Gisela, ever true to her word and a stickler for her duties, rarely left Oleander and I out of her sight when we were together. She skulked outside the door while Oleander crushed herbs for the antidotes to be sold at the market. Other times she chased me outside headlong and made me shoot arrows in the storm until my fingers and arms went numb, yelling at me whenever I made mistakes.

Oleander and I hardly got a moment's peace between us. Only when a rare distraction took Gisela off of our trail, could we steal a quick kiss wherever we were. Usually, it was Oleander finding me. The elf had a talent for soundlessly moving across stone and skirting Gisela's watchful gaze, even if only for a few moments. It was never long before Gisela's voice would ring out, asking us where we were hiding this time. The most Oleander and I could do was exchange smiles, and have 'accidental' brushes of hand against hand while working.

Oleander and I weren't the only ones kept busy.

Everyone, even including my father, gathered herbs, staved off curious eyes, and collected vials for the antidotes to be sold in. Conrad's methods, while highly questionable, were effective.

The antidote sold.

The first few days, only a few vials. The antidote was a specialistic good, after all, only useful in one deadly situation. But the message of a skilled herbalist who made cures never heard of before seemed to spread like an oil stain. Many merchants loved a good story and a rare item. More and more travellers came to the Thundercoast, seeking out Oleander and his potions. Sometimes they were Conrad's friends or dark figures who were clearly up to no good with our wares, but we couldn't afford to be picky who we accepted coin from. Other guests of the Thundercoast were simply fascinated with the possibilities and existence of the antidote.

Conrad, for all his sneaking in the dark and his flaws, went and got Spot the horse back. One night, he vanished and came home with Fynn's favourite. Said he'd performed a switch trick. Fynn was overjoyed, and it seemed my cold older brother had a heart, after all. For a moment. Conrad ruined it immediately after by gruffly telling us he only did it so Fynn, who was in the bedroom next to his, would stop whimpering and sobbing at night.

A few weeks passed. With our bellies full, our coffers slowly filling, and townsfolk less bitter because of the recent interest in the Thundercoast from merchants, even my father no longer could find things other than petty complaints to grumble about. After a nice dinner with pastries from a bakery for dessert, a luxury we had not been able to afford for years, Valda stood and moved to the head of the table to address the whole family.

"I believe it's time we start sending letters to Wildewall," she stated. "We still have a few friends in the court we can address. I will let them know the Montbow house is strengthening its trading position on this side of the ocean with the help of a monopoly in rare goods. And that Laurence is traveling to the Serpentine mountains for another attempt at knighthood."

"If we write to the court, Ariane Seydal will want to visit the Thundercoast and see where we are standing," Conrad said.

"Yes, Perhaps it's soon time to invite her to stay at the mansion," my mother agreed.

Valda pulled a face, but swiftly recovered and faked a smile. "I would be most happy to see Ariane again. But Mother, you know that if we want her to visit, we need to purchase new furniture, and get rid of the vines and mould on the walls."

"No, I don't want her to come," Fynn whined. His gaze darted from Oleander to me. "She shouldn't marry Laurence."

"Fynn, hush," I told him, reaching out and pressing a hand to his mouth. 

Fynn blew up his cheeks and crossed his little arms as recoiled from my hand, deeply offended. My little brother meant well, and he wasn't wrong about my interests being elsewhere, but I couldn't risk him saying this in front of Ariane as well. I couldn't even risk him saying it in front of Oleander. It was a sour subject, and I felt Oleander's eyes resting on the side of my face.

"Ariane was your... betrothed, was she not, lord Montbow?" Oleander asked quietly.

"Yes," I reluctantly admitted. "We are to be wed. Not out of love, but to unite two powerful houses. The Montbow family is a merchant family. The Seydals are warriors. Our houses could greatly benefit and compliment each other with our respective strengths. At least, that was how it was when our betrothing was decided on. Now, Ariane won't allow a wedding to happen until the Montbows are in the same standing as we once were with the court and the queen."

There was a flicker of hurt in Oleander's eyes. Then he nodded.

"I truly believe it is better if we don't invite Ariane to our mansion yet," Valda spoke. "Nothing is ever up to her standards, but our riches and our property as it is now surely will only get us scorn and complaints."

"She wouldn't be wrong," my father grumbled.

"Truly," Valda repeated, "let's not invite her. Let me write to the court instead. I will let you read the letter before I send it, Mother and Father. Surely the rumours of a rare antidote being discovered by the Montbows at the Thundercoast has already reached Wildewall. They know we speak true, and perhaps the letter will even be in time to earn us an invitation to the autumn ball."

"Don't mention the autumn ball in your letter. We are not dogs begging for scraps from the court," Gisela sharply reminded Valda. "They will invite us to the ball if they want us to attend. We will not grovel or even ask for it."

Valda pouted. "Fine." She turned to Mother and Father. "With your permission, I will write a letter."

Mother glanced at Father first. A few tense moments passed, and then my father made a dismissive hand gesture, waving Valda away. It might've seemed like a decline to an outsider, but if my father meant to say no, you would know.

Valda beamed. She curtseyed and hurried out of the dining room.

I watched her go, not able to keep myself from smiling. "You know, she's going to mention the ball in her letter," I told Gisela. "One way or another."

