Gabriel stared at the missive, nausea churning in his gut. The first line was brief, André's neat handwriting scraggly and distorted. Had his hand been shaking when he'd put the quill to paper?

Chloe's gone.

The rest of the letter had not been written by his steward's hand. It was a brisk description of what had transpired, pieced together by the testimony of the household mixed with conjecture. They suspected some manner of subtle poison in the water or the food had been used to put the household to sleep, for they'd woken up dazed and confused, missing not only the memory of two days, but also their Mistress, as well as her handmaiden.

The king's gaze was drawn back to that shakily written script. Ten little letters, telling a story of unfathomable loss. Why didn't you protect her? I warned you this would–

"Good morning, father."

His son's voice startled him out of his thoughts and Gabriel swiveled his head to the door just as it fell shut. Adrien smiled brightly and held up a tray loaded with what had to be a meal big enough to feed four. Imprisonment had left Adrien malnourished, and he had the appetite to show for it to regain the muscle he'd lost. Still, it was unbecoming of a prince to be carrying around breakfast like a common servant, but Gabriel would be lying if he said he hadn't come to look forward to this new morning ritual.

The world was much brighter with his son in it.

Even on mornings like these.

"Adrien. Please sit."

Doing as he was bid, Adrien set down the tray and took a seat, his brows faintly creased in concern as he slid Gabriel's morning cup of tea toward him. "What is it?"

"Grave news has arrived…"

Gabriel's pride stirred as Adrien remained stoic when informed of his childhood friend's fate, his expression barely moving. Last year's experiences had hardened the prince, and perhaps that was not a bad thing. The king had always feared his son's gentle nature would be the boy's undoing. Perhaps that was why his grief had given him visions of Adrien following a dark-haired woman to his doom with a guileless smile on his face.

He shook the false memory off. It wasn't real. None of it. Neither he nor André had ever bargained away their children.

Still, the peace that had followed his son's visits in recent days never came. Instead, restless movement turned into uncontrollable shaking, the pulsing pain behind his temple growing so strong he was soon unable to tend to his long-neglected correspondence, his vision blurring.

At last.

He'd been waiting for this to set in.

The king rang for his valet. Nathalie would ensure nobody intruded on him while he was gripped by the delirium of withdrawal.

Alya's trunks hit the floor with a thud and she smiled at the two servants, tipping them handsomely for their trouble. Now that the prince's ball was over, aristocratic curiosity sated, several foreign dignitaries and nobles were choosing to eschew the New Year's festivities to return to more pressing matters, thus freeing up a few precious spots in the city's inns. Since this was turning into a longer operation, Alya had made the acquisition of suitable accommodations her top priority.

Marinette spared the luxury no glance, already curled up on the divan to scribble in her freshly purchased notebook. Ever unable to resist her curiosity, Alya peered over her new ally's shoulder.

Since all communication to the Bourgeois household would likely be monitored, it was imperative to not give away that Marinette had played any role in the steward's daughter's death. Giving away that she was alive and fled elsewhere would surely trigger a hunt for her head. Still, if Marinette was certain that her parents could be trusted, then it became only a matter of how to inform them discretely.

Sending them a handkerchief embroidered with a secret message was not a bad plan, though Alya had a hard time picturing this rune design Marinette had described.

"Letters in my mother's native tongue are much more complex than the ones we use. Every word has a unique rune associated with it and there's thousands. I only know a few, but I think it might be enough to say what needs to be said. I'll use 'daughter', 'safety' and 'secret'."

Alya tilted her head at the geometrical pattern Marinette was sketching.

"I don't see any symbols."

Marinette blinked, then pursed her lips, looking none too happy about the interruption to her concentration. She pressed the charcoal to the paper and lightly circled a repeating part of the central mandala's outer ring. "It's here."

