Dinner had been an unnerving event at first, but the food had been beyond compare. Exotic meats and stuffed birds, roasted vegetables and crystalline soups, and the cheese and salad after covered in edible flowers had been an elegant experience. Many of the girls had had glass after glass of wine. Some, clearly could not contain it as well as others. Lady Aconia had had three goblets full, but other than a slight blush in her cheeks her speech was unhindered and entirely eloquent. Lady Clarendine and two of the ladies Phlox were less loquacious upon their second glass.

Chammielle sat before the vanity, happy she had barely touched her own goblet for the whole of dinner. She needed her wits about her if something was amiss. Half of it had calmed her nerves reasonably, and her senses remained sharp. She was proud her dear little sisters had only had one glass each. They'd become a bit giggly over it.

"My lady, I believe you're wanted in the garden."

She turned to look up at Belladonna. She'd left only to find a night cream after getting her hair combed and jewel and pinless. It seemed Alfrina needed her.

"Good. Let me just put on a bodice and skirt."

...

The night was fairly light out, the full moon in all its glory lit up half the sky and was only partially hindered by clouds. The garden blooms seemed to release a fresh wave of fragrance, and Chammielle felt like she was floating through a fairy world. Belladonna trailed behind her, in good spirits it seemed. She wondered why.

"This way."

They wove in and out of the greenery, shrubs and trees with their blooms all encompassing. The path wasn't as clear here, but every once in a while there was a bright white stone that shone in the moonlight. Finally they came to an overgrown set of columns where a building once stood. It's walls were crumbling and through every hole ivy and roses spiraled in and out. It seemed pitch black inside, and without thinking too much of it Chammielle stepped inside.

A blade came to her throat and she halted in her tracks. Had Belladonna betrayed her?

"What would you do if this attack was real?"

The knife was pulled away and she sighed as Alfrina's silhouette barely came into view.

"Most likely die."

"That's what I was afraid of..."

Chammielle shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head to the side in a wayward sigh.

"Why does it matter? I'm of little importance to the Crown."

The air grew silent and she could feel her glare though she could not see it.

"...I'm...I'm not saying I want to die. If anyone should survive this for certain it's Aster, and really everyone else. In the grand scheme of things, who's going to miss the bastard ginger child of a Lord?"

"I would. You're brilliant. And you know your half sisters and stepmother would be lost without you. Your father would most likely die of grief."

The words steadied her. The Duchess of Columbine would miss her. She thought she was important. She was worth something.

"...Can you teach me?"

"To defend yourself? I intend to."

"No. Well, yes. But can you teach me to see what you see?"

Her eyes were slow at adjusting to this darkness. The little bit of light that had slipped in to show the Duchess's form was either fading or she had moved out of it. It seemed as black inside as it had seemed from without. And then she felt her hand in the middle of her back, between her shoulder blades.

"Yes."

...

It was nearly midnight and Chammielle was exhausted. The bit of training in the ruins--she now knew were once a prayer chapel built by King Lavandra--had been both tiring and enlightening. But Alfrina's words had been what really shook her.

"Look in the mirror every morning and whenever you feel worthless and speak these words out loud as if you believe them with your whole soul: I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am strong, I am worthy. Do this until you think it, and then continue."

She didn't want to even think of it. She knew what she was. She knew what she looked like. What difference did it make? What was so wrong with staying as she was?

But then, if she really was satisfied...why had she asked for help?

Still, with the moon shining through the window and her nightgown on, the mirror seemed to call to her.

Chammielle stood and stepped slowly to the offending piece of furniture. The cool color of the moon removed most of the colors in the room. She soon stood before the glass and peered inside. Her outline and curling mass were highlighted, and her thoughts began to pick at each feature.

"No."

She took a deep breath and began.

"I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am strong, I am...worthy."

Not much changed, but the nagging voice in her head seemed quieter. Nodding to herself she went to the large bed and slid beneath the cool sheets. Whatever was to come of this exercise, it would not happen overnight.

...

The morning came with birdsong she'd never heard before. The surrounding cityscape and vast gardens were so different from her small town tucked nearly into a large forest. Birds of all kinds were outside and she felt the desire to write some music.

Within five minutes she was up, wearing a red bodice stitched with blue roses over a shimmering blue skirt and standing before her mirror with book in hand.

