Titania steepled her fingers and glanced between her horrified brother and the blushing Frances Windwhistler. She drew particular pleasure from the look of discomfort and embarrassment on Frances’s face.

“Sister, isn’t that a bit too far?” Timur asked.

“Oh come on. You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried. Did you meet once upon a time and had a wild tryst? I didn’t realize you liked them so young, brother.” The princess very deliberately met Frances’s wide, panicked eyes. “After all, don’t you and Olgakaren stay over in each other’s rooms on occasion?”

Frances flinched, her eyes snapping at Timur. The thinking part of her head knew that the prince was handsome and it made sense others courted him. They weren’t in a relationship anyway. She had no claim over him.

But when Timur shut his eyes and nodded, her heart just twisted with a hurt that didn’t make sense, and yet came all the same.

“So, brother. How do you know—”

“That’s none of your business, Titania!” The trogre stood up, his chair scraping backward. As his sister stared at him, he raised his hand across his chest, he bowed to Eleanor. “Madame Windwhistler, I must apologize for my sister’s rudeness. May I have a word in private with your granddaughter to rectify this? You have my word—”

“Get going already. Frances, if you need help, just shout,” said Eleanor. “Oh and don’t be afraid to slap him.”

Frances wiped the tears with her sleeve and struggled to her feet. “I… Timur, follow me, please.” Forcing herself to breathe, she walked and ran to the nearby lounge room, not even looking backward. The trogre prince did follow her, however, a look of deep concern on his features.

“Oh come on brother. She was bound to find out eventually,” said Titania.

Antigones touched his wife’s arm, drawing her gaze to him. The trorc found him shaking his head. Frowning, Titania heard glass shatter and her gaze shot back to the table.

Eleanor and Frances hadn’t been the only people eating with them. Several other Windwhistlers had joined them as well. Every single one of them was glaring at her. From the one-eyed Captain Eustace Windwhistler, the austere Eileen Windwhistler, to normally cheerful Dom and his ex-mercenary later city commander, troll husband Alexander. All of the Windwhistlers were glaring at Titania.

As to where the sound of shattering glass came from? It’d come from Paul, Eleanor’s elderly human husband. His right hand held the shattered remnants of his wine glass, which he’d smashed into the table.

Titania stiffened and took her wine glass to sip from it. She wasn’t going to yield. It would be stupid however to push any further, though.

“Apologize,” growled Paul. The elderly man had been quiet through most of the banquet. Titania had wondered what could a banshee of a woman like Eleanor see in the man. She wondered no longer as the ex-sailor flicked the broken pieces of glass from his cut hand and rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal a tapestry of tattoos.

Titania took a deep breath. “My brother is doing so on my behalf.”

Paul signalled the servants to leave. “I don’t think you get it, princess. You need to apologize, not your brother. We fed you, protected you, and you insult one of our family’s beloved children. Apologize to us, now, and once Frances comes out, you apologize to her.”

“But she’s not even related to you by blood. She’s an Otherworlder—”

Eleanor stood up so quickly her seat went flying backwards and slammed into the ground. Raising her right hand, she cried out a note that summoned green fires around her hand.

“One more insult and I’ll throw you out of our mansion, princess, negotiations be damned!”

Titania knew she had nothing to fear from the elderly woman, even if she was only now remembering that the Windwhistler matriarch had been a mage and a duellist in her younger years. Still, she jumped in her seat.

“Pardon my wife, Madame Windwhistler. I believe her last comment was an observation,” said Antigones.

“Yes,” Titania stammered. She swallowed and composed herself. “I simply find it odd that you care so deeply for her when you’ve known her for less than a year.”

“Apologize first and maybe we’ll entertain you,” said Paul. He reached over to touch his wife’s elbow, tugging it gently.

Although it galled her, Titania didn’t need her husband nudging her feet from under the table to tell her otherwise.

“I apologize for insulting you and your family, Madame and Master Windwhistler. I will apologize to your granddaughter when she finishes what she’s discussing with my brother,” said Titania.

Eleanor, grimly satisfied, sat back down, dismissing the green flames. “Good,” she said, before going right back to eating her dinner.

It took a second before it clicked for the princess. “You’re not going to—”

“No,” said Eleanor. Titania was restrained from doing anything more drastic than scowling by her husband, who nudged her, and arched an eyebrow at her. Grumbling, the princess shoved more food in her mouth.

