Even with how messed up everything had been lately, the biggest pain in my ass was a no-brainer.

I'd spent the last half year slowly recovering my health after an attempt on my life, one that saw a sword-length of steel shoved clear through my right thigh in addition to a nasty cut to the side of my temple. The cut to the head had forced me to trim a generous amount of my long blonde hair for the sake of symmetry, something that I still wasn't too pleased about. As for the leg, let's just say that I don't recommend getting your limbs pierced by three feet of cold steel as a form of entertainment.

There was also the lingering guilt I felt from having killed Lord Redforne, a mere boy by my estimation, during the aforementioned attempt to kill me. Don't get me wrong, I'd do it again - self-defense, all that. Redforne had been a savage and vengeful youth who had been too clever by half, a Lord who appeared to enjoy inflicting pain upon my friends even as he very intelligently attempted to bring about my untimely demise. Still, not a day goes by that I don't think of him, of his wife who I made a widow, and of the small boy with the enormous green eyes who would now grow up fatherless because of me.

And then there was, of course, the Prince himself hinting that he possessed information regarding the seemingly chance outbreak of rose blight that had blossomed within the walls of Tucat Keep half a lifetime ago, his carefully chosen words suggesting that my family was murdered. Now, six months after being told, I had yet to hear anything more from him despite my repeated inquiries, both subtle and overt. My own investigation into the matter had yielded nothing so far, much to my frustration.

In addition, there was the problem of my new territory with which I'd been "rewarded" - an awkward, irregularly shaped parcel of territory over six times the size of my old estate, which I'd been managing to the best of my ability. It appeared that several shop owners and merchants in the new territory had begun withholding a substantial portion of their tribute as of late, the monthly dues I was entitled to for the protection I offered them.

I have a good reputation when it comes to merchant interests, (merchandise that was magically imprinted with the Tucat family crest was more or less considered off-limits for thieves who didn't wish their vital organs to see the light of day) and the rates I charged were much more reasonable than other Lords about town. Still, it appeared that several of my newest tenants wished to test the waters with their new Lord, see how much they could get away with. It was already starting to get a bit ugly.

With the new territory there was also the matter of what to do with Greybridge Keep, an extremely large and fantastically stylish building, one that dwarfed Tucat Keep handily. I'd been traveling between the two keeps these past several months. My new territory required a much larger staff than I'd had previously, and Tucat Keep was simply not equipped to handle the number of people I suddenly found in my employ.

Half of my business felt like it was being run out of one location, and half out the other, a situation with its own set of headaches and disadvantages. I was feeling pressure to move all of my affairs to the larger building and take up residence in what everyone assumed would become the new Tucat Keep, though I'd been resisting the notion rather vehemently.

And then there were the rumors concerning dozens of thefts about town recently, several of which involved Lords with territory neighboring mine. Most of these assorted Lords seemed to believe I had orchestrated these thefts as part of the ongoing games of one-upsmanship that were the very nature of Haraelian politics. I hadn't had time for creative burgling or anything of that nature, what with everything else going on, but apparently the thefts were impressive enough that the conclusion most of these Lords were coming to was that I was somehow responsible. Flattering, despite being entirely wrong.

What this meant, however, was that I now had several misguided Lords attempting to steal stuff from me on a weekly basis, trying to balance the scales so that the Prince would not see them as weak, or otherwise reconsider the amount of territory they had been assigned to govern.

I'd spent several thousand gold on upgrades to my security in the past month alone, and lately it seemed that not a morning went by where I didn't get to hear from Cyrus about how well one of my new alarms had performed the night before, how yet another attempt to steal from me had been thwarted. With the dwindling tribute being collected from various shopkeepers, it was getting too expensive to maintain.

None of these assorted problems could hold a candle to the headache whose name was Freyla.

