If she ever had a moment to spare, then something had gone wrong—unless, of course, someone else asked. For those worth her time, she always had ample spare. When not asked, though, there was always something to do and so she strived to always be doing it. If nothing else, there were always thoughts worth thinking.

  It was not a trivial thing to aplish all those tasks she wished to aplish. Every avenue iably had some limit, some frustration for her. She had, so far, tempered herself well and used her efforts to the best effects. If the bishop would not e to her, she would n him. Otherwise, where possible, she pnted such seeds that would one day dislodge these limits. If there were not enough literate peoples, she would build more schools.

  Other limits were more subtle. She couldn’t uhe city too quickly, the bulk of her goodwill already spent on overhauling the courts. It was ohing for her to set out an agenda, ahiirely for the people responsible for implementing it to do so. Her efforts with the guild’s master had certainly made her ambitious goals possible, yet, even after two years, she was not satisfied with the courts’ state, hard to both rewrite the ws and expand the courts as rapidly as she desired.

  It was not enough to tell people that her way was better: they had to believe it. She had to show them, she had to vihem, which required ging, not just the system she wished to ge, but the very thinking of every person iy—and many of those beyond.

  Her mother had writteensively on how to gain and solidify power. An abstract thing, in her own view, which represented a person’s ability to reshape the world. A, such power was insuffit. It was the kind of power that afforded a lord or dy a luxurious lifestyle and little more.

  People detested ge, often eve beed them. Enshrouded with fear. There were those iextile guild who had secretly broken spinning wheels, those who had “actally” broken them. Not that she entirely bmed them. ge, for most, meant worse. There was safety in the familiar. Rather, new lords who wished to meddle, fresh merts with fn ideas, were often eager to squeeze a few drops more blood from the stone.

  So she sought to adjust the situation, to make it so that the workers saw the bes of such progress.

  Pns within pns, no, she simply had tless pns that worked towards the same goals—towards a single goal. It was not a selfish goal, which recisely why she knew no one would sider it. Even if it was a selfish goal, though, she knew well how to align is.

  One need not agree ohing, enough to only agree on something important.

  “Prince Friedrich, t Styria,” she said, bowing in her seat. “Pray five my rudeness as I did not expepany at this hour.”

  While the Prince kept his posure, the t did not, grin broadening as he tapped his fellow guest with his elbow. “I did tell Sir that we should really have left a message and visited in the m.”

  Her gaze sharpened, pinning his chuckle in the back of his throat, only for her to soften as she turned upon the Prince. “Sir is right to visit at whichever hour he so chooses, only that I am uo show suitable hospitality at this time and so I may only apologise.”

  His expression showed nothing. In casual steps, he crossed the lounge and took a better position to see her. Although far from te, the winter hours brought darkness early and so it was the light of dles and a fire which kept back the afternoon’s gloom, bathing her fa warm colours.

  Yet he asked, “Is My Lady unwell?”

  “Until the day I die, I shall be in perfect health,” she said with a teasing smile, her tone light, only for the moment to then be punctured by a cough. “I hope the dust doesn’t upset Sir. This pce is spacious enough for a family while I have little need for so many staff on my own.”

  He stared at her a moment lohen shook his head. “No, a little dust shouldn’t bother me,” he said, a quieto his voice.

  “Well, it really should. Sir is too good for a dusty lounge. I should hire another maid first thing in the m,” she said.

  This time, he couldn’t help but ugh, a bark of ughter that tugged his mouth into a smile which lingered after. “If the dust is upsetting My Lady’s throat, we should return in the m after the room has been dusted.”

  “I would not impose on Sir another visit. My throat may disagree with the dust; however, it is nothing some tea ot relieve,” she said, then turo look beyond him. “Mr er, I believe Lord Styria would enjoy the print that arrived the other day.”

  “Very well, My Lady,” her butler said, bowing. “If My Lord would take a seat, I would have the material brought here.”

  Styria pyed along with his brand of theatriever before had she seen a man need make so maures just to walk over to a table and sit down—and she had spent much time with the mayor who, despite how his German had bee, at times very much showed his Italiaage.

  As for the prince, she gestured to the chair at an angle from her on the couch. He sat down without a fuss.

  “I wonder, Sir does not strike me as oerested in hunting doe nor such small game as fox nor hare. Perhaps, in Austria, I have heard there is to be a boar hunt at the month’s end,” she said, a touch ho her quiet voice.

