[CW: Emetophobia]

My hands clenched at my stomach, another wave and nausea rolling through me, I stumbled through my room, slamming into my narrow water closet, and barely had time to position myself before I lost all the contents in my stomach.

Strands of my hair were plastered to my face, my skin sticky with a sheen of sweat. My chest burned, and my skin was hot. Everything inside me thudded and thrummed and the whispers were like nails against my throbbing head, digging and digging. Feathers and wings and soft fingers poked and prodded and the boning of my stays dug into my ribs.

I couldn't breathe.

I gasped in breaths. Panic swelled, a living demon in my chest begging to be set free.

I wanted to scream. To let everything out. To see everything shatter and collapse and splatter around me. The impulse grew and grew, but sat contained within, battering at the confines of my cage.

I stumbled to my feet. I went to lean against my vanity. I knew I needed to calm down. That I was letting my emotions get the best of me. I needed to breathe. To calm down. To think. Acting like this wouldn't help me, wouldn't protect me from this dangerous country.

I knew my Gift—the Angels—were a blessing. That thousands of people in Rosailles would give many things to be as blessed as I was by my lineage, but my growing panic mixed with the soft, gentle, whisper of their voices... I felt surrounded by things I couldn't see. Constantly haunted by ghosts with power of a scope beyond what I could imagine.

And they were there. Always. Relentlessly. Touching me, speaking to me, always at a tone beyond what I could hear. I just wanted to be alone. To breathe. To think. To be relieved of this pain in my chest, in my heart, in my head.

I sucked in labored breaths. My head gave a sharp throb. My vision blurred. Spots burst around me and I slumped forward—

"Your Highness!"

Gentle, strong hands, hooked themselves under me, taking on my weight as I struggled to hold myself up. I blinked, wheezing, only to see Sabine in the mirror, her hair a mess of curls around her face, her eyes wide. I licked my lips.

"My—" I struggled to breathe. My clothing was too heavy. I tried to gesture behind my back. "My ...can't...breathe."

Sabine propped me against the table of the vanity, jars and lotions clanking perilously as she undid my ties so she could get to the binding underneath. Once she had a few laces undone, I sucked what felt like my first breath of air in hours, my ribs throbbing.

She finished undoing the whole thing and helped me sit. I took a few moments to catch my breath, still trembling. Eventually, I calmed, the only sign the Angels had been there was the dull throb that remained in my head. Sabine, appearing at a loss for what to do, moved to pour me a glass of water, placing it before me, and then leaned back, arms crossed.

Once I had caught my breath, everything came to me, but slower. I thought it through, slowly sipping my water. I let the silence hang awkwardly between us, fully aware it was driving her mad.

Finally, I asked, "Are we alone?"

Sabine crinkled her brow but nodded. "It is just you and I."

I placed my cup down, fingers still trembling slightly. I nodded stiffly. "Good. I need to discuss a few things with you and cannot risk anyone overhearing."

If Sabine was to be a spy, it was time she started bringing her reports to me.

There was a slight flicker in her gaze, the only indication she knew what I was referring to.

"Of course, Your Highness," she said with a bit too much politeness. "I suppose it is time we have a frank discussion."

I paused a moment, forming my thoughts. "I would like a report. Of your findings."

Sabine gazed at me, calculating I'm sure how much she wanted to tell me. I clenched my fists, wondering if she might play dumb. Pretend to not even know what I was talking about, but there was a shift in her features, the soldier shining through. Her jaw tightened, and her spine straightened.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Dread threatened to overtake me again, but I held it down, keeping my expression blank, trying to maintain a composure I did not currently have.

"Now," I pressed, lifting one brow. My voice only trembled slightly. Sabine knew something. I feared I already knew what it was.

Sabine pressed a finger to her lips first and quietly moved to the servant door, opening it to make sure the chambers beyond were empty, then she locked it. Her posture had changed, her footsteps light and feathery. Perhaps she had always moved like this, but I had never noticed. She prowled around the room much like a predator cat before returning to me. My patience wearing thin.

"Very well," she said finally. She gave me a low bow, surprising me just long enough for me to momentarily forget my pain, but it quickly returned with her next words.

"I was previously your mother's spymaster, sitting in on her council meetings. You never saw me, because she wished it so. Before that I worked under your father, often practicing my spy work in your own palace. Serving you at meals, standing guard with the soldiers. I learned to blend in everywhere and fit in seamlessly like a missing piece to a larger puzzle. Because of these skills, I gave up my position of honor on your mother's council to pursue this greater feat. To serve my country and Queen."

I blinked. Of all the things Sabine told me, the revelation that she had been around me for some time, if not years, served the greatest shock. I observed her more closely. There had always been an odd familiarity about her I couldn't place. Like I had seen her before, but not in a way I could place a finger on. Like a distant dream. Now I knew the answer. I wasn't sure if I should be afraid of her. It was as if she were able to be seen and unseen practically by will.

"But you are so young?" Of all the questions I could ask, I wasn't sure why this perturbed me the most. I studied her, taking in her squared, muscled shoulders, visible through the grey maid's gown she wore. She stood stiffer now, her figure more prominent. I remembered seeing her in the lavish gowns of nobility, how she had turned languid and lush, trying to keep a flush from rising to my cheeks.

