I knocked at the door of the estate. Back in Cliffside. Blue skies, bird songs. You forget about birds singing when you get used to the bat's chirps and squeaks. This neighborhood was dowdy and looked old-fashioned to me, and I barely know the local culture. I have no idea what was in fashion sixty to seventy years ago but I can tell it was this. Also, a truly offensive number of window boxes even to me, and I love flowers!

  I could hear a movement at the peephole, and then the door opened. Stiff posture, stiff coat, a handsome young man who was vainly trying to age himself into a distinguished and stately older man. A valet with aspirations to butlerhood. "Mnyess? May hellp youu?"

  First request, don't ever do that again. Talk better than that.

  "Hello, I'm Natalie, and I've been told I am expected."

  He opened the door wider, and waved me in. No white gloves, he'll never make butler like this! I walked on in, looking around the place. Harigold colors stood out everywhere, scarlet and white. Now, those colors matched my twin and I in a way they never had. We'd make great bookends if he would talk to me.

  I stood by in the sitting room while he fetched someone from the house to receive me. And it was three of them, two women and a man, who all came in together, peering at me with curiosity.

  "Well now," said the lead woman, who looked so much like my father that I was really shocked. If I had not seen Lady Hanje recently I might have even been taken aback by her size, tall and broad-shouldered and strong-limbed, but rather than my father's comfortable leathers she wore a frumpy brocade gown that she'd left the sash off of, so she just looked like she was wearing a rug cut like a poncho. "It seems the main stem has decided to grace us with one of their sheep! Which one was it now?"

  "Ironically, the white one," said the man behind her, who looked eerily like Nathan if he had affected spectacles and a cane. "And yet, still the skeleton of the family closet."

  "I thought it was the black sheep?" Asked the last one, looking confused but keeping up gamely. "Like, that's how it works right? Black sheep is the embarrassing one?" She was small and cute, with a high forehead and a weak chin but big eyes and a face made for smiling.

  "Because she's pale," her brother pointed out. "Ironically."

  Oh great. He's ironic. We're gonna get along great. I stood from my seat. "I'm sorry if I'm any trouble, I was asked to see my way here. Sisa and Lady Hanje both said I should not delay any longer."

  "Oh, you delayed just enough and no more than that," he said. "I'm Bruce. My sister Wendy here, and this is our cousin and yours, Petunia."

  The woman that looked like my dad wearing a rug just nodded. "Call me Petty. Everyone does. Because I am."

  "Charmed," I said, and dropped a curtsey. "Natalie, if you would. I've been ladied enough these last few days and I'm hoping for a shelter from all that."

  "Such a shame, that you get too much respect and honors," Petty said, eyeing me up and down. "You don't look like a murderer."

  I stared back at her. "But you do. Funny old world, isn't it?"

  Wendy gasped. "You can't say that! Petunia's no murderer!"

  Petty smirked. "If I was to murder a mouthy princess, would you help me hide the body, Bruce?"

  "I'd loan you my favorite bottle of lye," he promised her, smiling nastily.

  "Guys!" Wendy moaned, staring at them in distress.

  "It's okay Wendy, you can sit here with me and protect me," i said, patting the other side of the settee.

  She sat next to me, glaring at them with her jaw set and her mouth pressed in a pout. Bruce leaned against an armchair, and just shifted to sitting on the arm of the chair, and then slouching down into it. Petty grabbed a dining chair and flipped it around backwards to straddle-sit. "So, Lady Natalie, how are you liking Hearstcliff?"

  I doubted I'd be able to fool any of them any better than I could fool the closer members of my family. The only person I've ever been able to reliably deceive is Yheta and that's just because he is somehow completely blind to every indication of my disdain. I could not count on that benefit here. "Honestly, I'm struggling to keep up," I admitted. "Everything is so much! I would have had enough trouble if it was just me coming from Meadowtam, but I've been confined, and the sights are overwhelming, the sounds are nonstop, I understand maybe half of what I see and a quarter of what I've heard. And just when I thought I was getting my feet under me, I'm getting snatched up into House politics!"

