Chammielle had come to bed late. Will was fast asleep and she'd lain down beside him and stroked his damp hair until she succumbed to her exhaustion. The morning came quickly after that.

"Good morning."

The kiss on her forehead was warm and her eyes opened slowly.

"Mmh, good morning."

He lay back down at her side and she allowed her fingers to entwine themselves in his hair once more.

"You came to bed late. How long did that last thing take you?"

She sighed but smiled.

"Not too long. I saved these for us."

She reached to the small table beside the bed and uncovered a plate. Three cream puffs filled with chocolate cream, five petit fours, four shortbread cookies, and one large slice of Mohnkuchen. She'd also snuck a few fresh strawberries to dot the plate.

"Oh! Good, I wasn't so sure I wanted to leave everything for the staff. As your husband, I do feel entitled to my cut."

She giggled at him and sat up, pulling the plate to her lap.

"Here..."

Chammielle fed him a bite of the poppy seed cake and watched the tired smile spread wider over his face.

It was an odd thing. Lying here next to the Crown Prince and feeding him her personal recipes. The languid feel of the morning and the intimate setting was never something she'd seen for herself. Not with a man. Not with the future King.

But it was Will. And at least on the surface she knew she wanted to be here with him. How she really felt about him was slowly becoming apparent. But she was taking her sweet time finding out.

"What do you want to do today? Can we go out into the gardens?"

He groaned and she popped a petit four into his mouth as well as in hers.

"I could get used to this... I don't want to leave this bed today. But I do have more paperwork to do..."

She nibbled on a shortbread and served him another bite of Mohnkuchen.

"Why not take the day off? You seem tired."

He shook his head from side to side, chewing and leaving his eyes closed. His hair brushed at his cheeks when his did that and she smoothed it away from his eyes.

"I wish I could. But I'd like to get these things done before the wedding celebrations are over. That's when the real work will begin, a lot of what Magnolia has been doing will fall to me."

Chammielle frowned at that and gave him a strawberry.

"I'll come with you then."

"No, you shouldn't be trapped inside just because I am. Go enjoy the garden and I'll see you for luncheon."

She smiled at him for that and kissed his warm cheek.

"Alright, but after luncheon you are not leaving this room until dinner time."

He nodded and she rewarded him with a dollop of the chocolate cream on her lips and kissing him. She parted from him but he tried to pull her back.

"Do that again."

...

She felt like she hadn't been outside in ages. Her arms stretched and she was happy to be out among the flowers in the sunshine. It was a perfect day. Warm with cool breezes blowing by the puffy clouds.

"Finally emerged?"

She turned to the voice and saw Sir Rochester.

"Yes, it feels as though I've been cooped up inside for a year."

He strode up alongside her and fell in step.

"Ah, the birds and the bees do chirp and buzz this time of year. Spring is truly upon us."

She smirked at his insinuation.

"How true, but if I'd known it'd come so soon for me I might not have packed so sparsely..."

Maestro seemed surprised.

"Do you mean to tell me that you didn't know you were the Prince's choice?"

She shook her head at him.

"I had no idea whatsoever. I was so very sure it would be my sister."

He stopped in his tracks and began to cackle, slapping his knee with how this new knowledge struck him.

"So when I outed you as the future Queen you had no idea I was telling the truth! Oh! You are a far more clever actress than I thought!"

His laughter petered out into snickering and they continued on. It wasn't long before she realized where he had in mind they go.

"Are we practicing the sword today?"

"Yes, it is good to not let you rest too long between lessons. Form and basic lunges and a drill took you two hours last time. Today, we shall test how much you remember and add some practical moves. Like where to strike to kill someone silently..."

She didn't dare falter in her steps though her mind froze at the concept. These lessons with Maestro were continuing, though the candidate ceremony was over. Either he wanted her to continue the dungeon interrogations and actually kill people behind the scenes, or there was still a need for her to be prepared.

"How goes it with Lady Aconia?"

Sir Rochester hummed a pleasant little diddy. It suited the brightness of the day and the setting, but not the man. It seemed eerie coming from him.