---

Timur shut the door behind him, but didn’t lock it. That might send the wrong signal. That being said, the prince didn’t know what he wanted to say to Frances.

He faced her, bracing himself. She was still sniffling, her head buried in her hands even as she sat down on the couch.

“Frances, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t… I… what are you sorry for?”

Timur blinked. He’d been building a list of ways to apologize to Frances as they’d walked, all of which was suddenly irrelevant.

“I’m sorry—I mean, what do you mean?”

“We’re not—We’re not a couple. I know that. We’re just friends.” Frances wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I shouldn’t be crying.”

Timur tried to speak, promptly failed to form words and decided to just sit down across from Frances.

“Why are you crying then?”

Frances’s cheeks reddened again and she buried her face back in her hands. Fresh sobs filled the room and Timur quickly produced his handkerchief and slid it across the coffee table. Taking it, Frances blew into it.

“I’m sorry. I… Timur, I have… I have feelings for you. I’ve had them for a while, I just didn’t realize it until recently. I know it’s stupid, we’re on opposite sides of the war, I just… I really like you, as more than just a friend.” Moaning, Frances pressed the handkerchief against her eyes. “It’s not you. It’s me. I hope you’re happy with um, Olgakaren. I just… I just can’t get a lid on my feelings, especially with your sister just throwing them out there for all to see.”

Timur swallowed. “Oh, um. I see.” The prince exhaled. “The thing is, I have feelings for you too.”

Frances’s arms dropped limply to her side. The handkerchief slid out of her numb fingers and fluttered to the floor.

“Wait, you do?”

“Yeah. But well, we are on opposite sides of the war and we don’t… we don’t really know each other.” Timur sighed as he rested his chin on his steepled fingers, wincing at the guilt clawing in his stomach. “I like you too, Frances, more than just as a friend. I just… I didn’t think you would think of me that way.”

Frances blinked. “Oh.”

Timur nodded. “The thing is, I’m not together with Olgakaren. We’re friends and we enjoy each other’s company. So…if… if you still are interested in a relationship, I know I am.”

“But why me? You’re… you’re a handsome, charming and kind prince. I’m… I’m an emotional wreck. I can’t even confess properly!”

Timur winced, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Honestly, I’m not that great either. Especially when compared to Titania. Bitchy as she is, she’s never done anything wrong. I talk too much, and I keep messing up. Alavari at court often call me the most un-Alavari prince in history.”

“Oh. I’m… I’m sorry about that,” said Frances.

Waving his hand, Timur smiled. “That’s on me, you don’t need to be sorry about it. As to why I like you, apart from you saving my life… you listen to me, even when I’m blabbering on, and you’re always so understanding. You… you should blame me for hurting you, but you don’t.” He looked up at her. “You don’t, right?”

“Oh no. You didn’t want to, and you always tried to heal me when you did. You, and Ivy’s Sting, saved my life.” Frances wiped her eyes again, but she was smiling now. “I always wanted to thank you for that. I couldn’t then, but… well, thank you, Timur.”

Timur blinked, his vision blurring. He reached for his handkerchief, remembered that he’d leant it to Frances and used his sleeve instead. “You’re welcome. And… thank you, for being understanding about Olgakaren.”

Something occurred to Frances. “Olgakaren… is she a harpy and the daughter of a general by any chance?”

“Yes.” Timur blinked. “No way, you know her?”

“I think I saved her life during Westfall. I… I couldn’t kill her so I healed her.” Frances crossed her arms, her face twisting into a pout. “Of course she ended up sleeping with you.”

Timur snorted. “The universe does seem to have a penchant for putting you in terrible situations. But… things are looking up for you, though. I heard Edana adopted you and well, you’re now the Stormcaller.”

“Yeah.” Frances swallowed. “But… I’m only the Stormcaller because… well I… I…”

Timur stiffened. “Oh, yeah. The war, I… when I was thinking of you, I was wondering how would this work, if you did like me. I still don’t have an answer.”

“I was wondering the same thing.” Frances swallowed. “I… I just want to get to know you better, Timur.”

“I do too. We… we can start there,” said Timur, smiling hesitantly.

Frances smiled back, relief, joy, and a little bit of hope, all mixed together. “So, um, would you like to go first?”

“Oh, um. It’s not that interesting. Certainly not as interesting as what you’ve been up to.” The trogre winced. “I’m not good at fighting on the field, and I don’t have my sister’s ability at assassination so I’ve been running around Alavari, fixing little disputes, talking to different Alavari local leaders, and showing my royal face.”