  Bruce groaned at the mention. "Ugh, spare me from the intrigues and infighting! It's all so pointless and arbitrary!"

  I locked eyes with Petty. She already knew. I looked over at Wendy: she had been briefed too, and she wished she didn't know. Got it.

  Bruce raised his walking-stick like a conductor directing music from the ceiling. "The only reason any of it matters is because everyone agrees that it matters. If tomorrow the whole of Cliffside woke up and realized that we're tired of playing bitchy little games of precedence and posturing, half our problems would be resolved instantly. All of it, the wheeling and dealing, the multiple layers of veiled insults, the coded messages... it all just reflects a useless artistocratic class that has nothing better to do with time and resources, except to squander them in games of status and stupidity and cupidity. There's not even a prize, other than not getting trod on by everyone else!"

  "I've had a lot of trodding lately," I grumbled. "It's not an insignificant prize."

  Petty folded her arms over the chair back and rested her chin on it. "Sometimes I could really see myself moving back to the provinces to just ride around my barony and wave to the peasants. Surely better than here."

  I wanted to ask her if she's ever considered an adventurer's life as a thrilling third option. Like 'Hey Petunia you don't have to pick between this hierarchical horseshit here and the life of a pastoral baron, you could take those massive biceps of yours and the giant hammer I'm convinced you own, and go take up a life of full-contact archaeology finding ancient artifacts and dangerous animals and traps!', except that if I suggested it she might actually do that and I already have a bad feeling about what kind of dungeon delver Petunia would grow to become.

  Bruce chuckled wryly. "You'd hate it. You need to be here, where everything's happening."

  Wendy twisted her hands together. "Sometimes everything happens too much."

  Mood.

  "So, not to cause headaches around here," I said carefully. My prickly cousins made this feel like I had walked halfway through a minefield before I saw the warning signs. "But I've kind of already been making some moves, interacting with the other Houses. I've been assured that I am operating as a free agent and that my actions do not reflect on Harigold. But I've also been assured that the people involved are vindictive, two-faced, and testy."

  Bruce snorted. "So, you've gotten bad advice and good advice, it seems."

  Wendy patted my knee consolingly. Petty was frowning hard though. "What kind of moves? What've you fucked up for us?"

  "Since I got out of prison?" I started. "Tried to make a deal with Pailser house and failed. Brokered that information to Skyback. Spoke to my regular contact with Tarratan about cutting a deal with either Freckentop or Eyellon, I'm waiting for her to get back to me and let me know what her leadership says about that. I'd rather not work with Freckentop at all, since they're basically the root of all of Father's troubles, but if that's how things go then so be it."

  Petty raised a hand to cut me off there. "Why are you even talking to these people? What deals are you cutting? You should be getting drunk somewhere."

  "I don't drink," I said reflexively, innate response. "I need to get enrolled at the Academy. Admissions are closed for the time being, I've cut the timing too close. So I need two letters of recommendation from two deans to get the scholarship board to administer an out-of-season exam for me to test into classes."

  "Just wait 'til next year," Bruce said, waving an indolent hand. "What's the big deal?"

  "You've heard that I have a twin brother?"

  He started, and glanced over. "Oh, is that what this is about?" He nodded. "I understand. If I had a twin I'd never want to fall behind on something like this, I'd never live it down!"

  "That's not- whatever, let's go with that," I said, shelving an entire argument about my motives that I wasn't going to win because I can't really explain. "Anyway, to get the exam, I need the deans, the deans answer to the houses, and none of them are going to let go of a chance to hold leverage over Natalie Harigold," I sounded bitter, this has been getting to me.

  "I would think that making Pailser your last stop and not the first would have helped you," Bruce said. "If you tell them everything else is failed, then it falls on them to decide whether widely-renowned genius, inventor and musician the princess is going to be an alumnus of their Academy or not. Pailser tries to associate itself closely to the Academy, so anything that bolsters its brand is good for them as well."