I don't recall exactly when I'd hired her on as keepmistress for Greybridge Keep, but it was probably during the first month I'd taken possession of my new territory, back when I'd tripled my staffing levels out of sheer desperation. I'd been tipped off to her various shenanigans anonymously via written note, though I'd figured it was Cyrus's doing. Sometimes he simply doesn't wish his name attached to certain sensitive scraps of information.

Somehow in the past five months Freyla had managed to arrange it so that every decision being made inside of Greybridge Keep, where most of my new knights and other staff were sheltered, now appeared to require her approval. She had no real authority to speak of - I'd not given anyone a promotion these past several months that I could recall - but she had this way of making things more difficult if they weren't okayed with her first. And if other staff attempted something that she didn't agree with, she would become so abrasive and difficult that they often found it was easier to drop the matter entirely, just in order not to have to deal with her.

And she was trying to vamp me, of course. Not very subtly, either.

Freyla was somewhat attractive, but in a way that suggested that everything you saw was either oiled down, painted over, or held up by something. When she walked it was as if the slightest wrong move might accidentally cause her carefully maintained facade to explode in a shower of makeup and satin, revealing a dreadfully tired-looking, homely woman beneath.

What was worse was the fact that she had a good portion of the staff already convinced that we were involved, romantically. When she referred to me in the presence of other staff members she would do so with a very sly grin, arch her painted-on eyebrows, use not-so-subtle innuendo, all manner of things to suggest what might exist between her and myself.

She was trying very hard to manufacture situations where these sorts of things could come about, too. I would arrange for a carriage to take me to Greybridge Keep to take care of some lordly detail or other situation, and find that Freyla had somehow arranged to be on that same carriage with me, just the two of us, alone. There were a good half dozen of these little tricks that she'd tried, the latest of which involved creating emergencies at hours that would force me to spend the night at Greybridge Keep . . . in a room she had made up for me, just down the hall from the room she'd claimed as her own. (She'd pointed out this fact many times, just in case there was anything . . . anything . . . that I required)

The less said about her "sleepwalking", the better.

Avoiding her was exhausting. It seemed like her strategy when it came to seducing me was much like her strategy with everything else - to make the alternatives such a hassle that I might simply give in because it seemed the easiest thing to do. I wasn't even certain I could outright dismiss her from my staff either. She was a vicious gossip, and I had no doubt she could inflict a great deal of damage to staff morale (or my reputation . . . or both) if she felt jilted and wished to exact revenge upon me for firing her.

I did have one considerable advantage; Freyla considered herself extremely intelligent. That, or she believed everyone around her to be about as sharp as warm butter, which amounts to the same thing, really.

People who consider themselves smarter than those around them generally fall into two categories. The first type not only believe themselves to be smarter, but also wish the whole world become convinced of this fact. They will talk of the things they've done, or are doing, or will do, all while under the delusion that none of their cleverly laid plans could possibly be undone, them being so ridiculously smart and all. Oft times they are so thoroughly convinced of their superior intelligence, the infallibility of their schemes, that they'll say things they really should be keeping secret.

The other type rarely say anything at all, and would prefer to be underestimated, or even thought of as dull-witted. They're perfectly content to let those other sort of people talk at length, and they're usually very good listeners. Some are so good at listening that you can't even tell they're listening at all, resting comfortably on a couch pretending to be asleep, or standing next to a window, hidden from view by a large expanse of very elegant purple curtains.

So there I was, next to a window, hiding behind the thick purple curtains of my greeting room, listening to Freyla go on about how smart she was.

The unfortunate victim she'd cornered this time was Talia, who had been keepmistress for Tucat Keep for nearly a decade. Talia was the opposite of Freyla in every way, possessing an effortless kind of beauty, and was the kind of woman that poets might burst into tears upon seeing, and who artists might fight to the death for the honor of painting.

Cyrus had once come to me seeking my permission to court her, an attempt that proved unsuccessful . . . though I couldn't blame the man for trying. From the carefree blonde curls that framed her face down to the petite toes of her stylishly sandaled feet, she was the very picture of breathtaking loveliness.