"Oh, she thinks she's going to get away with it. That I have no doubt of. Her informant was captured and we haven't allowed her any new news."

"Get away with it? Nonsense. There's justice in this world."

He turned to her with a fanatically curious look.

"Sentencing is normally up to the King or Queen in his absence...how would you sentence her?"

Aster's blood filled her mind and the sight of her limp body being gathered up in that cloth to carry her off. All she could see was red.

"Her title stripped from her, and her execution set for the day of the coronation. Let her know she's truly lost everything, and then end her."

Maestro giggled and seemed to dance in place for a few seconds before he regained himself.

"My Princess is so very wise in these things...what a Queen you will be."

...

"Again!"

She lunged forward, sweat dripping from her brow.

"Again!"

Some of the salty liquid trailed into her eye but she kept it open. If this were real, anything that impeded her vision would mean the loss of her life or the ones closest to her.

"Again!"

She stepped with sure feet, though they were tired. Her saber up and gleaming in the light filtering down through the crumbled and overgrown roof.

"Take a rest."

She paused, unwilling to drop the blade so soon. What if she needed this as soon as tomorrow?

"Maestro..." She breathed. "May we increase the frequency of these lessons?"

He seemed confused at her and turned to Belladonna.

"Your highness, why do you want to?"

She seemed concerned for her, but she couldn't let on that she felt entirely deficient in protecting the ones she loved.

She panted and let her sword lay at her side.

"It's been days...can we not increase them to two or three times per week?"

Sir Rochester chuckled and she guessed he'd already planned for this.

"Indeed, I'd thought of doing it every other day, but then the high court might miss your presence. Starting tomorrow, you must be present for the affairs of state. And once a month a viewing of your people to accept gifts and hear petitions."

Belladonna brought her some water and she drank it thankfully.

"I don't suppose you could give me any prior tutoring on how to handle myself in high court?"

He was about to say something but Belladonna cut in.

"When the magistrates and high officials of the law speak, show moderate interest. When the laity speak, give reverence and adopt a posture of piety. When the nobles speak, mock them first and then placate them so they'll respect and show deference you."

Chammielle's eyes widened and she glanced at Maestro who seemed to mull her words. He then nodded in agreement.

"That might well sum up anything I was about to say."

The middle aged maid did a mock curtsy to the bombastic little man.

"What about to the lower classes? When I hear petitions or receive gifts?"

Belladonna held a very slight smirk on her lips. Not so large as to be rude. Just a hint of what she really thought.

"There's no framework for them, I'm afraid. Petitions are lies half the time. And just because you see a starving child the aunt or uncle brings to beg for the graciousness of the Crown on their house, it doesn't mean they'll use the money to feed or seek a doctor for that child. As sad and cynical as that may sound, you're going to find out the truth eventually. Be gentle as a dove but as cunning as a serpent. Because serpents there are intermingled in every corner and you'll have to outsmart them or be bitten. You can use that bit for every level of court."

She heard Maestro whisper his agreement into the air but she had a hard time comprehending what she was being told.

The poor and the working class were the vast majority of Garten. Of any kingdom really. Were things so bad a family might starve their orphaned niece or nephew just to garner favor? What sickness of the mind was this?

The shock of the new information seemed to make her blood boil, and she decided to do another sword drill there and then.

"Your highness, you've already done enough for today."

It was Belladonna who wanted her to stop and think through what she had said. But this was the only way she could.

"Leave her be. The Princess is showing what kind of Queen she will be..."

...

They were expected once more for banquet, but for now Chammielle wanted a nice bath and then luncheon with Will.

He'd seemed so clean the past few days. His hair always freshly washed, even at bed. Had he always been so cleanly?

Belladonna had arranged for a hot bath in her adjoining room and a spread to be brought for them at noon. Chammielle entered her open sanctuary, now only possessing a copper tub, a small armoire, and a couch. The tub was full and steaming, and she slipped her sword class frock from her body and dipped into the lovely scent of the searing water.

