"I can't believe he kicked Theodore out," Kitty was saying as they were finishing up cleaning the kitchen. After the outburst that had occurred upstairs, no one had felt much like eating so Briar and the girls had started their cleanup early.

"He threatened to make Cora leave too," Lucy reminded them. Briar was hardly listening. Lord Huntington was clearly under quite a bit of pressure. She hadn't helped matters by coming clean about who she was and giving him another person to worry about. They had said that Lord Huntington never used to get angry but lately he had displayed that emotion quite a bit. And she was the reason for the rift between him and his sister, that much was clear.

Lucy dried the last dish and set it aside and they all headed to the exit of the kitchen but, just as Briar hung up her apron, she remembered that she had left her bucket of cleaning supplies in the parlor and excused herself to fetch it. The girls were so engrossed in their gossip that they didn't even hear her and she slipped away unnoticed. She found the parlor dark and empty but, as she bent to collect the supplies, she saw the small flicker of firelight from outside. Off on the familiar grassy knoll behind the stables sat Lord Huntington, lantern at his side and back to her, silhouetted against the night sky beyond. She gathered the bucket and headed out the door.

She left the bucket a few feet behind and sat down next to him. He looked over as she did and a tired smile touched his lips. She saw the bottle he was drinking from. Whiskey. It must be serious. She held out a hand expectantly and he chuckled and handed over the spirits. She took a swig and felt it burning through her chest.

"I've never seen a princess drink whiskey before," he told her, amused.

"Had you ever seen a princess do much of anything before me?" she asked.

"Fair enough," he drank.

It was silent for a moment.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"Nothing you need to worry about," another weak smile. Another silence and then. "I wasn't even supposed to inherit all this, you know."

"What do you mean? You're the oldest son."

"A father can change the succession in his will, you know that. My father intended to name Theo his heir."

"Why?"

"He always liked Theo more," he shrugged. "But he died before he could make the change."

"But Theo is so irresponsible."

Lord Huntington chuckled at that. "So was my father."

She waited.

"Before I took over, this place was falling to pieces," he said. "I guess it still is."

He drank. She reached out again and he smiled and handed her the bottle. She took a gulp that must have been too long because he raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"I think you're a great lord," she said as she wiped her mouth and handed the bottle back.

"Oh?"

"You're kind. There's not enough of that in the world. Especially in the nobility."

He smiled.

"And you defended me from your sister even when I was just a servant," she reminded him.

"You've never been just a servant," he argued, taking a drink. She smiled.

"You know what I mean."

He sat quietly for a moment. He seemed to be thinking. She sat quietly as well, trying to think of a way to phrase the question that had been gnawing at her. After a few minutes, she decided to just ask it.

"Is all this my fault?" she asked. Not very elegant but it got her point across. He turned to her, confused.

"What?" he asked.

"The other servants talk about how you never get angry, you never skip meals, and you've never spoken to your siblings so boldly. And then I arrive and you're practically up to your elbows in drama. I can see how stressed you are, how badly this all affects you, and I wonder, am I the reason? Would it be easier for you if I just left?"

His jaw hardened. "Do you want to leave?"

She just stared at him.

"None of those things are your fault. Well, perhaps the skipped meals," he said, playfully budging her shoulder with his own. "Things have been coming to a head with my siblings for some time now. If anything, I've come to understand just how immature they are as of late. You're running for your life. I'm dealing with businessmen and rebels and my sister is concerned only for gossip and my marriage prospects while my brother is out sleeping with half of the town."

He blinked then and looked down at her.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

She took the bottle and drank deeply.

"They just don't understand how lucky they are to have what they have. Most nobles don't."

"You do."

"Because I understand that I can lose it all."

"I won't let you lose it all."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a princess," she explained, standing up. "I'll just command them to give it back."

As she got to her feet, the world around her spun and she lost her footing and fell forward. In an instant, Lord Huntington was on his feet and had caught her. He smiled down at her in his arms and said. "I don't think you're in any condition to be commanding anyone."

