Agnes and Arlen appeared to be peacefully strolling around the garden, in the faint light of the clouded April morning. Aggie was wearing another mustard yellow dress, that was dotted with red and white rose buds. Her father had had several dresses tailored for his daughter in the colors of her new household, and despite not caring much for the household’s leader; she didn’t mind its colors.

The garden was in a sorry state, as small green shoots were only just starting to break through the mud, making the sprawling maze of hedges and flowerbeds appear quite dull. Despite the garden being unimpressive however, no one had found it strange that Aggie would want some privacy to acquaint herself with her new Servicer. He was a mystery to the whole staff at O'Farrell's keep, but generally well liked and accepted with his impeccable manners, and quiet nature. They hoped that he might have luck in coaching their future Mistress to infuriate their Lord less, and letting him go back to being merely intense and somber, instead of brimming with rage.

“Have you thought more on your request my Lady?” Arlen asked pleasantly keeping his eyes forward, and matching Aggie’s slow dawdling pace.

“I have, and I know it seems crazy, but I don’t belong here.” She mimicked his light tone, and pretended to be investigating the promising beginnings of tulips. Or were they daffodils?

“That is a hasty conclusion to reach after only being here 2 days.” Arlen’s hands were clasped behind his back, surveying the landscape carefully, thinking briefly how this was the first day of his new bonded life, and it was already full of challenges.

“I feel as though I won’t survive a week.” Aggie murmured more quietly, as their path guided them closer to shadowed doorways of the keep, that might hide a nosey maid or two.

“Pardon my saying Mistress, but that may be a bit dramatic.” Arlen paused by the doorway, scanning the maze of short hedges they were meandering through.

“Were you not the one warning me of dangers in my own house?” She stopped beside him.

“I meant politically.” He resumed walking after the statement much to Aggie’s relief-, she could’ve sworn she had seen a shadow move in the darkened doorway.

“Arlen, can you honestly see me rising to be the respectable Lady of this house?”

“Is that not what you were raised and taught to be?” Arlen challenged almost in a jesting tone.

“Not really.” Aggie let out a weary breath, and noticed that Arlen had once again stopped, but thankfully not near any doorways or windows.

“My Lady, are you telling me you were never trained to run a house? Or about political nuances?” His eyes were searching her in an almost invasive way, as though he were trying to see right into Aggie’s mind and heart

“I was taught the basics of a much smaller household. This staff includes hundreds of servants, whereas I could handle perhaps 20 at most." Arlen masked his shock the best he could, but was grateful all the same that Lady Agnes was keeping her eyes more on the ground than him.

"As for politics I… tended to become impatient. Formalities, showing proper consideration and respect, I know. When it comes to scheming and plotting though…”

Arlen was frowning deeply. He had known she was inexperienced, but to be so unprepared to join her future husband’s life…? It seemed beyond strange.

His training as a Servicer had almost been solely political, with very little survival and combat lessons, and he had a hunch that the gaps in his knowledge would become troublesome soon.

“I am not going to be free until Sean O’Farrell dies, and that is a horrible thing to wait for.” Aggie shook her head. “If I run away, I can have my freedom.”

“At what cost my Lady? You risk dishonor on your family, and imprisonment in the worst case scenario.”

“My family is in the South Kingdom, and my parents are the only family I have. They own ships that sail all over the world… As powerful as Sean O’Farrell is, I doubt he is powerful on a global scale.”

“That doesn’t stop their ships from being seized by him once they’ve returned to home port with their goods.” Arlen thought sharply.

He didn’t say anything for a several long moments, and Aggie was beginning to be agitated, despite knowing he was simply trying to ensure she knew what she wanted. The silence was tense, and Arlen wracked his brain at the right appraoch to take with her.

“Do you truly feel your freedom is worth the price you will pay?” He asked instead of pointing out more problems. Arlen glanced towards the sky, and noted that at long last that it was beginning to lighten.

“I do.” Aggie answered barely taking a moment to consider what he asked, and he shot her a hesitant look as a result.

“My Lady, I will go with you and follow you, but you need to be realistically aware of what you are turning away from. This is a good household. Politically vicious yes, and your future husband is a complicated man, but you will be comfortable. You will never know hunger, cold, or physical abuse.”

“I will be alone, imprisoned, and hated.”

