Belladonna helped her find a seat. Her feet were finally steadier, but she'd felt the champagne every step out of the palace to the garden. Now her head was clearer and she couldn't fathom her actions from earlier. Or his.

"What did I do, Bell?"

"He's right. You do give nicknames when you drink."

"What was I thinking?!"

"You were thinking he was asking something of you for no good reason. He also insinuated you had feelings for his best friend."

"But I-I kissed his cheek! Again! And I rallied against the nobility courting system, and that's tantamount to treason."

She hung her head and felt her shoulders droop. Coming to the palace was a mistake. One giant mistake followed by several subsequent mistakes.

"Hmm, I suppose they could hang you for it, my lady. Shame really. I think he rather likes you."

"You're not helping."

"Alright, how about this then, tomorrow's ball was meant to be a secret until luncheon. Every lady will find herself with a chance to dance with the Prince and her secret admirer. Think of it as an opportunity to see who it could be that is sending you such gifts."

She perked up at the news but still felt heavy.

"That's what breakfast was for... I thought it could be the Duke that was sending me these pink gems. But now that I've met him...ugh."

Belladonna laughed and it sounded so natural and good natured she couldn't remember the cranky old bat that had met with her on her first day.

"You thought it was Alfric? Oh goodness, no! I can attest to that boy's undying love for a girl who would not have him. She's been paying gifts of homage to her majesty to remain unbetrothed, and he's been amassing wealth so he can keep up and out bid her for her hand."

Of course she could have just asked Belladonna instead of partaking in this coquettish game. Now there was a misunderstanding and she seemed to be in favor of the great pink peacock. The truth was very much the opposite.

"Oh no...and even still I..."

"Take heart, my lady. The Prince doesn't hold onto such things."

Chammielle scrubbed at her face once more. These strange feelings she possessed for the infuriating and flirtatious sovereign were all so scrambled in her chest. She didn't know how to make heads or tails of it all. His actions startled her even more.

"Still, I should apologize."

She looked up to the maid from her bench and saw her smile.

"Well, here's your chance. He's coming this way."

Her eyes darted about and just as she saw him she slipped.

"My lady! Are you alright?"

"No! Leave me! Pretend I'm not here!"

She felt desperate. She'd fallen behind the bench among some moss and ferns, the area of the garden was cool and well suited for forest flowers. Her deepest hope was that he would not find her in such a state. As it was, she couldn't see anything from her current position stuck as she was behind the slightly overgrown marble bench.

"Belladonna, have you seen Lady Kuchen?"

She ducked her head, hoping to become invisible.

"Seen her? Yes, your highness. Which one? I know of four of the ladies Kuchen."

The woman was trifling with the Crown Prince of Garten. Just who was she?

"The one you're assigned to."

"Oh! Lady Chammielle Kuchen. Yes, I have seen my lady. That I have."

The silence drew out and she almost couldn't help her laughter. She'd give it to Belladonna, she knew how to waste a person's time.

"And where is she?"

"Did I say I've seen her? Right, perhaps not today. Or ever. Can't rightly know. Supposing I've never seen her or at least not here."

It was as if she could feel his eyes finding her. She covered her own face with her hands, a childish hope that she might not be discovered if she did not see him. At least she might not see his smug face when he did find her.

"What on earth are you doing down there?"

Heat flooded her face and she could barely find her voice. It came out as a desperate whisper.

"Go away! I can't speak with you properly!"

His voice came nearer so that he was right above her, but she still couldn't look at him.

"Not from down there you can't. Are you hurt?"

She felt his hands wrap about her waist and she was hoisted back up fluidly to the bench.

"Why must you be so kind when I am so abominable to you?"

She kept her eyes closed but felt he must be laughing at her.

"Me? Nonsense, I was a monster to you earlier. I assumed something I had no place in and offended you so severely. You may call it a temporary lapse in judgement, my mind has been under a great deal of stress recently. I can only imagine you have been as well."

She sighed at him. Did he have to be so congenial?

"You're far too easy on me. How is it you're going to rule your subjects without any sort of fist?"

She opened her eyes and watched him from her periphery. He chuckled and leaned back on the bench, supporting himself with his hands behind him. He seemed so young. Yet the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Even when apologizing you find a way to criticize me. I suppose I have no fist to speak of."

"Ah...I told you I can't speak properly with you."

She hung her head, not sure what this moment was. Belladonna had moved out of the small space they were in. She was most likely speaking with the guard or Alfrina's agents to make sure they had privacy and protection. She was very proactive that way.

"There there..."

His hand was at her back just above the collar between her shoulder blades. He smoothed it over her muscles in small circles, and it was both calming and leaving little sparks to dance across the exposed skin. It was very relaxing and she couldn't bring herself to tell him to stop.

