The cold was what woke Aurie that morning. She did her exercises quickly. No running this time—she couldn’t think of where to run to without having to go through much more effort than she felt it was worth, but she did everything else—and she did her prayer. She thanked God for the blessings He had given her and Maud, for Draka, for their new home, for the protection it gave them, and for saving Maud from any real harm apart from that sliced finger. The Clerics had some issues fixing her stitches and she refused to allow Draka or Enya to heal it for some reason. That was something she would have to approach Maud about later.

  She considered which dress to wear for the day when there was warmth wafting from the wardrobe blocking the window. The midday sun must have caused a break in the cold. Esme held up a dress that was navy blue with gilded embroidery on the hem. Aurie was about to nod when Alice dismissed it with a wave.

  “Too dark,” Alice had a hand to her chin. She was in a dress that made her look like a ripe lime painted with veiny lines. “That one.” It was one that had a similar shade as the lavender, but slightly lighter.

  “I liked the other one better,” Aurie sat on the thin mattress of her bed. There was a springiness in it that has made her back ache through the night. Well, day and night, if she were honest with herself. She never thought the day would come when staying up through the night would make her feel like a pile of dirt had rolled over her, but here she was.

  “It’s too dark,” Alice eyed her over a shoulder as Esme lifted the one she pointed at. “This one will do finely for the festival. Not too light, but not so dark that you look like a woman ready to lay in a grave, herself.”

  Aurie shook her head as she went to where she could be dressed and lifted her arms. “Did I miss much this morning?”

  Alice had a ledger beside her with a ribbon marking where she needed to open it. “You haven’t missed much that concerns you since the King has finally begun being a king. You have a meeting with Valmond before midday meal—which will be immediately—and then this afternoon into the night will be devoted to the festival with the King. Tomorrow, however, is a busy day for you.”

  “The day after a festival is usually a day for recovery,” Aurie said as her breaths were forced out from the tightening of her gilded bodice.

  “Don’t drink too much,” Alice gave her another hardened glance. “Tomorrow is taxes, council meetings, appointments, preparation for next week’s reception, and overall a show of support from you and your daughter for the King. Mostly that, since he will be doing the actual decision making.”

  “So,” Aurie blinked as Esme brought a coat that would cover her dress from head to toe to her. Why would they bother with the petticoats, underpetticoat, bodice, and all the rest, if they were covered by this fur and embroidered monstrosity that made her look like a far eastern doll? At least it explains why there were no paniers or hoops beneath the skirts. “I’m to sit there and look pretty while he writes his commands. Am I allowed to sleep? I promise not to snore.”

  Alice pursed her brows with a glare. “You’re to sit near the King and will whisper in his ear with each decision how you would wish it to be decided before he makes it and you will let everyone see that you do so. You are his Regent and highest ranking advisor. This is when that influence is to be felt by any who sees. Otherwise, they will see you as a consort, which endangers the possibility of future…”

  Esme may not have felt it, but both women sank their eyes to the floor with hushed sighs.

  Aurie didn’t want to think about it. It was all she thought about in between her tosses through the night. She had the urge to thrash through the room, too. Kick and scream her way through the drawers and wardrobe like she had once heard Draka do in his house. Destroy everything within reach in her rage. If Esme had been within reach, or anyone else for that matter at the time, she might have thrashed them as well. Instead, she rolled about in that hard mattress, kicked at the blankets, and cried nearly as hard as she did for Balor.

  “What is being done to protect the festival from you know who?” Aurie asked, looking herself over in the mirror that Alice and Esme had brought with them. It was a tall oval one that allowed her to see herself from head to toe.

  She was surprised to find that she liked the way she looked. The white fur lining of the coat, with patches of brown and black, wasn’t very thick and complimented the flowery embroidery down her bodice before opening to reveal her petticoats in a way that emphasized her hips in the most Alice of ways: tastefully and with a flair of beauty that took even a woman’s breath away.

  “I cannot say,” Alice was bouncing a finger on her chin. “If it gets too warm for you, the coat can be removed. I’ve never favored the style of Saint Peter’s, but it has its advantages.”

  “Saint Peter’s?” Aurie was barely able to turn from her own reflection.

