reaches of the Empire against pirates and brigands. I do not side with factions: If I must scourge Reconquista, I will do so as the Headmaster of my Academy, and not as a pawn of any would-be king or Lord.

"In light of that, have you a plan?"

"I didn't have a plan to begin with!" Jason protested. "I just figured it'd be easier for the prince to make his own plans if we can revive him without anyone finding out. If I'm right about the kind of horror that Albion is about to descend into, a lot of them would hail Prince Wales as a liberator, especially if he reinstates the Great Compact." And maybe we can offer some advice on certain natural liberties they might not have thought of yet. "If he has somewhere to start from. Hopefully that chest has some answers."

"Mm." The Headmaster frowned and stroked his beard once more. "If all that Prince Wales requires is discreet lodging while he contemplates what he wishes to do, now that he is a prince without a country . . . if Jean Colbert can experiment in hopes of strengthening Tristain's defense, then I suppose I can house another partisan for a time.

"Let us awaken the prince, and we shall see what he has to say."

---

Using the Requiem Mask was as simple a process as King James had said, but it was nonetheless several minutes before Prince Wales revived.

"Ugh," he finally moaned, his eyes slowly opening. "What happened?"

"I believe that young Jason, here, is the only one who can tell you that," Osmond announced. "I confess, I am somewhat curious as to the exact details myself."

The prince blinked, then looked from headmaster to familiar and shook his head. "Father pulled it off this time, didn't he? Ambushed me and-"

He bolted upright. "Reconquista was going to attack Newcastle in the morning! They need me there, when Father falters I have to be there to take his place! No one else can hope to-"

But then he glanced down at what he was sitting on, and blanched. "Is this . . . he threw away all hope? Why?!"

"Because you were poisoned," Jason told him. "Had to have been at the feast. Apparently you kept going through the early symptoms by drawing on the power of the Ring." And then it was a struggle not to make any of several Lord of the Rings references. Which no one would get and only serve to piss off the already agitated Prince Wales.

Whose eyes widened. "I thought I was merely fatigued from lack of rest. If I . . . there was a sudden pain in my belly, and . . . Merciful Brimir! How am I even alive?"

"I used a tool of my people to put the antidote directly into your blood, and then a healing potion. It almost didn't work, you stopped breathing for a very little while, but-" The recent memory of those frantic and desperate seconds of CPR surged forward, and he had to shake his head to get back to the here-and-now. "Well, if it hadn't worked out in the end, His Majesty was not feeling merciful towards the strange commoner who had come in on a ship looking to trade with Reconquista."

"No, he wouldn't be. Not after losing Richard and Henry." Prince Wales closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled loudly. "And this time you didn't need to conspire to send me away, Father. But at the cost of everyone in Newcastle-!"

"His reasoning," Jason said, "was that if the assassin was someone already present and uncaught, then they could be counted on to strike again, and sabotage the defense. Defending Newcastle against Reconquista's fleet was already going to be a close thing. He chose the sure hope of protecting his line instead." He frowned thoughtfully. "And if they can hold on long enough for the reserves to be committed, then couldn't they evacuate the survivors on the Eagle as Reconquista closes in for the final assault? Try to outrun whatever reduced force is left covering the underside?"

"Can hold on?" Wales asked, suddenly intent.

"Uh, yeah. It's the morning after. The attack on Newcastle is probably going on as we speak. And it took all night for Dame Tabitha to fly us back on her familiar, so I doubt you could return in time, if that's what you're thinking of. Or is there a Relic in that chest that'll let you teleport back?"

The prince's shoulders sagged slightly. "It would take hours, even if I left now. Well played, Father."

"So that's a 'no' on the instant transportation?" Jason asked. "Darn."

"There are tales of such," the Headmaster noted. "Time and space were said to be as nothing to Brimir, for the holy Void was his to command, and his chosen saints might be so favored. But I have yet to find any reliable account of such magic since the time of the Romalian Empire." He stroked his beard yet again. "If the Academy housed such magic, I would offer the use of it here and now, in exchange for a vow of secrecy. Your sudden return, if it ensured the defeat of Reconquista here and now, would be most convenient."

"'Convenient'?" Prince Wales repeated. "I thought you valued the neutrality of your Academy above all else."

Osmond nodded. "I do. But young Jason has argued, and more eloquently than I would have previously guessed, that Reconquista will not permit me to remain neutral, should they become supreme in Halkagenia. I will undertake to scourge them if I must, but for now they are simply one power among several. To move against them now would appear to show favor to Tristain and the Tudors.

"Therefore, the task of defeating Reconquista must fall to you, Your Highness. Last of the Tudor Lords of Air."

Prince Wales closed his eyes again, and bowed his head. "All I wanted, before my brothers fell, was to train at Cymru and become a Captain of Dragons," he lamented, suddenly sounding very weary. "Now they're gone, my father will be gone before I can hope to fly to his rescue, and my love has pledged herself to another man because she couldn't trust my family and my people to cast Reconquista down before it threatened her family and people.

"I almost would that you had not revived me, but put me and my Relics in the deepest corner of the Academy Vault."

"That," the Headmaster pointed out, "is an option, should you truly wish it."

