The wares on 249 ships got spoiled. 80 ships sank. A shocking number of 67 ships were never found again; the highest in two decades.

Four weeks it had been since her last moonblood had flown. Twenty-eight days to be exact. Any moment now, the crimson horror could return, cramps and all. She was already wearing the underskirt with the cloth pad sewn into it and had renewed the moss inside the pad. Though she was as ready as a woman could be, every bit of sweat in her nether regions made her heart leap.

Not right here and right now. For the first time in a moon, the King had requested her presence in his office. She was now sitting on his couch; the exact same spot where womanhood had struck her for the first time.

It would be too ironic to let her relive that humility, even for the Gods. But she could already feel her belly bloating up and protesting.

Why, oh why, did women have to go through this torture?

She narrowed her eyes. Men such as General George and King Thomas were free from this curse. They chatted on without a care in the world, their body never betraying them. And that made them the stronger gender? Pathetic.

The General stood hovered over the King, who was seated behind his desk. General George repeatedly smacked a letter from Captain Jonathan, insisting that they should act now that the target was alone. But King Thomas shook his head. He wasn't in favour of any rash decisions.

The men mostly talked in codes and abbreviations that made little sense to her. Vulpus was spotted near the twins, without any gemstones. General George proposed NQG, to which the King said that he needed more INT.

She had to remember them, ask Nick what they meant. Then him joining the military would finally lead to something besides loneliness. She hardly saw him and saw even less of Seb; after the ball, they hadn't once talked to each other one-on-one.

He was the Crown Prince so he could hardly be blamed for the extensive training, private classes, and long nightly meetings with his uncle, yet she wished he would sometimes join her and Lana by the fireplace in the Queen's parlour. Even Nick occasionally found the time to eat cakes with them.

Too bad he and Lana spent all evening with their nose stuck in a book. They exchanged books the way other exchanged jokes. They always had something to chat and laugh about, and she hated it.

If only that Muttonhead could see just how much pain he was causing her...

She shifted position on the couch, her eyes drawn to the window. Darkness had fallen onto Sundale, and without the heat of the winter sun to keep the cold away, ice flowers were quickly expanding on the glass panes.

It would be another cold night, colder than any of the nights in Laneby. The proximity to the Scorching Plains had a strange effect on the city. Mild winter days, but freezing nights. The stove in her chamber would have to keep burning all the way until morning.

"Daydreaming about anything good?" King Thomas joined her on the couch. He crossed his legs, his body facing her. 

The General was nowhere to be seen anymore.

"Not really, Your Majesty. I was just waiting."

"Sorry about that. George had a point. If we wanted to move quickly, we couldn't waste another day." He shrugged, smiling. "But I'm not here to confuse you with complex strategies. I know it's been a while since I promised to train you, but I needed to find the proper task."

She sat up straighter, her heart fluttering in her chest. After her falling out with the King, she hadn't expected him to go through with it. "I guess this means you found one?"

"You could say I did." He grinned, which made her realise just how stupid she had sounded. "It's a bit of a delicate matter, but I think you'll be able to handle it. You're a girl who can keep her secrets."

"I do. And I respect others who do the same for me."

"Good... very good." King Thomas moved his hand towards his jewel but stopped halfway. He rubbed the stubbles on his chin. "It's about Captain Jonathan. The guards don't talk much about it–they remain loyal–but it has come to my attention that he frequents the servants quarter. Wanna help me find out what's going on?"

"Sure." She nodded. As if she would ever say no to that.

"Alright, let's meet again in two days." He patted his thighs and reached for a scroll on the side table. "That will be all, Alex. Thank you very much."

The task was all she could think of all evening. She was lying on her bed, moving her arms and legs up and down rhythmically and gazing at the ribbing ceiling. If the Lieutenants couldn't be interrogated about the matter, then she had to look lower in the hierarchy and kill two birds with one stone: Nick.

Snores were already coming through the wall, so she would have to talk to him tomorrow morning before the army bugle announced the new day.

She turned to her side and focussed on the noise. Nick's sawing of logs had a calming effect on her mind, as did the burning wood in the stove. She dreamt of Laneby; the long half cuddling, half playfighting sessions with Ben. Her brother too small to beat her, but eager enough to not get called a loser.

And then a red, broiling wave swept it all away.

She woke up in a sweat, the sun shining through the window and onto her blankets. Determined to catch Nick, she jumped out of bed, only to get caught by the stickiness between her thighs. She lifted her nightdress, blood leaking down her leg. Her sheets a massacre.

She hadn't used enough moss.

As if the Gods were mocking her, the bugle trumpeted outside. A nearby door opened and Nick's groan echoed through the hallway.