“Why do you think elsewhere is different?” They were nearing the edge of the gardens where Agnes could see across the rolling fields towards the first line of trees that marked the beginning of Willow Wood. The forest was enchanted land that ran over two counties, and even then it wasn’t the largest forest in the North and South Kingdom.

“I don’t know, but my instincts say I need to run.” She couldn’t explain it any better than that. Everything about the O’Farrell house felt like it was screaming at her to get out. Which was funny in a way…

Aggie had run to the keep when she had first seen it-, now she itched all over to flee. She hadn’t realized that despite the confines of the carriage, the keep had been a web waiting to catch her. The carriage had merely been herding her to it with more dignity.

Arlen stood in silence, they had reached the edge of the gardens, and now both of them were staring at the forest that had the beginning dots of small green buds flashing their youthful green at them. The forest hadn’t been traversed through its heart often, as the population of Beast Awares, Fey, and other creatures seemed to run more rampant there. Willow Wood lay 4 miles to the West of the keep, and didn’t thin until just outside the doorstep of the North King’s castle, but it was going to be exactly where Arlen would have to take her. There wasn't anywhere else to hide for several miles, unless he was willing to try their luck in the mountains that lay further North.

As Arlen lost himself to his thoughts, Aggie could see a bright line of light over the horizon, and her stomach growled at her for being left empty without much food for 2 days.

“Get used to that feeling Lady Agnes. If we run, you will know hardship like never before.” Arlen cast his gaze over to her, and found that she was still staring longingly over the fields. There was a desperate, but deep look in her eyes, and despite the dark sky behind her, the sun was lighting the green hills, and brightening the vision that was Lady Agnes Beatha.

“I’ll deal with it. I know once we go, there is no turning back.” Her mouth was set in a tight line, and Arlen resisted shaking his head at her. She truly didn’t have a clue what she was in for, but he sensed she wouldn’t go down easily.

***

“-All I heard was him informing her that there was political danger, and it sounded instructive, my Lord.” The maid had her head bowed, and her hands balled into fists in the banquet hall. Every eye of Lord O’Farrell’s visiting Lord’s, knights, and esteemed Generals were watching the young woman with rapt interest. They had all been hearing the strangest of stories about their future Mistress, and none of them had deigned to believe them. The woman they had previously seen at breakfast had been everything she had been described as by the political messenger who had brought news of her as a candidate for Lord O’Farrell to marry.

Lady Agnes had been described as being more striking in her looks than pretty, and her character to be docile, respectful, and quiet. Hearing that she challenged their Lord’s orders and infuriated him, sounded like an exaggeration from the maids. Had it not been for the chilly reception he had given the Lady at breakfast the previous day, the men wouldn’t have given any credence to the rumors.

Lord O’Farrell stared at the young maid who had yet to lift her face to him.

“I am glad to hear it. Arlen seems to have recovered from the ceremony, and has begun as I’d hoped he would. For now, keep Lady Agnes Beatha to the gardens and her chamber until the wedding. I don’t want her going anywhere near the library, understand? I don’t trust her to treat the books with proper care.” One of the knights snorted in laughter. Lady Agnes sounded like an idiot.

O’Farrell looked around the room trying to find the culprit of the laugh, but all of his men looked at him innocently.

“Thank you maid Lauren, you are dismissed.” The maid dipped a hasty curtsy and almost jogged out of the banquet hall. She almost wished that he didn’t know every name of the staff in the keep; it made his shrewd gaze all the more disconcerting.

Lord O’Farrell picked up his fork, and began to eat; signaling for everyone to start.

“My Lord, is your new wife going to be as troublesome as that?” Lord Richard MacDermott who was seated at his right asked pretending not to notice the multiple eavesdroppers.

“All that and more, I anticipate.” He growled the words, but Richard MacDermott never reacted when he would do such things.

“She seemed lovely when we saw her, is it possible my Lord, that her first impression has colored your judgment of her…?”

“A child that breaks away from their governess and runs through the rain is no concern of mine-, unless that child happens to be my future wife. I don’t suffer fools with no self possession.” He had said it loudly, and hadn’t particularly cared that everyone in the room had heard, until he noticed that the banquet hall had gone very quiet.

Lord Sean O’Farrell turned from Richard MacDermott to see his young bride standing in front of him. The Lady was staring at him with color high in her cheeks, and a very still expression. The aisle of maids had appeared and formed silently without Lord O’Farrell’s notice, and now bringing up their rear was the Servicer who was giving Lord O’Farrell a particularly dark look.