The prince looked up. "I-"

"'Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain'," Jason quoted, interrupting and putting as much of a bass rumble into the words as he could manage. A trick that tended to make people pay more attention. "And I mean a mountain that doesn't float high above the ocean."

Prince Wales twitched, and shot him a dirty look. "It's a duty I never asked for."

"Yeah, but the thing about being a prince is, you may not ask for it but you were still born to it." He shrugged. "But if you really want to . . . would the Requiem Mask allow you to sleep away a few generations? I'm sure Reconquista wouldn't like it, that the Ring and the Relics vanished upon their victory. Maybe Brimir took them back until some more worthy generation is born, eh? Just like the First Wand."

"I don't know if the Mask has ever been put to the test like that-"

"And hell, if Tristain falls we can repeat the trick with Henrietta, lay her out next to you to sleep away the years until her husband dies."

If possible, the look that Prince Wales shot him was even dirtier than the first. But then, reluctantly: "My best hope of protecting Her Highness is to do what I can to harm Reconquista now. That much is clear, but . . . we should see what Father sent along with me."

He stood up, then turned around to examine the Chest of State. "The seal is unbroken. I confess, Headmaster Osmond, that I half-expected you to have already opened it and examined the contents."

"And tamper with your inheritance?" Osmond replied, sounding faintly amused.

"I know you can break any seal devised by magic, and I wouldn't be surprised if you could forge one, as well."

The Headmaster stroked his beard still another time. "The Eternal Rings, it is written, were forged out of celestial platinum by the hand of Brimir himself. I know much of magic, it is true, but I have never tested myself against a seal created by one of the Rings.

"Beyond that, your father would not have been gentle with thieves who sought this patrimony, and I would not care to try myself against both the seal and whatever curse he set."

"No, he wouldn't have been gentle," the prince agreed, then knelt down and used his ring to undo the seal, before opening the Chest of State. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the contents. "He didn't hold back anything." A hand reached down to briefly stroke a rod with a brass spike on the tip. "Some of these, he could have kept to fight Reconquista with. They wouldn't have been able to use them without someone ordained with the Ring of Air."

"Then he meant for you to use them to fight your enemies." Osmond bent over to look into the Chest. "Is that the Auram Codex?"

"The best copy we could find, yes."

"May I?"

"If you like." Prince Wales shrugged, pulled out a large book, and handed it to the older man to examine. "You won't be able to decipher it, though. Not without being ordained to Air."

"I suspect that I could, given time, but I will not." The Headmaster traced a design on the cover, slowly and almost reverently. "This is no copy, Your Highness. This is one of the originals, scribed when the Romalian Republic was still young, bound in the gifted skin of a dying Rhyme Dragon." He looked up from the book. "If you will allow me to copy the spells contained herein, then I will offer my support in return. Provided that support remains hidden."

The prince looked up from his own examination of the contents of the Chest, and regarded Osmond sharply. "You'd need to be ordained to the Throne of Air to use most of those spells."

"But not all, and I am always seeking to complete my library."

"They are part of my Throne."

"And not all of the Academy Library is known. The Fenrir archives are the public trove of Academy secrets. The more hidden archives have no name that I am willing to share, and they house more than one secret now forgotten by the rest of Halkagenia."

"That is-" Prince Wales paused, clearly thinking about it. "That is acceptable. Especially if you employ a cipher to record the spells that any mage could cast."

"I will." The Headmaster handed the book back and looked over to Jason. "Now, young familiar, recount to Prince Wales the line of reasoning you gave me."

He nodded, and did his best to recall and repeat what he'd said before the revival.

Then, when he finished: "Reconquista's best bet has to be to attack Tristain before the wedding, or at least before Germania has forces down here to help defend against invasion. I'm working with Mr. Colbert on things that ought to help with that defense. Your royal father was determined to destroy as much of the Reconquista fleet as he could, and with better cannon it should be easier to defeat the first invasion, and hopefully inflict decisive losses on them.

"By then, if the Cromwell regime is as bad for Albion as I'm predicting, there'll be refugees fleeing the horror show. If they've left family and friends behind, they ought to be willing to help take back their homeland. There's the start of an army, if you can organize them. When we invade, you can unmask as the rightful heir of Albion. With enough momentum and popular support on your side, Cromwell might find that his supporters have become as shifting sand underfoot."

"Is that all?" Osmond asked, sounding rather amused.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Do I look like a strategos? Your Highness, I hope you've been taught how to do this, because I wouldn't begin to know where to start. And it'll be hideously complex at best. I really wish His Majesty had taken the time to pass on some advice on how to do it all-"

Prince Wales tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I rallied the fleet when Henry fell. I suppose Father decided I needed no further tutoring on the subject. But now I'm a beggar prince, and my strongest support at present insists on secrecy as the price of patronage. This . . . will require thought."

"Yeah. Well, if you've got to hide . . . can you pull off that disguise for long periods of time? Captain Wardes was the only one who saw through it, after all."

"Perhaps," the prince replied. "Why?"

"I, too, would like to know that," the Headmaster commented.

"Uh-" Their sudden, simultaneous scrutiny was slightly unsettling. "What better way to hide than as a student? Maybe even study a different element?"