Of course, I couldn't actually see how lovely Talia looked today from where I was, nor could I see Freyla, but I could hear the both of them quite clearly.

"So that's it then?" Freyla sniffed disdainfully, "You have only one cologne that you provide for my Lord Tucat every day. Tell me, is this unstylish absence of variety your doing, or does he willfully inflict this painfully monotonous scent upon himself?"

"Perhaps you would like to ask him that yourself, Freyla," Talia replied sweetly. "I'm sure he appreciates tactful questions like that."

"You won't get smart with me, little maid, if you know what's good for you. Still, your response tells me all I need to know - it's obvious. Ah well, if it's his own choice to wear that horrid stuff then I suppose I shall just have to educate him later. Now, moving on to dress. You lay out his daily garments and uniforms, correct? Is this by specific request, or do you pick each dreadful article of clothing yourself?"

"You know, you may think me mad as a candlemaker, but I can't see how my services to Lord Tucat are any of your business, Freyla. If Lord Tucat wished for me to disclose information regarding his personal habits to you, I'm certain that he would come and inform me of such a thing. As it is, I can hardly imagine him wishing any sort of advice regarding his appearance from a woman who believes that powdering her nose is an activity that involves a trowel and-"

"Don't anger me, you empty-headed harlot! I'll not suffer fashion critiques from the likes of you, after all. I mean, just look at you. Green and yellow? Have we been magically whisked back in time several years? Clearly, the unsavory reputation our Lord languishes under at court is the direct result of employing a keepmistress who is not bright enough to keep up on the latest fashions. Of course, I have a feeling that's all about to change."

"You aren't-"

"Oh, come now," Freyla leered. "Stop for a moment and think before speaking, will you? You're not totally hopeless - you've heard things, I'm sure. There's going to be changes around here in the very near future, a fact you're probably aware of if you've even got half a brain. Why it's as plain as . . . well, as the nose on our Lord's face!"

Okay, I have to admit it - that got me a little riled up. Most of my blight scars aren't visible at all under the clothing I wear, the two exceptions being the large white patch of skin on the back of my right hand, and the unpleasantly large scar on the bridge of my nose, which fans outward all the way to my left cheekbone. Most people politely refuse to acknowledge the scar on my face in any way, and if they do find themselves staring at it for too long they'll usually show embarrassment and offer stuttering apologies.

"Why you . . . you utter-" Talia seemed at a momentary loss for words.

"Now, now," Freyla chuckled, "you need not pretend to get all upset. After all, I'm the one who has to make believe that it's not there while he and I are . . . well, I suppose the details aren't actually necessary. Still, if you have any desire to remain gainfully employed I would suggest that you look into modifying your attitude. I might have need of a keepmistress of my own once our Lord has bowed to the inevitable, and . . . oh goodness, I'm so sorry! How thoughtless I must seem, talking about this in front of you."

That last bit didn't quite make sense to me, probably involving some history between them I didn't know about. I hate people who make vague statements like that when I'm eavesdropping on them. Very rude.

Talia mumbled something inaudible.

"See? That's exactly the attitude I'm talking about. Not very smart at all. I think I shall go and see what's keeping our illustrious Lord. He requested I come here right away to receive some news of great import, did I mention? Whatever could he want, I wonder?" Freyla's voice trailed off teasingly as I heard her muffled steps carry her out of the room into the main hallway.

I really wished I'd had more of a chance to talk to Talia about what I'd planned, but some urgent things had come up that morning, preventing me from talking to my surprisingly shy and often tongue-tied young keepmistress. I'd actually been trying to locate her just as Freyla had arrived, which was why I'd found myself ducking behind the sea of thick purple curtains near the window. If Freyla spotted me, she'd be about as difficult to remove as a tar leech.

Quickly peeking around my hiding spot to ensure Freyla was no longer in the room, I broke cover and tip-toed my way over to Talia, who was muttering curses under her breath as she stared at the doorway Freyla had just left through. I won't repeat the words I could make out, but I have to say I was rather impressed. I mean, I knew sailors who couldn't say those things without blushing.