“What kind of disputes?” Frances asked.

“You know the kind where one village of centaurs or ogres are grazing their herds in the area of the other village because someone forgot and nobody can remember the original arrangement or more than often, someone thought it’s unfair and so they lied. I have to go around, tell them to behave or else, or if the original arrangement doesn’t make sense given changing circumstances, I need to alter the arrangement and make it so that it works for both parties.”

Timur said this so quickly Frances found it a little difficult to follow, but oddly enough his wild gestures with his hands did help her picture the scenario he was talking about.

“So you’re a kind of negotiator? Like what you are doing here?” Frances asked.

The trogre laughed. “Negotiator? Haha, oh I wish I was. I don’t have a diplomatic staff and only a few servants to manage my baggage. I’m just doing a little talking. Anybody could do it.”

Frances blinked, “Maybe, but I thought you did very well today. I… I don’t agree with you wanting to protect Helias, but you’re one of the few people I know who stood up to Grandma Eleanor.”

Timur blanched as it suddenly clicked for him... “Wait, she’s Edana Firehand’s mother?”

“Yeah.” Frances smiled. “So you can’t be that bad. Maybe you’re just being too hard on yourself.”

The prince chuckled. “Maybe.” He smiled at Frances. “What have you been up to?”

“Are you sure you want to know, Timur?” Frances asked, wrapping her arms around herself nervously. “I mean… I’ve been fighting a lot.”

“Ah, right. What have you been doing outside of fighting? I mean…” Timur blinked. “I never asked what your hobbies are.”

“I don’t think I know yours either. There just wasn’t the time. Um, would you like to go first?” Frances could feel her fingers drumming on her sides, she was that nervous.

“Oh uh, well, I like reading, drawing and geography. Not cartography, that’s like this whole different thing. Geography, you know, is the study of changes in the people and land itself. It’s crazy how Erisdale developed for example, as most of it is in this super inhospitable mountain range, but the mountains offer advantages too. Alavaria in contrast has all this land, but so much of it is boreal forest and so cold that it’s hard to use it all and—”

Frances squeaked. “Timur, I’m sorry, but um—”

The prince deflated. “Oh sorry, I was talking too much.”

“No! I think it’s interesting, and I want you to keep telling me about it, but I was wondering if you can slow down a little?” Frances asked.

“Wait, you’re not… bored?” Timur asked.

Frances shook her head, eyes wide. The disbelief in Timur’s voice was just hard for her to hear, and it didn’t make sense to her. It all sounded quite intriguing to her.

“No. I don’t know a lot about Alavaria. It’s nice to hear you know so much about your home.”

“Oh, thanks. Um, it’s just most Alavari I know don’t want to hear it.” Timur took a deep breath. “But like… maybe before I run my mouth on Alavaria’s Great White Forest, I’d like to know what your hobbies are.”

“Oh, um, cooking, reading, and well, magic,” said Frances, she smiled. “I really like fiction stories.”

“Ooh, I like history more, but I love a good work of literature. I didn’t think you’d like cooking. I mean um… well, uh…” Timur’s smile faded and his eyes widened to an almost comical size.

He looked so abashed that Frances couldn’t help but giggle. “Because my parents made me cook? I know. I was surprised too, and it’s very nice of you to remember that. I think it’s because I don’t have to cook for anybody but myself anymore. Besides, I also can bring joy to my friends by making snacks and food for them.” Frances shook her head. “But enough about me, you said you were going to tell me about Alavaria?”

Timur blinked. “Wait, you were serious?”

It was not the first time Frances had felt odd at Timur’s behaviour, but this was the moment that what he said alarmed her. She didn’t feel she was in danger, yet something about her friend’s behaviour didn’t seem normal.

Yet, it could be just her. She could just be seeing something that wasn’t there.

Master it isn’t just you. Your prince is extremely self-deprecating.

“Oh, thanks Ivy,” thought back Frances.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

You’re welcome. Um, would you like me to keep observing? I mean this is a private meeting and I wasn’t sure—

“Ivy, I trust you. In fact, I think I need your help. I don’t know for what, but something’s not right.” Taking a breath, Frances smiled, not only to put Timur at ease but to let her determined wand that she appreciated its help.

“Timur, I said I wanted to listen to you talk about your home, remember?”

