Eva paced alone in her own room, biting her thumbnail while she thought.

She was losing control… it was clear that Corvina was a threat, planting unnecessary ideas in Anne’s mind. Build a life for herself? As a separate goal from building a life for Anne? A ridiculous notion. Nonsensical. Impossible.

But still…

Eva, this is serious, Anne had said.

So Anne did remember their childhood promise after all.

Technically, it was Anne who had promised to do whatever Eva asked if she used that phrase, but still, why shouldn’t it go both ways? That was only fair after all.

Eva had to show that she understood the importance of those words.

Eva opened her window and called out into the darkness. “Prince Agis!”

Agis jumped down from somewhere in the darkness, landing on the windowsill. “Yes, Sister Eva?” he said, with a formal bow.

“I want you to stay by your sister’s side all day tomorrow,” said Eva. “Don’t let her out of your sight. And keep her inside, you hear me? After everything that happened today, she needs to rest and she needs to lie low. No sneaking out and causing trouble, understand? There will be serious consequences if something happens. I mean it.”

“Okay, I got it,” said Agis, fidgeting with the edge of his cloak nervously.

“Oh, and Agis?” said Eva, turning her head away.

“Yeah?”

“What exactly does one do on a day off?”

Ulrich was sitting in the kitchen of Lady Corvina’s estate, polishing the silverware by candlelight while quietly humming to himself.

Someone knocked on the door-frame to announce their presence, and Ulrich looked up to see Lady Corvina, in her night dress, with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders against the chill of the night.

Ulrich got to his feet. “Can’t sleep, my lady?” he said. “Let me make you some tea.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” said Corvina, sitting at the table.

“You could have called for your maid,” said Ulrich. He filled a kettle with water, placing it on the stove, where a fire still burned brightly. “You didn’t need to walk all the way down here yourself in the dark.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” said Corvina. “I thought you might still be up.”

“And what was that?” asked Ulrich.

“Did you want to be a butler?”

“Oh no, not at all,” said Ulrich, sitting back down. “Back when I was a young street thug, I used to resent how obsessed with appearances the nobility was, and I especially resented their servants for happily helping to maintain those appearances. At least my kind of violence had the decency to look like violence. But I looked at the nobility and I thought, there’s a bunch of thugs doing greater violence than I ever could, only they pay their own victims to help them pretend no violence is happening at all.”

Corvina looked down, her hands in her lap. “Then you must resent me,” said Corvina. “It’s my fault you have to live this way.”

“My dear girl, a child is never at fault just for being born,” said Ulrich, placing a hand on Corvina’s shoulder. “And I could never resent you for anything. From the moment I saw you as a tiny baby in your mother’s arms, I loved you, and I wanted to be there for you in any way I could.”

The kettle whistled and Ulrich got up to finish preparing the tea. Corvina was considering Ulrich’s words with a pensive look on her face.

“But… isn’t it bad to live your life for the sake of another person?” asked Corvina.

“Is this about what the Saintess said to you?” asked Ulrich.

“You know about that?” asked Corvina.

“Helen told me about it earlier,” said Ulrich, placing a cup of tea in front of Corvina. “But you know, it’s a bit of a different scenario with adults and children. It’s the responsibility of adults to look after their children and be there for them. But Anne wants to be your peer, on equal terms. That's why she wants you to do what you want to do, rather than trading one master for another.”

Corvina didn’t look very pleased by this response. “But… after all this time, how am I supposed to know what I want, just like that?”

“You don’t have to know right away,” said Ulrich. “You just have to keep living your life and eventually you’ll figure it out. Sometimes life takes you in unexpected directions and it ends up being the best thing for you. After all, I love being a butler now.”

“You do?” asked Corvina, smiling wryly. “You don’t feel like you’re helping to cover up violence?”

“Of course I am,” said Ulrich, smiling back. “But people in our family have a tendency to overthink things. Your mother was the same way, as were our parents. But overtime I’ve learned that some things are better when allowed to be simple. Setting all that philosophy stuff aside, I discovered that I just… like polishing silverware.”

“Really?” said Corvina.

Ulrich shrugged. “It’s a straightforward task, it gives me time to clear my mind, and when I’m done I have a pile of sparkling silverware. There’s a kind of satisfaction you only get from performing a clear task with a direct, positive result. And I never would have understood that satisfaction if I hadn’t become your butler.”

Ulrich reached across the table to ruffle Corvina’s hair. “There’s not a single thing about my life I regret,” said Ulrich. “Except for all the times when I couldn’t fully protect you against the darkness of this world. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” said Corvin, with a small, but genuine smile.

“Besides, I still have plenty of opportunities to exercise my other skills as your spymaster as well,” said Ulrich, with a grin. “Truly I could not ask for a more fulfilling life.”

“Speaking of which,” said Corvina, frowning again. “What have you managed to uncover about Eva Coris?”

“She was a foundling taken in by the church at eight years old, which is unusual, as most foundlings are taken in as infants,” said Ulrich. “She’s been close with the Saintess since they were children, and she’s a prominent figure in the rebel groups. She also seems to have a... strange relationship with the church hierarchy."

"What do you mean?"

"Officially, she only has the rank of Cleric, but she's often seen speaking with the High Clerics, who frankly seem to be intimidated by her. There are even rumors that she has the ear of the Bishop herself."

"Odd," said Corvina. "Were you able to find out why?"

Ulrich shook his head. "People seem to assume it's because of her close relationship with the Saintess, but... personally, I think there must be something else to it. But that’s all we were able to find. If there’s more information about her out there, it’s not in the capital city.”

Corvina clicked her tongue. “This won't do," she said. "Whatever secret she's hiding, I need to know what it is."

“There’s one more avenue we can pursue,” said Ulrich. “But it will require a bit of travel.”

Back at the cathedral, Anne was sleeping fitfully.

In her dream, floating in a black void, she saw a brightly-lit snowglobe. Inside the snowglobe was a model of the capital city, with the central square featured prominently. The palace and the Grand Cathedral were both rendered in great detail, and on the steps of the Grand Cathedral were three small figures—the Saintess, the Grand Duke, and Eva.

As Anne watched, there was a loud noise and the glass on the snowglobe cracked, as if hit by an invisible blow. The cracks rapidly spider-webbed around the surface of the glass, growing out from the central point of impact, but it still held together.

When Anne looked back at the figures, the Grand Duke had been knocked over.

The Saintess appeared next to Anne, smiling at her. “You’ve done an excellent job so far,” she said.

Then the Saintess laid a hand carefully on the broken glass.

“Now shatter it completely.”

Anne could feel herself waking up, but she tried to will herself to stay, calling out into the growing darkness. “Wait! What is it that you want me to do? Why can’t you tell me directly?”

Anne suddenly sat up in bed, the dream already fading from her mind.

“Fuck,” she said, under her breath.

If she was still in her old world, she could have written her dream down in the notes app on her phone. But here in this world she had to scramble out of bed and try to feel for a candle in the dark. By the time she finally got it lit and had a quill in her hands, she could barely remember the dream.

The original Saintess had been appearing to her in dreams for some time now, but when she was awake it was strangely hard to think about. Her thoughts wanted to slide off of it. But Anne forced herself to write down what bits and pieces she could remember of all the dreams.

Is the original Saintess still out there somewhere? thought Anne. Or in here, with me? Could her soul still be in here? Trying to assert her will through dreams? Biding her time?

“Where are you?” whispered Anne to herself. “And why did you bring me here?”