Alya cooed, mind instantly running through the possibilities of how such artwork might be put to use for House Césaire. Her clan had built supply chains and secret networks all over the continent. If one knew where to look, there was always a clue pointing to the location of emergency weapon stashes or local contacts who might assist with a hunt. But staying one step ahead in message encryption was a challenge.

"That is brilliant," Alya said.

Marinette smiled and then sunk back into concentration, nibbling on her bottom lip as she sketched. Leaving her to it, Alya bent over her trunk. The combination lock clicked as she dialed it to reveal one of the secret compartments. No ordinary chest could hold as much as this one did for it was made from one of the many fae artifacts her family had pilfered. This magic of making things bigger on the inside than the outside had proven both harmless and useful enough to replicate.

Unsheathing an iron dagger and fishing the whetstone from her arsenal, she sat down on the bed. The repetitive motion sharpened not only the blade but her mind as she sank into contemplation.

If war ever broke out, any Esparian noble in the Franeaux capital would find themselves a political hostage from one day to the next. Like an oozing wound, the city had been bleeding out for years now, Alya's countrymen leaving for safer shores one by one. With the tensions between their nations, it would be hard to justify her prolonged presence at court, let alone Mariposa's.

On the surface, the Césaires were a rather modest house. They preferred it that way, their rank just high enough to enjoy the privileges of nobility, but not so high as to attract political rivals. Only the Esparian Crown knew of the true service the clan provided.

She and Marinette would be able to attend the New Year's Feast, but beyond that… while winter was the height of festivities, every night a new one, most of these were exclusive affairs, the guest list carefully selected. It was doubtful that an Esparian noblewoman of little importance would be granted entry into even half of them.

Awareness brushed Alya's consciousness, and her gaze grew unfocused as she listened to what her little spy was whispering.

exhaustion mingles with annoyance, teeth gritting and back aching, curse the spoiled fobs with their godsdamned constant feasts

Alya sighed and withdrew from the disgruntled servant's mind.

Her butterflies could give her eyes and ears where she could not walk, but their consciousness was limited. They observed emotions yet captured no more than snippets of thoughts and speech. Crowds overwhelmed them, blending countless feelings together into one seething mass.

Which wasn't to say they didn't have their use. They were excellent at detecting the creeping tendrils of malevolent minds. Not even the strongest glamor could fool her butterfly's true sight. She'd left one fluttering in the grand hall last night and bid it to take a closer look at Prince Adrien. Despite his lack of reaction to iron, her gut feeling kept telling her something was not right.

Yet the prince's thoughts had been warm, affectionate and tinged with sorrow, centered around pity for his ailing father. Nothing at all like the cold detachment of a Changeling. Nor did it have the dreamy quality of an unthinking thrall.

Which didn't necessarily mean he wasn't enthralled. Perhaps Prince Adrien would turn into a mindless slave when given some signal, like a dog trained to carry out its master's orders.

Alya needed more information beyond what her butterflies could give to make sense of it all. She needed access to the palace. Which led her right back around to the problem of how to gain regular access to the court.

She supposed she could play the naïve waif too stupid to understand the implications of her presence there, but not only was that a role which would sit ill, it still wouldn't garner her invitations to the more exclusive gatherings.

The whetstone ground to a halt.

Ah.

Lord Lahiffe had been flirting with her in full view of the court. The poor man was in dire need of company, and she was in dire need of a cover. A budding romance was the perfect fit.

Nino's fingers curled around the marble railing, the chill biting at his bare skin. Still he made no move to put his gloves back on, closing his eyes and letting the discomfort draw him out of his maudlin thoughts.

The royal gardens were loveliest during summer when the air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers, the colorful petals drawing complex geometrical patterns in the courtyard only visible from above. But even during winter the plaza was a sight to behold, sleeping under a thick coat of white. A fresh layer of snow had fallen just the night before, the central fountain frozen and glittering.