“Yeah, I just… thought you might have changed your mind. Most do, I mean… sorry I’m making a fool of myself aren’t I?” Timur asked, wincing.

“I… I don’t think so. I think you seem a little nervous, like me.” Frances stood up. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but her instincts and her heart were telling her she needed to get closer. Going around the table, she sat next to Timur, not so close they were touching, but beside him nonetheless. “We can be nervous together.”

Frances immediately felt her cheeks go hot as she said that and groaned on the inside. She sounded just like one of the romance heroines she’d read about. It sounded so bad.

But that’s so sweet!

“Ivy not now please!” Frances looked up at Timur, wondering what he thought, and was only confronted by a beaming, joyful smile.

“Okay. Um, so… where was I?” he stammered.

“The Great White Forest,” said Frances with relief.

Timur snapped his fingers. “Right! So the Great White Forest…”

---

A few hours ago...

Ginger stood across Martin, arms crossed, one foot tapping the ground.“We shouldn’t go.”

“We really should meet my sister,” Martin said, quietly, but there was a certainty to his voice that Ginger already knew, meant that he’d made up his mind.

Ginger groaned, “Look, what if she wants us to meet with her just to tell us that we can’t be together!”

Martin shook his head. “Mara would have told us that upfront, and to be honest, I’m rather confused. You see… I thought she’d tell you to um… get lost as Frances and Elizabeth would say.”

“Why would she tell me to get lost—Oh it means to go away, I see.” Clapping her hands to her cheeks, Ginger straightened. “Why do you think Mara would have told us no, though?”

The knight fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, his thumbs rubbing together as he pressed his elbows into his knees.

Ginger frowned. “Martin…”

“Mara has always been very traditionalist,” Martin stammered. He looked up at his girlfriend, his eyes filled with shame. “That is to say, she is what other people I tend to agree with as a bigot, commoner-hating, and Alavari-despising. There’s a reason I don’t like to talk about her a lot. I love her, and I know she loves me, but we can’t agree on politics at all.”

“Oh, that explains her comment about not being very tolerant before. So… she has to have changed her mind is what you’re saying?” Ginger asked.

“That and I’m curious as to why she’s changed her mind. It might be related to what she wants to tell us and so I think we should go.” Martin stood up and gently took Ginger’s hands in his own. “If you aren’t comfortable, I will cover for you. I just think it might be beneficial to you as well for you to hear what she has to say directly.”

The convict breathed out and groaned. “Well… I’d like to go, but I have nothing proper to wear.”

Martin smiled, and to Ginger’s confusion, there was something sheepish about it. “Oh, about that. I didn’t want to pressure your decision so I didn’t tell you, but um, the rest of the girls offered to help and they’re waiting behind the door.”

Ginger snorted and walked over to the door, seizing the handle. “Really? Right, which of you are going to doll me up—”

The door swung open to reveal Frances, Elizabeth and Ayax all holding an assortment of items. These ranged from relatively normal things like dresses, combs, and face powder, to potions and cream containers, to more nightmarish looking items. Frances was actually carrying a pair of scissors, whilst Elizabeth had her arms full of a variety of bottles and colourful containers.

What truly made Ginger’s eyes widen were the eager smiles that were beaming from all three of the girls.

“How long were you all standing outside?” Ginger squawked.

“Not too long,” said Frances, opening and closing the scissors.

Elizabeth gingerly stumbled in, trying to balance all the bottles she was carrying. “Oh and Martin, please stick around. We need your makeup skills.”

The knight blinked. “But shouldn’t I um, well—because— ”

“Leave? But you’ve seen everything there is to see,” said Ayax, arching an eyebrow.

Martin and Ginger exchanged a glance, cheeks slightly red.

“Excellent point.” The knight coughed and got up. “Dear, do you want me to stay?”

“I think I’m going to need it!” Ginger stammered as Frances mercifully put the scissors down, only to wave her wand and levitate more dresses into the room. At least the dresses and pretty things all looked very nice.

Besides, these were her friends and while Ginger only showed it through her nervous smile, she was truly touched.

---

That was how Ginger got decked out in the best dress she’d ever worn. She had no idea how Frances had got it, but the red number that showed her collarbones only needed minor adjustments to get it to fit her.

Ayax and Elizabeth contributed a pair of emerald earrings as well as a sapphire necklace. Martin did Ginger’s makeup, expertly hiding wrinkles with cream and foundation and adding a healthy blush to her cheeks. Ginger had recently grown out her hair a bit, but it was still short and stuck to her neck. Yet, they did need the scissors to trim the odd stray hair.