"I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am strong, I am worthy."

With her music papers in hand, she really did believe in her own intelligence at this moment. She smiled at her reflection, decidedly liking this new attitude that was slowly taking root. The voice in her head had been quiet since the night before, and the first light of the morning cast a gentle hue across her face. Things didn't seem so harsh at the moment.

Soon she was sitting in the piano room at the window. The sweet chirps and flowing song poured in through the open window and she jotted down the notes and accompanying melodies on scratch music sheets accompanied by the dew on the hollyhocks reaching to greet her. She was at this for nearly a half hour and the early morning light was beginning to turn into a brilliant sun rising over the treetops. The birds changed their song and she wrote it down as well.

She decided to try it out to hear how it sounded on the piano and went to the smaller scale grand. It was a lovely piece. A bit of dust covered the top and she simply opened it at the side so as not to hint anyone had been here recently. Propping it up she sat on the matching velvet bench, and began.

The tune was light and lovely, and the flowing song built and fell back to tumble into a new song that soared high and then dove before finding a scattering sound like a baby bird just learning to stretch its wings. It went on and on like this, and she stopped in some places to move the stanzas around. It was pretty, but incomplete. Then she remembered her afternoon writing back home and turned to that work. She could combine them. The morning at the palace leading into the afternoon back home. Perhaps she could hear something different this evening as well.

She finished writing the transition, first listening to it and then changing her mind and playing it through differently before setting it in ink on her page. And then she played it again to hear it and added a few more lines. Then, she took a breath in the silence and began at the beginning.

The music filled the room and for the first time she felt at home since leaving her front gate back at Kuchen House. Melody and song soothed her aching spirit and she closed her eyes as she played. It carried her off and she felt as though she knew this song by heart. She was flying on the wings of the air, listening to the birds as they flew by to wake the world. Then the afternoon sun came and the key changed to a soft, melodramatic sort of laziness. You could almost hear the buzzing of insects and the bubbling of a brook nearby. The birdsong went on...and then trailed off.

She opened her eyes, she'd have to so out to the garden directly at sunset to hear some new inspiration. Something would need to bring this piece to a conclusion. The end of the day would be perfect.

"That was beautiful."

Startled, her eyes shot open and she stood so quickly the stool scraped against the marble floor.

"Your highness!"

She bent in a curtsy, heat filling her face. A soft and masculine chuckle filled the room and she bit her tongue. How long had he been standing there?

"Sorry, please don't stand on ceremony when it's just us. I heard the music and I was nearby. It was...well, I'm a bit at a loss for words. What did I say..."

The Crown Prince had heard her composing. He'd heard what she was writing. It was entirely embarrassing. Chammielle shifted from one foot to the other to distract herself. She wanted to fly from the room.

"Did I say beautiful? I mean enchanting. Inspiring really. Who wrote that?"

She looked down and wrung her hands.

"I did. I put it together this morning."

He walked to her side and she couldn't catch her breath. He looked elegant. A pair of glasses were in his hand, and he placed them on his nose to look at her written pages. He bent forward and was directly in front of her, and the bench was directly behind her so she had nowhere to go.

He smelled of shaving soap, the kind with lime and rose and something else. He was so close she could see a line of not entirely closely shaved whisker hairs along his right cheek. His dark blue lapel brushed against it and she watched the muscles in his jaw flex as he read the lines of music.

"This is magnificent."

He stood and she could breathe deeply again. Though he was only half the length of her arm from her. It wasn't as close as before.

"Truly, your sisters did not lie when they expounded on your many talents. All this in one morning?"

"Well, the latter half of it I actually was writing the day you came for tea. I was inspired by the afternoon birds and this morning I heard songs very new. I simply had to incorporate them."

"Lady Kuchen, I must say, I very much believe you could be a composer worthy of international concerts. Certainly of Garten. And you play it so beautifully..."

She made a small curtsy, not really able to do so formally in the small space she found herself in. And he'd asked her not to.

"Thank you, your highness."

"V tells me she's given you permission to call her so. Please, use my name as well."

"I dare not..."

The notion was innately intimate and she averted her eyes. He was being so open and genuine. If he wasn't careful she might get the wrong idea.