What had she done to the Gods to deserve a fate like this? She couldn't meet him like this, but not doing so would make her lose a whole day. She undid her nightdress, grabbed the sheets, and stuffed them into the bowl of water that a servant had already placed on the dresser.

Now how to not get caught with those bloody sheets? She opened her closet and placed the bowl on the lowest shelf. She pushed a pillow against it so it wouldn't be visible.

The servant coming to retrieve her bowl would think someone else had already done it. And that someone had also taken her sheets to get washed. Please, God of Charity, they couldn't overthink it.

Alex grabbed her quiver that was gathering dust in the corner. Beneath her arrows, she had crammed large quantities of moss. It was the one place servants would never look; they wouldn't even go near it. She renewed the moss in her pad, threw the bloody ones into the stove, and got dressed.

But when she stormed out, Nick had already left. He wasn't on the stairs, nor in the kitchens. It had all taken too long.

Had she been born a boy, she would not have had this problem. She would have followed the same path as Nick, to the army. She would have been the chosen one as Seb's future General. After all, she had been a far better warrior than Nick had ever been. Based on raw talent, she deserved that spot more than he did.

The day passed in a long, agonising blur. The only ray of hope on the otherwise miserable and cloudy day was Healer Mark asking her to pick moss in the royal garden. It was the perfect opportunity for her to smuggle some for her own secret stash.

She didn't see Nick until dinner. 

As the last of the royal family, he stumbled into the dining hall, far later than six o'clock. Instead of walking to his seat, he stood by the Queen's side, his hands behind his back. His cheeks were red, the rest of his face oddly pale.

Queen Crystal didn't even look up. In the past couple of weeks, Nick had often arrived late and had even missed a few dinners. He always blamed the Academy or Lieutenant Stephen for not releasing him earlier, but the Queen was visibly growing fed up with his behaviour. "What's your excuse this time, Nicolas?"

"I don't feel so well." He clutched at his stomach, his face revealing pain. "And I really tried to make it, but I threw up twice on my way here. I'm not hungry."

If Nick didn't wanna eat, then he was seriously ill.

"Belly Fever," the General stated. "The first cases were reported a few days ago, and it's spreading rapidly through the patrols."

"And you're telling me that now?" the King said, annoyance apparent in his voice. "You'll have to put the patrols in quarantine immediately. No more activities until the illness is under control."

The General chuckled. "It's Belly Fever, Thomas, not the Blue Plague. It's annoying but harmless. You camp a few days near the privy and you're good."

"I wanna be sure. Go and see the Healers, Nick."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Nick bowed with a short nod that made him wince.

"I'll help him." Alex threw her cutlery onto her plate. She was done eating so she might as well assist him and get a few answers out in the process.

"Don't be so eager, warrior girl." Lana winked. "You keep forgetting that we live in a castle. Let one of the servants or the guards do it. Sit down, relax. Have a piece of pie."

"Exactly." The Queen snapped her fingers, capturing the attention of the Lieutenant guarding the door. "Peter, bring him downstairs and ask the Healers for an extra batch of clawpowder tonic if it's indeed Belly Fever."

"And if it's anything else, please inform us right away," added King Thomas.

"Of course, Your Majesties."

Alex felt defeated, caught in her own game, but she wasn't giving up yet. She would have something to please King Thomas with before the forty-eight hours were up. At least, in this state, Nick wouldn't go to the army tomorrow, whether the General halted the army activities for the time being, or not.

She visited Nick that very evening, but he was asleep, his fingers clasped around a book. From the bucket near his bed escaped a sour, nostril-searing stench that had invaded the whole room. She took the bucket out and emptied it in the privy, rinsed it with some water and grabbed one of the hygienic sponges to clean it, before returning to his chamber.

He was still how she had left him, sleeping and holding onto that book.

She placed the bucket again by his side and tugged at the spine, getting him to release the book. He murmured as he turned around, book and all, and threw his blanket over his head. 

He was really a Muttonhead. 

She threw a couple of logs into his stove and left.

Back in her chamber, her bed had gotten fresh sheets. She opened her closet, the bowl still hiding behind the pillow. Raising her head to the sky, she thanked the God of Charity to grant her this wish. 

But she had to do something with them. They couldn't stay in her closet forever. The smell alone would force the servants to go snooping, so there was only one option left: she had to bring them to the washerwomen. 

Yes! The God of Diligence had granted her a bright idea. The washerwomen were the biggest gossipers in Sundale after the tavern wenches and the fishmongers. If anyone in this castle would talk freely about the Captain's odd behaviour, it would be them.

It would solve two problems at one. Three even, because then she didn't need to bother Nick with questions that might raise suspicion. He was clever, too clever for his own good. And hers too.

