I was munching an apple from the dining hall when I walked into Geography. If I had any way to know what kind of quest rewards I might get from Ryichsur, I might have an interest in talking to the man, but as it stands I just can't. I keep getting weirdly obsessive vibes off of him, like he's going to fixate on me if I give him any positive feedback. So I kept things pretty quiet there, and sat through the class. Guaranteed A, after all.

  But Geography was where I was going to have a very difficult conversation.

  Not like a lot of the difficult conversations I've been having lately. And hoo boy, there've been some doozies. The patience for Elica, the emotional vulnerability with Vancy, the tap-dancing with Quarl, the sheer bull-headedness I need for any conversation with Yheta. But with Rabert, I have to try to figure out what the fuck he's talking about because I am coming to realize that he's taking all of this very seriously and I'm running way behind.

  I still wouldn't have any idea what the relation was, except that when I found out about the Byeview Boys being turned into the Byeview Bits, I got a popup window indicating that my affiliation quest for The Ruthless had updated.

  I tossed the apple stem into a garbage can and paused. I summoned a paper napkin, wiped my hands clean, threw it away and dispelled it. Good as new. I walked inside, and sat down next to Rabert Frantlin of Nhullit House. The Ruthless. He still looked like a creep to me but I'm starting to think that's just how he carries himself. He's got the shiftiest eyes, and his voice is just nasal enough to be slightly off-putting. Not a reflection on his character, just natural normal innate traits. His being creepy is completely unrelated to him being a murderous fifteen-year-old power broker.

  I had practiced what to say. The key seemed to be about implying things as indirectly as possible. I gave him a nod as I took my seat. "I expected thorough," I said, almost tonelessly. "I did not expect so fast, though."

  Gotta play along with his game at least for a bit to figure out what's going on. I wanna make sure I'm not already at "once you're in there's no getting out" and "if you're not with us you're against us". If I indicate that I'm not thrilled about the destruction of those guys, I might get myself into a lot of trouble. So, moving carefully and trying to keep things copacetic while I shake him for answers that make sense.

  "We aim to please," Frantlin said with a tight smile. "After all, it's important for you to know that you have reliable allies. My colleagues and associates are very interested in the sort of future that you have indicated you look forward to. Something that shakes up the current paradigm."

  "Movement," I said. "Changes."

  "Indeed," he said.

  "Lots of moving parts," I prompted.

  "Ah," he said. "I see your concern. Don't worry, there's lots of eyes watching each of those moving parts. Movement creates opportunity, unless it creates chaos. Intelligent, forward-thinking people do not allow chaos to crowd out opportunities."

  I did not need to consider carefully for that. "I'm genuinely glad to hear that. Chaos is very much anathema to my plans. Things need to stay sorted as much as possible."

  "Sorted," he said, carefully. "What an interesting way to put it."

  Like, yeah? Organized, distinct, unmuddled? I don't need whatever you're fucking around with to mess up my plans, buddy.

  "Hmm," I considered. "Compartmentalized maybe?"

  He nodded as if this made more sense. "I take your meaning. Distinct and discrete, labeled."

  I'm still not sure he's having the same conversation I'm having. "That's a good starting point," I said. "Opportunities and organization."

  "No sense shaking up too much at once," he said. "New information can be integrated into existing plans."

  "Integrated," I said, and liked the sound of that. "My plans. Your plans. Neither needs to be sacrificed-"

  "-as long as we're all headed the same direction," he said as if he were finishing my thoughts for me. He gave me a creepy smile again.

  [ Quest Checkpoint Complete: The Hand Upon The Hilt. 5 XP. Advancement: The Ruthless ]

  Shit I hope I haven't accidentally told him to blow up the school or something. Wait a minute. That's not the same quest it was showing earlier for him. Have I jumped tracks?

  Frantlin is eerie to me. I don't think he knows how to talk without hidden messages and deadly insinuations. I hope that I managed to tell him to take things slow and quit doing so much. What would happen if I just blurted it out? Probably something worse. If I told him "hey dude quit pulling strings or whatever you seem to be mixed up with some bad dudes who are way too eager to do terrible things on very little pretext", what would happen? What hidden message would he think I was trying to send with that? Execute Order 66?

  Instead I walked out of the building and stood waiting. I gathered wind around myself and warmed it, ignoring the wintry chill of the world. A minute later, my twin brother walked out. He looked troubled.

  "Natalie," he said, a little more formally than I expected.

  "It really wasn't me," I said, shrugging. "I don't think it's coincidence but.. it wasn't me."

  He reached for my hand, and I took it. He kept his eyes down. "I was pretty sure. There was a lot to say but... it's just not you."

  "Thanks," I said. "This ... everything is a lot easier if I've got you believing in me."

  "You sound like you don't expect it to last."

  "One of many reasons my path is going to get much more difficult in the future," I admitted. God is this what it's like talking to Frantlin?

  Nathan was quiet for a minute. "I asked around. I couldn't find which church you attended yesterday."