She sighed, letting the heat ease the tension she felt. Rosemary and sage with rose petals. A wonderful and uplifting aroma and she needed it for all of her ill ease. Perhaps she had overdone it once more.

On her way here, she had stopped at the palace library--small thing, but well stocked if not dusty--and had requested a book on peasant life in the city. The librarian had gone and found several tomes, but only one seemed to suit her current needs. It was called The Curse of Poverty On the Mind and had been written only sixty years prior.

She reached for it now, the stiffness of the spine making it clear it had not once left the shelf. It was time to do a little reading. It was time her eyes were opened to the state of her country.

~🕰️~

A while later and the bath had cooled a little but her mind felt feverish.

Things were worse than she had thought. Thieves did not only steal from the rich to get by, they stole from those who could not afford to guard their own meager possessions better. She'd gotten through three chapters and wanted to devour more, but she could not. She needed to process and think on these things. She needed to ground herself once more in the mercy she had for those less fortunate.

Yet still remember, that the less fortunes they had, the greater the temptation to fall into all manner of lasciviousness.

She stood from her bath and dressed in a fresh chemise. She hadn't washed her hair, she'd forgotten it as her head was filled with new thoughts. She donned a more elegant and shimmering pale blue skirt and chose a bodice with lily of the valley embroidered on the navy background. She felt she wanted to look pretty.

Maybe it was because she wanted to see Will...

The door opened in the shared room and hearing it she stepped through the adjoining door.

"You can set the--Will? What's wrong?"

Alfric was supporting him and his face looked pale though his lips seemed bright red. His mouth hung open and he appeared to have labored breathing.

"Ric? Has he been poisoned?"

She rushed to them and Alfric shook his head.

"No, he has a terrible fever I'm afraid. I told him he needed to take some time and take tea. He's been working without pause and taking too many ice baths."

"Ice baths..."

The reason suddenly struck her and she cupped her hands over her mouth. Will was sick because of her. Heat flew up her neck and she couldn't bare the thought.

"Help me get him into my room."

Ric lay him on the little couch by the bath and Chammielle set to reheating the bathwater she'd just been in to a suitable temperature. Small bits of charcoal were like golden embers in the stove space beneath the tub, and she added fresh pieces around them and opened the vents.

"He has a fever! He's already so hot!"

"He may be hot, but he feels cold. His body is trying to burn the infection. I need your help getting him undressed and into the tub. Then you need to go and ask for a piping hot pot of chamomile, feverfew, and willow tea and a little dish of elderberry syrup. ...And a sprig of Tulsi!"

"Tulsi? What on earth is Tulsi?"

He was working to get his waistcoat off but clearly was the sort of person who had his Butler dress him every morning.

"Oh, get out of the way. Its other name is Holy Basil and it helps with stress. You're quite useless here, so repeat what I asked you to do and then go do it."

She was at his shirt and undoing it and the Duke turned around.

"Hot pot of chamomile... feverfew... willow... And then some elderberry syrup and a sprig of that Holy stuff. Basil! Holy Basil!"

"Good, now go! And no one must know he's ill, Ric. Just tell them I am feeling under the weather...a bit...but it's normal. As in monthly fever. That will do it."

He nodded and left them, and Chammielle reached for his stockings.

By the time she'd gotten him stripped down, Chammielle had almost forgotten what this meant. She couldn't think of that now though. Her shyness about the male body had to be put aside to help him and keep his health a secret. It was her shyness towards her own husband that had made him like this in the first place. What an ironic twist.

She gripped his waist and pulled his arm over her shoulders. He was barely conscious, but tried to stand with her. The fever was taking him too quickly. She needed to get him into the water.

"Chammielle..."

"It's alright...just going to get you into the tub."

"I'm...cold..."

He was burning up.

"There's a nice hot bath for you."

She got one leg in and tried to keep her mind occupied as she helped him. Things like how this was all her fault so she needed to stop being such a big baby.

"I...need...to undress..."

"I already undressed you, Will. Come on now. Sit down... There. Doesn't that feel good?"