  The braiding in her blonde hair that pulled it all behind her ears to frame her neck, the curling of the strands that hung loose of those braids along her cheeks so they made them look higher and rounder than they were, how the crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes were hidden by her darkened long lashes. She had never seen herself look as beautiful. She couldn’t look away. Perhaps it was too much.

  “A port city in the Northeast. Quite large and extremely influential,” Alice went to a small box on a chair that she handed to Esme to hold while she opened it. Inside were silver earrings and a periwinkle ribbon with a wood cross. She turned Aurie to face her so she could pin the earrings in her ears. “The King’s Order overtook the region from the Order of Saint Olga, so I’ve been integrating their styles into those of Parisia. It has been…” She turned Aurie’s head to pin the next, “interesting, to say the least. They have shorter summers, so their women are covered, but they are rich in jewels beyond compare. Their women wear much more than ours, even on their simplest dresses. Furs are prized as well.”

  Aurie lifted her chin for Alice to tie the ribbon and cross to hide her scar. “I thought the King and his Order were in the Holy Lands. That’s why the Queen is bringing so many of them.”

  “Their greatest number once was,” Alice took a step back once she finished. “You look positively splendid.”

  “I look like a woman looking for a husband,” Aurie raised a brow. “I’m not.”

  “You will be,” Alice shrugged as she lifted a gold ring that had a large smooth top. She handed it to Aurie. “This goes on your pinky. Once you are given your proper title, it will have your House signet on it and will be used on official documents. For now, you wear it as a sign of your position everywhere you go.” As an afterthought, “Except when you train, so you don’t lose it. It is pure gold.”

  As they made their way to the hall, Esme followed behind them, keeping a few paces back with her chin tucked but her eyes attentive. Clerics, not soldiers, lined the hallways. They weren’t milling about or patrolling. In the bailey, there were more Clerics, surrounded or followed by their Monastic Knights in whatever tasks they were doing, while the bustle of the awakened market beyond the fort—no, castle—walls had taken place of the rhythmic chime of the blacksmith for the day. Aurie could hear Tuck’s singing and his skillful guitar being shrouded by a violin nearby. A woman’s singing had joined with his. And, it was getting warm enough that the ground which had been frozen for the last two days had turned to mud with slices from the many times wagon wheels were rolled through it.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  As they went down the steps toward the main hall door between the stables, Alice grumbled about how they were taking too long to make a different, indoor entrance to it. Aurie wondered the same, though this wasn’t entirely bad, in her mind. In the winter, however, it would become a chore, for sure.

  “Was Draka ever in Saint Peter’s?” Aurie wondered once they were within the dark of the stables. Vigora nibbled at her shoulder until she flicked her nose. All that did was get her a swish of a tail to her face.

  “I believe he led the campaign against the Saint Olga Order until about a year ago,” Alice cocked her head at the thought. “You’ll have to ask him.”

  Right before he came to Talkro…The door to the Hall was opened by the Monastics guarding it.

  “My Lady!”

  Aurie stopped before stepping through the door. It was Senna who was running through the muddy bailey to duck under the stairs and into the stables behind them. Her simple dress was splashed with mud. Aurie drew in a breath when she curtsied.

  “My Lady,” Senna said with her head lowered. “May I speak with you?”

  Aurie heard Alice’s hushed scoff. She motioned for Alice and Esme to go into the Hall and wait for her. Alice gave her a cautious look.

  Aurie’s was one that made Alice widen her eyes and obey with a wave to Esme, “Come on, Esme.”

  As they filed past them, Aurie regarded Senna for a moment. She looked pale, paler than when she had been healed before the trip to Strasbourg, and sullen. She already knew what this was about. The girl came to get her position back. Aurie braced for a bout of tears, pleading, possibly even a story that would make her wish she didn’t know the girl’s games so well.

  “What is it, Senna?” Aurie looked her over. Vigora’s nose touched Aurie’s shoulder over the rail of her stall. Aurie pushed her away with a light shove.

  Senna’s brow creased at Vigora, “I—my Lady, if I may, I would like to speak to you in private…privately.”

  Vigora leaned her head over Aurie’s shoulder to regard Senna with perked ears. Aurie rolled her eyes at the horse, who only leaned a little sideways to look at her with a pale blue eye, then back at Senna. Vigora let out a long sigh in a way that a human might when deciding to go against their instinct and give the benefit of the doubt.

