When no one was looking, Briar managed to sneak some of the sweeter snacks from the ball into the folds of her dress and, when she returned to her room that night, she and Elsie ate them together and talked about all if the noble men and women who had attended the ball until Elsie said it was late and they should sleep as they would be expected to clean the mess the next morning.

She turned out to be right. The next morning, Briar found herself with a headache from perhaps a bit too much wine, hunched over to sweep crumbs of the previous night's offerings from the floor. She found herself missing the delicate lace and satin of her previous night's gown as the rough burlap rubbed against her knees.

"Mrs. Woods," Lady Cora said as she entered and Mrs. Woods dropped what she was doing and appeared by the Lady's side in an instant. "Leave this for later. I've got a splitting headache and I'm sure my brother is feeling much the same. Do have breakfast ready as quickly as possible. I'm sure my brother is still sleeping but I will wake him myself."

Mrs. Woods nodded but Lady Cora was already strolling from the room back toward the stairs and her brother's bedchamber. In an instant, they were moving. Mrs. Woods barked orders as they gathered their cleaning supplies, stowed them in a corner of the room, and headed off towards the kitchens. Once downstairs, Mrs. Woods put Briar and Elsie to work preparing the food for breakfast while Kitty and Lucy prepared the trays and coffee. When the food was cooked and on its way up the stairs with Kitty and Lucy, Mrs. Woods ordered Elsie and Briar to return to the cleaning until it was time for the ladies' tea which they would be serving.

So they went back to the ballroom for a couple of hours of sweeping and scrubbing until Lucy and Kitty came to relieve them around mid-morning. They took over the cleaning while Elsie and Briar collected the tea and biscuits from the kitchens and walked them up to the ladies tea room where they served them to the gathered women, a few more than usual, and took their place along the wall, listening to the gossip and waiting to be needed.

"Did you see Miss Morris in that hideous yellow dress?" one of the women was saying. She was new to the group, no doubt a remnant from the previous night's guest list who had not yet taken her leave. "She looked like a canary."

The other women laughed cruelly. Briar felt her jaw set in irritation. That is when she caught the Duchess' eye. Adelaide was sitting in a corner of the room alone, present but removed from the conversation. She smiled when their eyes met and dipped her head slightly in greeting. Briar did the same.

"And did you see Miss Bennett fawning all over him?" another unrecognizable woman put in. "Her father is a simple tradesman. What was she even doing there? She can't possibly think she has a shot."

"Mr. Bennett owns the Northbrook logging industry. He is contracted with every building project in the region. Without his lumber, there would be no Northbrook so, yes, I think the titles Miss Ella Bennett has a shot of becoming Lady Huntington if my cousin so wishes," the Duchess snapped from her corner. The woman who had spoken smiled sweetly at the Duchess but her lips were set in a tight line and the anger at being scolded so was plain on her face.

"I think no one is excluded from the running," Lady Cora said with a smile in an attempt to get her tea time back on track. "My brother has placed much importance on the task of choosing a wife. It is not a duty that he takes lightly."

It was all Briar could do to keep from scoffing. Excluded from the running? The Lady made it sound like some sort of pageant. A pageant whose prize was to be eternally bonded to a man they hardly knew for the rest of their lives. It was one of the biggest decisions one could ever make and these women were treating it as nothing more than a competition. Only Lord Huntington himself seemed to be treating it like the irreversible commitment it was. Not for the first time in the last twenty four hours, Briar watched these ladies squabbling over the lord like he were a prize to be won and she was uncomfortably reminded of her own fate on this matter, of the men who would squabble over the princess.

She gripped the tea cup in her hands a little too tight and saw that her knuckles had turned white. She made an effort to loosen her grip and took a breath but she caught sight of the Duchess watching her curiously and had to force a smile in her direction.

"The ladies were not the only interesting guests at the ball last night," the familiar petite brunette spoke. "Sir Alfred Hughes, the King's own advisor, was in the crowd I believe."

Lady Cora smiled at that, pleased that her party had drawn such an important guest as Briar knew she would be.

"Yes," Lady Cora said. "Sir Hughes visited us the night before. He said he needed to return to the capital but then decided to stay and attend our ball."

"Why was he here?" the petite brunette asked eagerly.

"To handle some business. But Adelaide did ask about the King's health."

All eyes turned to the Duchess but, if it bothered her, she didn't show it. She hardly seemed to notice the extra attention as Lady Cora explained what Sir Alfred Hughes had told them about the King's health.

"That's good news," the plump one said when she had finished.

"He said he hadn't worsened," Lady Cora pointed out. "Not that he was getting better."

The women looked at one another.

"I heard a rumor," the petite brunette started again, her voice a scandalous whisper. "That the princess has fled the palace for Baliene."

Briar froze. The women gasped and began whispering amongst themselves.

"What?" Lady Cora asked, for the first time surprised by a bit of gossip shared in her tea room.

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?" the brunette explained. "I mean, the King is quite ill and, if he were to pass, well, there's an entire group of people who don't want to see her on the throne. With things so tense, it makes sense that she would flee the country for her own safety and where else would she go but Baliene, to her betrothed?"

The Duchess said the words just as Briar thought them. "They aren't betrothed."

The girl turned to face her.

"What?"

"Prince Lucien and Princess Briar. They aren't betrothed. Not officially."

"Officially enough," the girl argued, irritated by the Duchess poking holes in her gossip.

Briar felt her heart beating faster. These women had no idea how close they were to the truth of what had happened. Where had the petite brunette heard she had fled? No one was supposed to know, or even suspect, that. Everyone was meant to believe she was safe and sound at her uncle's side behind the palace walls. But those rebels had known she had fled. They had been waiting for her in the woods. Her hands began to shake as she realized what that must mean. Someone was passing information from inside the palace.

She heard the sound of shattering porcelain and a few gasps from somewhere far away and then Elsie was shaking her. She looked at the girl, her concerned face coming into focus, and realized that the tea cup had fallen from her hands and shattered onto the floor below. Everyone in the room was looking at her.

"Brenna? Are you alright?" Elsie asked.

"Yes," Briar told her, trying to still her shaking hands, trying to calm her nerves. "I'm simply feeling a bit light headed is all."

"Why don't you go lie down," Elsie suggested kindly. "I can take care of this."

Briar nodded absentmindedly and pushed past Elsie for the door. The conversation resumed behind her as if nothing had happened but her head was swimming with the realization she had come to. She crossed the foyer to the servant's stairs but, as her hands touched the railing, she heard a knock on the door. Dazed, she glanced behind her. A male servant had opened the door and Lord Huntington was descending the steps to meet the unexpected visitor.  When he reached them, he shook their hands and then the servant closed the doors. When Briar saw who had been standing behind them, she couldn't breathe.

Two familiar travelers. One short with an eyepatch and a scar down the whole left side of his face and another big, round, and bald, familiar symbols of the rebellion pinned on their chests.

She turned and ran down the stairs, through the servant's hall, and to her room. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, heart pumping, mind racing. Those were the men who had ambushed her in the forest. They would recognize her. They would know who she truly was.

She ran to the chest at the end of her cot that contained the belongings she had arrived with on that very first day. She threw it open and rummaged through the fabric of her ruined dress, looking for the soldier's dagger that had protected her once before. But it wasn't there. Where could it be? With a start, she remembered that Lord Huntington had taken it once they had arrived at the estate.

She collapsed onto the floor, sitting up with her back against the chest, and raised a shaking hand over her mouth as the reality of her situation sank in. She was trapped in this house with her own assassins and no means of protecting herself.