The result was Ginger fighting back tears, staring at herself in a mirror.

“I…everybody… thank you,” she stammered. Dabbing her eyes with the back of her sleeve, she threw her arms around as many of her friends as possible, who hugged her back.

“You get ‘em, girl,” said Elizabeth, grinning.

“I will. Thank you,” Ginger said, feeling just a little more confident.

---

The dinner was held in the house that Mara and the Erisdalian delegation were staying at, in one of the smaller rooms. So the table the three were eating at was round, cozy and allowed Martin and Ginger to sit right next to each other without looking too awkward.

The food was Southside Fish Pasty, which was essentially fish wrapped with herbs and vegetables in pastry. Frances had told Martin that it resembled what her world called a Russian Coulibiac or a salmon wellington. It was probably one of the fanciest things she’d eaten.

Thankfully, it was not alien to her, as Frances had made the meat version of this once upon a time. That time, Frances had made a rare cooking mistake and overcooked the beef wellington. However, her efforts meant Ginger was familiar with what was in front of her. She also, thanks to Ayax’s and Martin’s help, knew which utensils to use.

So the dinner had gone without a hitch at first, with Mara and Martin making small talk and catching each other up. Both had white tunics and black pants, which were the County of Conthwaite’s colours. Mara however wore a tunic that seemed to be shaped more like a dress as it clung to her body and had a tail, whilst Martin’s was more conventional and came off like a military jacket.

As the dinner wound on, Ginger realized that Mara hadn’t addressed her once. She wasn’t sure as to why, but there wasn’t any hostility to the female knight’s demeanour or disdain. If anything Mara seemed to be hesitating.

That changed after Mara cleared her plate and wet her lips with the winecup next to her.

“So Ginger, how did you and my brother go about your courtship?” she asked.

Ginger swallowed. “Well, your brother is very attractive so I asked him if he was interested in sharing a bed and he said he was. We kept doing that until we sort of just fell in love.”

Mara pursed her lips. “Pardon me, but I feel that there’s a deeper story to that. You don’t seem the type to trust easily.”

Her guard well and truly up, Ginger set her utensils down. “Why do you need to know?”

“Hmm, you do deserve an answer for that.” Mara rested her chin on her elbow. “Well, I want to get an idea of how close you are to my brother. I know he’s smitten with you, but I don’t know about you.”

“Mara, why do you need to know that?” Martin asked, frowning.

“It’s a long story that I swear on my honour as a knight I will tell you, but it may not be even necessary to tell it. I primarily need to know if you’re interested in marrying each other.” Mara quickly waved her hand to forestall Ginger’s retort and Martin’s stammered response. “I don’t mean you need to know for sure, but if it is a possibility then I do have to let you know.”

Martin swallowed, turning to Ginger. “Well, Ginger, you know I’m interested in marriage.”

The convict did know. It was a common bed-talk topic. With the war temporarily forgotten, they’d whispered and dreamed about a life in the future, sometimes in completely fantastical terms, sometimes with more realism.

On occasion, those conversations had ended with them both in tears, holding onto each other. It was just hard to think of the future when their lives were just so occupied with fighting the Alavari. Still, Ginger knew there was only one answer she wanted to give.

“I am too, Martin. I think… I mean, I know your sister’s going to give us some bad news, but I’m ready.” Ginger faced Mara and braced herself. “So, what’s the problem?”

The female knight closed her eyes. “The problem starts with me to be honest. So, back when I was younger, I used to associate with the traditionalist faction that’s led by Earl Darius.” Mara arched an eyebrow. “I take it you’ve met him before?

“We were at Kwent. He was about to let the army slaughter the civilians,” said Martin.

“He also influenced my sentencing. Your mom just wanted me sent to the mines, but Darius wanted me dead,” said Ginger.

Mara looked away from the pair, her fingers clenching into fists.

“Sis? What happened?” Martin asked.

“I was sleeping with Earl Darius, Martin, that’s what.” Groaning, Mara buried her face in her hands, as Martin stared at her with shock.

“Wait, what. He’s married!” he exclaimed.

“This was after his first wife died and before he married his second wife. But long before that and the war you see, I’d always hung around with the rest of the traditionalists. We were a close-knit bunch. A band of brothers and sisters who all agreed that we needed to protect Erisdale against outside influences, and preserve the way our society is.” Mara chuckled. “In that time before the war, people listened to us, they cared about what we thought and disregarded what the reformers thought.”