"Will..."

"I know. Let me have this for a little longer."

They sat quietly, his hand massaging the superficial cares that had swarmed her mind away. It felt so lovely she couldn't help but enjoy it. Whatever guilt she'd feel later, she couldn't now. He wasn't married yet. Not even engaged. She could be here with him and delight in his company and not care what came the day after tomorrow.

"...maybe I am jealous."

"Hmm?"

She didn't know what she was saying, but she felt comfortable enough saying it all the same.

"You have several young women vying for your hand...and I don't want any of them to have these kinds of moments with you...but one will...and maybe some already have..."

The warm circles stopped but not entirely and suddenly she felt it. Hot breath on her shoulder. Then his lips. And then his teeth.

"W-William..."

He stopped and she didn't know what to say. What was there to say? She looked into his eyes, hoping some sort of explanation for these feelings inside her could be found in their depths.

"Now you're assuming things about me. I'm taking my kiss back."

"You...you kissed me, too?"

His cheeks held a deep blush and he held the back of his hand to his mouth.

"Yes. But of the two of us I am the one who doesn't regret mine. It's quite lonely."

She had so many questions. Her hand went to the space at her shoulder near her neck and felt the slight dampness he'd left there. It was a shocking sensation. He'd used his teeth ever so slightly, and it seemed to bring up more questions in her mind.

"I...I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything. It would break me to think you hated me. And I'm quite sure you will when the week is over."

The reminder that she was not his choice was like a fountain of cold water had been opened and poured over her in icy droplets. This was but a brief moment for them. She could not be a princess.

"Right..."

She stood and left him on the bench. Not looking back.

...

"Your form is off. Raise your arm a little higher."

Chammielle was dressed in her old chemise and bodice with a skirt that was not hers but had several tatters. It fit her training they were currently working on. She had a saber in her hand.

"Just my arm? Surely my feet are off as well. This is far more exhausting than I would have thought."

Maestro grinned and it seemed a little proud.

"Your feet are quite fine, even if you can't feel them. We've been at this for two hours, just raise your arm a little now and we'll finish for today."

It took all her strength to raise the blade the few inches higher needed for good form. At the beginning it had seemed light, and now it had gained so much weight from all the repetitive movements as he arms grew shakier. She'd never thought to learn the handling of a sword. Much less the actual use of one.

"Good enough. You may rest."

She did her best not to drop the anchor weight and lower it slowly and return it properly. Her shoulders were exhausted and her thin arms trembled. Belladonna brought her water and she heard the Duchess clap resound throughout the ruins.

"Well done, Chammielle. For a first lesson you certainly have greater stamina than I would have believed."

She gulped down the water not caring if she looked pretty doing so. She wiped the drops from her face with the back of her sleeve.

"You jest...if anything I feel far more humbled at my lack of stamina."

Maestro chuckled and his voice let out in a sing song.

"And yet two hours does make a very long first lesson. Not even my favorite prodigy lasted so long his first."

She wiped at the dewy beads of sweat on her brow.

"But I shall be quite dead on my feet for the impromptu ball tomorrow. Even if anyone should ask me to dance, they shall have to carry me."

"Oh, don't start with that again. You already know what I'm going to say."

Chammielle took several breaths and then put a finger to the air to conduct her words.

"I am beautiful, I am intelligent, I am strong, and I am worthy. And I need a bath."

Belladonna snickered and she beamed at Alfrina as she gave her an eye roll.

"Yes yes, you shall have one. But first we need to talk about the ball."

"Alright. Talk. I'll try not to faint."

She practically fell upon the small ledge that jutted out from the broken window. It was all overgrown and not a bit of glass left anywhere. The stones were very sound and what had fallen seemed to be the only ones that ever would. The place was solid, and she needed it for her shaking legs.

"The Prince has decided to be very devious in his choice it seems. It's as if he's trying to let down every lady here as easily as possible. In total there are twelve candidates, and each has one secret admirer save Lady Aconia..."

"Let me guess, she has two."

"No, actually. Hers is a plant. She has no secret admirer. I haven't yet discovered why she is having gifts sent to her from her own estate, but no one has decided to woo her and my only guess is that she's spurned too many men on her way to the palace. She's always had the crown in her view."

Chammielle felt childish and twirled her finger in the air in a circle pointing to the open ceiling.

"How wonderful for her."

"Yes, she is quite the piece of work. But according to the order of the ball there will be two gentlemen to attend each of the ladies. One will be the actual secret admirer and the second an interested individual. And then of course there will be the Prince. Each lady is guaranteed three dances, and the Queen is looking forward to seeing potential matches as she will be presiding over the ball."

