Evie grinned mischievously as she pulled me down the corridors at a run. We burst into a sitting room and she rang a bell by the fireplace, while I flopped down, exhausted, into a cushy chair.

"Well there was no way on earth I was going willingly - I just said that I wanted to accept my death to pacify you. So anyway -" She was interrupted as a maid opened the door. "Fetch the jacket on the table in my room please." She addressed the maid, her body still stood before me. "Anyway." She began again, this time her smile was for me, a proud smile, proud of the tale it was about to tell. "I wasn't going to go willingly, and you weren't going to let me out like the little git you are. So I waited until you were sleeping then managed to wedge my way up the chimney - it's much smaller than that one you know." She informed me, gesturing blindly to the fireplace behind me.

I laughed at her animation. The maid returned and Evie took an ashen, ruined jacket from her. I recognised it to be my favourite one.

"So yes I made my way up the chimney and onto the roof - it was really really dark, you know I might've been able to tell that before if you had put me in a room with Windows rather than a cell. The roof was difficult to get across, but I made it in to one of the other rooms, empty thank god. And yeah then I legged it. Sorry I might have stolen one of the horses, it was very well behaved though. Anyway here I am!" Her smile was so deep now it made my stomach warm. "Am I still on trial for treason?" She doused some of the warmth in my stomach by saying that.

Do I lie again or tell her the truth?

I couldn't tell her that I'd lost my throne. "Probably." I shrugged.

She arched an eyebrow like a little girl in want of a sweet. "So shouldn't you be dragging me back to the palace by my hair? Aren't I an incredibly dangerous criminal, hellbent on the destruction of everything you hold dear?" The smile she wore was suppressed under the facade of appearing subtly interested.

Pulling her shoulder so her body fell into mine, I shrugged gently. "I suppose so. But once I realised you were gone I thought I couldn't do it without you. When father was about to go, he told me to cherish who I have, fight for who I have  - now I don't care if you're a princess, or a terrorist. I really don't care. I'm going to fight for you. Sod the crown. Sod everything."

Evie's smile crawled further up her cheeks. "Oh really? Would you fight for me even if it meant giving up your crown?"

My heart stopped for a second, thinking that she might've realised I'd lost my position. But no, her smile was still innocently, smugly proud. "Yeah I would." I spoke firmly. I'm not entirely sure that is true, but there's no need to ponder it.

A little squeak of delight by my shoulder made me jump, then laugh at how Evie's nose had crinkled in delight. "I'd never ask you to do that though." She spoke softly, kissing my jaw. "Even though I would make a terrible Queen."

Moving a piece of her long hair over her shoulder, I whispered back, "You would make an excellent queen. But I wouldn't ask you to do that either." The words were barely out of my mouth when Evie's face told me to speedily retract them.

"So you're marrying Serena then are you? Still?" She spat, standing up.

Groaning, I rolled my eyes. "No I'm not. I'll rein alone if I have to." The lies were coming easier now, it briefly occurred to me that that may have been a bad thing.

Evie was pacing now. "What about the war?"

Shrugging, I stood up to hold her still. I noticed we were under some mistletoe but thought it wise to avoid that for the moment. "Now that father is...gone, I'll call for a peace with King Thomas. It's a long overdue arrangement." Those were practiced words. I had never wanted father to die, but I knew that when he did I would bring the peace.

"Well why wait?" Evie gripped onto my arms like one drowning to a piece of driftwood. "Ganechka there are men dying out there, they'll continue to die until the war is over. Call it now and let them come home to their families." I could see that she was replaying her memories of her brother again.

"I have to mourn my father." I spoke softly. I don't have that power anymore. "The whole country will be in mourning for six weeks now, once it's been announced."

She didn't agree with me, at all, I could see that. When she said "It's alright, I understand." I knew that she meant I was being stupid and insensitive.

It was backed up by "I need to go and have a nap now, if you don't mind. I've been so tired lately." Her smile was patronisingly apologetic.

I nodded, smiling to try and lighten her mood.

"I can show you to a room if you'd like? You can write home so you don't have to wear Papa's clothes." She put her hand on my shoulder, smiling sympathetically. All of it was fake, I could tell. "I'm sure you'll want your own clothes to mourn in. I'll see you at dinner, Gavrila."

I spent all afternoon in the new room, watching blankly the black paper, it's painted bluebirds losing their kind faces as the sun dropped out of sight of my window. I did write home, I wrote an apology, to Fana. I wrote a letter to Ottilie, now I knew she wasn't being held captive. I wrote to mother, to ask for her help and to let her know where I was. And I wrote to father. I couldn't send that letter though.