  Wendy shook her head. "They're jerks. They always press hard if you need something. They're not too bad if they approach you, though."

  Petty snickered. "Listen to your sister Bruce. Nah princess I don't think there's a clean way out of this as things stand. You can't come to them as a supplicant asking them for something that costs them nothing but means a lot to you. When you do that, it confuses them how much is owed to whom. Expensive requests are easier, put a price tag on it. But something that is easy but important? Throws off their appraisals. On the other hand if you came to them with blackmail, or threats, or holding something they wanted? That'd answer the question fast. Making a deal to be resolved later, that's your trouble."

  Wendy flared up. "Gods, Petty, the answer to everything isn't blackmail!"

  Petty blew up right back. "Look, you wouldn't have to sleep with him-!"

  "Ladies," Bruce said, leaning between them and using his hands to shield them from each other.

  Fuck, what kind of argument are they rehashing here? Family drama might be just as ugly as House drama.

  While his sister and cousin glared at him, Bruce glared back and forth at the two of them. "I think that the princess still needs good advice. I can throw another bucket of water over you two if I need to. So, do I need to?"

  Wendy was still glaring, her breath coming fast and angry, but Petty backed down first. ".. not even worth it," she declared desultorily. She looked back at me. "Here's my best advice: absolutely don't offer a favor to be defined and redeemed later. Get your terms firm. If anyone offers you a favor now for a favor to be settled some other time, that person is not your friend and you should get out fast."

  "Hear hear," Bruce said. He set his walking stick aside, and walked over to the sideboard to grab the brandy and a snifter. "Anyone else? No? In any case, we need to assess damage control. The names involved already are mostly Dominionist faction, but Pailser has often indicated that it would jump ship with the Independents, like Skyback. So, without expanding this trouble any farther, that means a semi-autonomous free agent affiliated with the Development faction has been soliciting assistance from both the Dominionist and Independents, and directly invoking an ongoing discord between a minor Development house and a central Dominionist house."

  "Run that very last part by me again?" I asked, with one eyebrow in the Spock-Rock formation.

  He rolled his eyes. "Seven Central Houses. One of the factions is the Dominionist, who are trying to gather political authority away from lower lords, provincial authorities and the other public estates, focusing all political power to the King and Queen, the throne itself. A Central House of the Dominionist faction."

  "Right, got it," I said, sitting back. That's enough embarrassing ignorance from me for now.

  "All this to get into the school," Petty grumbled, her fingers gripping the chair back. "Whatever. I say throw in hard. Let's get some of the Federalists involved too, and let all of them fight it out just to distract them."

  "That's a terrible idea!"

  "Well, it's an idea! You're just retelling her story and acting like it's something you've figured out!"

  "A bad idea is not better than a weak idea!"

  "Your ideas are hardly the weakest -"

  Wendy patted my knee. "Are you all right?"

  I sulked. "I'm used to being able to solve my own problems. Either with magic, or wits, or reputation. And now I'm stalemated because a bunch of jerks would rather play stupid games with hidden rules and secret bureaucracies than just leave well enough alone."

  "Well, other than magic, or wits, or reputation, what would help?" Wendy asked. "What do you need but you don't have?"

  "Nathan," I pouted. And then brightened. "That's not a terrible idea. Does any of you know where to find a forger?"

  "Of course not!" Bruce said, too quickly.

  "Of course not!" Petty said, just quickly enough.

  Wendy looked at her brother curiously. "You don't? But what about-"

  Bruce held up a hand to forestall any more. "Yes, all right, maybe I know a handwriting impersonator. But if you did this, if you use one of the dean's names in this letter, it will get out. And if it's done to your benefit, you will never be disentangled from the mess that leaves behind."

  "Do you have an address?" I asked. "I'm not committing to a plan, I'm just looking for a contingency if I need one."