She cleared her throat and Chammielle interjected.

"So then Ammorettallia's partners will be...?"

"Two previously spurned suitors of hers."

"Oh I want to see that!"

She laughed and felt not quite herself. Belladonna came to her side with more water and Maestro chuckled lightly.

"Ah, the euphoria has set in. It comes with exhausting ones physicality to this extent. And here I thought you were entirely buttoned up, but I am glad to see that's not always the case. Keeps things interesting."

"May I return to my briefing? Or would you prefer to plot Lady Aconia's demise together?"

Chammielle was about to ask her to continue, but Maestro spoke an affirmative "yes". The women stared at him and Alfrina set her intimidating gaze upon him. Hardly affected, he shrugged his shoulders and motioned for her to go on.

"As I was saying then, things might get out of hand. The list of invites is quite small, twenty-four eligible men, and there shall only be six songs for the evening. Long ones at that, but the ball is considerably shortened and nothing like one of the Pink Palace's grand balls. However, in that short span of time the staff will be doubled in the ballroom. The orchestra that has been summoned had a few members come down with an illness. They have replacements but we have not vetted them thoroughly...there may be a disturbance."

Chammielle could hardly think but nodded along tried to follow.

"So six songs... allowing for two dances with each suitor per lady, except the Prince will only be able to dance with six and not all twelve... Assuming each lady doesn't grow tired and sit out a dance or two...that could mean they could have a long interval of dancing with the two suitors...and perhaps gain intel from the young men if they are some sort of agents. Ah...who are my two?"

Alfrina glanced through some documents until she came to the names.

"Sir Rosenblum, Gladys' older brother who was knighted last year, and a Lord Godfrey."

She couldn't sit up straighter though her impulse was to do so.

Gladys had an older brother? And why would he be interested in dancing with her? The Rosenblum's were a wealthy household, but not as far as all the jewels she'd received. Especially now that she'd been informed they were pink diamonds. And Lord Godfrey...

"It isn't Lord Bram Godfrey, is it?"

"Yes...the one and the same. You've heard of him I take it?"

She sighed and it sounded as exhausted as she felt.

"I knew Bram when we were children. He was a little rodent who liked to spill ink on my dresses and hair. I don't recall if I ever got back at him for it, but I suppose I can let bygones be bygones for one evening."

The Duchess held a sly smile and nodded.

"Yes, he's become an excellent trader in the black market. He's been quite useful to me in the past gathering information. Not quite an agent, but when he comes across something the Crown would be interested to know he is forthcoming."

Her eyes went wide.

"You mean that little brat I knew has become a wretched procurer of unsightly goods?"

"And he's become quite rich for it. We let him continue so long as he reports important information in a timely manner. He doesn't deal in slaves or prostitutes if that's what you're worried about."

She folded her arms over her chest. Disgusting men seemed to be cropping up all around her. Just how long was she supposed to play nice?

"I understand your misgivings about the situation, but Lord Godfrey is someone I cannot lose. He's invaluable to me the same as the now Sir Rochester. Do your best not to utilize your lessons on him tomorrow?"

She felt like pouting. The blaggard had been insufferable as a child and she hadn't seen him in ten years. Now she hears it on excellent authority that he has become a criminal and under the protection of the Crown. What was worse, she'd have to dance with him.

No...

That wasn't the worst of it. If the two men for each royal candidate were an interested party and the actual secret admirer...then that could only mean Bram was the one sending her the jewels. He was the one trying to court her.

"That foul man..."

Belladonna leaned closer.

"My lady?"

"Please tell me I will not be forced to dance with both of my partners."

Maestro was giggling detestably.

"Ah, such ilk is good to be acquainted with, but rubbing elbows may soil your good conscience further?"

"Gust, shut up." Alfrina pinched the bridge of her nose, "The ladies can turn down whoever they wish, save the Prince. You, however, need to dance with both of your partners and hear them out. What they have to say is very important and I've chosen one of them personally. It was the only way to get him in to speak with you before the wedding the next day."

She couldn't fathom it. Why not just admit Bram was her secret admirer and Sir Rosenblum was the one she needed to speak with? It was so painfully obvious to her, and she'd rather not dance with the devil who used to pull her by the hair and splash the black stain across it. That was a good enough reason to turn him down and feign ignorance of his more dubious dealings.

Unless of course the secrecy of the admirers was such that not a soul could confirm them. Not even the Duchess of Columbine. Just how strong of a tradition was this?

"Oh Fine. I'll dance with the rancid brute. But I cannot promise to pretend to like him, nor that I won't step on his toes. Several times."

Belladonna chuckled and Alfrina smiled, happy.

"I'll let him know he needs steel shoes."