I walked away from the clearing with a steady pace, leaving Theo neutralized. At least for the immediate future.

  The wind picked up, cutting through my cloak. I did not shiver as it wasted energy.

  Marin was waiting for me at the edge, looking anxious.

  "My lady!" she called out, hurrying toward me. "Thank the stars. I was worried when you went over the ridge."

  "We were just talking, Marin," I said, keeping my voice light. "Theo is... he is heading home. He was feeling unwell."

  "Oh," Marin said, glancing toward the woods. "Well, come inside quickly. Your mother has asked for you."

  "Mother?"

  "Yes. She is in her private solar. She said it was urgent."

  Urgent usually meant a dress fitting, but given the atmosphere lately, I filed the summons under a higher alert level. We entered through the side door near the scullery. Underneath the domestic smells of the kitchen, there was a current of tension. Servants clustered in small groups, their whispers audible as I passed.

  "...grain stores are barely half full..."

  "...said the frost killed the last of the winter wheat..."

  "...Duke ordered the wood ration cut again..."

  Information. The harvest had been poor. Winter was here early.

  We reached the heavy oak door leading to the Duchess’s private wing. Marin reached for the handle, but I held up a hand. Voices filtered through the wood.

  "You cannot simply close the gates, Corvin."

  My mother. Her voice had a steel edge I had never heard before.

  "I can and I will," the Duke replied. "We have three hundred soldiers to feed. We have the staff. We have the reserve for a siege. If we open the granaries to the town now, we will be empty by Solmonath"

  "They are starving now," my mother argued. "The lower district is already burning furniture for heat. If we do not help them, there will be no town left to govern in the spring."

  "Then they should have prepared better," the Duke said, his voice cold. "Charity is a luxury for times of plenty. This is survival. I will not compromise the security of this house for sentiment."

  "It is not sentiment! It is duty!"

  "My duty is to the stability of the duchy. A riot in the spring because we have no grain is a greater threat than a few families cold in November."

  Heavy boots approached the door. I stepped back quickly, arranging my face into a mask of mild curiosity.

  Duke Corvin D'Arden stepped out. He stopped when he saw me, his grey eyes sweeping over my wind-reddened cheeks.

  "Seraphina," he said.

  He did not smile. He simply acknowledged my existence as an object in his path.

  "Father," I said, dropping into a small curtsy.

  He looked back at the open door, then down at me.

  "Do not trouble your mother," he said. "She is... agitated."

  "I won't" I promised.

  He nodded once, sharp and efficient, and strode down the hallway.

  Logically, he was right. In a resource crisis, rationing ensures the survival of the core infrastructure.

  I entered the solar. It was warm, smelling of lavender. My mother stood by the window, gripping the velvet curtains. She smoothed her dress and turned around, the anger vanishing from her face instantly.

  "Seraphina" she said softly. "Come here, darling."

  I walked over. She sat on the chaise and pulled me down, checking the temperature of my skin.

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  "You are freezing" she murmured. "Where have you been?"

  "Just walking" I said. "With Theo. We went to the tree line."

  "Without a proper muff? Your fingers are like ice." She signaled to a maid. "Tea. The chamomile blend. And bring the wool blanket."

  She turned back to me. "I am fine, Mother," I said. "Truly. The walk was nice."

  "You look tired, Sera. Marin told me you had a... difficult night yesterday. That you were in the library late."

  "I just wanted to read" I said, lowering my eyes. "Father brought me back to bed."

  "I know," she said with a sad sigh.

  She wrapped her arm around me. I leaned into her being the vulnerable daughter allowed me to extract information.

  "I heard you arguing," I whispered.

  She froze. "You heard that?"

  "Just a little," I lied. "Something about the town."

  She was silent until the maid poured the tea and retreated.

  "The winter is hard this year," she said quietly. "Harder than usual. The snow came before the harvest was finished in the outer valleys. Many of the crops were lost." She picked up her cup. "Your father... he has to make difficult choices. He has to think about the soldiers, the defenses, the reserves for the entire duchy."

  She seemed to be defending him.

  "But the people in the town" she continued, her voice dropping. "They are our people too. The wood merchants, the bakers, the families who work the fields in the summer. They are frightened. I tried to tell him. I tried to ask him to release some of the older grain. To open the wood stores."