I had thought I was getting to know this woman, but perhaps who I had been growing familiar with was one of her many personas. And to think, she had been the spymaster herself!

"Indeed," she agreed. "Just a few months out from twenty-two years. Even if my position as spymaster was short-lived, it was still one I had to work very hard to achieve."

I tried to distinguish any hesitation on her face. Some sign that perhaps coming on this mission had not been her choice. She gave away nothing. I frowned.

"Then what led you to leave everything to sleuth alongside some oblivious and dull princess? Tell me, does it amuse you to see me so ignorant of the truths that surround me?"

There was a break in her gaze, so quick I nearly missed it. A flash behind her eyes that could have been anger, sadness, or something else altogether. But she knelt down, leveling her gaze with mine, sitting much closer than I had been prepared for. I looked away.

"Is that what all of this is about?" she asked softly, all formality gone from her voice. I wanted to push her away, to scream, to yell at her for how much she had deceived me. Was this another performance? Finding a way to placate me so she could continue her task? Was there anything but lies with her?

As if sensing my turmoil, Sabine reached out and carefully took my hands. My skin heated. Her fingers were not soft and gentle like mine, but hard and calloused.

There were no lies in her hands, only the story of a girl who had worked hard to become a woman with skill beyond what I could even imagine. Someone strong and resilient and willing to give up everything to pursue something I didn't fully understand.

I looked up at her. Back was Sabine, the woman who was my handmaid. The one I had confided in and allowed myself to grow close to. A friend.

And true or not, I needed that right now. Tears collected anew in my eyes.

"He's behind it all, isn't he?" I asked softly. A muscle tensed in the sweep of Moreau's jaw. Her fingers tightened in mine.

"Who?" she asked. She searched my gaze and though I was still angry with both her and Darren, I pushed it aside. Working with them would help my odds more than not.

"Jourdon."

Silence hung between us. She regarded me another moment, eyes masked, calculating. She gave nothing away.

"What makes you say that?"

I gestured to the table behind us where I had placed my books. There, sitting on top, like a gruesome splotch of blood that I could not erase, sat the Vidame's book. Sabine stood, moving away from me to peer at it, lifting it and leafing through it.

"Where did you find it?" she asked, voice still holding that measured quality. One that suggested was deep in thought, putting together connections of her own.

"In the library. On a shelf filled with poetry. A shelf he himself told me about."

Sabine shut the book, turning to me. "When did he tell you this? How can you be certain it is his shelf?"

Tears threatened my eyes again. I knew her questions were necessary, but speaking my suspicions out loud made them feel more real. More unmovable. More true. Because despite the certainty clawing at me, there was still a small hope that maybe I was wrong.

"He told me in the carriage ride over that he keeps a shelf of poetry in the library. It was kept neat, and visited often. The rest of the library was covered in dust, so I doubt anyone else would know of this shelf."

Sabine was quiet for another moment, studying the book. "And this writing in it, you suspect it to be his?"

I swallowed. That was the most horrendous part of all. But also, the one thing I had the least evidence to prove aside from the writing looking familiar, and I must have seen it in one of his previous letters. Since I had saved them, a quick dig through my personal items should prove so. I just was not yet prepared to take that step. With it, that one small shiver of hope would be gone forever.

So instead I nodded. "Yes. I recognize it."

Sabine let out a slow breath and lowered the book, her gaze returned to me. She paced before coming to a stop, a conviction in the set of her jaw and tightness of her shoulders.

"One of my duties while here was to weed out any those that looked to keep the Vidame's efforts alive. Due to some vague reports, we had reason to suspect there was a faction still active in Roche. Last night I was able to finally attend one of their meetings."

This time I did not struggle to read the hesitation on her face.

I sat a bit straighter, recalling my earlier command. "My mother is not here. There will be no more secrets. While in Garnette, you will make sure you report all findings to me, and me first. You understand?"

Sabine stiffened, our gazes meeting briefly. Was that respect I saw? She nodded. "Yes, Your Highness."

This time there was not the slightest hint of defiance in her tone.

I lifted my chin, pleased despite myself. Though there were many things to fear and dread, knowing I had Sabine's respect felt like an achievement of its own.

"The other night, when I infiltrated a meeting of Aurelian followers, I saw many familiar faces. Faces of the nobles in this palace, names I can give to you. It is part of why you saw me that day in the gardens. I was following a lead, blending in with their group."

I nodded for her to continue, remembering that day. Hadn't Josephe been there? Sweat gathered in my palms, and I balled them into my skirts to hide their shaking.

"There usual leader was not present. Was unable to attend." She sucked in a deep breath. "There they discussed certain plans...pertaining to you. Plans to woo you. Seduce you into their hold and gather information about your magic. Then kill you, leaving your body on show like the rest." She swallowed, and I sensed there were some other details she was leaving out for my benefit. My skin crawled. "They referred to him as the Prince. And there is only one Prince we both know would have been unable to attend."

Something inside me broke. It was the last confirmation I needed, the last piece to fit into place to show me the full picture, dispelling any hope I had been clinging to. My pain was not out of love for him. In truth, I barely knew him. What hurt was the vanishing idea of what he could have been. What I wanted him to be. What I had always dreamed my life would be.

It was time I accepted that Rosailles and Garnette would never be at peace.