The next morning, Isabelle had risen before the sun, twin purple smudges under her eyes after a sleepless night. The rest of the ballet had been uneventful, with Byron reappearing to escort her back to the carriage at the end of the performance. What the unsavoury lout had gotten up to during the second act, Isabelle didn't much care, but his vacant seat beside her had been a source of amusement for Graham when he returned to the box with Cora.

Her friend had studiously ignored her even as they had climbed into the same carriage, conversing in whispers with Graham the entire ride back to the palace. Isabelle had been too lost in thought about Graham's words to care much about that either, the nauseous pit in her stomach growing as she turned his story over in her head. Beside her, Byron had been just as sullen and silent, staring out his own window.

Graham's words had kept her awake nearly all night. Lissa had helped her change out of her evening wear and Isabelle had asked her maid to check again whether there were any letters waiting for her. She'd written another letter to Leo, once again decrying Graham and asking for news of Ardalone, instructing Lissa to send it at first light. She knew that it had only been a day since she had last written, but so much seemed to have happened that she couldn't help but worry that there might be a grain of truth to Graham's words about Eastcliffe.

So she'd lain awake, staring at the canopy of the bed as an owl had hooted outside. She tried to force her mind away from Hendrik and the well, but it seemed bent on betraying her, reminding her instead of Sam and his troubling preoccupation with Cora Neasmith. Turning that notion over in her head, Isabelle asked herself whether it was truly troubling, or troubling only because Violet had expressed an interest in Sam while Cora was clearly not interested in anyone without a crown.

Isabelle couldn't force her friends to pair off according to her own wishes, but she knew that nothing good would come from the whole mess. Cora was easily the most beautiful of the debutantes, with her golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, so it was no wonder that Sam had taken such an instant interest in her. Next to Cora, Violet was rather plain, with her chubby, childish cheeks and her big brown eyes. Unfortunately for Violet, Cora's beauty hid her disagreeable disposition, while Violet's looks had never done much to attract suitors.

Mulling over how she might change Sam's mind, Isabelle couldn't formulate a plan beyond what she'd already tried. She'd already warned Sam about Cora's less-than-ideal temperament, but Sam, like all the Winters men, was stubborn. He wouldn't believe it until he either decided to listen or learned otherwise on his own. If his behaviour at the ballet had been any indication, he was leaning insistently towards the latter.

So much for solving the world's problems with her insomnia, Isabelle thought.

When a robin had started warbling outside her window, his song heralding the coming dawn, she gave up altogether on attempting to sleep. Wrapping herself in a dressing gown, she stoked her own fire and curled up in an armchair to await Lissa's arrival, hoping that she would have at least some news of her betrothed.

Her ladies' maid did not disappoint, appearing with an envelope nestled between the plates on her breakfast tray. Isabelle's greeting was perfunctory as she nearly pounced on the maid, ignoring the food in favour of the message.

"The courier woke me in the middle of the night," Lissa yawned, nodding towards the letter in her mistress' hands. "I hope all is well in Kentshire?"

Isabelle had completely ignored the seal in her haste to break it open, instantly recognizing her father's handwriting with a pang of disappointment. Attempting to reassure herself, she forced herself to be thankful that at least one of her sent letters had gotten through.

Dearest Isabelle,

I am glad that you are well, though I am sending provisions in case they fail to feed you properly. I have also ensured that this message be carried directly into your hands as what I am about to write will not be looked upon kindly by the royal family.

Mind that you keep your distance from Prince Graham. Word of your escapades has already reached Kentshire, which means that it will reach Ardalone soon as well. "Charming" as he may be, it is not in your best interests to spar with him, as I'm sure you have been.

Spend your time with your friends and Sam Winters for they, at least, are allies of ours. Lord Winters came calling the day I arrived home and had some rather unsavoury things to say about how the crown had compelled him to send his son to their farce of a Season as well. It seems that the king has one favourite threat and he's used it against all of his borderlands.

