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"I hardly think that's something to be upset about," Violet said, pulling on her riding gloves as she joined Isabelle at the window. Violet's suite looked down towards the stable yard, a decidedly less desirable view than Isabelle's of the gardens. The pair of them looked down to where the debutantes and courtiers milled about on dancing horses, their breath pluming in the chilly autumn morning.

"I'm betrothed, Violet," Isabelle said, her arms still folded as they had been since she'd arrived to her friend's suite. Her usually bright eyes were circled, which was had prompted Violet's prodding and resulted in Isabelle revealing what had transpired last night. As always, Violet had listened quietly, offering no judgement as the secrets tumbled from Isabelle's lips.

"To a man who hasn't returned a single one of your letters," Violet pointed out. Isabelle shot her a glare, only to earn a shrug in return.

"As far as I can tell, you're the first one of us that he's kissed," Violet continued, toying with her gloves. "Any other debutante would kill to be in your position."

Cora's name hung in the air between them, unspoken.

Isabelle inhaled, her eyes instinctively straying to Graham's sandy hair as he strode around the courtyard before she forced them to look elsewhere. She'd tossed and turned all night, her mind warring with itself as she alternated between hating Graham and dreaming about their kisses. She'd ended up tangled in her sheets, more exhausted and confused than ever before.

She'd kept repeating her father's words to herself, only for her sleep-deprived mind to start spinning down another track, wondering whether those words applied to Leo as well. But Leo had known her far longer than Graham. More importantly, Leo loved her. The same could hardly be said for Graham, who barely knew her. If Leo had only wanted her lands, she'd be married by now.

Or would she?

It was always her father delaying their nuptials, finding some excuse or other to push them off again and again. When Leo had announced his stopover on his way to Ardalone, Isabelle had convinced herself that their wedding was imminent, with a foreign honeymoon to Ardalone on its heels. But Papa had flatly refused and Leo had angrily continued on to Relizia alone, to attend the Ardalonians' royal wedding without her.

She hadn't heard a word from him, despite his promise to write and her near-daily letters. Originally she'd assumed it was some ruse of the queen's, keeping her mail from her, but perhaps Leo hadn't bothered to write at all. Perhaps he was angry with her for going to Highcastle, despite the reassurances she'd crammed into each of her letters. He was no friend of Graham's and the thought of his future bride as one of his debutantes was probably most infuriating.

Unless, of course, Leo didn't really love her and was only after her lands. Because if he didn't care for her, he had no reason to reassure her. If he was after her lands, he'd likely be arguing with her father. Her father, who had willingly sent her to Highcastle rather than allow her to go to Relizia as a married woman...

When the clock on her mantelpiece had barely edged past three in the morning, Isabelle had given up on sleeping and had made up her mind. Lighting a candle, she trimmed her quill and penned a letter to her father, demanding, in no uncertain terms, that he tell her exactly why he'd refused to let her marry Leo. She spared him the details about her conflicting emotions, knowing he'd only worry if she troubled him with such nonsense, but she did inform him that she knew there was more afoot. She was tired of being the last to know what was happening.

She'd lain awake after that, the letter sealed on her desk and weighing in her mind, awaiting Lissa's arrival so she could dispatch it first thing in the morning. When the sun had finally crested the horizon and Lissa had appeared to announce that the day's events included a hunt, Isabelle could have fainted with relief. Fresh air and an opportunity to escape the queen's favourite, stuffy drawing room and all its gossiping courtiers would be a welcome reprieve after last night.

Last night...

She closed her eyes, massaging her temples as visions of Graham's green eyes floated up before them. It had been the same thing all morning, despite her best efforts not to think of them. The rustle of Violet's skirts thankfully tore her from her thoughts, but she could still feel the heat of the blush that had crept into her cheeks.

"Then perhaps I'll throw myself from my horse today," Isabelle said eventually, cutting the silence that had grown between she and her friend, "Perhaps then the queen will finally agree to send me home and the rest of you can be rid of me."

"Don't say such nonsense," Violet chided, "I like having you here."

"But I don't want to be here, Violet!" Isabelle protested. "I want to be home, in Kentshire, especially if what you're saying about the prince is true. I don't want to be the one he's after, that was supposed to be Cora!"

"Then perhaps you ought to use your position with the prince to point him towards Cora," Violet said finally, the silence stretching between them as Isabelle realized how she'd so easily brushed off her friend.