"Please," he took her hand and she felt the warmth of them send small shocks through her, her breath caught in her throat, "I see no harm in it when we are in private."

When we are he says...

"Very well...William."

He smiled and his teeth shone like pearls.

"Do you know what this room was for?"

"No, your-I mean, William."

"My music lessons as a boy. You'll note it is very far from the main happenings in the palace."

She smiled at that, "I am sure you are being modest. You couldn't have been that bad."

"Four masters quit and left music entirely for the horrendous disservice I did to their hearing. Two walked out and became hermits. I have not a drop of talent with any musical instrument whatsoever, despite a great love for it and ability to read it. If I were to give a concert, the country would riot. I'm even worse now."

She snickered into her hand before trying to smoothe her features. But he caught her eye and it was clear he was laughing at himself. A few more peals of laughter rang out before she could compose herself.

"Ah, there you are. Belladonna was worried."

The Prince turned and smiled at the Duchess. Chammielle saw her raise an eyebrow at her and she folded her hands in front of her.

"So this is where you conduct your meetings. I'll leave you to it then. Duchess Columbine...Lady Kuchen."

He left her side and she managed a proper curtsy. Her eyes followed after him and she realized his suit today was actually far more casual than the embroidered masterpieces he usually wore. It looked good on him. He still looked regal.

"My my, you do have it in you."

Chammielle met her eyes and felt snapped back to the present.

"What do you mean?"

"Laughter. The two of you were flirting."

Her eyes went to the door he'd just left through and then to the floor.

"He told me an amusing anecdote from his childhood. That's all. It wasn't flirting."

"He doesn't do that. He was flirting. Now, you and I need to go over the information I've gathered. And then Belladonna will have your lovely skin for a pelt for disappearing on her this morning."

She smiled at that. The maid was becoming very protective of her, she might actually remember to lock the door at night so she can't step away again. She shook her head at both Alfrina's assertion about the Prince and Belladonna's temper.

"No one from the kitchen staff was involved, but someone bumped into them and nearly overturned the cart while they were on their way to the pergola. I believe that's the time when the poisoned pastry was added to a plate at random."

Chammielle crossed her arms about her middle, pinched her brows together and rested her chin on one fist. Something didn't add up.

"If it was so random then why did it happen to be on Lady Rosenblum's plate? She's known for her appetite. Did they really just want someone to cause a stir and leave?"

"Not to mention your witnessing Lady Clarendine recognizing the pastry. It could have easily been added to her own plate."

Chammielle looked up to the ceiling, hoping for some sort of epiphany.

"...she could have just as easily avoided it. Perhaps offered it to Gladys, which is why she sat beside her. But that would draw attention to her as the one who handed it off. Unless of course she sat next to her believing she would in fact request hers seeing as she ate so sparingly."

Alfrina nodded, "But even that is suspect. Did she even have a hand in all this? Was she just smiling to be polite or something?"

"It's hard to say. If she is then can we even say it was at random? And if it isn't does that mean she is working with someone who knows which plates will be delivered to which ladies?"

The two women looked to each other. Whatever was going on, they had better discover it soon. It had only been one day, and something had happened.

"We'll have to make sure we practice in the evenings after dinner. I'll let you know when I have the time. It won't matter if someone follows. Belladonna will keep watch and I'll have some of my most trusted guards posted throughout the garden."

"Duchess...why me?"

"Why not you?"

"It doesn't make sense no matter how I look at it."

She squared her with a serious look. The woman had to be her own age but she commanded so much authority. Her eyes just seemed to demand she stand at complete attention and not look away. Silently, Chammielle wondered how she did that.

"Because, you are beautiful, you are intelligent, you are strong, and you are worthy. There's no one else for this. You fit a very tall order of qualifications, and only you."

There it was again. This intense confidence in her choice. But how could this affluent and skilled woman have such beliefs about her when she did not see the substance of them in herself?

At this moment Chammielle decided to listen. To really listen. To try and decipher how Alfrina lived and understood the world. How she saw people. And how she could see herself.

She watched carefully. Her lips motionless in a pause so pregnant the pangs of birth could be heard in the silence. The morning light casting a coolness to her green gaze.

Her rosey mouth parted, and uttered something she would have never expected.

But she would never forget.

"You, Chammielle Edelweiss Kuchen, are perfect."