"A young student, barely capable, late come and struggling to catch up with his peers. Perhaps needing to frequently consult with myself." Osmond chuckled. "I've done it before, when I discerned a young mind that needed nurturing, and my professors know it. And I have a better disguise than any costume."

Prince Wales raised his eyebrows. "What, the Mirror of Truth? I thought that dweomer doesn't last beyond a single night."

The Headmaster nodded. "It doesn't, not on its own. But I've ways that will permit you to maintain the dweomer for longer periods. You'll need to set most of your vis to maintain it, but you will be well-hidden. And a struggling young student, with a keen mind that outstrips his magic, shouldn't have much vis at his disposal."

"Um," Jason put in. "Keeping in mind that I just got here this spring, what's the Mirror of Truth?"

"Louise hasn't told you about it?" Prince Wales asked. "If I recall, last year she went as one of her older sisters at the Sleipnir masquerade. I don't think she realized who I was." He looked wistful for a moment. "I was hoping to find Henrietta, but then I heard that her mother hadn't let her attend."

"Okay, from context the Mirror of 'Truth' creates disguises? So an ironic name for it?"

"It is a mirror that reveals inner truths," Osmond clarified. "The more affinity you have for someone – if you love them, or admire them, or even sometimes if you hate them – the easier it is to take their form. Anyone with their own vis can manage to adopt the form of someone they care about, at least for a night."

Jason's eyebrows shot up. "An unbreakable masquerade, then, unless you know the person well enough to guess who they love. And if you can take more than one form, with a little practice . . . yeah, that sounds like a pretty good disguise. Must make for an interesting party."

"Great fun for all, yes." The Headmaster grinned broadly. "I suppose that I shall have to spend the next few days overseeing your practice, Your Highness, until you can manage a guise that no one will associate with you."

He turned to the secretary, who'd been watching the proceedings with an utterly fascinated (and slightly horrified) expression. "Miss Longueville, I shall rely on you to ensure that I'm not disturbed until the task is complete."

She nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

"Now," he continued, turning back. "Is there anything else you wish to drop in my lap this morning, young familiar?"

"I don't think-" Jason started. Then: "Actually . . . I don't seem to have an element, and Louise is suppose to have Fire as her affinity, but she's struggling a lot with Ignite. You wouldn't happen to know of any, er, exotic elements? Stuff that might show up outside of the usual four? Light, Darkness, Mind, Thunder, Ice, Wood, Metal, and so on?"

Prince Wales gave him a disgusted look. "What mad flight of fancy is this?" he asked incredulously. "Why not ask if her element is Brimir's own holy Void, while you're at it?!"

"I'm not suggesting that she's a saint-!" he began in protest.

Then Osmond cut him off. "Mages never show an affinity for a combined element without showing an affinity for one of the elements making it up," the Headmaster stated. "Still," he continued thoughtfully, "perhaps an experiment is in order."

He stuck his hand inside his robes, and a moment later pulled out a scroll, rolled up and closed with a tied ribbon. "When your master returns, have her attempt this spell. I will be very interested to learn the results. And if she has trouble initially, Jean Colbert may be able to instruct her."

Jason took the scroll and added it to his luggage bag. "Okay. Thank you, sir, on her behalf."

"And now, I would dismiss you to your duties, but your actions this morning merit a reward."

A . . . wait, this world actually has quest rewards?!

But one look at Osmond's face, the ironic amusement suddenly displayed, made that seem unlikely.

"You should know that the Duke and Duchess Vallière," the Headmaster began – Duke and Duchess?! Her parents are that high up?! – "Are both pleased with their daughter's progress. They are even more pleased that your master has shown no fear of pregnancy, nor concern for any need to prevent it."

So, no, this is not the usual sort of quest reward. "Louise has been concerned about introducing me to them. Does this mean they aren't planning to have me killed?" That last bit came out somewhat higher-pitched than normal.

"Indeed." Headmaster Osmond solemnly nodded. "And they have declined to order you gelded. For now."

Urk! "Uh, that's good?"

Osmond stopped smiling. "I am sure it will come as no surprise to you that Duke Vallière is protective of his youngest daughter. Her future has always seemed fragile, after all. He was certainly unhappy to learn that the Binding Rite prompted his little girl to kiss a man.

"But you have proven to be a steadying and supportive influence, and her speed in making for her poor showing during First Form has been most heartening for her parents. And it does not harm your case that by all credible reports you have been as respectful of her modesty and chastity as circumstances would allow."

"Ah." Probably a good thing that the events at the Inn have been left off those reports. "So, where does that leave me?"

"Mm. A foreigner may not hold quite the same status as a commoner. Nonetheless I would urge you to continue to prove your worth, and do your best to avoid an unsavory reputation."

". . . . Right." Okay, not a usual reward, but a valuable warning nonetheless.

"That said, I must confer with Prince Wales, so now you are dismissed."

---

It was close enough to mid-morning that the kitchen had already finished with breakfast. But that didn't prove to be an obstacle: Was he not the fabled inventor (or at least introducer) of the wonder that was a sandwich? The leftover bread from breakfast might not have come directly from the oven, but it was still good and it needed to be used up anyway before it went stale. And a thin slice of mild cheese topped with a generous portion of greens proved mild enough to satisfy his hunger without troubling his recently-upset stomach.