  "He said no," I stated.

  "He thinks in numbers," she said. "He sees a ledger. He sees that if we give away ten sacks of grain now, we might be short ten sacks in March. And if we are short in March, the castle might fall if the northern raiders come down." She looked at me seriously. "He is not evil, Seraphina. He is afraid. He is afraid of failing his duty."

  I nodded. I understood fear and duty. But a population that feels abandoned revolts.

  "But he is wrong" Mother said with surprising certainty. "He is looking at the horizon and missing what is right in front of his feet. If the people starve, there will be no one left to protect."

  She took both of my hands. "Seraphina, I want to show you something. But you must promise me that you will be brave. And that you will be quiet."

  "I promise."

  "I am going to the lower district tomorrow morning," she said. "Before the sun is fully up. I have arranged a cart. We are taking blankets, cured meat, and as much of the pantry surplus as the cook could spare without the steward noticing."

  She was running a contraband operation out of her own kitchen. I re-evaluated her. She had a spine.

  "You are going?" I asked.

  "We are going," she corrected. "If you want to come." She squeezed my hands. "I want you to see it. I want you to see the people who live under our banner. It is easy to be a noble in a warm tower, Seraphina. It is easy to forget that our comfort is built on their work. If we are to rule them one day, or if you are to marry a ruler, you must understand them. You cannot lead people you do not know."

  This was an opportunity for a sanctioned trip outside the walls.

  "I want to come," I said firmly. "I want to help."

  She smiled, relieved. "Good. I knew you had a kind heart."

  She moved to a large wardrobe. "We cannot wear our usual clothes," she said. "It would draw too much attention and it would be insulting. We do not go to parade our wealth."

  She pulled out a heavy, simple grey dress from a cabinet. "This was mine when I was younger," she said. "From before I married your father. It should fit you well enough with a belt."

  She handed it to me. "We will leave an hour before dawn," she instructed. "Marin knows. She will wake you. We will go out through the kitchen gardens to the service road. The cart will be waiting there."

  "Does Father know?" I asked.

  She paused. "Your father has the weight of the world on his shoulders," she said carefully. "We will not add to his burden by troubling him with the details of our morning."

  "I understand," I said.

  "Go and rest now," she said. "Eat a good dinner. You will need your strength."

  She kissed my forehead.

  I walked back to my room with the grey dress. Marin was waiting, pale. She knew the plan and was likely terrified of the Duke, yet loyal enough to the Duchess to facilitate it.

  I ate dinner alone by the window, watching the few scattered lights of the town below.

  The Duke was securing the castle against an external enemy, but creating an internal one. My mother’s quiet rebellion might actually be the most tactical move on the board. By releasing pressure on the populace, she was buying stability.

  I finished my meal and pushed the tray aside. Marin came to take it away and she left a fresh candle on the nightstand.

  I did not go to bed immediately.

  I sat in the chair and watched the flame flicker.

  The house was quiet now. The heavy stone walls muffled the wind outside. It felt safe.

  I closed my eyes and let my breathing slow. I tried to categorize the data I had gathered today.

  The Duke was a pragmatist. The Duchess was a humanitarian with a streak of subversion. Theo was a compromised asset fueled by guilt.

  And Seraphina...

  Seraphina was a mystery.

  I thought about the way the Duke had carried me yesterday. I thought about the warmth of my mother's hands today.

  My initial assessment of this environment had been based on the memories I inherited. Those memories described a prison. They described parents who were cold and cruel.

  But the data I was gathering firsthand contradicted the files.

  The Duke was hard but he was not cruel. The Duchess was not distant.

  If the memories of her parents were wrong then what else was wrong?

  I let the tension drain from my shoulders by degrees. The room felt softer than the history I had been given. Maybe the people here were not the monsters the memories painted. Maybe I could actually rest this time.

  I almost let myself settle. I almost let Seraphina's body drift into the comfort of the down pillows.

  But the feeling did not sit right.

  A small and sharp imperfection that caught my attention and refused to let go.

  One thought rose from the dark water of the girl’s subconscious. It was not a memory. It was a question.

  It floated up through the haze of fatigue and hung there in the silence of the room.

  What happened to Elodie?

  I lay back and kept my eyes open to the dark. I held that question in my mind and waited for an answer that did not come.