As she skipped around, she remembered him telling the story of him overhearing his mother gossiping about Seb's moods. Nobody pays attention to the boy lying on the floor, reading.

And so she woke up the next morning while the moon was still shining in the heavens. Her four stars twinkled in a row, winking at the plan she was about to execute. She wrung out the wet bedsheets and her ruined nightgown, the water dirty brown and with an iron smell.

At least most of the blood stains were already gone. She tucked them into a towel and swung it over her shoulder. 

On the hallway, Nick came out of the privy, his eyes still filled with sleep.

He groaned. "You're up early."

"We can't all be sleepyheads like you." She smiled, the corners of her mouth spreading fast.

"You're mean. I have Belly Fever, Alex."

"At least you're not dying."

"I'm not sure." He rubbed his stomach as he plodded past her. "I could well be."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. Had he been a girl, he would never survive having his moonblood. "Can I borrow one of your books?"

"I don't think this is happening. I'm still dreaming, aren't I?" He raised an eyebrow. "Alex the Warrior, reading a book? No, I died and I'm in the heavenly halls. That explains it all."

"Don't be overdramatic, Nicolas." She wanted to poke him, but that would actually be mean. Instead, she took a few steps back, blocking his path. "Can I?"

"Be my guest." He beckoned her to enter his chamber. "Just don't take any of the military books. I still need to do my homework."

She picked up a blue-covered book, the golden letters spelling out, Beautiful Blue Bird. That would have to do. It wasn't like she would actually read it.

Down in the basement, the chattering of the servants reminded Alex of the hustle and bustle of Laneby's inn, the cacophonous voices discussing the cold winter nights and the various remedies against winter hands and toes.

As she entered the laundry room, she had no idea why they would ever require such a remedy. The hot, moist air sucked all breath out of her. Three women, all in Greenlander green aprons were standing in the midst of four fireplaces, each burning with tall flames. Clothes were thrown against the metal washboards, their hands rubbing the fabric over and over.

"Yes, dear?" asked an older lady with thick eyebrows. She had two stubby hairs that were growing on her chin.

"Erm... here are my friend's bedsheets. He has Belly Fever," she said with a straight face, not daring to blink. "I've already rinsed them, got most of it out."

"Give that here. I'll take care of it." The woman took the towel from her hands and threw it in a tub that was large enough to wash a horse in. There was much laundry in there that nobody would know that a girl's nightgown had entered the warm water too. "It's not the young Prince, is it? The poor boy has already gone through so much."

"No, Nick. He brought it home from the patrols." Alex felt her muscles relaxing. Lying and keeping secrets stood against all her mother had ever taught her, but she'd had no choice. These people were all working for the Queen. If the servants found out, so would she.

"Wish him well, Lady Alex. And next time, don't bother with the laundry. We're here to serve you and the royal family."

"I only wanted to help." She shrugged, pretending it was nothing. "I'm gonna sit outside, to read my book. It's nice and warm here, and I don't wanna disturb the rest of the castle."

"Wouldn't you prefer reading in the library? It gets a little loud in here."

"Oh, but that's fine." She waved the woman's suggestion away. "I come from a very lively family. I like noise."

"Alright, if that's what you prefer."

She settled against the rough stones of the outer wall, on the other side of one of the fireplaces. It was nice and warm on her back, too cosy almost. She patted her cheeks to stay awake. If she fell asleep now, then her mission would fail, and she wasn't gonna go to the King empty-handed.

The washerwomen talked about everything, from their husbands spending too many coins in the taverns to the mischief of their children. They seemed to have forgotten she was sitting there because they freely criticised King Thomas for allowing the Queen to keep her Ician faith.

"That's old news, Charlotte. Do you wanna hear a real scandal?" asked one of the ladies. Her voice sounded childish, even to her nearly thirteen-year-old self.

"Of course."

"I'm all ears. Unlike His Majesty."

The door was only a chink open. Not enough for Alex to see who was saying what, but the woman disrespecting the King was called Charlotte.

"Two-three weeks ago, nobody else but Captain Jonathan came down here. His maid, Mary, was out of town and a button had fallen off his uniform. Marianne offered to help, and since then he has visited her every other day to drink tea with her."

"Seduced by the Goddess of Lust!" The old woman gasped. "Her husband's body's barely buried and cold. And the Captain of all people."

"Yeah, she has always been after men with a lot of coins," said the woman who criticised King Thomas. "Barnaby had to sell his boat so she could afford one of those fancy dresses. It's what killed him, I tell you."

When the women kept on talking about Marianne and Barnaby, she closed the book and left. She had all the information she needed.

Later that day, when she was cleaning phials for the Healers, Healer Mark shuffled into the laboratory. "Three more cases of Belly Fever in the castle. It's a minor stream, but it's spreading rapidly so take all necessary precautions. Wash your hands in brandy after treating the patients."