  He softly smiled. “Have I s from My Lady?” he asked.

  She covered her mouth, whatever ughter spilled too quiet to reach him, yet evident in her eyes. “Sir thinks too highly of me.”

  For a while, he waited to see if she would expin, only to hang his head upon falling into another of her little traps. Subtle, something which others would not even think to call a trap. However, in her, he saw someone never uional. No, she had given him no reason to think her careless nor reckless. Calg, yes, but not cold.

  Or rather, at these moments he felt her warmth. In his time, he had met many such cold people, especially those around his father—and Prince Hector. They did not uand how to joke and tease, a cruelty to their humour and an inability to be at the tre of a joke. Whereas she had this queer humour, pying with him as if a cherished toy. How she could put whatever words in his mouth she so wished and that which she wished were good-hearted things.

  Those were his feelings. Whether he agreed with them rationally, he did not know. It was easy to avoid those he felt evil iions from and much harder to avoid those who could hide their evil iions from him.

  Still, from what he knew of her—and he had e to know as much as one could—he could not dis… evil. The blight of her betrayal against the Duke of Bohemia sat fortably with him. Intense, but she was a young woman without family, torween one she knew well and her neighbour, and she had chosen what was, in his eyes, the just side. More importantly, she had itted whole-heartedly to aiding the Marquess of Bavaria, uhose allies who would always need a little more time.

  Other than that, what was he to think of a dy who seemed so devoted to charitable causes? If anything, she was too kind, word of her more merciful ws being something of a joke at certais. Of course, he took hat those events included a certain prince.

  However, in his experiehose who believed in kindness could not help but indulge. If it was good to give away a single , then it was just as good to give away one’s st . That she had been so far been measured in her kindness and proo drawing others into her charity… didn’t ule him, but he again saw that ck of uionality in her.

  All brought together, he thought it ought to be a good thing for someone petent to be ied in doing good, yet it left him asking: What if she devoted herself to something else?

  Meanwhile, she sipped at her tea, accepting his gaze without disfort. Eventually, though, she broke the silence, albeit in a quiet voice. “There are few reasons to leave the capital at this time of year, then there is the question of where Sir might be going that would pass through these parts. Of course, a servant briefed me on Sir’s arrival too, so I uood that Sir is travelling light with a hunting bnisable beh a cover.”

  She paused there, her hand c her mouth for a moment, then carried on.

  “As Sir realised, I framed the observation in such a way that, if I had guessed wrong, it would have e off as polite versation. This is the kind of skill I learned, practised, and honed while being brought up as a princess.”

  At that st word, he bowed his head with a small smile. “My Lady appears to have thoughts on what I am here to discuss this afternoon.”

  “Pray allow me to first apologise,” she said, even softer than before, still with a roughness. “I am not sant to think myself unshakeable and, at that time, I did find myself shaken. Prince Hector’s wedding, the long months of travel—I spoke out of turn. I let hate guide my tongue and, in doing so, I am sure I caused Sir distress, which is unfivable. While words spoken may not be unspoken, I would hope to give Sir some fort that I have been true to my word and fotten whatever nonsense I spoke of that day.”

  He listened closely, tried his best to read her, yet struggled to believe her so easy to read. If she feighis self-chastisement, he couldn’t tell. “What did we speak of? Was it that My Lady wished to boast of my visiting?” he said.

  For a moment, she looked unlike how he had ever seen her before with a natural smile on her lips as her head lolled more than tilted, some loose hair not under her hat hanging down the side of her face. An almost intimate feeling to it, something she would not show just anyone.

  “Sir, although I do aowledge my wrongdoing, it is not the case my proposal was misguided. As crude as the delivery was, the merits I id out still stand. That Sir is here today is evidence of this. So please, do not think me a fool, for I do not think Sir is. Sir would not visit an unwed dy in her home without good reason.”

  He met her gaze, but soon his own flickered down. “My Lady is n.”

  She went to speak, only for a cough to e out. After a moment to settle and have another sip of tea, she closed her eyes a moment, then opehem. “I ot answer what I am not asked.”

  “Indeed,” he whispered and brought up his hand to cover his mouth. “Pray allow me to first offer an apology of my own. My Lady spoke so suddenly st time, I did not react well.”

  “I accept Sir’s apology.”

