We’d just arrived at the gates of my mother’s manor when we spotted the Velivolus parked in the giant courtyard.

My wife- consort technically- gave a low whistle. Honestly, she usually had better manners than this. I must’ve rubbed off on her during our fantastic, magical, I-can’t-believe-it’s-over-yet honeymoon. Or maybe it was the shiny flying ship.

“Look at the masts!” They were indeed very...woody. She gasped. “And the sails! It doesn’t look like they're bronze.” She squinted, trying to see the finer details from our (admittedly less glamorous in comparison) Automatic Carriage.

“Ah, so it’s not a MarkII?” I said, trying to encourage her. Zaya was usually so composed, I loved when she got genuinely excited.

She shook her head. “Do you see how the sails shine blue under the sun? I bet it’s a Crystallite league.” Her eyes were shining cutely with the passion of a true expert. “It must be a MarkIII.”

Well, if the MarkII was one of the most expensive things one could buy, I didn’t even want to imagine the MarkIII. We were one of the richest families this side of the Solaris Coalition and we still probably couldn’t buy one without bankrupting ourselves.

“Do you think it’s one of your mother’s clients?” Zaya said, still gazing at the Veli like it was her new, darling wife.

Not that I was getting jealous of an inanimate object, perish the thought! I, Dr. Beatrice, was not such a dramatic person!

I made a face at Zaya’s question.

“You know she doesn’t like to mix her private and professional life.” Honestly, the mere thought of bringing some amorous stranger in our home... No, our guest had to be one of Mother’s friends. Maybe Auntie Sabine had snatched some old Antaran noble with a big purse (and even bigger debts, knowing their type).

Well, only one way to find out. I lovingly dug my elbow into my wife’s side. She gave me a sheepish look, started the Auto and drove us past the gates. We parked in front of the entrance stairs.

Ours was a typical and tasteful Venixian manor of no more than fifty rooms. Spare, I know, but neither me nor Mother were ones for excess. We also preferred to invest our money instead of spending it on some ridiculous extravaganza like the aforementioned flying ship.

We got out of the Auto, when a dark-haired woman, dressed in a gorgeous blue velvet robe, burst through the door and down the stairs. Mother. She was wearing one of Madam R’s works, I’d bet. She made some highly sought after and gorgeous clothes. She was also a former ah, artisan, so she always gave our household discounts.

Mother looked very happy to see us, but her smile was somewhat strained.

“You wouldn’t happen to have received my last letter, would you?”

Zaya and I spent our honeymoon traipsing through her people’s grasslands, where I had to defeat all her adult relatives in hand-to-hand combat and go about horse racing, before they let us marry. I had won every match of course, in small part because of my admittedly superior skills, in great part because of their fondness of getting outrageously drunk before a great event. Or during. Or after.

And then we’d rushed to come back in time for Mother’s annual soirée. So no, I had not received any letter whatsoever.

“Sorry,” I said, sheepish. “Does it have anything to do with...all that?” I gestured vaguely behind me.

Mother took my hand in hers.

“Yes. Your...other mother is here”

What.

“What?”

Viscountess Artoi? I’d never even talked to the woman. I knew Mother sent her some of my pictures every year and the Viscountess sent some child support/hush money back (not that we needed it, but money was money). I liked being the respected daughter of a local, ah, artisan and not some little scandal to hide away in a remote country, so I tried not to think too much about the other half of my blood lineage.

Mother squeezed my hand reassuringly.

“We don’t have time; she’s been waiting for a while. But it’s nothing bad.”

Then I felt my wife’s hand on my shoulder. She gave me a comforting look.

“We’ll be here.”

I took her hand from my shoulder and kissed it.

“Very well. Let’s see what she wants, then.”

“She’s in my studio.” Mother squeezed my hand again and guided us inside.

Her studio was in the solarium, somewhere on the top floor. We made our way there, the maids moving about with nervous energy. Old Betty or our butler were nowhere in sight- knowing them they were either having a secret tryst in the garden or a secret tryst in the kitchen. Our staff was certainly loyal and discreet, but some of them didn’t have 'professionalism' in their vocabulary. Or in their general awareness.

The solarium door was flanked by two giant soldiers, blonde and mean-faced. When they saw me, they visibly startled. Then they returned to stare menacingly at the wall. I resisted the urge to yell ‘Boo!’ or something as equally inane at them. I’m a married and mature woman now, after all.

Mother gave me a warning look, to which I returned my best innocent face. Zaya lovingly elbowed me this time. Retaliation!

“Good morning, Lady Beatrice! Please, go in!” One of the guards shouted. I rolled my eyes. Military types, always so loud and stiff.

Well, keeping an open mind wouldn’t hurt. I took a breath and opened the door.

The Viscountess sat at my mother’s desk. In my mother’s chair. I thought she would choose the (very tasteful and very comfortable) couch in the corner! When she saw me, she gestured at me to get seated. The audacity. I felt my jaw clench. Very well. Mind: closed.

But this woman was truly my other parent. Same blonde hair, same golden eyes. Same face, although usually I had a much more pleasant expression. This woman’s face could be cut from stone. Seriously, what was it with these Antarans?

Thankfully I got my charming disposition from Mother.

I sat with ill-grace. She raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing.

“Well met, Beatrice Amalia,” she said instead.

“Well met, Viscountess,” I said for politeness’ sake.

She inclined her head and shoved some papers my way.

“You will sign these. You will come with me to Antara. I heard you got a consort- you may keep her and marry her properly when you reach 25. You will-”

“Do none of those things? Except for the marriage part.” I got up. “Who do you think you are?”

She blinked.

“I am the woman who’s trying to give you a title, little girl.” Little girl?

“I already have a title,” I said icily. She raised her eyebrow. She was good at that. She must have put all her expression skills into learning that eyebrow rise.

“Doctor,” I expanded.

“That’s not a proper title.”

“Then why do I sign my name with it?”

She stared at me. Then she got up as well. “Enough. We must-”

“My answer is no.” I turned around and strode out of the room. Or tried to. A wall of magic came into existence in front of the door.

“We are not finished,” she said in a calm voice. I turned back towards her, furious.

“You barge into my life, demand things from me, treat me like your good little soldier and- and you’re in my mother’s chair! It’s beyond rude!”

We stayed there, staring at each other after my outburst. I didn’t know what she saw into my eyes, but she softened. Slightly.

She circled the desk and sat on the couch.

“Let’s seat and talk about this, then. Please.” She tended her hand towards me. I took it and allowed myself to be seated. It was weird, holding this stranger-not-stranger’s hand. She sighed.

“You do appear to have inherited my temper.” How absurd! Before I could protest, she held up a finger and started talking again.

“I am giving you your place as my firstborn child. That’s what your eyes mean, did you know that? That you’re the heir to the Artoi family.”

I did in fact know of the family’s weird tradition of inheritance. I just assumed it didn’t apply to me.

“But I’m a bastard,” I said, pointedly.

“Hence the legitimization. Do keep up,” she said. I gave her an unamused look.

“Why now?” I tried to look her in the eyes. “After all these years, why now?”

She looked away.

“I couldn’t, before. After Queen Victa took power, she arranged my marriage to her cousin. She hoped that our children would inherit. But none of them had our golden eyes, so none of them could. If I had tried to legitimize you before her death, she would have simply killed you.”

That made a modicum of- wait.

“The queen is dead?”

She blinked. “Ah, the honeymoon.” She gave me a fierce smile.

“Yes. I killed the queen, had my husband imprisoned and put my lover on the throne.”