But eating brought a wave of drowsiness, he hadn't gotten a full night's rest on dragonback, and this world lacked Mountain Dew or even something so basic as coffee. So a nap seemed like a really good idea.

Jason made it all the way to the bottom floor of their tower before the thought hit him. Might be a good idea to check in with our little mistress before we go to bed.

So he sat down on one of the benches and concentrated.

[Louise][are you awake][?]

Nothing for a short moment. Then:

[Jason][?]

He smirked in sudden whimsy. [if i am not][Jason][then someone has broken in and we are in trouble]

Pity we can't see her expression. That had to have gotten a smile.

---

He'd quickly run into a stumbling block: What to tell her about Prince Wales.

The people who knew that the prince was still alive presently included himself, the Headmaster, Miss Longueville, Sylphid, probably Tabitha, and of course Wales himself. That was already six people, and according to the old saying that meant five of them needed to die to keep his survival a secret.

Which would be counterproductive.

Of course.

So they'd have to take the risk, but every person they added to the secret made the chances of it getting out that much worse.

And if Bruxelles was too dangerous a place to take Prince Wales, then Her Highness didn't have need-to-know. Or Louise, while she stayed there.

Purely for the sake of keeping the secret, of course. Risking Henrietta's marriage alliance by tempting her with Lord of Air nookie wasn't even a concern, for they'd both agreed to the necessity of her marriage to Prince Atma.

Yeah, and the Brooklyn Bridge was going cheap.

So Jason gave his little mistress a cover story that contained as much truth as it could, trusting the limits of their mental texting to prevent her from realizing that he was lying to her,

Then came the news that Jean-Jacques was pissed with her for getting Prince Wales to destroy the letter. And having to tiptoe around the asshole's sensibilities was becoming very annoying, even if the man probably was acting reasonably by local standards. High-caste, low-caste, what the hell ever.

At least the prospect of him writing to Louise's parents wasn't quite the threat that Jason might have taken it to be an hour ago: Big Daddy Duke Vallière was willing to cut him some slack as long as she kept improving and didn't sully herself with him. Since the latter didn't seem like it would happen any time soon, Wardes could whine all he liked. At the least there ought to be a few rounds of letters before anything high-handed was ordered.

Still, better to not get those rounds of letters started if they could avoid it.

And yes, getting some social status before anything could come to a head was seeming like a better and better idea. Hell, hadn't Henrietta said something about . . . the word sort of sounded like 'cavalry', he could remember that much, so maybe it was something like being a knight.

Certainly be better than nothing. Probably help cut the line a bit, too, when trying to get a Germanian title.

But Louise wanted a nap, so there wasn't time to go into much detail, and he was pretty tired himself.

So they wished each other sweet dreams as their farewell, and Jason stood back up.

And now, to bed. To sleep, perchance to dream.

And hope she's not too pissed when Wales lets them know he survived the poisoning.

---

The comfort of his air-mattress was calling, but Louise wouldn't be there, not even nearby on her bed. It didn't make for pleasant anticipation, but it did keep his mind occupied as he made his way up the stairs to her bedchamber.

Then Jason reached the hallway and there was a slight smell of booze lingering.

Right, Tabitha's probably put Kirche to bed by now. So we need to be quiet if we don't want to deal with a hungover redhead.

That thought kept him focused on moving slowly and silently as he approached the door to Louise's room, opened it, went inside, and set his luggage down by the wall. Then he looked up . . . and noticed Siesta lounging on his little mistress's bed.

The maid was lying prone, facing away from him, head propped up in her hands, reading a book, idly kicking one of her legs into the air.

Her bare legs, that is, because just like last time she was wearing one of his shirts. But unlike last time she wasn't wearing his swimming trunks, and he quickly averted his eyes, flushing, before she could move her other leg and give him an upskirt sans knickers.

What the hell?

He stayed in stealth mode, moseying silently past the table, where her uniform lay on one of the chairs, and made his way over to the side of the bed. She turned a page, but gave no sign that she'd noticed him looking down at her. And from the way the cloth fell on her curves, there was definitely nothing else under the shirt that she was using as a shift.

"Isn't this going to get you in trouble?" Jason asked, as soon as he had his eyes firmly up at her head.

Siesta started in surprise and looked up from the book. "You're back already? You said it would be a week!"

"Yeah, the whole business took less time than I expected." He tilted his head. "Something happen to my swimming trunks that I need to know about?"

She rolled onto her side facing him – no, don't stare at the sudden hip bump, that roll has our shirt riding up to show off a bit too much thigh! – and gave a languid shrug. "They needed to be washed."

"Oh." Murphy strikes again. Just how often have you been coming up here and wearing them?

"Now sit down or something, so I don't hurt my neck looking up at you!"

Jason held back a huff of laughter, but knelt down at the edge of the bed. "Seriously, you don't have chores to be doing?"

Siesta shrugged again. She needed to stop doing that, because turning on her side had her chest pushing against the fabric similar to how Nicole's had, when she'd been trying to dazzle him in de Montferat's place. And if the maid wasn't doing it deliberately like the faerie had, her more generous bust had more to push with. Keeping eye contact was already hard enough.

