- - -

Baron Bryant smiled as he and his family explored the festival. Isabel hadn’t seemed this happy since before Catherine, and though he was disappointed that he couldn’t bring the girl, he was satisfied with this temporary serenity. Besides, he was sure that Isabel would warm to Catherine eventually, especially after the plan succeeded. She was a practical woman, after all.

“Daddy! I wanna go in there!”

Briana pointed at a mysterious purple tent decorated with golden stars. A fortune teller, perhaps. The baron didn’t believe in nonsense like that, since magic researchers had proven countless times that it was impossible to see into the future. Nevertheless, he nodded.

“Certainly, sweetheart.”

Briana took her mother’s hand in one hand and her father’s in the other, and merrily skipped to the tent. The baron lifted the flaps that acted as doors and was immediately assaulted by an assortment of strange smells, mostly sweet and not unpleasant, but too intense to be comfortable. Still, his daughter happily barged in.

The space seemed larger on the inside than it was on the outside, and most of it was shrouded in eerie shadows. The only light came from numerous dim candles that did more in releasing faintly coloured and strong-smelling fumes than in illuminating. In the center was a small table with a crystal ball, before it, an empty chair, and behind it, a woman wearing a dark veil. The woman stretched out a hand.

“Welcome, dear guests. Shall I tell your fortunes?”

Her voice was melodic and soothing, but slightly raspy. She could’ve been a young maiden or an old crone, but the baron recognized exactly what she was, and stiffened. Briana took a step forward, and the woman beckoned.

“Come, child. Sit.”

The baron quickly evaluated his options and decided it was best to do nothing. This being was far too powerful to risk offending, and while she had appeared mostly reasonable in their dealings, there was no telling with the eccentricities of immortals. Briana went towards her and sat down on the little chair.

“What is your name, child?”

“Lady Briana Victoria Bryant!”

“Ah, I see…”

The woman stroked the crystal ball, and a dark mist began to form within. It swirled and danced, and vague shapes emerged, but never lingered long enough to be understood by the baron’s mortal eye. The woman delicately reached across the table and touched Briana’s hand.

“You will lose a dear friend soon,” she said. “But worry not, for you can do nothing to stop it. It will be painful, yes, and cause great conflict around you, but such will be the way of the world. You will be a duchess in an era of suffering, but you are strong, so you will survive.”

Briana tilted her head for a second, then nodded solemnly. She leapt off the stool and ran to her mother.

“I’m going to be a duchess, Mommy! But I’m hungry, so I want a donut!”

Isabel glanced at the baron warily. The baron smiled in reassurance, pretending that he wasn’t even more unsettled than she was. He quickly threw a few coins onto the table, and the woman looked up at him.

“Won’t you like your fortune told, sir? I believed it’d be useful.”

He shook his head, took Isabel’s arm, and wheeled his family out of the tent. When they were a safe distance away, he let go and patted his pockets.

“Take Briana for some donuts, dear,” he said to his wife. “I must’ve forgotten my pocket watch back at that fortune teller’s. I’ll go look for it and meet you by the fountain.”

Isabel nodded, and the baron headed back slowly. It was the same dread he always felt before their meetings, never knowing for sure if he would return alive. When he arrived, his blood ran colder still, for knights surrounded the tent. Stoneshire and Avington, by the crests on their armour. The crown prince and his fiancee, together in public again…?!

He pretended to study a stall nearby, and a few minutes later, just as he’d predicted, the young couple emerged. He had long mastered the art of blending into the crowd, so he was certain that they did not see him. Out of the corner of his eyes, he observed that the lady was smiling, while the prince was as stoic as ever. How he wished his Catherine could be even half as elegant as Lady Valentina! Alas, the charm of her simplicity must do to spin the tale, however little good that had done, so far.

Their appearance meant that the queen must’ve been defeated, so the baron began planning new arrangements in his head. The process wasn’t very productive, as he was desperate to learn how to factor in the development of their encounter with the being. As soon as he was sure the couple was out of the complete vicinity of the tent, he slipped inside.

“What is the meaning of this, Madame Albrecht?”

“Oh? Hello, Baron. Have you changed your mind about learning your fortune?”

The woman lifted her veil over her head, revealing long silver hair framing a ghostly pale face with gracefully sharp features. She looked, as she was, ageless. A smile curled on her blood red lips, and the baron clenched his fist.

“I don’t have time for your games. What did His Highness and Lady Valentina want?”

“Naturally, when one comes to a fortune teller’s tent, one expects their fortune told.”

“And what did you tell them?”

“The truth, as my work ethic demands. But don’t worry, I didn’t reveal any of our little secrets.”