"Talia," I whispered from behind her.

Practically leaping into the air in surprise, she spun and looked at me, her golden curls dancing around eyes that were wide with panic and alarm.

Even scared out of her wits, she was heart-stoppingly lovely.

"Milord!" she squeaked.

Damn. Considering the volume of Talia's voice and how close Freyla was still likely to be, I didn't have time to explain things like I'd wanted. Ah well, I'd just have to hope for the best.

"Play along, follow my lead," I whispered conspiratorially out of the side of my mouth, smiling at Freyla as she re-entered the room. "Ah, Freyla! There you are. I've been looking all over for you!"

Freyla appeared startled to have found me in a room she'd only just vacated, but she hid her expression quickly and smiled charmingly, performing a theatrical curtsey. There were two entrances to this room, so she'd probably just assume that I'd entered from the sitting room, and had just arrived.

"My Lord, I was just about to go looking for you as well!" she said in a slightly husky voice, all traces of her former waspishness vanishing completely. "I came as soon as I received your message. I hope the morning finds you well."

"Indeed, I feel on top of the world, thank you for asking. As a matter of fact, my good spirits have much to do with why I've called you here. Talia, if you could perhaps attend me for a few moments, this also concerns you. Stroke of luck, finding you two together like this."

Talia still looked uncertain and surprised, while Freyla sidled up beside her with a friendly grin, looking as if she considered her and Talia to be the best of friends.

I grinned at the two of them.

"First things first. Freyla," I nodded to her respectfully, "you have been doing an admirable job. An outstanding job, really. Why, the sheer volume of things that you seem to be coordinating single-handedly is commendable, and I have to say that I'm most pleased with your performance."

Freyla beamed at me, and Talia's expression became even more uncertain, perhaps a touch nauseous as well.

"In fact, Freyla, your ability to manage my affairs is so remarkable that the very thought of not having you near me inspires panic, and causes my stomach to flutter uncertainly." I took a small breath. "I need you desperately, Freyla," I said, giving her a look of forlorn earnestness as I spoke, "and I did not understand just how much I needed you until very recently. I admit, I do feel rather foolish that I hadn't come to this realization sooner."

Her neck became flushed with excitement, though no trace of it touched her cheeks for all of the pale makeup she had applied to her face.

"You are too kind, Milord. Why, it is an honor to serve a Lord as gracious and charismatic as yourself, and I'm pleased that word of my humble efforts have reached your ears," Freyla said demurely, her voice now taking on a seductive, breathy tone. "I'm more than happy to serve you in any way I can."

"I hope you speak truly, for I freely admit that this second matter I wish to discuss is an important one, one that is very close to my heart and fills me with a desperate sort of nervousness. I'm . . . I'm not even certain how I can begin," I said, awkwardly. "I . . . Hades and damnation! It's so hard to find words for this!"

"Milord?"

It was truly hard not to laugh at that point - she had perked up with all of the wide-eyed eagerness of a puppy who had just glimpsed a piece of boar liver. Talia was beginning to look more and more disgusted, her eyes inspecting some detail in a faraway corner of the room.

"So very hard indeed, and yet I must find a way to say this, lest my heart burst inside of my chest, for I have been silent for far, far too long. Freyla, I wish for you to collect your things and bring them here to Tucat Keep. I want you here, with me, helping me manage all of my affairs, at both keeps! And upon returning here, the first duty I would charge you with," I said, taking a dramatic, nervous breath before continuing, "is that you go to the temple and locate a priest."

It was hard to determine which was more emotive - the excited twinkle that had appeared in Freyla's eyes, or the hard-edged look of shock and dismay that now graced Talia's features as she stood there, mute, her mouth slightly agape.

"A priest?" Freyla gasped excitedly, a touch of triumph in her expression.

