“Presenting Lady Amalia and Lord Seymour.”

  I glanced up, feigning surprise as Tritetia looked up as well, Seymour and Amalia stepping into the drawing room, Amalia seemed surprised to see Tritetia with me, but Seymour barely managed to hide his smile as his eyes immediately landed on her. The sent of the magic weed was enough to almost make me gag, meaning he had smoked it on the way over, but I fought to maintain my composure.

  “Cousin! I didn’t expect you today,” I finally spoke, my voice light with practiced ease, even as I closed the book in my lap and gestured for the servant to bring in another set of refreshments. “Tritetia and I were just reading. You remember her from my debut, don’t you?”

  Amalia blinked once, but she recovered quickly, forcing a smile as she stepped further into the room, Seymour walking in step as they sat down. “Of course. She is just as beautiful as she was that night.”

  Tritetia stood, brushing her hands nervously along the sides of her skirt as she offered a quick, polite bow. “Thank you, Lady Amalia. It’s good to see you again.”

  Seymour remained quiet, his smile holding just long enough to make it clear he had no intention of looking away from her. Tritetia kept her gaze low, barely glancing at him as she resumed her seat beside me, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of her book in a way I had already come to recognize as her default attempt to ground herself. I didn’t miss the subtle way her body turned slightly toward me instead of them, as if I might be some sort of buffer.

  “It’s good to see you, Tritetia,” he said at last, his voice smooth and pleasant, low enough to force attention. “I had wondered if you would still be in Naera considering how warm our summer is predicted to be this year. Even my father mentioned it was unusually hot.”

  “His father is the head of trade with Pyraxia,” Amalia quickly intervened, her tone full of praise as she smiled. “A shame what is happening right now.”

  “Is… something wrong with the trade?” Tritetia managed softly, still keeping her head down as she spoke. I had no doubt she was avoiding looking into their futures, but with it only being us in the room, she couldn’t avoid the conversation. I sighed, leaning back into the couch.

  “Caspian mentioned something about a monster near the border, I think?”

  “Indeed. It seems some sort of beast has appeared and been attacking my father’s merchants when they return,” Seymour offered, but I could hear the lack of urgency in his voice, a theatrical sort of concern that didn’t quite match the gravity of what he described. “No one’s been killed, not yet. But there have been… complications. Frightened horses, shattered cargo, that sort of thing.”

  “One would think the Imperial family would be eager to solve such a crisis, wouldn’t you agree, Tritetia?” Amalia pushed and I resisted the desire to roll my eyes. Despite the way I had spoken to her at my debut, it was clear Amalia saw me as more of a nuisance than a threat. If Tritetia disagreed with Amalia, then she would look as if she didn’t care about common people, but if she agreed, then she was speaking out against the family she was being hosted by. If this conversation was being had in front of Isadora or Caspian, Amalia could easily be accused of conspiracy, but she was counting on me not knowing that.

  “I mean, Caspian left a few days ago to go deal with it,” I answered, glancing toward the window so I seemed utterly disinterested. “He left the same day, so maybe he just found out?”

  “Considering it can take awhile for word to travel, it's possible,” Seymour spoke before Amalia could rebuff me, and it was clear they weren’t exactly on the same wavelength. Seymour had come here to see Tritetia and satisfy his curiosity about her nature; Amalia was here to see if she could use Tritetia as a weapon against the Imperial family. “I’m sure Prince Caspian will take care of the matter.”

  “...Yes, me too,” Tritetia finally answered, and the room quieted for a moment after her words, the silence long enough that I could hear the delicate sound of her fingers brushing against the spine of the book again. She wasn’t trembling, but her posture had become even more careful than before, her shoulders straight but guarded, as if she were bracing for something she hadn’t named aloud. “But... to answer your question, the... the heat doesn’t bother me very much, as long as I’m near water.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Ah I see,” Seymour’s eyes lit up, and he leaned forward just slightly, the polite curve of his smile sharpening into something too smooth to be genuine. “Then you must come to the lake near my estate. It’s at its peak this time of year—fields of summer flowers all around it, and the water is as clear as glass. I think that could be a nicer way to spend our visit than being stuck inside a palace.”

  Tritetia fidgeted next to me, and I knew she was uncomfortable with the idea. After all, both of us were younger than Amalia and Seymour and while logically we could leave with them as our guardians, Tritetia never liked to leave the palace unless she had to. I remained silent, pretending to be uninterested as Amalia spoke up.