He sighed as the water's warmth seeped into him. She cradled his head and saw the light dance across the water. He would be alright. This was good for him.

Beads of condensation trickled down his cheeks and she checked his forehead every once in a while. The water was warmer than him and increasing. She closed the vents below the tub a little to keep the coals from burning up too fast.

"Chammielle..."

His eyes were closed but he had a smile.

"Will, I'm having tea brought."

"Bells loves tea..."

He was delirious and she needed to keep his attention.

"Bells? Who is Bells, Will?"

"My nana, she cared for me when mom was gone..."

She stroked his hair and felt the heat. He'd been warm this morning, but nothing like this.

"Auntie Bells loves me like mom...she makes me feel safe...like you..."

Her heart felt squeazed in a vice. The more he spoke the guiltier she felt.

"Don't, Will! It's my fault you're like this. But I promise you, I'm going to protect you from now on. I promise."

"Chammielle... we're the same, you know? ...Bells cared for me when my mom was gone... Your grandfather cared for you when your mom was gone... I owe your family... Every one..."

She saw the first bead of sweat fall from his brow and she guessed this fever would break soon. Now if only Alfric would hurry with the tea.

"Hush, you owe nobody a thing. I'm here for you. You beautiful man, I'm not leaving your side. They can all think we're rumply pumplers or something, and I'll stay with you. No one will be the wiser."

There was a small knock and she closed her mouth. Will opened his to speak and she kissed him to shut him up. The knock came again and it was the voice of a maid. Probably the one who was delivering their meal. How was she going to get them to go away?

Will moaned and reached for her, kissing her deeper even if his lips and hand felt weak. It came to her then.

"Oh...Will...!"

She let her voice raise up a bit, but still heard the maid outside. Her face flamed, but she needed to do this.

"Yes! Yes! Will! Ooooh!"

She grabbed his coat off the floor, wound it about her hand and beat it lightly on her thigh.

"Will...!"

The voice outside cut off abruptly and she guessed the intruder had finally heard her. Small footsteps hurried away into silence along with the light clattering of silverware and dishes. Chammielle breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded a little haggard considering her deep embarrassment, but she was relieved.

"Chammielle..."

She glanced back at Will and caught sight of him.

His eyes were glossy and he was trying to climb out of the tub. His body dripped with water and his skin looked rosy. And the rest of him was...

"Will! You need to sit down!"

"But I'm clean..."

She eased him back into the bath and he sighed and seemed comfortable. Now that she had gotten a fuller view of him, she couldn't help herself. She let her fingers stroke and become tangled within his hair, and her eyes tentatively glanced over him. The planes of his skin sunken under the water looked rosier and magnified.

"Chammielle! I brought tea."

Her face retained its blush as she went to Alfric and took the tray from him. She couldn't look him in the eye knowing what she'd been doing in his absence. He was helpful, but a silly and innocent person.

"Thank you, Ric. Um, perhaps you could stay awhile? Keep me company in case he needs anything else."

"Alright, but I will admit I am quite useless when it comes to these things. As you've seen, my fingers do not do well with buttons, much less the finer care of an invalid."

She nodded and poured the tea, muddling a bit of the Tulsi into it and letting it steep a minute until cool enough for him to drink it. She added the elderberry syrup last. Duke Columbine sat on the couch and seemed to mind his own business for the most part. She was grateful.

"Will, here. Drink this."

She brought it to his lips and his hand came up to tip it. He drank deeply and his smile widened the same as it had earlier in the morning.

"That's delicious."

"Good. There is more."

She made another cup and saw that he finished it off entirely.

"I think he's going to be alright. Help me get him out of the water."

"Isn't he feeling better yet? I'm sure he could stand himself..."

She peered at the neatly pressed and festidious man. He was wearing a dusty rose colored suit today, with rose buds lining the cuffs and gems. Seemed he did not want to ruin them. Considering he'd be leaving here when she wouldn't, it was understandable.

"Pull a cloth over you and get over here and help me. We need to dry him off and get him into bed."