"Most of the students are gone for the summer, remember?" she reminded him. "And it's my job to keep the rooms on this floor clean, since Miss Vallière, Miss Zerbst, and Dame Tabitha have all been staying for the summer. But with all of you suddenly gone, there hasn't been much for me to do, and Miss Vallière hasn't complained about me lingering when I'm done."

He blinked. "You've come in here to read while Louise has been here?"

She nodded. "She was working on making up her assignments, and you were always working with Mr. Colbert."

Huh. Didn't realize they'd been hanging out together.

"Well, I'm not one to look down on getting absorbed in a good book, but try to pay a little more attention. You didn't realize I was in the room until I spoke up."

"It is a good book!" Siesta confirmed, grinning. "Want to read it to us tonight?"

Jason's brain locked up for a moment. Then he groaned. "I thought I asked you not to play that trick on me again."

"It's not a trick if you know what it'd be like!" A faint frown crossed her face. "But where is Miss Vallière?"

"She went-" with Jean-Jacques! "-to Bruxelles to spend some time with Princess Henrietta. She'll probably be back here in a day or two."

"Oh." Siesta pouted a bit, before her expression brightened. "You can read it just to me, then!"

"I guess-"

WAIT!

Huh?

When a girl is lounging on your bed, wearing your clothes, and making pouty-face at you, what does that mean?

But it's Louise's bed, and Siesta didn't know we were going to show up today.

She's still wearing our shirt, it's still our bedroom, and when she heard Louise was out of town her first reaction was to ask us to read her some porn.

Oh. Oh! But when did this happen?

Answering that would require understanding women. But the maids all seem to think something's going on, from Annabelle down to the new hires, so it might have been going on for a while.

But we were in the friendzone!

Yeah, but the surest way to get stuck there is to struggle to get out. We've been too focused on Louise to-

"Jason?" she asked, suddenly sounding concerned.

Probably because we're staring like a poleaxed ox.

He shook his head. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting that."

"So are you going to read it to me, or not?" Once again pouting, Siesta took the book she was reading and brandished it at him, before patting the bed next to her.

"I-"

Bad idea.

What? Why?

Rebound. Too soon since Louise stomped our aspirations into the ground.

We're already handling that.

Bullshit. We're out of our comfort zone to the point where we're having an actual internal conversation, not just thinking that way as an affection.

"Well?"

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry, my thoughts are kind of jumbled right now."

With that, Jason closed his eyes. So, are we trying to move on from Louise or not? Because if we are, then Siesta's right here, ready to-

Ready to what?

His eyes stayed closed, but he could still see exactly what. Once on the bed, Siesta could snuggle in close, and then while he was reading there'd be all sorts of opportunities to touch each other, bolder and bolder until the end of the story. And then once the story was over they'd look at each other with flushed faces, and she'd give him a happy, inviting smile, and his little mistress wouldn't be there to stop things from taking their natural course-

Exactly.

So what?

Rebound fling. Bad idea. Same reason we don't go drinking after a breakup.

Technically, the last time we broke up with a girlfriend we weren't 21 yet.

So? How many people bother to card someone as tall as we are? Besides, if Louise came back to the Academy right now, wouldn't we be doing our best to pretend that we weren't thinking about sleeping with Siesta?

But-

"Jason, are you going to read to me or not?"

He opened his eyes, and chuckled ruefully as he met her gaze. "You know, I think this might be the most danger I've been in during the entire trip? And that's saying a lot."

Her pout deepened. "I'm not dangerous!"

Bullshit. "I . . . look, Siesta, I didn't get enough sleep on the way back. I need a nap, so I'm not entirely useless when I go talk to Mr. Colbert this afternoon."

She gave him another pout, looking all too delicious, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, fine. But would you at least promise to read a book for all the maids?"

"I- Wha- Why?" Did that come out of left field, or are we too damn tired to keep up right now?

"It just came in from Menenville, but I've heard it's not as much fun as usual. I just thought, since you do voices when you read, maybe that if you read it to us that'd make up for it a little bit."

Not as fun? Right, not as racy. "Is that the one you're reading now?"

"No, I have it on the chair under my dress. So, I'll tell them you agreed when I go back down?"

"Uh, lemme take a look at it first." So saying, Jason got to his feet and lurched over to the table, where he felt around under Siesta's uniform and pulled out a slim volume.

The title made him want to roll his eyes. It's called The Lady and the Dungeon, and this isn't supposed to be racy?

Whatever. Just make sure we don't get surprised again. He started flipping through the pages. Quick setup, pretty Tristainian noblewoman, kidnapped while traveling-

"Are you really reading that?"

"I'm just skimming through it, but yeah, I read pretty quickly." Enter the dungeon keeper, a nobleman of an unnamed nation, but well-tanned and looking rather like . . . Kirche's brother might. If the Germanian redhead had a brother.

"Is this a new book?"

Siesta – now sitting up on the bed and watching him – nodded. "They said it came off the tabella just last week."

Jason grunted in acknowledgment, then flipped back to the beginning, looking for a description of the kidnapped 'Lady Anne'. Ah, there it-

That's a pretty accurate description of Henrietta. Hmm.