  I was surprised, and I know it showed. He soldiered on, keeping his voice low. "You've always gone, every Sevenday. But I asked around, anywhere that had a new attendee, white hair, white skin, mismatched eyes, generous tithes. I know you always stay to talk to people, someone would remember you. And if you're..."

  He did not want to finish that thought.

  "Skydown Crossing," I told him. "I went home."

  He was startled, then relieved, then shocked, and then aggrieved. "That's... home?"

  "That's the last home I've had," I admitted. "No place in Hearstcliff has been home. And I haven't been invited to the castle."

  He squeezed my hand. "You never needed an invitation to that place!"

  I didn't answer that, I just walked with him. His silence got more and more strained. "Natalie? Did you need an invitation?"

  "I would not have gotten one," I said. "Nathan... Father can forgive me much faster than the Duke of Meadowtam can. And he needs to be the Duke first. I will not ask for his forgiveness until I know he is free to offer it. And I cannot ask for a bed in his house until I can have his forgiveness. Right now, I am a liability to the House. We lose allies if he takes me in. We lose trading partners if I stop being the outcast rogue. And we cannot afford that. Trade wars, caravans lost, tax pressures from the crown, price fixing... Thousands of people are too close to starvation's edge for Father to lose trading partners, right now. Food costs are climbing, and whole villages are going to collapse soon. If the duchy stays prosperous those people live, Nathan. But the black-sheep daughter, the murderess... she needs to stay out in the cold for a while. And... before all is said and done, I'm going to give him many more things to forgive. So no, I am not going to the castle soon. But Skydown? That can be home for a while."

  He considered. "All right. You need to live in penance for a while, so be it. But next Sevenday, take me with you? I haven't been to Skydown Crossing in a while."

  "I could take you back to Meadwhite. You could spend the weekend with Mother and Father."

  "Maybe later," he said. "Next weekend, next Sevenday, take me with you."

  My weekends are filling up fast. Sixthday at Vancy's county seat, Sixthday evening at a society ball, Sevenday morning with Nathan, only a few hours left over to have for myself.

  "I'd love to," I said, and smiled sideways to him.

  I stopped by Belisa Roadaway's desk. She sat with her arms down, her head tipped forward, staring at her desk, hair in front of her face. She looked entirely slack and hollow, but she also looked like she was spring-loaded and covered in landmines. I cannot reconcile those and I cannot explain it more clearly than that. I did not think it would be safe to touch her shoulder, for anyone. But-

  I opened the pocket dimension, and reached in, and groped blindly until I found the right one. I brought out a small foil-wrapped orb, and set it on her desk.

  "Coconut truffle," I said, centering it right in front of her eyes. I walked past her to my desk.

  I never saw her move, but fifteen minutes later I glanced in her direction and her hand was on top of her desk, palm-up, staring at the foil truffle sitting in her hand.

  I choose to believe that's a good sign.

  Lunch was stewed hare with turnips, brightened with rice wine vinegar, and I grabbed the pepper mill to grind a layer over it, as much as I could keep my nerve. I took a few bites, and went back for just a bit more pepper and salt. Stewed hare needs a lot of help, and turnip is not that help.

  "You got the stew?" Elica said, with a full display of haughty disgust. "Game meat! and not even displayed for feasting! I could never!"

  I looked at her plate. It had nothing there but four slices of cake. She was too good for the commoner's stew, but she would not go hungry as long as they would let her eat cake. I said nothing about that. I could not explain the reference anyway. There's no Marie Antoinette here. No France, no French. But if there was a Marie Antoinette, Elica would give her a run for her money.

  Vancy took a bite, and made a face. "It's not very good. I don't mind rabbit, but this is stringy. And cold."

  I tapped her bowl like I did mine, and started it heating up.

  "Wait, what? How!?" she gasped, delighted. She stirred, and steam started sifting upwards.

  "I have developed an affinity for porcelain," I said. "If I could not use magic for creature comforts I would certainly have gone mad by now."

  Larianne snickered. "Nobody lives as luxuriously as you do. I doubt the royal family is as self-indulgent as that, Natalie. Gone mad? You're spoiled, even by our standards."

  "She's literally eating a plateful of cake so she doesn't have to eat stew," I pointed out, nodding towards my left where Elica was sitting. I might be a bit of a spoiled hedonist with a taste for twenty-first-century conveniences, but I'm not more pampered than Elica dammit!

  I'm not telling them that I had a butler while I was in prison.

  Elica glanced from me to Larianne. "I thought it was just about even between us."

  Vancy winced. "Don't ask me to be the tiebreaker vote!"

  I shook my head. "There will not be any competition or ranking system as to which of us is the most spoiled brat."

  "You're an actual princess!"

  "I'm not having this argument," I huffed. "And furth- oh thank gods."

  How many times have I ever been this glad to see Yheta?

  He slid into a seat near the four of us, and leaned onto his elbows. "So, how's the second week of classes treating you all?"

  "I'm honestly just not sure," I said, considering. "It's hard to sum up all together."

  "You'll feel better when you've had some cake," Elica assured me.

  "What about you Yheta? What've you got going on?" I asked.