"Yes, exactly right. Find a priest and tell him that Lord Tucat wishes to wed, for I find I can stand it no longer!" I said, beaming happily at the two of them, as if I couldn't believe the boldness of my own words.

Then, turning slightly, I fell to one knee and bowed my head, my right hand producing the dazzling emerald necklace that I'd stowed away in my pocket. Each of the green stones seemed to capture the stray bits of light about the room and imprison them within, glowing as if ensorcelled.

"Talia," I said quietly, lifting my gaze to meet my keepmistress's suddenly surprised, pale green eyes, "will you marry me?"

Time stopped . . .

Seriously, that's what it was like. Nothing moved at all, not in the slightest. Honestly, I suspect that neither of them were even breathing.

I waited about five seconds, crouching amid the shocked silence, before continuing.

"I know this is all so very sudden, my darling, but I feared that if I waited one more moment before declaring my love openly I would surely die!" I said, hurriedly standing and pressing the wedding necklace into Talia's stunned, unresisting hands. "The thought of how I feel being kept secret for even one more day is intolerable, my most precious love!"

I noted Freyla's reaction out of the corner of my eye. She looked to be on the verge of apoplexy. Her eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, and her mouth hung half-open as if to say something, yet she remained uncharacteristically quiet.

From what I'd heard, rendering Freyla speechless was something of a miracle in itself.

Waiting for some sort of response from Talia went on longer than I'd expected. She wasn't following my lead, but was instead standing there uncertainly, her features slack and her eyes wide. I sighed inwardly. It was understandable, despite being somewhat inconvenient. I'd put her on the spot without any sort of real advance warning, after all. Performing spontaneous acts of dramatic theatre wasn't exactly in her job description, and it would be terribly unfair for me to hold lack of acting ability against her.

It did mean that I'd have to do most of the work myself, however. I affected a look of urgency and distress.

"Please, my darling, every second you delay in answering is like a dagger piercing my heart!" I clutched my chest dramatically. "If my poor, unworthy words have struck you unable to speak, I fear I shall die from worry and shame ere you recover! Please, even just a whisper of agreement from your lips, and it would matter not if the gods themselves saw fit to strike me stone deaf from that moment forward, for I will have heard everything these earthly ears could ever possibly wish to hear!"

I leaned in close, ear turned towards Talia's perfect cupid's bow of a mouth, obscuring Freyla's view of our faces. Even if Talia was unable to actively help in this charade, I could at least pretend to hear the words that would cause Freyla to believe that her worst nightmare had come to pass.

"Y- . . . Ye- . . ." I felt breathless attempts at speech dance across my ear.

"Oh, my dearest love!" I cried blissfully, (hey, at least she was trying) drawing Talia into a tender embrace, noting as I did that the experience was not an unpleasant one. She was quite almost as tall as me, even wearing her flat sandals, and I did not have to crouch or bend down at all as I held her, her chin coming to rest gently on my shoulder. "You've made me the happiest Lord that ever lived! I've never been robbed from so brazenly before, but I will gladly admit to all who will listen that you've stolen the very heart from my chest!"

I turned my charming smile upon Freyla, relieved that I no longer had to keep myself from grinning like an idiot . . . for she was quite a sight, one that would have been hard to keep a straight face in the presence of.

For all of the makeup that she wore, in order for her face to turn as pink as it had, well, she'd have to be a glowing crimson underneath. The whites of her eyes were visible around both irises. And the look she was giving me - I was half convinced that the glassware she was standing next to was about to frost over.

"Freyla, do you hear that? Talia and I are going to wed! Can you believe it?"

"I . . . you wa-" was all that she managed to say in response, for all the world resembling a guppy at feeding time, standing there with her jaw hanging open.