He went back to where he'd been and resumed skimming. Anne had been diswanded, so if this wasn't outright porn she was probably going to be rescued–

Yep, there was an Albionian lord coming to save her, a slender, blond man who spoke with a light tenor.

Prince Wales, in other words.

He shut the book, then smiled wryly at Siesta. "Looks like the author was less interested in entertaining and more interested in commenting on politics."

"I know." She scowled. "That's not what we buy his books for, though."

". . . Yeah." Jason set the book down on her uniform. "Okay, fine, I'll read this to your friends."

Then sudden inspiration struck. "But can I get a favor in return?"

"Sure! What do you need?"

"I need to find a minstrel, one that has no love for Reconquista. So could you send a letter to the Charming Faerie Inn? I'd do it myself, but Louise might misunderstand."

Siesta nodded slowly. "Sure, I'll write to Jessica. But why?"

"I need to commission some songs, which means I need someone who can write so cleverly that everyone will be repeating the lyics."

"Oh." She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe you could help me write the letter, explain what you want to Jessica?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure. Tomorrow? Maybe after I read this book to everyone?"

"That's fine! I'll get everyone together after we clean up from breakfast."

"Okay. And now I really do need to sleep."

Siesta nodded again. But then: "Wait! You didn't promise to read to me and Miss Vallière when she gets back!"

What? Okay, maybe her offer wasn't as dangerous as we thought.

Don't assume that. Death is over in moments, bad decisions can screw the rest of your life. But we don't need as high a DefCon if it's the two of them.

"Fine." He nodded back. "But I get to pick the story."

"That's fine." She shrugged. "I'll bring up a bunch of older books for you to look through."

Hang on, let's try for something better than that. "No, no, Siesta, this is going to be one of mine. That I brought with me."

"Oh!" Her eyes went wide. "Will it be good?"

"Maybe not in the way you're thinking, but it should be pretty funny."

"Well, if it's funny enough . . . why haven't you done this before?" Siesta frowned. "Or does Miss Vallière make you read only to her?"

"No, it's because my phone needs to be recharged after use, and I didn't want to use it too much. I need a typewriter, but I don't think you have them here. So that's another thing I should bring up with Mr. Colbert . . ."

"Jason?"

"Yeah? Oh. Sorry, my mind keeps wandering. I really do need to get to sleep, Siesta."

She looked a bit disappointed. "Do you mind if I stay and read some more, before I go back to my chores?"

DefCon alert? Probably not. "As long as my snoring doesn't bother you. Just be quiet when you leave so I don't wake up, okay?"

"Alright." With that she lay back down on the bed and resumed reading.

Still in his shirt, which was still riding up her thighs, and still showing off the curves of an ass that could have stood next to Kirche's and not come off badly in the comparison. (Sure, the redhead's derriere wasn't as great as Louise's, but it was easier for a smaller bottom to hold a nice shape.)

Which, all of it, needed to be put out of his mind as Jason lay down on his air mattress and tried to calm enough to go back to sleep.

'Specially our little mistress', he thought tiredly. Prettiest of the lot, and we've actually gotten our hands on hers a time or two.

. . .

See, this is why we can't go for anyone yet. Until we can bear to let Louise go, we can't give our heart away to anyone else. And given the choice between them right now, is it any contest?

Put that way? Well, Siesta might be in bed just a few feet away, but it was his little mistress that he was longing for. He could almost pretend that she was in bed with him, her face pressing into his shoulder, the soft smell of her hair filling his nose as he drifted off . . .

---

Siesta was gone by the time Jason woke up. Which was probably for the best, since he was ready to get out of the traveling clothes. Especially the 'braies'. Wearing them on the trip had made it very clear why Louise was happy to go commando after wearing her uber-granny-panty culottes all day! Blasted itchy stuff, seriously, what kind of underpants come with a built-in belt to hold them up . . .

It looked to be a little bit after lunch, but he didn't feel hungry enough to try to rustle up more food, so after stopping by the bathhouse to wash up as quickly as possible, he made his way over to the lab-

To find a good portion of it in ruins when he got there, and the professor going through the rubble and wreckage.

He blinked for a moment. "Uh, Mr. Colbert? What happened?"

The professor chuckled ruefully. "Yesterday I finished tinkering with the guns as much as I was willing too on my own, so today I decided to try to experiment with the 'gun-cotton' you once spoke of."

Jason winced. "You had your Shield up, right? Or do I need to help you to the infirmary?"

Mr. Colbert nodded. "I'm well enough, but thank you for your concern. I'd thought you were exaggerating for effect, when you warned me of the danger. Fortunately, gunpowder is sufficiently hazardous to justify a Shield when setting off a large amount, so I did cast it as a precaution.

"This, however . . . the sheet of cotton exploded almost immediately after the nitric acid dried, and it was perhaps a larger sheet than I should have begun with. I'm fine, but my experiments-" He shook his head, looking around the room. "I shouldn't have taken your warning so lightly."

"Sorry about that."

The apology was waved off. "You did warn me the stuff was unstable, and I failed to heed it to the degree that I ought to have. As for what was ruined, well, much of it I've been meaning to redesign eventually.