"Violet, I didn't-" Isabelle started, but her friend silenced her with a smile.

"We should head out," Violet said, her smile still in place despite the hurt lurking in her eyes. Before Isabelle could say another word or tell her that she had completely forsaken Cora as a friend, Violet turned and hurried from the suite. With a sigh, Isabelle gathered her skirts and chided herself for being so cruel. Of course she wanted to spend time with Violet, but preferably far away from Highcastle Palace.

With a grimace, Isabelle wondered at the kind of woman she was becoming, confined to the four walls of this infernal palace. She'd betrayed Leo, ended a friendship she'd cherished since childhood, and snapped at one of her last remaining allies. To make matters worse, Violet's only crime had been caring enough to ask why Isabelle seemed so upset.

With a shudder, Isabelle realized that she was turning into sour, sneering Queen Leonora.

Hurrying to catch up to Violet, she linked arms with her friend.

"I didn't mean what I said, you know," Isabelle explained, "I enjoy spending time with you too, I only wish it could be anywhere but here."

"I know exactly what you mean," Violet said, giving Isabelle's hand a squeeze as they emerged into the stable yard that might as well have been a parade ground.

Every debutante and every lady-in-waiting was out today, attired in their best riding clothes. Isabelle couldn't help but snort in derision at some of their getups, frilled with lace and topped with dainty hats that wouldn't last a minute riding in the Kentshire wilderness. She had donned an evergreen riding outfit and had dared to tie a demure tartan ribbon around her throat as a way of thumbing her nose at the queen. Violet's gown was deep brown and utterly unremarkable, though it too was clearly designed for hard riding rather than a leisurely walk through a pasture like most of the other debutantes' outfits.

"There's something else I should have told you about Cora," Isabelle said, as they crossed the courtyard.

"Oh? I'd asked her to sit with us during the picnic," Violet said, tugging on her riding gloves. Isabelle sighed.

"That might present a problem," she said. "As I absolutely refuse to have anything more to do with her."

Violet remained silent, pursing her lips before stopping in her tracks and taking Isabelle's hands.

"I know that you fought. Cora told me last night, after you'd disappeared. She was close to tears and she didn't return to the ball. You ought to hear her out, she-" Violet said, the words tumbling out in a rush.

"Did she tell you what Henrietta was saying about me? Or how she didn't bother to defend me?" Isabelle demanded, pulling her hands away and searching the assembled horses for her Alabaster. As her eyes scanned the stable yard, they landed on a head of sandy blond hair near the stable doors and immediately looked away. Determined not to let Graham see what an effect the mere sight of him had on her, she turned her focus back to Violet, only to see tears pooling in her friend's brown eyes.

"She's sorry, Isabelle. You know she's not really like that, but she hasn't quite forgiven you for showing up here. Especially now that you're spending so much time with the prince she'd set her eyes on," Violet said, her lip wobbling. "Please, can't we all just be friends again?"

Isabelle's brow furrowed as Violet swallowed, furiously blinking back her tears despite the emotion leaking through onto her face.

"Fine," Isabelle sighed. "Though I haven't forgiven her, not until she apologizes herself."

Which, Isabelle knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, would not happen if Cora ever learned what Isabelle had done last night.

But that didn't seem to matter to Violet. A glowing smile on her face, she threw her arms around Isabelle.

"Thank you," Violet whispered, giving her a squeeze before fishing a handkerchief from her pocket to dab at her eyes. Isabelle managed a smile, a rush of pity for Violet swelling within her.

The three of them had been the best of friends at school and Violet had always been the intermediary whenever Cora and Isabelle had fought. Nothing had upset Violet more than the summer they'd all parted ways, Cora fuming because Isabelle had invited Violet to Kentshire. The truth of the matter was that Violet's life in her father's seaside estate was far from tranquil and relaxing, so Isabelle had invited her home if only to get her out from under her overbearing mother's thumb. Cora hadn't seen it that way, however, and the row had lasted an entire summer.

Now, in a strange place where she knew few people and had even fewer friends, Violet was only trying to save their sisterhood from yet another fight. The problem was that this time, it wasn't about something petty like a summer holiday, it was about marriage prospects and a prince.