Alex stared at her hands. She had looked after Nick and was fine. The number of times that she had gotten ill could be counted on one hand, and she had never had Belly Fever. Had she been a boy, she would have been a perfect Healer, but she was not; a life as an errand girl was already an exception.

Healer Ed removed his monocle. He looked up from the thick book he had been consulting for the past half an hour. "Given young Nicolas was patient zero of Sunstone Castle, are the three other patients Lieutenants?"

"One out of three right, Ed." Healer Mark dipped his hands into a bowl of clear brandy. "As I was saying, it's spreading fast. Stephen was the first one after Nicolas, yes. Later George complained of nausea, and I just came back from seeing His Majesty."

"His Majesty. Time to start our bets." Healer Ed reached into his pouch and took out a gold coin. "He will sleep away the day, then start working again tomorrow."

"That's too long. We're an hour from noon," shouted Healer Tim. "He'll sleep until two, not a minute longer. Then he'll ask the servants to bring him supplies from his office."

"I've seen him..." Healer Mark narrowed his eyes and scratched his nose, his hands still dripping in brandy. "It won't be a day, but he's under the weather. Giving his insomnia, he'll sleep now and start working again tonight. Alex, your turn."

"Ermm." She didn't think they would invite her into their game. "I think all the options have been said, but I have a meeting with him at eight tonight so I hope..."

"Nonsense. You go up to him now. I didn't count on losing all my supplies to Stephen and George." The man picked up three different phials, a light brown liquid, a dark brown one, and a light green one. "Clawpowder, ginger, and mint. The Clawpowder all at once, and a sip of the ginger and the mint every two hours though he's allowed to take more if he wishes."

Alex nodded. Visiting patients was already more exciting than cleaning phials.

Unsurprisingly, King Thomas wanted neither of the three. He lay sprawled on the left side of the bed and moaned. "I was careful not to touch Nick last night. Why are the Gods doing this to me?"

"You'll feel better with those tonics, Your Majesty."

"There's a special place in The Seven Hells reserved for those tonics, Alex. Not one drop of them will enter my body. Not while I'm King of The Greenlands." Sweat was pearling on the King's brow. He squirmed.

She bit her lips, suppressing a chuckle. If it didn't concern the man's health, it would actually be funny, yet at the same time, she had to find a solution. She couldn't go back to Healer Mark with the message that the phials remained on his bedstand, untouched. 

So she had to bargain.

"I found out about Captain Jonathan."

"Good, spill the beans. Make it quick."

"I'm not gonna say unless you take your medicine."

"Alex, please, I'm not in the mood for your antics," he grumbled.

"I'm not asking much, and it's for your own benefit."

The King pushed himself up, his breathing heavy, like he had just been running around. "I'll take the mint and the ginger, but I refuse to take the poison that is clawpowder. My wife swears by it, but I won't. Mark knows that."

"Fine."

After the King had taken a sip of the ginger tonic, she told him about the Captain and the seamstress. If he found the news shocking, he hid it well. "Good job, Alex. Well done. I'll use the information if I require it, to do some haggling of my own."

Alex didn't react. She cared very little for the love life of the old Captain. All she wanted to hear was her next assignment.

The King reached for the green phial but stopped. "I guess I'm not gonna take the mint after all."

"Then you won't hear what else I found out." Her mouth had parted before she had thought the words through, but she did have extra information. Wouldn't he wanna know about a servant criticising him, even making jokes about his ear? Or the Healers placing bets on how he would act as a patient?

"I value your determination, Alex. But you're walking a thin line between brilliance and annoyance. The God of Patience won't always be on your side." He set his lips to the phial and drank. He shuddered. "Speak."

"Charlotte, one of the washerwomen. She talks ill of you, Your Majesty. I doubt she's loyal to the crown."

He snorted. "If I should fire every servant who has ever complained or gossiped about me, Crystal would have to hire an entirely new staff every three moons. I'm aware of Charlotte, and I don't care. You're dismissed, Alex."

She took the clawpowder phial and held it close to her chest. "What's your next task? I'm ready to do more. I really enjoyed doing this, Your Majesty."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." The King sunk lower and shifted his head onto his pillow. "I'll call you into my office when I need you. Lie low for now and keep the God of Pride at bay. We must not raise any suspicion."

Week after week passed by, each slower than the previous. Though winter was a busy period for the Healers, the ailments were always the same: frost bites, head colds, and the occasional case of Belly Fever that popped up in another part of Sundale, never quite spreading as the first wave.

Not once did King Thomas ask for her. 

She grew more bitter each day. Had she been a man, he would have never treated her like that.