Nino had always loved the sight from this balcony, as had Adrien. It was only accessible through a little passage hidden by wall tapestries, one of many secret paths winding their way through the castle. Most of them were only known to the royal family, yet the prince had chosen to share this spot with Nino. Whenever Adrien had wished to escape his responsibilities for a moment, he'd snuck away here.

The two of them had played cards between these pillars, talked of their studies and of girls. Adrien had listened patiently to Nino's inept efforts to master the lute, and in turn Nino had suffered through Adrien's fledgling attempts at poetry.

It was here that Nino had first told Adrien of his intentions to court Chloe.

Chloe.

Nino sighed softly and leaned forward on the railing. Were the Gods playing a cruel joke on him? The brief flare of hope at Adrien's return had only made it sting more when it became evident his best friend was as out of reach as his ex-fiancée.

The ex-fiancée who, if court gossip was to be believed, was now missing, if not dead.

Nino had mourned the end of his engagement, grieved for the loss of his best friend, but the wounds were being torn open anew. Chloe and Adrien had swapped places, both lost to him, and the fragile peace Nino had built himself lay shattered.

He was well and truly alone.

A thump sounded from above.

Nino tilted back his head with a frown. Heavy footsteps rang out, moving to the edge of the balcony above, followed by a low grunt.

Prince Adrien vaulted in from above, landing in a graceful crouch just a few feet away from Nino. Green eyes lit up with recognition, and Adrien flashed him his brightest smile, drawing himself up on two feet.

"Good evening, Lord Lahiffe."

Nino blinked slowly, long-ingrained formality answering at once even as his mind was busy processing this development. "Good evening, Your Grace." Another slow blink. "Your Grace, may I inquire why you are scaling the palace's walls?"

"I knew you were down here."

"…and you couldn't use the corridors because…"

"Because my guards are not supposed to leave me out of their sight." Adrien tilted up his head, grin widening. "They're currently guarding the doors of a room two stories above us. Father's rather paranoid about my safety these days."

"For good reason."

"Aye." The prince lowered his head, looking at Nino from beneath his eyelashes. His expression was almost shy, cheeks dusted with red. But that was likely just the winter air irritating his skin. "I figured you wouldn't want an audience for this conversation."

"Oh, I wouldn't want an audience?" Venom crept into Nino's voice. "Seems to me that you're the one going out of your way not to acknowledge me in public, Adrien."

"No! I mean–" Adrien winced, fidgeting guiltily. "I've been busy attending to my duties." When Nino opened his mouth, Adrien talked faster to preempt the interruption. "But I know I should have sought you out sooner. I'm sorry. It's been – acclimating to everything has been rather overwhelming."

Nino's mouth snapped shut soundlessly as he frowned at his closest friend. Were things between them not as irreparable as he'd feared? "What's kept you away?"

Adrien shifted his weight to one foot, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "This is going to sound stupid as all seven hells, but it's the only excuse I have."

The corner of Nino's lip twitched. "I'm used to you saying stupid shit, Adrien."

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. I meant I understand that being an endless wellspring of wisdom as you are takes its toll and that there are moments you fall short."

Adrien's eyes narrowed. "I can climb back up, you know."

"I'm sure you can, Your Grace. Far be it from this lowly Lord to question your climbing prowess. It's not as if you have a head injury that might lead you to lose your balance at an inopportune moment." Nino arched an eyebrow.

"Ah. Fair point. That's actually – that is what I was going to get at." Adrien shifted his weight to the other side. "I'm getting better, but I'm still not – not quite myself, yet. Call it pride or vanity, but I did not wish to face you until I was more…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

"I think I'm going to call it stupidity, Adrien." Even as his words were chiding, Nino could not help the hopeful smile spreading on his face. "Did you really think I was going to judge you? Me?"

Adrien shrugged awkwardly. "Your opinion matters."

Nino closed his eyes, shoulders sagging as tension gradually drained away. "…you had me worried. Really worried. I thought you – you're not angry about that night?"

Blond eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What night?"