"I must say, you returned faster than I anticipated. Did everything go well?"

"As well as could be hoped, I suppose." Jason sighed. Bloody hell, someone else we can't confide in due to need-to-know. "Louise went to Bruxelles for a quick visit with her Highness, but I'm sure she'll be back soon and be eager to keep catching up with her classmates."

"Now that her makeup assignments are completed, yes, she'll have that much more time for practice." Mr. Colbert smiled. "Now, as to our collaboration, I've gone over the revolvers one final time, and I believe they're ready for you to test. And perhaps the rifle, too. Shall we plan to do so tomorrow, after this mess is cleaned up?"

"Sure!" Been a while since we got to do some shooting. Bloody hoplophobic university regs- "Wait, you haven't shot the revolvers yourself?"

"Oh, of course not." The professor's smile turned ironic and somewhat cynical. "These are weapons for commoners, after all. Besides, with you doing the testing no one will be able to claim you were incidental to their development."

"Oh." Yeah, those two teachers were happy to see the samples, once they started playing with them, but they addressed their questions to the mage in the room, and did their best to ignore the commoner.

"Have you puzzled it out?" Mr. Colbert frowned and shook his head. "Your samples have kept Madame Sousen and Mr. Edelsten busy, and they are beginning to reap the rewards of their industry, but they haven't offered you any of that reward. Even the potions I provided you with came from my own efforts."

Oh. And speaking of which, we need another sovereign healing potion, but how do we bring that up without breaking need to know?

The professor glared into the distance. "It is a gross betrayal of Brimir's admonishments, and I refuse to do the same."

"So I get co-credit as designer. That's-" Jason paused. "That's both generous and not at all a surprise, coming from you."

Mr. Colbert focused back on him, and smiled. "Thank you. I would like to say that I will be doing the same with the new steel, but I was not the only mage involved, and sadly there have been disagreements."

He waved it off. "Don't worry about it, there's more stuff we can come up with. And her Highness seems to get that I'm not a simple-minded peasant, so even if you get lead credit on things like the bicycle, she knows I'm involved."

"Ah. So I should expect you to need some revolvers soon?" the professor asked with a wry smirk. "For when she gives you a task worthy of a Chevalier?"

Jason blinked again. "You know, it's a good thing we're on friendly terms. Yeah, she mentioned wanting an excuse to do that. How-?"

"You'll need it, and then a Germanian title after, if you aspire to pursue the hand of your master in marriage. Her parents are hardly petty nobles, after all."

For several seconds, a heavy blush was the only reply. Then: "A really good thing we're on friendly terms. Have I been that obvious in my regard for her?"

It was Mr. Colbert's turn to blink. "I confess, I don't know. What seems obvious to me isn't always obvious to everyone else."

"Yeah, I've sometimes felt like that where I'm from. Here, of course, I've got to learn what everyone grows up knowing." Jason laughed ruefully. "Did you know that I didn't know until this morning that her dad's a Duke?"

"She wouldn't brag of it, not until her magic was strong enough to add honor to the family name. I imagine the only way you'd have found out without asking her directly is if you two had attended Frigg's Ball and heard them announce her."

"Right. Do you . . . do you think there's a chance I can win her hand? I mean, at least she's a younger sibling, so inheritance isn't as big an issue, but isn't it still impossible?"

"Until you have titles of your own, yes. After that?" Mr. Colbert shrugged. "Your master, herself, is the one you must ultimately woo."

Which ain't gonna work if Jean-Jacques gets there first. So move forwards with the inventions!

"Okay," Jason said. "That's for the future. Right now, uh, need help cleaning the lab?"

"Thank you, yes. Some of the damaged machina I do not wish to move with Levitate, for fear of disrupting them further . . ."

---

They were both hungry by suppertime, so it was a quiet meal until they were nearly finished.

Then Jason recounted the tale of bluffing the Albionian 'pirates' – but not their precise identity, 'cause he was probably on the very edge what he could safely relate – which brought a chuckle to the other man's lips.

"Which reminds me," he said after finishing the story. "My skin . . . well, it's blotchy when I don't get enough sun, and various shades of olive when I do." Here he held up an arm for inspection. "Which I've clearly been getting, since arriving. So, given that Kirche seems to have a natural tan, why does everyone assume I'm Germanian? We really don't look like we're from the same country."

Mr. Colbert smiled. "I confess, I made a similar comparison when I described you for the first time to the Headmaster. In any event, Miss Zerbst acquired her red hair from her native Germanian heritage, but the rest is a complicated story."

"Well, that gives us a bit of time to digest before we hit the lab again and get the rest of it cleaned up."

"True. Very well. The first part of it goes back to the Romalian Empire.

"Even at the height of their power, when they were supported by all the Thrones, the Romalians didn't control all of Halkegenia. And after many of the Relics of Water were stolen, they could not send forces up the western coast without taking horrible losses: Ships were lost at sea to the monsters, airships were raided by the Old Albionians, and bandits preyed upon those who marched north along the old roads.

As a result, the Empire's grip on the north and the west grew ever shakier. Even when they launched reprisals all the way to the northern coast, local settlements could take ship to the islands and raid the legions and their supply trains until the imperials starved in place."