  “You’re such a little shit,” Aurie whispered to Vigora before flicking her nose to get her off her shoulder. She nodded at Senna. “Fine, come along then.”

  She led Senna up to her room and shut the door behind her. Senna was distracted. Not by the mirror or the way the room looked, but by whatever was on her mind. She was wringing her hands, curling her long fingers, and pacing.

  Aurie wondered if she was waiting for her to say something first or if she was still trying to figure out how to plead her case. Either way, she didn’t want to wait long. Senna had never been her favorite of the girls in the village. She and Maud had always been the prettiest, but Senna was the one who took it to heart while Maud rebelled against it. The girl liked the attention her pretty face gained her, craved it even, and often used it the way Aurie once had to in order to feed her sister. Only, with Senna, it was to feel better about herself and superior to the other women and girls in the village. She knew about how close Senna had come to spreading her legs for Egan the Blacksmith, who was married. And she knew how often she tempted others. The question was always there, lingering in her mind when she looked at her. Has she lain with a man already?

  “I have a long day ahead of me,” Aurie said to stop the girl’s pacing. “What do you have to say?”

  “I know…I know you know,” Senna turned to her, no longer lowering her eyes, though her head hung. “I knew the moment you put your hand—on my—that night…” she touched her belly, just below her hip and Aurie’s breath stuck.

  “Who was it?”

  Senna’s eyes were downcast, sideways, but her hands remained where they were. “It doesn’t matter. I miscarried. It happened the day before you healed us. You—stopped the bleeding.”

  Aurie went to her. That was why the Holy Spirit moved her to Senna and placed her hand there. The poor woman. She took Senna in a warm embrace and leaned her head into her shoulder. Senna didn’t cry. She shook her head as she held onto Aurie with a fierceness.

  “He told me he’d marry me,” Senna’s jaw was tight against Aurie’s cheek. “He said he’d take care of me and he didn’t. As soon as I let him have his way, he never spoke to me again.”

  “Who?” Aurie soothed her voice into her ear. “I can make this right if you tell me who.”

  “A soldier named Raul,” Senna let out a long breath. She sounded defeated. Aurie could feel it throughout her embrace. “I don’t even know his family name and I haven’t seen him since that last night.”

  Aurie leaned back from her. “Did he ever talk about his sergeant or anyone in his unit? Friends, maybe? Who was in charge of him? I can find him and we’ll—”

  Senna shook her head, “Why would I want that prick as a husband? And, no. He never told me who his friends or anything were. We only met when he was patrolling the woods.” She rubbed her eyes. Still, no tears. “That’s not why I’m here. It's just…everyone knows I’m sullied. And I don’t have a knight to defend my honor, so I’m just the village slut. I don’t think anyone knows I’m that sullied, though I suspect they might.”

  Aurie straightened. “Patrolling the woods?”

  “Never mind that,” Senna grabbed her hands, but Aurie was still stuck on that. No soldiers patrolled the woods. Senna was looking deep into her. “I know why you can’t have me in your staff. I’m not here for that, but without a job here, I need a husband. And I’ve already been told by the old families I’m not related to that they won’t let me dance the ribbon because of my reputation. And the migrants…can you help me? Please, Aurie? You used to take care of me, you were always my favorite cousin, even if by marriage.”

  “Is there one who would marry you regardless? One of the boys who loves you already?”

  Senna shook her head, dropping her hands with a sigh. “They all see me as what everyone else does. I might as well start a brothel.”

  Damn their hypocrisy, Aurie cursed.

  “Before the Ribbon Dances begin, come find me,” Aurie said to her. “And prepare like you would if you weren’t being denied.” She shook her head. “One day, this sort of nonsense will be considered just that, nonsense. And it wasn’t because of this that I didn’t want you on my staff. I wanted you to be here, I just—you gossip. Even when you were little, you could never keep your mouth shut about anything, especially other people’s secrets. More than a few times you put Maud in the pits over something you promised you’d keep to yourself. I can’t trust you.”

  Senna winced. “I’ve no one to gossip to.”

  “I’m a Regent, sweety,” Aurie shook her head, wishing she could take it all back. She had snapped through the last bit and wished she had said it a little less harshly. “You’ll have everyone to gossip to, most of them being our enemies. It isn’t for any other reason. I still love you dearly. Now, go, get ready for the festival. I’ll see what I can do to get you on a ribbon.”