Finally locating their mounts, Isabelle's Alabaster was saddled next to Violet's Mysthena, the pair of horses stamping in anticipation. A smile hitched itself on Isabelle's face the moment she set eyes on the great white gelding she'd brought with her from Kentshire. Alabaster, or Bass as she had nicknamed him, was a welcome sight to calm her racing mind. As she cooed her greetings with a scratch of his nose, she wondered whether her noble steed could gallop fast enough to outrun the royal guard all the way home to Kentshire.

"You're late!" Cora hissed as she approached atop her own black mare, darting a nervous glance towards where the queen was already mounted next to the king. Isabelle's hackles raised at the sound of her voice, following Cora's gaze to where the queen was pursing her lips.

"We were held up," Violet shrugged. "Though I believe you had something you wanted to say to Isabelle."

Turning Bass to face Cora, Isabelle folded her arms and waited. Her beautiful, blonde friend looked resplendent in her lovat tweed hunting jacket, but her face had fallen at Violet's words. Cora at least had the good grace to look ashamed when she risked a glance up at Isabelle.

"You know I'm sorry," she said finally, as Violet's Mysthena danced in place, sensing the tension between them. Isabelle snorted.

"That is not at all convincing," she said. Cora inhaled, her eyes flashing with frustration before Violet cleared her throat. Cora glanced over at her before rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Henrietta is a vile sow and I should have defended you," Cora said quickly. "There, is that better?'

"It'll do, for now," Isabelle huffed, still not satisfied. But she couldn't stand the desperately hopeful look on Violet's face, so she relented if only to spare her timid friends more heartache.

A hunting horn cut through the chatter and Bass' ears flicked forward at the sound. Not wanting to be forced to ride next to Cora all the way through the city, Isabelle hung back, pretending to fuss with her reins while Violet and Cora fell in behind the king and queen's retinue. When she looked up to follow them, she met the one pair of eyes she'd been trying to avoid.

Graham was watching her with that familiar, unreadable look on his face, his horse waiting patiently while the rest of the inductees' mounts stamped and danced. They couldn't move until he did and Isabelle realized with a sinking feeling that he was probably waiting to fall in beside her, if only so he could torment her again. Determined not to allow him to intimidate her, she held his gaze as she approached, breaking it only when she rode past. Graham watched her with amusement, but made no move to join her, instead remaining immobile as she passed him.

Refusing to look back at him, Isabelle focused on Violet and Cora's conversation ahead of her as she tried not to think about the twinge of disappointment blooming in her stomach when the prince's bay stallion hadn't fallen in beside Bass.

Once they'd all ridden out to the fields north of Highcastle, the hunting horn sounded again. The king galloped away from the queen's side, his men flanking him, while the queen and her ladies continued at a more sedate pace. Thundering hooves echoed behind the debutantes as the inductees overtook them, Prince Graham at their head. A burst of titters erupted from the debutantes riding behind her as Isabelle shot a brief glance over at the prince before looking back a second time in earnest.

His gaze was set ahead of him as he bellowed encouragement to his horse, but it was the bright yellow ribbon tied around his quiver strap that caught her eye. Before she could think to stop herself, she twisted in her saddle, only to see a giddy Anna Hindersley hastily re-tying her hair with one of her ladies' deep purple ribbons, the colour clashing dreadfully with her sunny yellow dress. Turning back forwards, Isabelle schooled her breathing, hating the pit forming in her stomach.

She should be grateful that Graham had asked for some other girl's hair ribbon, but she wasn't. She was seething. He'd kissed her last night and now he was riding around with foolish Anna's silly yellow ribbon on his quiver, which made Isabelle feel a thousand times worse about last night. Clearly his words and actions had been nothing more than yet another manipulation, especially if he was so keen to pursue someone else the very next morning.

"Are you even listening?" Cora demanded, the lull in conversation tearing Isabelle's attention away from where Graham had disappeared among the trees with his men. "I was telling Violet all about how I snubbed Henrietta this morning because of the way she'd treated you last night."

"Forgive me, I hadn't been listening," Isabelle muttered, forcing down her annoyance with Cora's tone. She tried her best to fight a yawn as Cora regaled her about how she'd blatantly ignored Henrietta when she'd come calling before their departure from the palace, but it was in vain. The fatigue from Isabelle's restless night overpowered her will to listen, the yawn escaping as Cora's story ended.

When Isabelle opened her eyes again, Cora was watching her, something wary in her gaze.

**A/N: Uh oh! What is Graham up to? And do you really think Violet should keep trying to reconcile Isabelle and Cora? 

As always, if you enjoyed it, please don't forget to vote and comment! :)**