Cernlia as a country had been rather adversely affected by the civil war. It was obvious in many little signs, more so than the large, sweeping political changes. The price of bread, the average quality of clothes worn by citizens, the prices demanded by adventurers or mercenaries and the number of those present to look for work … Kiara had started keeping track, putting her education in bookkeeping to good use. She wished she’d started taking records at the beginning of the war, or even before that, but she’d not thought of it then.

She was depressingly uncertain whether her father knew about these indicators or not. He must have been aware of the general state of the country and its citizens, of course, but somehow she couldn’t quite see him tracking the specifics like this. His record-keeping would be full of how many men he had been promised by various smaller lords. Which was, of course, perfectly reasonable and advisable since he was waging a war, and needed them.

She had been beginning to doubt that Marquis Lyns, who was already preparing to style himself king, was really using the funds provided by Regina’s Hive effectively.

Kiara wished Janis was here. Unfortunately, neither of them had the deep knowledge of merchant’s habits, trading routes and what Regina called economic theory she would really need, but Janis was smart and Kiara knew she’d learned a lot from the Hive. As it was, she was stuck trying to teach herself what she needed to know about economics, while also being occupied with her other pursuits.

She had been exchanging letters with Janis as well as other members of the Starlit Hive. What she’d certainly not advertised to her father or his followers was that Kiara had also made an effort to correspond with people in Nerlia, especially the Hive’s new zone of control. She wanted to get a better picture of exactly what they were doing, and, if possible, how. It wouldn’t hurt their own efforts to recover from the effects of the civil war, she felt sure. And if she got more technical details, Kiara wasn’t going to complain. She doubted Regina would even mind if she used it.

Still, none of the progress she’d made felt like it mattered enough, was enough, right now. As Kiara stared down at what she couldn’t help but think of as evidence of another failure, she wondered for a moment why she even bothered. Did I really think I would be able to do anything?

She shook her head, chiding herself for the thought. No one ever said this would be easy. That does not mean I should do nothing. And at least now she knew more than she did before.

It didn’t erase the burning guilt she felt as she looked down at the fresh corpse twisting in the wind as it hung from the newly erected gallows. It hadn’t been long enough for carrion birds to get at it, and his clothes looked almost disturbingly neat and clean. The dead man had not been a noble, but he’d been in the process of earning his knighthood. Before her father had ordered his execution, that was.

Kiara sighed and ran a hand through her hair, making sure to step back first. The balcony of the manor house was visible from below, and she’d rather not give any signs of the emotional turmoil she was feeling. He didn’t even do anything, she thought plaintively. Leon Iverns had been a follower of Duke Bluegrass, happy to work for her as well. She’d only sent him to gather some information, talk to people to confirm her reports, expand on them, get a sense of the pulse of the army and how the people were feeling. Maybe leave a few hints that Marquis Lyns’ policies could be improved if it seemed appropriate. She hadn’t even thought of him as a spy, not really.

Once they were allowed to take him down, she’d make sure he was buried with all honors. She’d already learned that he had no close family to speak of, who might have needed financial aid in the wake of his death.

"Milady?” Margaret asked. “There is no use standing outside like this. Please come in.”

Kiara shook her head, but turned and stepped back through the balcony door into the house. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket to warm them up; the air had started to have a bite to it recently, especially at this early hour. The weather was not what interested her, however.

Margaret, she noted, did not look much better than her. The girl had dark circles under her eyes, even if they were skillfully concealed, and her blond hair looked a bit frazzled. The look of concern in her eyes was what really stood out to her, though, and Kiara quickly averted her gaze instead of meeting it.

“Why not, Gret?” she asked quietly. “What else should I be doing?”

Her friend took a determined step forward and laid her hands on her shoulders, causing Kiara to look up to stare at her again. “Not like this, Kiara,” she said. “Perhaps you made a mistake, perhaps not. You did not tell Iverns to arrogate royal authority and you certainly did not tell your father to accuse him of that if he had not. Yours was not the hand that killed him, or the one who signed the order.“

Kiara exhaled deeply, making sure it didn’t come out unsteady by pure will. “Fine,” she said. “Fine. It was my father’s fault. Is that what you want to hear?”

“It was certainly his responsibility,” Margaret Bluegrass replied. “And don’t mistake me, Kiara, I am not the only one who sees that. You are not the only one upset by this, or by what it means.”

She frowned. “You are not just saying that to cheer me up.”

Margaret barked a laugh. “Hardly. I do not need to tell you that people are looking to you for guidance, Milady. And some of those are bound to look at what happened to poor Leo and wonder. Many will be angry, are angry, for more than this reason. They want something to be done.”

Kiara frowned, making herself focus on the political issue in front of her. What Margaret was saying rang true. Some of them might desert me because of this, she thought. But that wasn’t what her friend was driving at and she knew why. Not very many. Most likely less than Father would expect. Everyone who had stuck with her so far knew the score. Her father had not been entirely subtle in trying to corral her power, her following.

I am supposed to be the crown princess, she thought, a touch bitterly. If he insists on being king, that would be my place. Not an interloper he has to drive out. I’m supposed to be his daughter, not an enemy he has to fight. Have I ever given him cause for it? Certainly, I’ve sought out supporters, but anyone would. They are all his men. I’ve followed his orders obediently, fought loyally.

She knew why it was not that simple, of course. That did not make it easy to stomach.

“I know,” she said. “This will not simply pass unremarked.”

Margaret clearly saw something in her expression. She smiled. “Good. Follow me.”