"I know, I can scarcely believe it myself! And . . . the wedding! You must arrange it for us, Freyla, for I wish it to happen right away! A week from now, if I am forced to wait that long, but in days if we can manage it. And the opulence! Why, I want people to be talking in hushed whispers about my decadence years from now. I want the Prince himself to feel under-dressed standing next to me, for who better to head up my honor party than he? I want Talia covered in jewels, from head to toe! I . . . I'm getting flustered, I'm so excited. Oh happy, happy day! You'll be up there too, of course, as Talia's Handmaiden, with half of the nobility watching the two of you! I can see it now! I don't care if I have to spend every copper-"

"No!" Freyla practically shrieked.

"-in my vault to . . . sorry?"

"No, I will not be part of these arrangements Lord Tucat!" she blustered indignantly.

"Dear heavens, Freyla! Why not?"

"I . . . you-" she spluttered and fell silent for several calculated moments before speaking again. "Lord Tucat, I'm terribly sorry, but . . . I'm leaving your service."

"Leaving?" I said as indignantly as my voice would allow under the circumstances. "But, but . . . I need you, Freyla." I wrapped my arm around Talia's limp shoulders and pulled her closer to me for emphasis. "We both need you!"

Freyla's glower intensified.

"Well, I'm dreadfully sorry, of course, but something came up just recently. A very attractive offer. I'd been wanting to tell you-"

"Please Freyla! Gods, if you could even just stay on for another two days!" I begged. (It was getting harder to keep the laughter from bubbling to the surface) "We'll . . . we'll make arrangements! I'll find a way to cope! Somewhat less opulence! Perhaps merely have the Prince as a guest, and not part of my honor party, things like that. Two days, that's all we'll need, I swear! Please Freyla, we can't do this without you!"

"Nevertheless," she said, seeming to recover a substantial amount of her poise and arrogance, her face returning to the pale shade of nothing she'd painted it, lip curling disdainfully at me, "I'm afraid that you must, for I cannot. I've already promised my services elsewhere, and I'm certain he would not wish me to encumber my time with . . . with this clearly misguided and ill-thought-out union. No, I must leave at once, Lord Tucat."

"Freyla, please . . . I beg of you!" I stammered, my shoulders sending my brain urgent messages that they were about to start shaking with suppressed laughter. Gods, this was fun! "One more day, please!"

"Goodbye, Lord Tucat." she sniffed. Turning on her heel, she exited primly from the room.

Wow. That . . . had gone perfectly.

In order for the plan I'd hatched to work effectively, I not only had to humiliate Freyla while simultaneously thwarting her romantic plans, but I also had to convince her that her presence was essential to my well being. Then, the idea of her leaving my service would seem like the best sort of thing to cause me grief. I knew that she would want to lash out once that she knew that there was no way I'd allow her plans concerning me to reach fruition. Spinning her around dizzily and then allowing her to leave while she was still off balance, believing that the loss of her services was the worst sort of damage she could inflict, was what I'd been after.

Sometimes, I'm just so ridiculously smart.

Half a minute later, when I felt it was safe to do so, I allowed myself a snigger.

"That went rather well, don't you think?" I chortled, turning to smile at my keepmistress, who remained comfortably wrapped in my arm.

And I stopped, mid-grin.

I blinked.

A single tear was winding its way down Talia's cheek, both her eyelids looking as though they served as an unsteady, glimmering reservoir for a dozen or more similar events. Her perfect, rose-colored lips were pursed together unhappily, chin puckering as it wrinkled, her lower lip trembling mightily.

"Talia?" I said, suddenly both concerned and confused. "Talia, it's over - it's okay! I'm sorry about that . . . I know I didn't give you very much warning, but you did fine! Honestly, and I appreciate your . . . hey!" I stepped back a pace, frowning. "Are you alright?"

Her face seemed to collapse in upon itself, her eyes blinking and unleashing the torrent of tears they'd been holding back as she spun away from me, strangled sobbing noises escaping her throat.

I stood there dumbly and watched Talia flee the room opposite the exit that Freyla had used, the scrape of her retreating sandals mixing with the piteous, heartfelt sounds of weeping.