“Good morning my Lord.” Lady Agnes’ voice didn’t waver as she dipped her curtsy and met his gaze firmly. She slowly turned from his stare, and made her way around the tables to the empty seat on his left.

The maids filed out of the room, and Arlen stood near the door in the shadows with his arms crossed, and eyes trained at the head table of Lords.

Since he had ruled the keep, ladies other than the wife of Sean O’Farrell had never been allowed to sit at the table. Lord O’Farrell had found their meaningless chatter ruined productive conversations, and he had always instructed his past wives that they were not to speak of anything that was not important when dining with his peers.

Maids who slept with stable boys, or scandals at courtier parties, were not useful conversation topics, and Sean O’Farrell was deeply mistrusting of courtier women as a whole.

However, for the first time since making that rule, he greatly wished that someone would start filling the large silence that had settled over the room.

He hadn’t particularly cared that she had heard him, but everyone else seemed to.

He waited for Agnes to say a scathing retort, or to start blubbering as she gracefully seated herself on his left, but she didn’t. He grunted and resumed eating, then turned back to Lord MacDemott.

“I have the maps in my chambers, we need to see which houses will be loyal going forward.”

Lord MacDermott didn’t say anything for a moment as he stared at his superior. Despite Lord MacDermott having a title and owning land, Lord O’Farrell was in fact a Duke. It was this fact alone that he didn’t chastise the man for being classless, but he suddenly felt great sympathy for the future Duchess O’Farrell. She was barely out of childhood, and she was to wed a very difficult man. A great man, but difficult nonetheless.

*

Lord O’Farrell was on his way to the kitchens for a bottle of brandy to drink while he and the other Lords went over his plans for his future, when a figure moved quickly from the nearest shadowed alcove at him.

Within a breath, Lord O’Farrell had the dagger that was always in his belt unsheathed and in his hand, but when he saw the flap of the white headdress, hastily raised his hands and the blade up in haste to avoid injuring his assailant.

“Are you out of your mind?” Bertha hissed at him, her eyes gleaming with rage.

“You have thrown that girl to the wolves. Everyone in this house is going to treat her as you have just done.” Sean O’Farrell’s eyes went wide; he had never seen Bertha so angry.

“Maid Bertha, I was merely expressing-”

“Horsecock!” This time Sean physically took a step back from her. She rarely swore, and this new side of Bertha was quite terrifying to him.

“You want her to be a capable Lady respected in this house? She doesn’t stand a chance now! Not after what you did.”

“Maid Bertha, I can handle-” Bertha held up her finger and silenced him, she was breathing quite heavily, and the hand that wasn’t in the air was clenched so tightly, her knuckles were white. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, but also icier.

“You once told me to ever tell you if you were ever being like your father, and Sean O’Farrell that display was every bit like him.”

Sean O’Farrell’s blood ran cold and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. He dropped his hands down his to his sides limply.

“My father would never treat a courtier like that.”

“Courtier or servant; a person he deemed of less worth than himself, was treated like a thing to be kicked. If that is the man you are becoming, I will pack up and leave this house right now.” She let out one last aggravated sound, and marched back down the hallway.

Lord Sean O’Farrell’s heart was pounding harder than it had in years, and he felt the ugly bloom of guilt in his chest.

His mind was blank, and the hallways were now completely silent. He stood staring at the stone floor until he recalled the vow he had sworn to himself every night for most of his life.

He would never become like his father.

***

Killian stared at Arlen for a long time. The man who stood in front of him was his friend, and yet, different from yesterday. This made Killian cautious; he didn’t know exactly what the bonding ceremony had done, but he wasn’t sure he trusted whatever it had made his friend become.

“You want my clothes?” Killian asked slowly.

“Yes. I will give you my coat, it is worth enough to restore your wardrobe several times over.”

“Why would you be making this magnanimous offer…?” He tried joking ever so lightly to test the waters.

“I will also need a pair of your younger brother’s trousers.” The joke didn’t land, and Arlen’s intense expression made his request all the more off putting.

“Trevor’s? Or Daniel’s?”

“Trevor’s.” Killian felt fear clutch his stomach. His friend was too serious, and he looked almost… dangerous.