Gisela sighed. "I know. Valda is so clever in some ways, but her romantic ideas of courtship and balls make her blind. If she goes to the ball, all of us will be forced to come with her to protect her from herself."

"We don't decide that," Conrad spoke. "Only those who are invited will attend. If the queen doesn't mention you by name, you're not invited." 

We were all quiet after that, watching the flames in the fireplace, perhaps all momentarily lost in our own thoughts about balls, romance, and court intrigue. For Gisela, Conrad, Valda, and Fynn, we still needed to find a marrying partner. Perhaps some of them would even have the fortune of enjoying their partner's company. 

I was already spoken for, whether or not I liked it, since before I even knew what the word betrothed meant. A ball would have little meaning for me—my role would be to approve or disapprove matches for my siblings. I wouldn't feel like I truly deserve that honour until I'd slain a dragon and was a knight.

Still, later that night, when I was in bed, I tried to imagine all of us at the queen's autumn ball. I had never been inside the palace myself, but I knew the stories of crystal chandeliers, high ceilings, and sparkling golden corridors.

Valda would have the time of her life dancing the night away, while Gisela stayed near her to glare at the lords she deemed unworthy of attention. I estimated the chance that another man would sweep Gisela off her feet and distract her very low. Gisela would marry only if Father and Mother ordered her to, or perhaps when she was done fretting over Valda because she was wed. Fynn, if children were allowed inside the palace, would eat himself round on pastries, blatantly oblivious to all the political games going on around him. Conrad would always get attention, no matter where he was. He was handsome and charming in a brooding way. But he had never shown an interest in a woman or a man as far as I knew. All he did was sneak in the dark and go his own way, alone. I doubted he would change his behaviour, even for the queen at a ball.

And then there was Oleander.

Oleander would shine the brightest of everyone in the room. He would look elegant no matter what he wore. His movements would be most graceful, from an intricate dance to a flick of his wrist. He would have attendants of the ball, noble to servant, marvel over his mirror-like silver hair and envious of the length of his lashes. If they were so lucky to get an opportunity to speak with him, they'd melt at his wise innocence, and soft-spoken conviction.

I knew we likely weren't going to the autumn ball. Not just yet until I had gone back to the Serpentine mountains and proved myself, but I already felt a pang in my chest at knowing I wouldn't be able to dance with Oleander there. It would be very dangerous, regardless. One slip. One person seeing Oleander's ears and everything we'd built here would be over.

A soft tap on my window from outside made my eyes shoot open. I turned to the glass and gasped when I saw Oleander's silhouette painted against the starry night on the other side. He was holding onto a vine. 

Throwing the sheets off of me, I dashed to the window. I slid it open and Oleander nimbly swooped into my room, landing soundlessly on the floor. After casting a hasty glance down at the cliffs, I closed the window again. Then I crossed the room and also locked my bedroom door.

"What are you doing?" I hissed at Oleander. "Well, it's obvious what you were doing: climbing vines. It is not obvious why."

Oleander bit his lip. He looked at me with wide eyes. "Pardon me. It is just that there's no easy way to have a word with you alone nowadays," he said.

"That's certainly true." I grinned. "You could have let me know sooner that you had an easy route into my bedroom, Oleander."

Oleander drew his shoulders up like I had scolded him. "I had worried you would find me asking if could come in through your window at night to be overstepping boundaries."

"Naturally. This is very inappropriate," I joked.

I would have stepped closer to steal a kiss, but refrained when Oleander didn't smile.

"My lord," he said. "There is something I have to ask of you... and something I must say to you. And I could only do it in private."

 "Of course. Anything." 

Frowning, I gestured at the chairs near my desk. Oleander walked there and took a seat. He looked down at the curled fists in his lap. 

"I just..." he started slowly, before trailing off again. "I just wanted to you to know that I may not be a powerful noble like your betrothed, and I may not have most of my memories. But I'm not giving up your hand that easily. There must be another way than being bound to an old contract that doesn't serve you, made by your parents at another time."

Oleander raised his eyes to meet mine, and I saw the same burning determination I was intimately familiar with from him. It made me shy and heavily conscious of my awkward posture and my inability to decide what to do with my limbs. I was at a loss for words, but Oleander seemed to have plenty of them.

"Don't go to the Serpentine mountains," Oleander pleaded. "Don't slay a dragon. They have done nothing to you, and haven't you proven now that it's unnecessary to become a knight to save the house Montbow?"

I sighed. "Oleander," I started. "I can't just—"

"But you can!" Oleander protested. "You are to be the head of your family, are you not? You are the man with the blessing of the thunder god. They should listen to you, not the other way around."

"It's not only my family, Oleander," I tried to explain. "It's the court of Wildewall and the queen as well. Her reach is far and long, and if we lose her favour by not playing by the rules, it doesn't matter how well your antidotes do on the market."

Oleander frowned. He got up and stepped towards me, closer and closer until our chests almost touched. "I will still fight for you," he said, before leaning in and kissing me. "Ariane won't have you without a fight."

"It's already no competition, Oleander," I whispered to his lips as we stayed close enough to exchange breaths. "Not even close."

After a long and silent embrace, Oleander left the same way he came through the window.

At the crack of dawn, before Valda could even finish writing her friends, a letter with house Seydal's seal arrived on our doorstep with a messenger.