  "Settling back in," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Third year is not any easier than the first two years, don't let anyone tell you differently. I've been thinking of growing a mustache. Do you think I should?"

  Vancy said "Maybe" at the same time that Elica said "Yes!" and I also said "Yes!" but while Elica's was excited and enamored, mine was only because I thought it would be really funny for him to grow a mustache. Larianne and Rinnie both of course seemed completely uninterested.

  Elica had been practicing speaking while in his presence. "Senior, have you any more suggestions which parties to go to? Natalie seems to want power of veto."

  "Well, I was thinking the Cerul-"

  "Veto," I snapped. "I'm not saying you can't go, just that I won't take you." I'm not arguing about the Cerulean Circus. Even just what I've learned about it as a member of this society rules it out, I don't need special knowledge about it.

  "In that case, there's a concert and dance at the Auditioneer's Hall this Sixthday," he said. "It's supposed to be a good one, drink and food, all the very best."

  "Really?" I asked, curious. "I had not heard a thing about the food and all that. Interesting!"

  "Yeah," Yheta said casually. "Supposed to be a real tastemaker's event."

  I snickered. "Not what that means, Yheta. But I'll bring you and Elica along. You've got an invite with a plus-one?"

  "I do," he said. "And you?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Like they wouldn't send the duke's princess an invite. I was going to bring Trazom. I have never seen him perform at a party I wasn't hosting, and I was hoping that this might be my chance. Don't tell him that's what I'm up to, though. He should just be a guest, but I understand that he basically never sits for a concert without accepting an invitation to play along."

  "You don't think he would want to?" Yheta asked, surprised.

  "I think he'll want to, I just don't think he would want me to expect him to do it," I said.

  Yheta looked over at Elica. "I could bring you as my plus-one, but I'd be talking business half the night. It's a big event for the Aumerje and Eyellon Houses, and my house is cadet to the Aumerje."

  "I'd love to hear you discuss business," Elica said, with her eyes very big and bright. I think she'd happily sit and listen to him recite the phone book. Or just sit silently where she could stare at him.

  I could try to pretend that I don't think her obsession with him is weird, but who would I be trying to fool?

  And to be fair, I feel like maybe I should spend some time sitting by while he discussed business. Clearly I need to understand more about that whole side of the world- I knew plenty about academics, governance, sorcery, strategy and all the social forms to being an aristocrat in good standing, but I know damn little about how business is run here. And, especially I need to know more about Snairlin business if he's willing to discuss it in front of me. I know that it's very relevant to the troubles my family is experiencing these days, that Snairlin is part of the consortium of traders that are pressuring Harigold merchant interests.

  And since I'm still very visibly on the outside of my family these days, maybe he and his business partners will be less guarded around me. Maybe?

  The five of us chatted a while, the subject got lighter and wilder, we discussed clothes and music and all the stuff that teenagers are supposed to talk about. Vancy showed me an article in her broadsheet about a museum that was running a whole display about the Fissuring, she knew that was a favorite subject for me. I was holding the newspaper in my hands when Elica, Rinnie and Yancy walked off to bus their trays to the kitchen staff, and Larianne wandered off to, I don't know, probably paint something black.

  Alone together. Yheta looked down at the broadsheet in my hands, which I had reflexively folded to the story, below the fold front page, about the deaths of Brumn Hardted and Tagk Frannem. "Well, that was a hell of a thing, wasn't it?" he said, smirking slightly.

  I glanced down at the paper. "Yeah.. a lot of people have opinions about me in relation to this thing. I don't really mind them speculating. But the two of them... they were idiots but they were probably harmless. This felt... like an overreaction."

  Yheta's face dropped off, a dozen years evaporated like fog. "You were supposed to understand," he said again.

  Oh boy. Ice shot through me. It's Yheta. He was the one that took the orders from Frantlin to have the Byeview Boys crushed. And Yheta, historically, has not gotten on well when he felt like I was judging him. "No no, not like that," I said, and patted his arm above the elbow. "I just wish that Rabert was more clear about his communication. I would have preferred a more measured response. This feels like it was accelerating the timeline."

  He heaved a relieved huff. "Oh good. I thought I would have to explain the timeline to you. I know Rabert doesn't often deliver concrete information, he prefers others do that for him. Don't worry, we're not speeding things up. Might be awkward with you still being a student, but we can spin this- it might help reassure the more conservative elements that think we're too risky, maybe. We could sell this as evidence of a measured, staggered progression. We can assure them that they have nothing to worry about, but first let me reassure you that you have nothing to worry about. You're not going to get dragged into anything, I wouldn't let them do that to you."

  Great. Yheta's still got my best interests at heart... despite some miscommunications. Frantlin's organization is clearly dangerous, but I'm glad to know that Yheta's one of his main influences. That means there's someone watching my back when I'm not around.

  Now, how many of my "love interests" are part of a hidden conspiracy that I barely understand? And who are the them that Yheta thinks I might need to be protected from? And how much detail can I pull out of Yheta about what is going on and what their timeline is? Because I'm getting my suspicions and I don't like them.