Cold stone walls dripped with condensation. A moldy smell lingered in the air and assaulted the nostrils alongside a battalion of offensive odors. The place echoed with any little sound, though the sound of prisoners was scarce.

Chammielle held her head high as she made her way through the narrow corridor. Sir Rosenblum was at her side and two knights of the Order of the Daffodil flanked her behind and followed Duchess Columbine before her. They made quite the party in this sunless and dank place.

They stopped at the guard's station, and the three men on duty stood at attention before them. Chammielle noted one of them presented symptoms of a head cold. Alfrina spoke for them.

"Her highness is here to tour the dungeons. Tell us, how many are locked away here?"

The guards appeared shocked but the freshest face answered quickly.

"Seventeen, Duchess Columbine."

"And how long are your shifts here?"

The one with the head cold coughed and his comrade spoke quickly to cover for him.

"Twelve hours a shift. We rotate days and nights for two weeks, and then have three days off before we're back on again."

Twelve hour days for two weeks?

She cleared her throat and Alfrina looked back at her.

"Duchess, might we mark this auspicious occasion for these fine guards? Perhaps we might call down a pot of hot chocolate and some cake for them?"

She nodded but hid her smile as she returned to them.

"It seems her highness wishes to reward you for your service. Call for your kitchen boy so we may give him the Princess's orders directly."

They scuffled to do so directly and Chammielle looked about the homey little station they'd made for themselves down here in the dark.

A few candles were lit and one bunk with no blankets sat along one wall. A desk with stationary for them to write their daily logs was in the brightest corner, and two chairs made up the whole of their furniture beside. An old banner stitched with the Royal Guard's code of honor hung pitifully on the back wall.

What benefit was there in being down in this pit of misery for a good portion of your career?

The kitchen boy came and ran off to alert the cooks. Chammielle decided they needed better quarters down here. A wall for their weapons and a few uncomfortable pieces of furniture was nothing. And the standards of cleanliness needed looking into.

"Sir Rosenblum, you're a man of loyalty and ambition, are you not?"

Augustus scratched at his head in his boyish way, and she wondered if he knew it made others lose confidence in him.

"I suppose so, your highness."

"You're being too modest. As a man of such ambitions, how would you feel working in such conditions as these?"

It was clear from his honest face he didn't want to be here long, and the idea of remaining in the dungeon even as a guard left a horrified expression in his eyes even as he tried to smile.

"I go where your highness sends, Princess."

She found she couldn't laugh as easy with the smell, but chuckled for punctuation.

"It is as I feared."

The three guards looked on, unsure what this all meant. Chammielle was certain they had never been exposed to a royal inspection before. The sick one hid his coughing and tried to remain behind his co-workers.

"Begging your pardon, your highness...but we are at a loss as to why someone as important as yourself would come down here."

The older one looked like he was sure he'd get a beating, and she smiled kindly at him.

"I understand. His highness the Crown Prince has many duties in the fairer portions of the Pink Palace. But he remembers there are things that take place in the dark. I am here as the other half of the Crown to clean house as it were. These conditions are unsuitable for prisoners, much less our esteemed and loyal prison guards. It is my hope to rectify these things, and bring a little light to the darkness."

The three stood a little straighter. Hope oozing into their pale faces. How long they'd been down here was unacceptable. The first thing she wanted for all of them was a vacation. Perhaps she could make it a retreat, disguise it as an annual training review. Somewhere sunny and delightful. The Castle Fort in Central Garten perhaps...

"Your highness," Alfrina drew her attention. "While we wait for the hot chocolate and cake, why don't you have a look around. I am sure there are things you would like to see to here."

"You are quite right, Duchess. Gentlemen, may I know your names?"

They stood at attention and sounded off with as much pride as they could muster.

"Victor Onsten, your highness!"

"Huck Rose, your highness!"

"Hans *sniffle* Taylor, your highness!"

She inclined her head to them, unable to give much more reverence than was acceptable for her new station in life. But for them it seemed more than enough. As if her nod gave their lives meaning. She was going to have to get used to that. Eventually.

Their little party moved down the row of cells. She was happy to find most of them empty. The ones that did have prisoners were clean at least. Fresh straw was placed on the floors to sop up the damp.

She lowered her voice for them.

"Alfrina, what are most of these prisoners here for?"

"Why does her highness think I would know?"

She turned her coy fox face to her and Chammielle shot her a sarcastic look. Alfrina let her mirth be known with a small smirk. Even the guards down here knew who she was. It was no secret that the Duchess of Columbine had reached far into the depths of even the most despairing places. And hardly anyone actually knew of her besides.

"Half of them are here for plotting against the monarchy. Not very big plots mind you, all but one was sure to fail. The other half are spies we've uncovered within the palace in the last six months. And then of course there's the reason we're here..."

Chammielle glanced once more at the fungus growing in the crevices and shuddered. She didn't care if they did want to see her harm. The place could be a lot cleaner and brighter. The drudgery was affecting the guards.

"What about the spy Godfrey mentioned to me?"

"Oh, he is not being held here. We have a special inner interrogation quarter of cells for such cases. You went there after the ball."

"Ah...yes. Good."

They made their way down and she found herself nearing the last cell door at the end. She could hear mumbling inside.