"The solstice. You left your tower because of me. You got caught because of me…"

"No!" Adrien crossed the distance between them, grabbing Nino by the shoulders, green eyes blazing with intensity. "Listen. I was targeted for being the prince. If it hadn't been that night, it could have happened on another. Do not blame yourself for things you had no hand in."

Then, seeming to remember himself, Adrien let go and took a step back, smiling sheepishly as he brushed a strand of golden hair from his face.

"…I've missed my best friend, Adrien. This last year – I know it's only a fraction of what you've suffered, but it's not been easy for me either."

Adrien nodded. "Right. Yes. I know that. That's why I'm here." Again, he fidgeted, and then sidled uncomfortably close once more. "I heard about Chloe. How are you doing, Nino?"

Nino closed his eyes. "Like shit, to be quite honest."

"Would you like to find a pub and talk about it?"

"A pub?" He cracked open his eyes with a startled laugh. "You don't even drink, Adrien." King Gabriel had rather firm opinions on the evils of liquor, and the prince, ever eager to impress, had adopted the attitude wholesale.

"Well, if ever there was a time to start, this seems to be it. It's what us males use to drown our sorrows, no?"

Nino peered at him, puzzled, and Adrien flushed under the scrutiny. What a strange turn of phrase.

"I appreciate the offer, but you're supposed to be guarded at all times for a reason, Adrien." Turning away to face the courtyard, Nino folded his arms on the railing. "…do you think they took her as retaliation?"

"That is my father's theory, yes." Adrien hopped on the balcony's stone boundary.

"Not one you share?"

The prince shrugged listlessly. "I don't know. It's all speculation at this point."

Comfortable silence descended. Nino peered at his best friend who stole a glance as well and then pretended he hadn't when he noticed Nino's scrutiny. Unspoken words scratched at Nino's throat – why was he holding them back? This was Adrien.

It was a trickle at first, halting and hesitant, but once he started, his thoughts just kept pouring out.

"…I don't know how to mourn her. In a way I already did mourn her. We parted on terrible terms and I had to reconcile this person she became with who she was before. She spread horrible rumors about me, Adrien. I loved her, but I can't stand her, and I am the lowest of the low that I can't let this go even now. She's suffering somewhere as we speak, maybe she's even dead, and yet…"

Adrien cleared his throat. "You should focus on the good parts of her. They deserve to be mourned."

"Easier said than done."

The prince let his legs swing back and forth, vibrating with restless energy. "So – remember when Lord Bourgeois came back from that diplomatic mission to Denskaye? At the summer palace?"

Nino gave a curt nod. "Of course." The negotiations between the two kingdoms had taken the steward north, and he'd taken his daughter with him. As adulthood loomed, all three young nobles had been increasingly consumed by the duties of their titles. That summer ball had been the first time Nino, Adrien and Chloe had been reunited in two years.

"You looked like such an idiot when you caught sight of her."

"I did not."

"I distinctly remember a slackened jaw and an incoherent garble."

"Well, she'd – there were curves that had not been there before! They took me by surprise, is all."

Adrien's grin was tempered with melancholy. "Go back to that moment when everything was simple. Picture that blue dress she wore, the way she'd pinned her hair up, that new shape – and the joy of seeing her again." The thoughtful green pupils darted to the maze. "Sentience has its drawbacks. Overthinking complicates matters that are easy, so you must prune away the complications until the world makes sense again. She's gone and it hurts. Don't dwell on what happened at the end. Think of that girl you fell in love with and mourn what became of her."

Nino's lips moved soundlessly, but no words seemed an adequate reply as the suffocating pressure around his heart eased up. So he said the only thing that came to mind.

"I've missed you, Adrien."

The prince smiled, green eyes so bright they almost seemed aglow.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the radio silence, folks, health issues have been kicking my butt and my rather spoiled muse refuses to work under these conditions. Back to your regular weekly updates! (I hope)