“Arlen, what is happening?” Killian felt as though there was a string that was pulled tight in his friend that was close to snapping, and more than anything he wanted to understand.

“I’m afraid it is for the Lady, and I cannot say why I am making these requests, and I trust you won’t say anything either.” Killian rubbed his stubble free face, he could put things together quite quickly.

“Running away huh? That’ll go well with all of the guards and her entourage of maids.” Arlen didn’t move a muscle or say a word as he stared at his friend.

“Arlen, I heard about this morning, and I know Lady Agnes Beatha is not thought of in the best light right now, but at least they pity her more than hate her now. That’s something right?” Killian was trying to think of any way to dissuade his friend from making a catastrophic error.

“She can’t stay here Killian. I thought Lord O’Farrell was a tough but fair man, but I think his dislike of Agnes Beatha puts her in greater jeopardy than I realized. I can’t let him keep hurting her, it goes against my pledge.” Despite his voice being calm, there was a wild look in Arlen’s eyes that Killian saw in the horses that were spooked.

“Making a hasty decision will only hurt her more Arlen. Be more cautious.” He reached out to touch his friend but Arlen moved away.

“Killian, I know you have a sense about unsettled beasts, but if you touch me you will feel a fraction of the bond’s effects, and I do not know what that will do to you. I’m barely controlling it right now.” The strain in his voice was evident, and though Killian hesitated for a moment he clasped Arlen’s shoulder.

In a moment, Killian took a sharp breath, then double over breathing in pain.

“What the hell Arlen?!” Killian released his friend’s shoulder, but the pain and fire that had briefly roared in him still echoed through his being as he slowly stood up straight again. Arlen didn’t say anything right away, rather he allowed his friend to regain his breath, and begin to straighten his posture.

“That is not the full effect.”

“How is it useful to you to have that going off?! How can you help her to the best of your ability if you are trying to cope with that?” Killian leaned against the stable post, feeling weak just from talking.

“I will get better at controlling it over time, some Servicer’s don’t have it as strongly. It is a reminder to me that she is in danger and needs to be taken away.”

“Arlen… I understand you going a little crazy with the pain right now, but this is a dramatic solution. Why not just play the political field best you can? That is what you are supposed to be best at.”

“Lady Agnes’ instincts are telling her to run, and though I was skeptical at first, I can see that the path to her full potential may not be battling with politics. She might have to journey to truly grow into herself, because if she stays here, she’s trapped.”

Killian didn’t like the idea. Not a bit. He wasn’t going to implicate himself by giving them horses, even if it would give them the upper hand. He had his own family to take care of, but clothes he could probably get away with.

“Don’t tell me when or where. My family will be out today for the first engagement dinner preparations when the rest of the courtiers arrive. Leave your coat on my bed; Trevor’s clothes are in the second drawer in the wardrobe in our room. You know where mine are.” Killian nodded at Arlen, who brightened at his words.

“Thank you Killian. I will repay you, I promise.”

“I’m going to say you robbed us.”

“I know.” For a moment Arlen smiled like he had with Killian the previous day, and despite his other reserves, this did help quell some of the anxiety in Killian.

“Be safe Arlen.” Killian knew it was pointless to say, but he needed to regardless.

***

Agnes stood in front of the full-length mirror, pretending to ignore Deborah’s whispers to her fellow courtiers who had arrived later in the morning for the first engagement dinner that was to take place that evening. She could hear them giggling and glancing at her as Rose Sweeney carefully laid another bolt of fabric over her shoulder. She was trying to decide what pattern of lace to use on her sleeves for her wedding gown, and despite her quiet nature, even Rose risked a few frustrated glances at Deborah’s group.

“Lady Deborah, perhaps you and your friends could inform the maids what you would like for lunch.” Aggie sounded calm and collected, and knew this was the only way she would be able to maintain control of the situation.

Her future husband had made her the fool of the keep whom everyone was secretly laughing at. Despite having wanted to take his plate of food and dump it in his lap when he had demeaned her in front of Lords and knights, she managed to restrain herself by thinking how close she was to freedom. In fact she had almost started smiling when she had rounded the silent tables towards her chair.

Arlen had suggested they leave sooner rather than later, to avoid her betrothed facing too much humiliation. If he had been standing at the alter with even the Northern King in attendance, only to find the bride vanished, he would be far more livid than if only a few of the guests knew about her disappearance.

