This time, they went to work as partners. Not in the married sense, but in the way that he treated her as his working equal instead of the avoided child.

This did not mean everything was pleasant or that she felt more enamored. Wandering around without a female escort did cause more men to betray their honor. That left the statue well-fed. In those cases, the duke turned a blind eye, having learned to trust her instincts on which men were safer to lay to rest.

His only complaint was that the creature left no evidence that made clear sense to people, so it made Leena into eternal bait.

It did nothing to stop the panicked nightmares that neither statue nor fiancé could relieve her of. Sometimes it was so bad that she snuck into her fiancé's tent and hid in his bedding. He decided to read reports late at night, when she did. Here, he worried about propriety while she wanted security. Forever guarding, forever distant. Her constant question always boiled down to "Why this man?"

She could have called The Cup of Madness forward. But as she aged, the sense of wrongness in the creature she had bonded to began to wear on her. Despite that, she couldn't see how his nature rubbed off on her or how depraved she became in its presence.

It did not help that both men explained that it was a natural consequence of his existence. It still unnaturally aged her as it ate at her soul.

But she did not avoid him unduly. Only at night, when the terror of things in the dark included him.

As for the work, Blackrot became frequent in some fields. She started demanding they go north into the now-dead nations and salt the earth until they could reach no further.

Andrik hated the idea. It would mean bringing her into situations he couldn't predict.

For several years, they fought publicly over this debate, not caring who heard them. That led to the fights winding their way back to the capital, something the duke cringed over quite often. It was still ingrained in him that these fights shouldn't be public. After the era of Iva, he didn't feel he could hide conflicts any longer.

These debates continued until her 16th summer. A deer crashed through the thicket while they were inspecting a field. It was coated in Blackrot. They both realized that salting wasn't going to be enough, but excursions were a must.

She spent her remaining childhood wielding weapons against animals and the cup against foreign fields where salting wouldn't be enough. And she watched her fiancé and his army wreak havoc on the diseased creatures to the north.

And she read letters from home that made her mourn the years that were missing from her childhood.

She was finally called home, and they both assumed that it was to settle their marriage. By this point, there wasn't love, at least not the exciting kind. They knew that they would be working together until the Blackrot consumed them, so other suitors made no sense. It was a lonely life without each other.

That didn't save it from being any less awkward. They both felt like they had been forced to fit each other against their will. Andrik did acknowledge it was worse for Leena, since he at least had a say when the decision was made. How could she? She had only been 10.

As usual, their trip to the capital was understated.

That changed at the city gates.

Heads were up on pikes, perhaps a month of rot to the older ones. Crows and other scavengers perched on each like it was fashionable to have a head avian.

The duke halted their progress at the gates until he could get some information. There was none aside from the order to go meet with the king immediately.

Leena leaned out the carriage window to watch it unfold. She gave no damn about how many times he grumbled at her unladylike behavior.

The guards wouldn't even meet their eyes.

It unnerved Leena enough to make her worry about what they would see once they made it home. It also felt strange to call the castle home.

When they reached the it, they were rushed inside and announced straight into the king's hall.

Leena remembered that the law did not allow them to be ushered in this rapidly. It was Andrik that halted their progress once inside the door, despite the pressure put on them to move forward.

Andrej was not on the throne. Leena didn't have a reaction to that—not yet. Too much had happened in her young life to break down now.

The man who sat there lounged like a madman. He was worn, tall, and looked like he hadn't seen much daylight in his long life. He was reading papers while a servant placed a lantern on a pedestal. "I presume that you let in Princess Leena, this time?"

"Yes, M'lord, and her betrothed, the Duke of Vrchovina."

"Well, you at least will keep your head today. What would you like to call the Madman of the Tower, Princess Leena?

"Uncle?" She squinted at him, trying to see a family resemblance. It wasn't to answer his question. She was confused as to why he was released.

"Yes, yes, a coup happened under the pretext of placing the rightful king on the throne. Don't worry, I was still sleeping in prison when they beheaded my father and your brother."

"Please tell her that you didn't leave their heads up at the gate." Her fiancé spoke as she struggled to find anything to fit in the hole that the madman's words left in her.

"No, no, they are interred next to Queen Nadia." He was slow to respond as he flipped to the next page. "Those that are on the walls are the fools who put me on this throne and thought I'd be grateful. They forgot that Andrej was soft. Boris would have killed them at his coronation. Perhaps I'm soft, too. No, what I'm asking, Leena, is if you will call me uncle or father? Are you the rival to my throne or my heir?"

The girl gaped like a fish; the bluntness was too abrupt. "Why would I lie?"

"Well, if you want the truth, rumors of you and Laszlo being bastards were common. My very pregnant guard disappeared 4 months before you were born, so both are the truth. My brother raised you until you were 10, then made life-altering decisions from there on out. He was your father, but I'm willing to claim you as my own bloodline to calm down the rest of these fools, as it's just as likely."

Andrik leaned over. "I do not think he's one to argue with."

She nodded. "Father is acceptable, as long as I can still call Andrej my father."

"What would I care? I wasn't here to make these decisions. For example..."

He slowly stood, paper in hand, and walked towards the couple until he could place the passage he was on before them. "It says here that mages who eat food from land you've blessed or cured lose their affinity for magic, sometimes permanently. This means you're not truly saving anything but full bellies, as we are slowly corrupted and die. Given the source of your cure and my run-ins with the previous witch, Radoslava? I'm inclined to believe that the Cup of Madness is the source."

"That witch came from the north?" Andrik quirked a brow. Boris was known to favor southern women, and he wasn't born when the old king was important.

"The disease followed her here. And you can't win against it." Ivan the Mad looked between them, as he had points for both. "You, my dear, should have been called home, and you should have burned everything to the ground and then salted it. But what I see is a waiting game, toying with death."

Both Leena and Andrik began loudly objecting.

"As King, I annul your betrothal. We're not saving this nation by masking the rot underneath." He turned around and walked back to the throne as he addressed the duke. "Lead an army to the north and make more barriers between us and whatever is following us. Lead the army to the south and carve our refugees a place to flee as we lose everything. Go and make peace for our people with your blade.

"But as for you, my girl, you need to find out what that cup knows about fixing this. Otherwise, your fate is being chained to these halls until we flee or die." From there, he set down on the throne to continue reading, and he waved them away with a bare flick of his wrist.

Once far enough away from the bustle around the throne room, a servant led them to Leena's quarters, bowing. "Duke Vrchovina, you will be expected to leave, shortly, but you may have some time to speak to Princess Leena."

Andrik turned towards Leena, who wasn't looking up from his boots, which caused him to sigh. He had never been good with feelings, and it had cost them so much over the years. He waited until the servant left, then gently reached out and tilted her head up to look at him. "I regret the dissolution of our partnership and will follow your commands on this. Am I to go north, south, or peel the madman off your throne?"

She regretted her decision to call Ivan father immediately. He was the one who chose to have this conversation in public, where there were witnesses. Finally, she understood where Andrik Vrchovina had been coming from on being silent. Time was bought and paid for in silence. "I've already messed up, haven't I?"

He nodded. The duke still offered to fix that mistake, if she so chose. What a waste of a man, cleaning up after her.

"Go north, but not forever. Burn everything, then help our people flee."

He nodded, then pulled her into his arms for a hug. Surely he had carried her from the fields, when she fainted. But this would be the only time she could remember his arms, and that hurt.

The corner she was backed into was of her own doing.