  Just like that, whatever he had been about to say now gave way to a bark of ughter that he could only stifle, fortunate his hand lingered near his mouth. The heaviness of before was swept away, once again feeling as if in those stands where they watched the men kid throw the ball around.

  However, they weren’t there, and she still waited for his questions.

  “What is it My Lady would look for in a husband?”

  Although another smile pulled at her lips, it was not as pronounced as before. “I already said as much.”

  “My Lady said that all she wanted from me is the title of princess, perhaps a closer cooperation with my father…” he said, trailing off there as he waited for her aowledgement.

  Sure enough, she gave a slight nod.

  “However, My Lady also dared say the most preposterous thing of all, which was to sider what we may aplish together.”

  “Did I?” she asked, tone sweet, as she tilted her head the other way.

  He opened his hands and said, “You did.”

  That shift draihe smile from her a he still saw it reach her eyes. Bright eyes, even as her breaths hid a strain. “That is a much longer versation than we may indulge in today. If I would give Sir a… hint, one perhaps suitable, I find myself g someoo lead. Augstadt has a sizeable militia, but it is not an army. It needs someone petent and charismatic. While that person need not be my husband, that is not to say they ot be my husband,” she said, her voice growing rougher by the end.

  Whatever thoughts he had of pushing on died. “I shall keep that in mind, and My Lady should rest.”

  She smiled at his advice. Rather tha, she took out a small box that had been hiddeween herself and the couch’s armrest. It was about the size of a hand and not too deep.

  “What is this?” he asked, his brow furrowed as she pced it in the middle of the table.

  “If anyone else asks, it is something my father had issioned before his passing. Something which is unsuitable for myself and, hearing that Sir is to hunt boars, I felt such worry that I insisted Sir take it,” she said.

  He still looked at her, so she urged him to open the box with a gesture. The box itself was like a work of art with eborate detailing of woven vines chiselled into it and the solid wood exquisitely painted.

  While the box was like art, what y inside surely was. Gleaming iron, polished wood, and oiled leather. A bizarre shape which took him a few seds tnise as a pistol—a word that he recalled at this time, something still unon. The craftsmanship shohrough its simplicity. The iron cked any indication of filing, the grain of the wood smooth and following its shape, while the leather had been perfectly cut to shape, unspoiled, aly attached to the grip.

  “My butler may expin the specific operation of it if he may apany Sir after the visit. If Sir should make use of it, I do ask that Sir requests more cartridges. It is not delicate, yet my experience is that, pared to any other, my people are able to make both powder and paper which burns er. It is also the case that a slight yer of wax keeps the cartridges from fouling in the rain or bei off by actal sparks too. These help the pistol remain reliable, even after much use.”

  His gaze drifted from the pistol to the cartridges she had mentioned: rolls of paper with a glint of metal stig out the end, a dull sheen to them.

  However, he couldn’t look away from the pistol for long. There was something unnatural about how perfect it was. How pin. A great sword could have any number of marks and quirks, even before it saw battle, for it was a on first and foremost. Of course, there were those who decorated their walls with pretty swords and there were such swords for ceremonies. Still, for battle, one would rather have a bcksmith than a goldsmith make it, things like the weight and band edge more important than having it look perfect.

  This pistol, though—what kind of smith would perfectly make something so pin?

  “Does Sir not like it?” she asked, tilting her head.

  He looked up, fak at first, then turned away, mouth thin. “How could I accept such a thing?” he whispered.

  “If it is not to Sir’s liking, that is fine. If it is to Sir’s liking, that is fioo. There is o think further than that.”

  A smile reached his face as the ugh didn’t make it through his throat, tight as it was. He had so much he wished to say, arguments he wished her to hear first, full of doubt. And he had answers he desperately wished for her to give that would put to rest his doubts.

  However, it all felt so futile with her. She knew herself in a way that he could only find himself envious. In a world that, at times, felt so very vague, every versation yered in so many euphemisms and such heavy etiquette that what y underh couldn’t be easily seen, she id bare her heart. Without hesitation, with fidence, she would say whatever it is she thought she ought to say.

  It stood in such stark trast to how Prince Hector had always spoken of her.

  For all he hesitated now, the truth had beeo her the moment he had arrived. Although he had tried to distance himself from it, it could not be denied, nor would he g to it.

  “If it would put My Lady at ease, it would be my honour to accept.”

  Their eyes met and, for a noticeable few seds, he did not reach out to the box. Only once a smile touched her lips did he close the box and bring it up to his chest.