I hope this letter finds you happier than you sounded in your last. Bide your time and mind your manners, my darling, and it won't be long before you're home. You would be wise not to irk the queen and not to draw too much attention to yourself, from both the royals and any others interested in finding a potential bride.

Please remember that many men would see you as little more than land in a skirt, when I know, beyond a doubt, that you are so very much more.

With love, forever,

Papa

"All is well," Isabelle said to reassure Lissa, reaching for a piece of toast as she mulled over her father's words. Her stomach had plummeted with dread when he'd mentioned that news of her "escapades" had already reached Kentshire. What escapades? Her entrance and prompt ejection from the queen's first dinner? The prince having chosen her for his first dance? Or that he had escorted her in to his own table during the debutantes' first dinner with the royal family?

The more she thought about all the things that Graham had been doing, the more the pit in her stomach yawned open. Leopold would not be pleased if he heard about any one of them, but some were far more damning than the others. Her betrothed would likely have laughed and congratulated her for being kicked out of the dining room by the queen, but he would most certainly not laugh upon hearing that she'd piqued the interest of the crown prince.

Mother and I have both been assigned the same task, so while we are both striving towards the same goal, we're following very different paths to attain it...

The only goal Graham's mother had ever mentioned was in getting her to remove her ring...

Child, there are more ways than one to remove a ring...

Isabelle's stomach tumbled, the toast turning to ash in her mouth. This was their plan, then. If she wouldn't remove the ring on her own, they'd do it for her. They'd sabotage her relationship with Leo by making it seem as if she wasn't behaving the way a proper betrothed lady should. They'd ensure that she earned a reputation as one of the prince's favourite debutantes, which was already well-established thanks to his choice of first dance partner. Such notoriety had already begun to isolate her from the other debutantes, all while ensuring that the gossip mongers spread word of her esteemed position far and wide. Knowing the prince, he'd be sure that the stories were wildly exaggerated so that it seemed Isabelle was warming to life in Highcastle. If Leopold got wind of such lies...

She nearly overturned the breakfast table in her haste to fish out a quill and ink from the escritoire in the corner. She wouldn't let that cow of a queen outsmart her, nor would she allow the meddlesome crown prince to drive a wedge between her and her betrothed. For now, all she could do was tell Leopold the truth and hope that he would trust her rather than whatever gossip had already reached Kentshire and was surely on the way to Ardalone. She'd tell him how she'd kept her ring and how they were punishing her for it, by making it look as if she and the prince were getting on when it was really all a ploy to tear them apart.

She filled three pages with reassurances peppered with insults about Graham, folding and sealing the letter before any of her ladies-in-waiting had risen. Settling back at the breakfast table to poke at her now cold toast, Isabelle's traitorous mind asked the one question she'd been attempting to avoid all night as she tucked the sealed letter in among the dishes.

Was Leopold really the man she thought he was? If not, did it really matter what he thought of her?

Graham's mirthless laugh echoed in Isabelle's head as she turned her gaze out the window, where the air had turned a hazy pink with the rising sun. Try as she might to dissect Graham's story, she couldn't help but pick out all the flaws in Leopold's version in comparison. But now that she'd figured out Graham's goal, of driving her and Leo apart, did she even trust his story at all? Perhaps it was a clever spin on what had really happened, the truth of the matter lying somewhere between the two stories.

When Lissa came to collect the breakfast tray, Isabelle made up her mind. Fetching enough gold to ensure that the letter reached Leopold in Ardalone as quickly as it could, Isabelle entrusted it to Lissa. Her maid disappeared with the tray, promising to return soon to help her dress.

Sitting down at her vanity, Isabelle couldn't bear to look at herself as she brushed out her hair, not when the blue smudges under her eyes kept reminding her of little prince Hendrik.

**A/N: So do you think she made the right choice, hoping that Leopold wasn't lying? Or should she have believed Graham? As always, please vote and comment if you enjoyed it! :) **