"...that little weed...when I'm Queen..."

One of her knights stepped forward and pounded on the door.

"You have a visitor."

Pale hands gripped the bars and a bruised face peered between them. She sneered and what Chammielle had known of the old Ammorettallia was no longer there. She was pitiful and hateful.

"You!"

She nodded to her entourage and gave Alfrina a look.

"Leave me with her. I wish to speak to Lady Aconia alone."

The Duchess waved her hand and the knights fell back and headed down to secure the corridor. But her friend remained against the wall alongside the door in the dark.

"Hello, Ammorettallia."

She spit and it fell short.

"What do you want? Come to see me before you have me beheaded?"

"Is that what you'd like? I was considering having you drawn and quartered for nearly killing my sister. I suppose a beheading would be much more humane..."

"You ill bred waif! You cannot think I would go down so easily. Do you really think you with those muddy could ever be adored by his highness?! Or this people? You're nothing but a weed sitting on a throne built for a Pink!"

Her words about her freckles stung, but she wouldn't show it. The proof was already on her side. They didn't mean anything but the beliefs of a sad woman hungry for power and hateful in every way.

She smiled at her, allowing the pity she felt for this shadow of a woman color it.

"Of course I am a weed. But even weeds have flowers. You believed so or else you would not have tried to kill me. These spots you so hate, he loves. He kisses them readily and I cannot think anything you say is true... I'll just ask you one question, and just the one, then I'll leave you alone."

She paused, watching the hatred roil on that bruised face.

"I was your target, but what did you think when Aster's blood was shed in the ballroom?"

Her face became sunken, and her eyes she'd once found lovely and perfect seemed cold and unfeeling.

"I thought it was a shame he missed his target."

She didn't know what she had expected, but her words hung in the air. Ammorettallia was hardly a person any longer. She thought she was powerful and perhaps even that she'd escape and get revenge, but the beautiful lady now stood in a cell ravaged by all her ruined plans and fallen castles she'd built in her schemes. She was just pathetic.

"Thank you. I'll leave you be."

And she turned and walked away.

Lady Aconia's screams followed after her and echoed in every chamber in the dungeon. Vile rants about her appearance. About her qualifications. About her birth. It didn't matter.

The Order of the Daffodil rallied around her and they made their way back to the guard's station.

...

Alfrina sighed as she closed the door to her private office behind her. A smile on her face, but a weight in her chest.

"Where have you been?"

Her eyes spied the bulky man leaning against her desk. His red lips a refined line on his otherwise colorless face. Except for those cold eyes.

"Godfrey, how did you find my office?"

"I know castles and secret passages well, Duchess. Castle Blut is rife with them."

She unpinned her dark cloak and lay it across her couch. She had reports to look over, and it seemed he'd brought her some personally.

"You're a clever man, Godfrey. Careful you're not too clever for the sake of your own neck."

He let a finger stray to a page she'd left out.

"Who are they?"

"What?"

"The unknown spy, he's not giving up his origins. There can only be a few families who have those sorts of resources to procure such a spy that can spread false information during torture. Who are they? And who do you suspect?"

She sighed and sat down at her desk. Massaging her temples.

"You had to ask that question. And here I'd had such a pleasant day..."

"Doing what?"

"I was in the dungeons. It seems Lady Aconia is getting her just desserts at last. She isn't too happy about it. Put a bounce in my step."

He chuckled lightly and leaned towards her.

"So? Who do you suspect?"

She leaned back and crossed her arms. Staring at a point across the green room.

"My problem lies in the fact that I don't know who they are. I have my list of those who'd fit the bill nicely, but none of them have made any sort of move. There have been whispers--and I mean two and very hushed--that there is some sort of disgraced Earl or something that is doing things in the dark anonymously. But I can't think they'd be any worse than you..."

"It pains me you see me so."

"I'm sure it does."

She picked up a report and glanced over it. Speed reading before she could speak again.

"I want you to go about your usual ways within the black market. They're probably wondering where you've been. You can take the shipment of opium we seized four months ago. I'll have it delivered the usual way. Keep an eye out for anyone suspicious."

He strode across the room and picked up one of her canes. He pulled at it and discovered the sword hidden within. He looked amused.

"An entire shipment? Don't you think that would raise suspicion?"

"Possibly, but you can spin it as your reason for being absent so long. The transactions you need to watch out for should seem peculiar. Such as why would someone buy an outdated wax seal from some pitiful little estate sale? These sorts of things."

He nodded and she pinned her gaze on him all at once.

"And Godfrey...I know what you're doing. His highness's orders remain in place. Hands off."

He smiled devilishly. If Alfrina had any desire for someone like him, she might have found it handsome. But such people she worked with. She didn't play with them.

"My hands will remain off. If she happens to fall into my arms though, I cannot make any promises."

He stepped out of the room and the only sound was the click of the door.

She lay down the parchment and steepled her fingers.

He was gone from her sanctuary, but the chill from his presence remained. For all of her expertise in the field of strategy, using people as pawns in this game of protecting the Crown, some pieces were just too difficult to predict when they'd move on their own.

"Bram...you genius, you need to be more careful about what you plot behind our backs. You're putting yourself in a very dangerous position, my friend."