They ran the risk of meeting nobles on the road, but Arlen had informed her that he had secured a change of clothes for her, and most nobles didn’t look twice at peasants, so she should be relatively unnoticed. The only part of the plan she hadn’t totally agreed with so far was cutting her hair. She had been growing her hair for years, and despite it often getting tangled and taking forever to wash, she understood that it would be hard to hide, and cumbersome when running away.

She was lost in her thoughts, and hadn’t heard Deborah’s response to her question about lunch, but the room had gone silent, and every eye was on her. So it must have been an insult.

“Deborah would you mind repeating what you just said?” Agnes had dropped Deborah’s title deliberately; she didn’t need to know what was said to know that she had to start firing back. The two other courtier women twittered in laughter as Deborah smiled again. Aggie probably seemed as dense as everyone believed her to be.

“I said Lady Agnes, do you want us to decide what you should eat as well? It might be burdensome for you to choose.” It was a slight at her capability, how fun.

With her freedom so close, Agnes was having a hard time caring about social protocol, but she had a sudden idea that might help her and Arlen’s departure later that evening.

“You know Deborah, I do find it challenging having useless courtiers around. Especially if they have nothing better to do with their empty heads than try and make themselves worthwhile through pettiness.”

It was as though Aggie had slapped the courtier. For the first time since meeting her, Deborah’s predatory smile was gone, and red rose in her face. She stood up with a huff, and while the other courtiers looked too stunned to be angry, they watched Deborah stomp over to Aggie who was 4 inches taller than Deborah to begin with, but was also standing on a stool.

The seamstress was trying to pretend nothing was happening, and was half hiding behind Aggie with the tape measure wrapped loosely around the Lady’s waist.

“How dare you-”

“Once married to Lord O’Farrell I will suggest that you and your husband relocate to elsewhere in the countryside. To be quite frank, I do not foresee our relationship improving.” Lady Deborah clamped her mouth shut. Her face drained of its ruddy color, and her eyes widened. Aggie was willing to bet money that Deborah had never been threatened properly before; not by someone who could follow through on their warnings.

Aggie’s bluff worked at intimidating the insipid woman, and so she stared calmly at Deborah, waiting for her to respond.

“Y-You can’t do that! Your husband needs my husband for…” She trailed off searching her mind for her husband’s contributions.

“-His army! His knowledge of the shipping trades from our home county!” She blurted disjointedly.

“It might be worth mentioning now, Lady Deborah, that my family owns a fleet of ships, and I am quite certain withdrawing your husband’s army could be seen as treason.”

Aggie’s family owned 100 merchant ships. It was not a fleet. Her family had, at the height of their wealth; owned 250 merchant ships. In more recent years, her parents were declining in their ambitions and energy, and so they had sold off 150 of their vessels, and given their daughter a respectable dowry.

Despite the family business, Aggie ever cared to learn about shipping, but Deborah didn’t know that did she? Not only that, but Deborah hadn’t the faintest clue if her husband had to offer military support to the Duke by law.

All ladies except for a Lady O’Farrell, had been cut out of all political discussions for decades, meaning this was the one upper hand Aggie had. If it meant driving a figurative sharp knife in Lady Deborah’s side before claiming her own freedom, Aggie would happily play that card.

“Lady Deborah, you’ll have to excuse me, I believe that you may need a moment to collect your thoughts. I will take this opportunity to inform the kitchen what you and your friends would like for lunch.” Aggie nodded to Rose over her shoulder, who immediately removed all of her pins and fabrics with such speed and precise movements; that for a moment Aggie saw that Rose Sweeney may have more skill to her than she had originally noticed.

Aggie turned to the horizontal rows of her 6 handmaids, and watched as they reformed their 2 vertical lines they used whenever Aggie had somewhere to go. What the use of such an entourage could be was beyond her. Arlen was not present as he was off getting their supplies for their departure, and Aggie somehow could sense where he was in the keep despite not being told where he would be going. She grimaced at the realization that it had to be the magic involved with a bonded Servicer. Ah well, a problem for another day.

Aggie left the room, noticing that her chamber door had been left open for Rose Sweeney’s assistant to rush in and out with bolts of lace at his Mistress’ demands.

It wasn’t until all the maids had lead her through the entryway that she saw Sean O’Farrell, standing with his hands clasped behind him, glaring at her.

He had heard every word.