She tried to walk on her own but it wasn't going well. She had only drank whiskey once before and that had been at a palace party to celebrate Alfred's birthday. She tried to remember what had happened then but was not encouraged to find that she didn't remember much of that night at all. She brought a hand to her head as if she could stop the spinning by firmly pressing her forehead. Lord Huntington chuckled.

"Let's get you back," he said and held out an arm for her to grasp. Then he picked up the bucket she had brought out with her and led her back to the estate in the impossible darkness. She stumbled a few times in the night but he always righted her and helped her along. When they entered the foyer, Lord Huntington started to lead her up the stairs rather than down to the servant's quarters. She started to protest, confused, but he held a finger to his lips and knocked on the door she knew belonged to the Duchess.

"Sterling, what are you-" the Duchess started as she opened the door but, when she saw Briar leaning heavily on Lord Huntington's arm, she raised a brow and crossed her arms. "What do we have here?"

"Seems the princess can't handle her whiskey," Lord Huntington told her, amused.

"That's not true," Briar argued but the small hiccup that escaped her at the end of her sentence failed to bolster her case.

"I'd like to let her sleep it off on a bed that isn't a cot," Lord Huntington told the Duchess. "You'll need to put her to bed in Theo's room. In the morning, tell the others you found poor Brenna ill in the parlor and insisted she have the comforts."

"Why can't you-" the Duchess began and a look passed between them. "Oh alright. Come, dear."

Briar followed the Duchess shakily across the hall to the room that must have belonged to Theo. Just before the Duchess shut the door behind them, Briar could see Lord Huntington smiling in the hall.

The Duchess helped her undress and gave her a nice nightgown to wear so that she didn't have to sleep in the itchy burlap.

"I'm sorry," Briar said then and suddenly she was crying. Perhaps it was the whiskey. Perhaps it was how stupid she felt. And perhaps the months of living in hiding and keeping a firm face had finally gotten to her. But she positively broke down, collapsing into the Duchess who sat gently onto the bed and held her head on her lap.

"Oh you poor thing," she said quietly, stroking her hair. Briar felt, without saying anything, that the Duchess understood and she felt, for one of the first times in her life, the strange sensation of trust. The woman held her for some time as she cried in a way she hadn't dared to in years.

Some time later, there was a knock on the door, tentative at first but then again a bit louder as if the visitor were afraid they hadn't heard it the first time. Briar looked up at the Duchess as she stood slowly and made her way to the door. As she approached, she opened it very slowly only a few inches, enough to see who was outside.

"Is everything okay?" Lord Huntington's concerned voice queried from the corridor.

"We heard crying," the Duke's voice explained. Briar felt her cheeks flush red as the Duchess turned to look at her and then returned to the concerned gentlemen at the door, lowering her voice to answer so the Briar caught only the end of her sentence.

"-no, she isn't decent. I'm handling it."

Then she closed the door and returned to Briar. Briar sighed and collapsed onto the bed behind her.

"I'm humiliated," she told her.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed of," the Duchess told her, lying down next to her so that they were side by side, staring up at the ceiling above them. "If I had gone through even a fraction of what you'd been through, I would have broken to pieces long before now."

Briar looked over to her.

"I always admired that about you, you know," the Duchess confessed. "Your strength. Even when we were children, people would say the most horrible things to you and about you and it never even phased you. Once, I even overheard you making a joke about it."

"It always phased me," Briar confessed in return. She had already fallen completely apart in front of this woman, what was a bit more confessing. "It always hurt. Every time. I thought eventually I would get used to it but I never did. I don't think I ever will. I just always held it together. Until I was alone, at least."

The Duchess looked over to her.

"You never vented to anyone? Ever?"

Briar shook her head.

"It's an amazing feeling," the Duchess said, smiling. "You should try it sometime."

Briar laughed harder than she should have and after a moment the Duchess joined in.