Baron Bryant let out a sigh of relief internally. Good grief, that had scared him.

“What lies in their future?”

“That’s for me and them to know, and for you to find out.”

“Very well. What about my daughter? What is this conflict and suffering she must go through?”

The woman studied him and chuckled.

“It’s touching that you’re so concerned about her, though I find the inequality of your treatment towards your offspring quite interesting. I do not know everything about the future, my dear baron, and if I did, I would not divulge it to you, because that would be no fun, and because frankly, I find you repulsive. I have told the girl everything I’ve glimpsed, and the rest is for her to live. I could, if you wish, tell your fortune.”

“No, thank you.”

Baron Bryant swallowed. This being was the one exception to all his beliefs, for the impossible was exactly what he’d come to her for. He’d always believed fate to be something unknown, and therefore unchangeable, which creates a paradox if he were to learn it beforehand. He did not have the energy to ponder existence when more practical matters demanded his attention.

“Did you come here tonight for pure… amusement?”

“Oh, no, though I must admit that was the bigger part of it. I also came to bid you goodbye. As dull as our acquaintance has been, I think that is the proper etiquette.”

The baron frowned.

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere more entertaining. Perhaps I’ll take over the world, visit my supposed father, or just find a new apprentice. Regardless, I doubt that you’ll ever see me again.”

“What of our deal?”

“The grimoires you’re providing are steadily decreasing in intrigue, and believe me when I say I know the look of a man slowly being bled dry. I’ve invested the gold, and if I spend it wisely, it’ll last me the better part of the century. I’m not wholly inconsiderate, of course, so here is my entire supply of what you asked for.”

She took out a small chest and slid it across the table. Baron Bryant opened it and did some quick calculations. Combined with what he had left, there was about enough for a year of steady doses. He nodded.

“Thank you. Is there any last word of wisdom you can give me?”

The woman gazed into her crystal ball and seemed to look at something very far away. She spoke quietly and slowly.

“Pity, pity… Treasure what you have, baron. You will attain what you want, but lose all that you truly care for.”

Baron Bryant stood abruptly, nodded his goodbye, and strode out of the tent without looking back. Vague nonsense, that was all! He had real problems to worry about, such as adjusting his plan to fit with this new schedule, and finding out details of the queen’s defeat, not that he expected anything very surprising. The grand duchess was likely involved, she and Queen Josephine never did get along.

Either way, the game was one step closer to its end.

- - -

Early in the evening, Ophelia Avington arrived at the queen’s quarters with a bottle of wine. She smiled at the lady-in-waiting, who quickly went in to announce her, and was let in a moment later. She set the wine down on a table nearby and curtsied.

“Good evening, Your Majesty.”

“Oh? I was not expecting you, Grand Duchess. Do sit down.”

The queen got up from her desk and went with the grand duchess to the couch. Her expression was carefully neutral, and the grand duchess wondered gleefully how long it would remain so.

“I’m sorry for intruding upon you, but I found this lovely bottle of aged wine. Why, when I saw that it was from the year I debuted, I was overcome with the urge to reminisce about past times with an old friend.”

The grand duchess detected the faintest bit of stiffening around the queen’s lips and smirked within. Queen Josephine returned her smile with a dazzle truly befitting of the old days.

“How very considerate of you, Lady Avington. Shall we?”

Ophelia poured them both a glass. They toasted and drank, and Ophelia felt herself coming alive as the warm liquid bubbled down her throat. It was going to be a long night, and she was going to enjoy every bit of it.

- - -

“Who are you to defy Lady Valentina’s wishes?”

“The queen gave strict orders. No one is to disturb the prince.”

Mikhail glared at the knight opposing him coldly. He raised his voice.

“Lady Valentina is his fiancee. Is he so unworthy of her that-”

“Watch your mouth!”

The door outside which they were arguing opened, and a cold voice prevented the two knights from getting any further.

“What is this commotion?”

The prince emerged, holding a piece of paper, on which Mikhail glimpsed his lady’s handwriting. His Highness saw him looking and folded it, placing it into his pocket. The knights kneeled in greeting, and Mikhail spoke quietly.

“Lady Valentina would like you to accompany her to the festival, Your Highness.”

“Your Highness-”

Before the other knight could finish his protest, a lady came into the hall. Mikhail recognized her as one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. She was tense and her voice shook slightly.

“Her Majesty says that since His Highness has been extremely productive in his studies, he is free to do whatever he wishes from this time forward.”

The corner of the prince’s lips twitched.

“Prepare the usual. I am going out,” he said to his knight. Then, he turned to Mikhail. “Inform your lady that I will be at her manor shortly. Also, convey my apologies, and tell her that I look forward to seeing her.”