"I guess they weren't too popular by then, if they couldn't negotiate to unite everyone."

Mr. Colbert nodded. "New provinces were taxed quite heavily, the tribute taken as a way to break their wealth, and thus prevent rebellion. But the Romalians grew dependent on that tribute, and each new province had only so much treasure to be looted.

"So their expansion was halted before all of Halkagenia came under their rule, and thus they were never able to retire the legions. And as tribute dried up, they couldn't even afford what they had. As a result, Romalia slowly broke up, the provincars growing more and more independent of the Holy Throne. Finally a famine struck, the empire collapsed entirely, and within a generation each Throne ruled its own dominion once more." He paused for a moment. "Although it would be centuries before the Throne of Air established itself on the White Isle, and they have not always held Albion. The Tudors have managed it, since claiming that Throne for their line and conquering the White Isle, but who knows where they'll be in a month?"

Jason bit his lip and hoped his expression remained neutral enough to avoid giving anything away.

"In any event, the northern settlements remained independent of Romalia, but in the chaos of the Empire's collapse many of them united as Germania. But instead of a petty king and a new dynasty, they continued the system they had used against Romalia, where each town would send a representative to vote on the warleader, who would command the forces against Romalia without the threat of a dynasty that could be taken hostage or otherwise suborned to Imperial ways.

"As I said, they continued this system, and over the centuries the position of elector became hereditary.

"The nobles of Germania had always been weaker than the rest of the continent, so over time they sought to improve their bloodlines through marriage with nobles from other countries, but the commoners tended to keep to themselves.

"The Old Germanian commoner stock, which is what you resemble, have brown eyes and curly brown hair like you do. On the other hand, they tend to be short, wiry, and pale. So some people may think you're Germanian, but they're more likely to think you're only half-Germanian."

Jason nodded. "That explains a lot. And Kirche is of noble background, so she doesn't look Old Germanian at all."

"Ah, Miss Zerbst." Mr. Colbert sighed. "Her heritage is more complex, and the tale is somewhat more grim.

"The last Crusade against the elves, a century ago, ended in disaster, like they all tend to do. We didn't know how bad the disaster was until they replied to the invasion."

He paused.

"Okay, how'd they do that?"

"They located some humans from east of Rub' al Khali, persuaded them to invade Halkagenia, and gave them passage across the desert."

"After everyone was already exhausted from a failed Crusade? Ouch."

"Indeed. The Germanian king-elect lost all of his children to the Crusade: They had all volunteered, to impress the electors when their father died. For all that he outlasted him, he died, heartbroken, soon after he received the news. That, I understand, led many people to declare themselves for the Germanian throne. The prince-electors were still quarreling over the matter when the counter-Crusade invaded, and the elves clearly knew which country was most divided, least able to resist.

"They fought well, I understand, but it wasn't enough, and they failed to unite before they were overrun. I'll skip over the campaign of that invasion. The invaders, soon victorious, forcibly married the remnant of the Germanian nobility, and prepared to overrun the rest of Halkegenia.

"They failed in that, at least. In the south, the Gallians used their prestige as the Blessed Realm of Earth to form an alliance, and in the west the petty kings of the North likewise banded together, and were supported by Tristain and Albion.

"Again, the campaign is too long to recount. Suffice to say, this time the Easterlings failed in their conquest. But we were too exhausted to dislodge them from Germania, and so there was peace for most of a generation. During that time, the alliance of Tristain, Albion, and the kings of the North collapsed, although Gallia was able to retain the allegiance of the petty kings and dukes in their alliance, and they became one nation in truth.

"Ever since, Germania has instead sought to expand through marriage alliances rather than conquest. Now they're pressed up against us and the Gallians, and the kings of the North are kings no more."

Mr. Colbert gave Jason an unreadable look. "Vallière joined Tristain, by the way, because Miss Vallière's grandfather refused to contemplate bending his knee to the same overlord as the Zerbsts. Miss Zerbst is, if I recall correctly, five-eighths Easterling, although her magic obviously has not suffered for it."

"Wow." He took a slow breath. "And now her Highness is going to marry the Emperor's heir, and everyone becomes Germanian anyway."

"Just so. Another example of the madness and cruelty of King Joseph of Gallia, that Tristain now prefers alliance with Germania instead."

Jason stood up. "Yeah, that was a dark story. So, to the rest of the lab, then? And tomorrow testing?" So that, among other things, we can eventually suck up to the Germanians and get a title. Irony, that.

The professor nodded soberly. "Yes, to the lab."

---

The fraught weight of the history lesson occupied his mind the rest of the evening, so it wasn't until that night, when he lay down to sleep, that Jason remembered the sudden Siesta dilemma.

Which had come out of nowhere.

Because she hadn't done anything to suggest-

Yeah, yeah, we were probably an oblivious idiot. Sleep now, figure it out tomorrow.

---

A/N:

Magic Items: The Mirror of Truth – Canonically, you think of someone you care about and you can take their form. And in this fic, that is the easiest way to use it. However, would any archmage worthy of the title leave such a Relic unstudied, unexplored? Me, I don't think so. Headmaster Osmond didn't think so either.

New Spells: Strobing Flare – likely creates a brief pulse or pulses of light.