"There's some people you can trust, you know," the Duchess told her. "Me, for instance. My husband. He's not the best conversationalist but he's loyal to a fault. And Sterling."

She looked at Briar.

"You can trust Sterling."

She sighed and looked back at the ceiling, feeling her eyes sliding closed under the weight of the day's exhaustions as well as the alcohol. In truth, she felt as though she had begun to trust the lord of Northbrook. And that was a disconcerting feeling as every nerve in her body seemed to scream against it. The very notion of trust was foreign to her. But here was this noblewoman, kinder than any other she had ever met, telling her that she could trust the few of them that she had already begun to. So, as she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, she told the Duchess. "I know."

The next morning, she awoke to find the Duchess next to her on the bed, still dozing in the sunlight streaming through the window. As she rose to fetch her dress, the Duchess roused and woke. Briar dressed herself and sat quietly on the edge of the bed as she waited for the Duchess to cross the hall and dress in her own chambers. Once she returned, she walked her down to the kitchens to give her excuse.

The other servants gave her a strange look as she entered with the Duchess but lost interest soon enough and went back to their work once the Duchess had explained what had occurred the night before. They seemed to believe it easily enough and soon the Duchess had left and Briar found herself back behind the counters with Mrs. Woods who seemed especially fussy this morning as she cooked the breakfast. Once breakfast was finished and taken upstairs, Mrs. Woods asked Briar to pick some herbs from the gardens for dinner.

Glad to have the opportunity for the fresh air because of her splitting headache which she imagined had much to do with her night of drinking, Briar happily grabbed a basket and made her way to the gardens. She entered the gardens and found the herbs that she needed, kneeling down in the dirt to pick the highest quality she could find. She heard a commotion to her left and looked to see a group of men unloading several heavy crates from the back of the cart. She was surprised to see Lord Huntington himself among the laborers.

He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves for the work. As he bent to pick up a crate, the muscles in his bulging forearms pulled taut and the sun caught the sheen of sweat on his arms and made them shine. She watched longer than she should have and, as he stood to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, he caught her watching him and smiled. Embarrassingly, her reaction was to turn away as quickly as she could, implying guilt. She regretted the action instantaneously. As her cheeks burned red, she heard a rumbling and turned to see a carriage and a few men on horseback working their way toward the estate.

They rode up to the stables where Lord Huntington met them, wiping the dirt from his hands with a rag, Douglas at his side. The carriage door swung open and two men in bright, elaborate garb hopped down onto the grass. She knew immediately that they were Balienese, even before they called out a greeting in their own language.

"My apologies sirs," Lord Huntington answered. "I am merely a country lord. I am unfamiliar with your language. Do you happen to speak Isalovian?"

Briar found herself edging closer in effort to overhear, taking care to keep her face turned away. She felt secure enough. No one paid much attention to the servants. The two men exchanged a glance and then one of them spoke, in broken Isalovian.

"Yes, my lord," he said. "Isalovian."

"Good," Lord Huntington answered, face brightening greatly. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We were expecting package from the King," the man explained. "Very important package. It would have passed through your roads. But it never arrived."

Lord Huntington nodded. "I see."

"We heard about the bandits who overturned a wagon on your lands. Do you know of this?"

"I do. In fact, I inspected the wagon myself. There was nothing inside. The thieves must have taken it all. I'm dreadfully sorry for the inconvenience this must have caused you."

"Have you caught them?"

"I'm afraid not. Please, gentlemen, come inside where I can offer you a drink and we can discuss these matters more comfortably."

The men agreed and moved to follow Lord Huntington who had walked on ahead toward the estate.

"He's not telling us everything," the man spoke to the other in fluent Balienese as they walked. Briar fathered her basket and followed at a safe distance. "He knows something."

"Could he be a rebel?" the other responded, still in Balienese.

"I don't know. I haven't heard of him. But the King authorized us to use any means necessary to find the princess. If the torture doesn't work, we will tie him up, throw him into the carriage, and drop him in front of the King ourselves."