The week after I failed my destiny passed in a blur. The King smiled at me and sneered at me whenever I was allowed out. But he always had a throng of armed guards around him; he was scared of me. I had to meet nobles and officials, they even let me sit in on strategy meetings and point out all the weak spots of my country and my brother, which I of course did willingly - it being the way to fulfill my destiny. I had lunch with Henrietta and her ladies once - she was a strange strange girl, who threw interrogations underneath silk blankets and dazzling smiles. They had accommodated Saffron in the stables but I'd only been permitted to see her once. I needed permission to see my own horse. I fact, unless the king or queen, or their strange little daughter, gave my valet and jailer notice, I was not allowed to wander farther than the balcony.

The wedding date was set to be two months from now, before which time Baracosia would've overthrown Afanasy. I was told that the wedding would be held in my own cathedral. The one I had dreamed of marrying Evie in. The Queen said it would be so, then dropped a ring into my hand and left it at that.

As I layed in the overly fancy bed, awake an hour earlier than anyone else in the land, and turned Queen Adrienne's ring over in my fingers, my mind strayed not to the severe blonde who would wear it, but to the stubborn brunette who would not. There had been no news of a foreigner at the Place Émeraude, or of an imposter in Raverly - other than about me though, I'd heard some particularly cruel whispers about me. Had Evie made it out then? Had she cried when she got back to the barn? Had she gone straight home? Almost every other minute was spent thinking of her, no moment or thought brought me comfort though.

Adrienne's ring was cold in my fingers. It was heavy silver with a large green stone set in it. I was to present Henrietta with it at a ball this evening. As much as I hated this situation, felt trapped and homesick, disgusted at myself for shaming my father's name, afraid in an unknown palace, I looked forward to the idea of a ball.

Dancing meant regularity. I loved the practiced movements, everyone turning round the room in the same graceful step to the same slow melody. I assumed that the Baracosians would dance the same steps as I did, and I wondered where I would stand in the pavanne.

Social status is acquired in the pavanne.

Where is mother now? Did she stay at the court after Fana took over? No of course she did, she supported his claim. I'm sure she was mistaken though. I'm sure she wanted no part in my arrest. My heart ached for the moment I could be sitting across a table from her, playing poker using sweets as chips. She would stand with me at the wedding, her gentle hand at my elbow as we stood by the altar, waiting for the stranger who was my bride.

I sat up hastily as someone knocked on my door. It was Jules, of course it was Jules. He was too chatty, too friendly. I missed Barley with his scolding words and ridiculously fine ears.

"Bon matin Prince." He chirped, pulling open the curtains on a too bright morning. It was snowy here, the whiteness was vast and breathless. Jules placed a hasty envelope down and went over to the wardrobe to select my things. "A letter arrived for you."

"Who from?" I grumbled, standing up and taking the clothes from him.

Jules turned his back as I changed, humming happily to himself. "One of yours it seems." He admitted, a little downcast.

That sparked my interest.

"Who from?" I pressed him, realising that it could be Evie's hand on that paper. She could've written. For me.

Jules clicked his tongue. "Get dressed and you can read it."

I hastily pulled the jacket on, before catching my own eyes in the mirror.

"Ganechka, I'm not taking no for an answer. I'll kill whoever I have to. I'm not giving up on you."

"Ganechka I have a plan. Meet me in the barn at one o'clock in the morning."

"Ganechka. I love you."

Jules had already left by the time I turned back around, the letter sitting heavily at the foot of my bed.

Here we go. I thought, smiling, and broke the seal. It'd be hard to read but God I wanted to see any trace of her I could.

My thumb lingered beneath the split seal for a moment. I'd never seen her handwriting before. Our lovestory had spawned over just a matter of weeks, during none of which time we wrote to each other. How strange.

Pulling open the damaged, dirty paper, I revealed a hasty script which, to my dismay, I recognised.

It was Tristan's.

Gavrila,

The writing was smudged, hard to read. I squinted.

It was Kent. All along Howard Kent was pulling the strings. We said we lied to you but we didn't, sort of. Lord Kent is leading a plot to get his Howard on the throne. They're the ones who are rebelling. Kent convinced your parents to name Fana as king - your brother only found out minutes before you did. Howard did kidnap O, forced her to send another letter to me saying it was lies. That's the other thing, Fenester was in on it.

I'm traveling to Raverly now. I'll be there as fast as I can. I think Fana is in serious danger with Fenester on one arm and Angel on the other. It's too risky to put what I know into this letter.

I'll see you soon.

Tristan.

My hands were shaking by the time I put the letter down. No no no no no. Howard Kent. Howard fucking Kent. What did they do to mother, to father to force them to do that?

Oh God Fana. I knew he couldn't be my enemy, not really. I prayed to God that Tristan would get here quickly. If Thomas's army won the war quickly, we could get Fana under my protection and he'd be safe. We could exile the Kents.

I had to see the king.