  “Oh that would be great! My aunt always praises the Duchess for how bright her Vodalla flowers are. They are difficult to grow, but somehow Seymour’s mother always manages,” Amalia pressed, beaming a bright smile as Tritetia continued to play with the book in her lap. “You simply must see them, I’m sure you’d love how vibrant they are!”

  I chanced a look at Tritetia and I noticed she had glanced up at me. She seemed to ask if I thought it was a good idea and I shrugged. “I haven’t seen Vodallas either, but they’re just red flowers.”

  “I’m surprised you have that opinion, Cyran. Vodallas have a tie to Naera’s history,” Seymour chuckled and I looked up, offering him a flat expression and the kind of vague, half-interested nod I’d learned to perfect at formal dinners. “It’s said only those who understand suffering and true pain can grow them.”

  “Lots of things have ties to Naera’s history, Doesn’t mean I want to spend the day staring at them.” I replied, my tone dry. “But I suppose if Tritetia wants to go, I’ll go.”

  Her breath caught, barely audible beside me, and I felt her shift again, subtle and uncertain, but when I glanced over, she was no longer looking at the book. She was looking at Amalia, then Seymour, and finally at me. “If it’s not… too much trouble.”

  ***

  Seymour settled into his seat as the carriage rumbled on the pavement, pleased with the outcome. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Amalia to agree to Prince Cyran’s invitation, but it was worth it as they all sat in a carriage on their way to his estate.

  Honestly, the timing couldn’t have been better; his father was at the border, concerned with the loss in his profits from the monster attacks and his mother was off visiting her sister in a different city. His younger siblings were unlikely to leave the main part of the estate, and he would make sure they didn’t have reason to.

  What Seymour hadn’t anticipated, what still irritated him, even as he leaned back with every appearance of lazy contentment, was that Cyran had chosen to come. He understood why of course; Tritetia was foreign royalty and even if Amalia was related to the Imperial family, she was not in a position to supervise Tritetia leaving the palace. Still, Seymour had hoped that Cyran’s odd reserve and habit of disinterest would lead him to decline. Tritetia, shy and pliant as she was, had never struck Seymour as someone who would raise her voice, much less alarm. But Cyran... Cyran had a way of being silent that unsettled Seymour, a way of being present without participating that made it hard to tell how much he saw.

  But, if anything, Seymour would make sure he was the one directing the rhythm of the day. He crossed one leg over the other and cast a brief glance toward Cyran, who sat across from him with his usual air of detachment. The prince had his chin resting against his fist, elbow propped on the window ledge as he stared out at the passing landscape like it bored him. Next to Cyran, Tritetia sat small and stiff, her hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes focused on the delicate embroidery along the edge of her sleeve. She hadn’t spoken since they left, hadn’t even reacted when Amalia had taken the seat beside her, practically pressing their shoulders together.

  Amalia would take Tritetia to the lake, eager to see if the girl could be manipulated. If her demeanor told Seymour anything, he knew his fiance would be disappointed and that meant Amalia would have no problem leaving the poor girl alone. A waiting servant, and well-timed excuse from Seymour to leave Cyran alone, and he would have the time he needed. His curiosity burned and he forced himself to keep from staring at the young girl across from him.

  He would have to start slow, just to test how well she healed. From what he had heard, sea beasts had the fastest healing factor besides dragons, which meant vivisecting her should be easy to do without leaving lasting scars.

  Well, visible scars.

  Seymour smiled to himself, nodding as Amalia asked him some asinine question he hadn’t really heard. It was nice to have a wife with more power than him, so naive and full of her own goals that she never really questioned what he did. She wasn’t stupid, thankfully, but she was far from astute; a political creature more than a calculating one, and that suited Seymour perfectly. Her pride worked like armor, thick and gleaming, and as long as he didn't threaten her sense of superiority, she rarely looked deeper.

  The carriage rolled to a gentle halt outside the estate gates, the rhythmic creaking of wheels slowing into silence as the footman stepped down to open the door. Seymour stood first, offering a hand to Amalia, then to Tritetia, who hesitated only for a second before placing her delicate fingers in his. He felt the faint tremor in her grip, the twitch of resistance she masked with a bow of her head. Seymour grinned, his entire being giddy with excitement.

  “Welcome to my humble estate.”

  ***