  Do I want to be mixed up in someone else's inter-House squabbles for years? Definitely not. But does the fate of the world rest with me getting enrolled in that school in the next few weeks? Almost certainly.

  Also, I find it very interesting that Bruce is keeping that sort of company. The cousins may be more useful than I thought.

  Baroness Grancine blinked at me in surprise. "I'm fucking positive there was never a tree right there," she said, her words crisp and refined though her eyes looked bloodshot.

  I looked up from my book. "Oh! Sorry Baroness, I was just borrowing it." I hopped down off the tree i was sitting on, bent low over the pavement at bench-height. The tree straightened up and resumed its normal posture, no longer blocking her front door. I opened a small void and set my book inside, then closed it away again. "I did not mean to cause trouble, I was just waiting on you."

  "It is way too late- " she squinted upwards. "- early for your shenanigans, Lady Harigold. C'mon in, we'll talk turkey while I get these shoes off."

  I followed in her wake as she entered her home, and her maids descended on her to disassemble the baroness's party persona. "Ow," she said as the fake lashes came off. Her heart wasn't in it, too tired to express her discomfort.

  "I'll only need a moment of your-"

  "Nah, it's all right," she said, waving me towards a seat in the corner. She held her arms out for one of the young ladies to start unlacing. The maids here all looked well-rested and attentive, I'm guessing they slept through the nights while she was out entertaining herself, and then they worked through the day while she slept it off. "So I got in touch with the steward, who spoke to the seneschal, who spoke with the duke, and then back down," she said. "They apparently had a conference over your suggestion. It is determined that if you approach Eyellon with a bargain for civic improvements, that would be quite all right with Tarratan and Pinking. After all, Tarratan's intention is to strip Eyellon of their duchy and their honors, so any improvements you are making, we intend to inherit."

  "Huh." An interesting way to look at it.

  "And when we ran it past the high offices at Pinking, their response was 'It's not going to matter anyway', but they would not tell us what that means. They rarely do."

  My father had often complained that Pinking is an inconsistent and difficult ally within the Development faction. But they are also completely unassailable and a great asset, definitely worth the trouble they bring.

  "Thank you, Baroness Grancine," I sad, inclining my head. She was watching her mirror, and caught my eyes in the reflection.

  "I should tell you, Lady Natalie," she said, "that you are likely to continue encountering troubles and difficulties if you are always behind your needs. Staying reactive will not serve you. Do not wait until you need something to begin working. If you can build your stock, collect good will and relationships, you will not be in such a badly-leveraged position next time. I feel like some day you are going to be the woman that people come to, hat in hand, asking for your blessings or assistance, or an introduction or a letter. And you, then, will be able to name your price. And when that happens, don't forget your mentors and friends, hmm?"

  "I'll keep you in my fond thoughts and keep my thumb off the scale," I promised, and winked.

  She laughed, and then shooed me out. She was nearly done with the structural portion of her corset boning.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  I took the slow way back, walking along the city streets, watching the sky. Up here, there were owls. One of my first affinities. Down in Skyside all I could ever feel was bats, but up here my feathered friends were back. It helped feel like I was really released, really part of the world again. I could feel the owls.

  And for a moment I was tempted to bring one down to me, just to absorb that realness, that openness, the freedom it represented. But to do so would steal that freedom for mysef. I could curve the owls' nature and bring them to me. And they would. And they would wait for me, until I gave them the signal to leave me. And then they would. And they would wait.

  Every time you curve a living thing, you take something away from it. This is not a command or a hypnotic message, this is to bend the shape of its inherent essence. I will summon owls and curve them, make them follow my orders, because once I dispel them they are gone forever and nothing is lost. But to curve a living thing, I should be willing to keep it forever and to shape it, over and over, for every task of its life.

  Sorcery can do so many things. But it does not have a button for "go back to normal". There's no "forget previous instructions". I can make an owl, or break an owl, but there is no gentle touch that moves it and lets it go unharmed.

  I think the goddess was passing judgement when she declared me a sorceress from the day I was born.