Kiara swallowed further questions and followed her friend. She supposed it had to be better than staying cooped up and wallowing in this room. They stepped out onto the corridor, then Margaret kept walking with quick strides, clearly moving with purpose and a goal in mind. Kiara followed, glancing around. Few people were out and about in the mansion they were currently staying at. The local baron had surrendered to her father before a single sword had needed to be drawn, but since he had previously followed one of their enemies, the marquis had still not shown him much favor. Kiara and the rest of his family along with close retainers were quartered in the baron’s home, but there was little space for more guests. Some of the decorations had clearly been taken down at some point.

They did not linger, but quickly reached the basement. Kiara focused on her more arcane senses, but could not find anything out of place or suspicious. She supposed the wine cellar was as good a place to meet as any, and they might stay ‘under the radar’ of her father by actually meeting here. She opened the door and entered, letting Margaret follow her in. As she’d expected, there were only half a dozen people in the room, not counting the two of them. Not all of Bluegrass’ or her own followers would be suitable even if they were available.

As soon as she entered, they turned to her, stood and bowed formally. More deeply than usual, she noted, more appropriate for a royal princess than a marquis’ daughter, and they held it until she cleared her throat and nodded to them.

“It’s good to see you here,” the young Marquis Relains, recently ascended after his father’s death (and to a much-reduced title), spoke. “We will need your guidance on how to deal with this turn of events, Your Highness.”

Kiara glanced at Margaret. The other woman’s return smile reminded her once more that she was a paladin of the god of Struggle. It was easy to forget, usually. Not today.

“I do not intend to do anything hasty,” she said. “That said, my father has clearly shown his hand, and we cannot expect fair treatment if something like this were to happen again. We will need to make preparations.”

“Is that all?” Theraln asked.

“Of course not,” Kiara responded, controlling her tone. “I do not intend to just sit around and wait while my esteemed father sharpens knives for our backs. But do not mistake me, I do not want this to come to violence, and in the current situation, I feel that is a real danger.”

There were nods from everyone, some more reluctant than others.

“I realize this goes against the grain,” Duke Bluegrass spoke up. “But do you think there might be a chance of solving this by talking things out with the help of a mediator?”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” Relains muttered. He was much more loyal than his predecessor, but also struck her as a bit brash. Perhaps she was being uncharitable, though.

“It is not a bad idea,” Kiara said, relaxing just a little. “It will just be hard to find someone suitable. I would have suggested you, my lord duke.”

Bluegrass shook his head. “While I am certainly willing to give it a try, Milady, I fear at this point he may see me as too deeply aligned with you to be trustworthy in the matter.”

“Perhaps an outsider?” Margaret suggested.

“Well, Hive Queen Regina did recently assure me I could count on her help.” Kiara frowned. She truly appreciated that assurance. “It would only be similar but worse, however.”

"Perhaps one of the few lords who have not been deeply involved in either side of this struggle?”

They continued talking, discussing various possibilities. None of those particularly appealed to Kiara, but she would not spurn them just because they weren’t ideal. She’d give them a chance, at least. They arranged that Bluegrass would approach most of them, in order to cautiously sound out their feelings, if they might be prepared to step into such a position. Kiara and a few of the others would also keep an eye and an ear open. There is not much else we can do at the moment, she told herself. It was not a comfortable thought.

“I thank you all for your advice and assistance,” Kiara told them as the conversation trailed off. “I will not forget it.”

Still, as she left the room again, she could not help the thought of how many of them she would still see at her back when all of this was over. Not because they would be dead, but because they might decide otherwise.

Margaret left with her, seemingly sensing her thoughts and staying quiet. To distract herself, Kiara decided to visit the stables, waving Margaret off. She always found the smells and sounds, the company of horses calming.

At least someone was happy to see her. She ambled through the stone building, greeting her father’s horses in their stalls, and taking a few apples from a nearby basket to give them treats. She knew the stable hands would be upset with her for it, but she didn’t care.

Kiara must have spent half an hour in there, more than she truly had time for, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret the time spent. When she stepped outside again, she blinked against the morning light. The clouds had cleared up and the sun was shining brightly again.

It glittered off the armor of the soldiers awaiting her, standing in a semi-circle, all of them carrying weapons and most of them with their hands on their hilts.

Kiara startled, almost flinched back, and tried to think quickly. Margaret was already gone. A few other people lingered abound, and the scene was drawing more of a crowd. None of her supporters were close. Not a coincidence, perhaps.

“Yes?” she asked them, putting all the imperiousness she could into her tone. “Were you looking for me?”

One of the soldiers stepped forward and bowed. A captain she didn’t recognize. It was interesting he was talking instead of Sir Renard, a knight who she was passingly familiar with and who stood there looking a bit uncomfortable. “Milady, your royal father has sent us to find and escort you.”

“Escort me?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow and looking directly at the knight. “Sir, what is going on?”

He stiffened. “Lady Kiara, we are taking you into custody on His Lordship’s orders. There have been threats, and concerns over your safety. I am sure they will be dismissed swiftly. For now, you will be confined to your rooms.”

She stared at him, her eyes widening a little. It would be obvious to everyone he was not actually concerned about her safety. They’re placing me under house arrest. They didn’t even bother to truly hide it. I suppose it’s better than being outright imprisoned. Did he catch wind of the meeting just now and decide to react?

Either way, there was no chance she could fight them off and little reason to try. She dismissed the thought immediately. She couldn’t mess this up.

Kiara took a deep breath, then a step forward. “Very well,” she said, clinging to her dignity. “Let us be off, then.”

As they closed ranks around her, it did not feel like an escort or honor guard.