“Reformers?” Ginger asked.

Mara groaned. “Sorry Ginger, there are two major factions in the Erisdalian nobility. The traditionalists are those nobles that believe that we need to subdue the Alavari and preserve Erisdalian society. They include many lords and ladies including Count Haurstadt of Lehrbeck, Earl Darius, and most importantly, Crown Princess Janize, daughter of King Oliver.”

“Then there are the reformers. They want the common people to have greater participation in Erisdalian politics and an emphasis on merit instead of simply bloodlines. Originally, they just included Baroness Igraine, Earl Forowena, and Edana, but then the war happened.” Mara crossed her arms. “Now you’d think that with the war against Alavaria breaking out, the traditionalists would become stronger. The problem is that we started losing the war and we still aren’t winning. Knights are valuable and they still have a place, but most of the people fighting are commoners using weapons like guns and pikes that can bring down an armoured knight. To make matters worse, commonfolk resentment against the highborn traditionalists is growing, not helped by the economic strains of the war and the introduction of the convict soldier system that just conscripted hundreds of poor people and debtors into becoming soldiers.”

“You don’t need me to tell me that,” Ginger muttered.

Mara winced. “Pardon me. But yeah… and this is where me and you two come in the story. At the start of the war, the traditionalists held the most influence amongst the nobility and the common people. In the midst of this, though, our mothers, Countess Esther and Magistrate Rachel were neutral. They were sympathetic to the reformers, but well, I was in love with Darius the head of the traditionalists and having a relationship with him.”

“That… explains why you were absent before the war. You were visiting him in his earldom of Orchranrock weren’t you?” Martin asked, remembering that he hadn’t seen his sister much before the war broke out.

“Yes. When the war did break out, I fought alongside Darius for a bit, but then was sent with the Erlenbergian Expeditionary Force to Roranoak. We continued exchanging letters and met on occasion, but… my mind began to change. The war over in the west has gone to hell, Martin. Both sides are committing horrifying atrocities on each other’s civilians and soldiers. I… I also did too.”

Mara wiped her eyes, and bowed her head, unable to meet Martin and Ginger’s horrified gazes. “I killed Alavari soldiers that had surrendered. They’d tortured several of my soldiers for information. So, I paid them back. They did something worse. I would go further and torture their soldiers. I… I was in a horrible place and I didn’t realize I was even in it. Then on one trip to visit Darius, something just… well…”

Martin was already passing his handkerchief to his sister. She accepted it gratefully, blew in it and managed to compose herself. “We’d finished making love and were just talking. It had… well, the last few times had felt odd, but I thought it was just the stress on both of us. Then he started complaining about you, brother.”

“Me?” Martin stammered.

Mara nodded. “This was just after Kwent. He was complaining that you, Frances and Elizabeth had prevented him from sacking the city and visiting on them what they’d done to our allies in Roranoak.” Smirking, Mara didn’t meet her brother’s eye. “I think by that point, I had well and truly fallen out of love with him. We’d been arguing more, or just not speaking to each other and when he said that, I lost my temper. You were my family and after all the horror I had seen, I realized that what he was saying was wrong, completely and utterly wrong. We had a screaming match, I slapped him and then left.”

“Damn, I wish I could have seen his face,” Ginger said. “Did you get a good hit?”

Mara, finally looked up at Ginger, watching her for a moment. Suddenly, both women burst out into laughter, Martin joining in after a moment. Ginger’s was uncomfortable and Mara’s was perhaps a bit hysterical, but the tension in the room popped and when the pair stopped, they were both smiling.

“I did.” Mara sniffled. “Yeah, we parted ways after that and soon after I asked to be recalled from Roranoak with my expeditionary force.”

Martin nodded, smiling at his sister. He was disappointed. He’d never thought that his older sister would sink so far.

But… despite this disappointment, he was proud and relieved that his sister had managed to figure out her way. However…

“Mara, what does your relationship have to do with Erisdalian politics?” he asked.

“Ah, well remember I said the situation has changed? That before war the traditionalists were ascendant and now the reformists have gained influence? Well, right now, the traditionalists and reformers have a careful balance. The traditionalists have more noble support and the Crown Princess. The reformers have Edana, Earl Forowena and the support of the people. Our family, however, has not committed to either side. They remained neutral, and through me, keeping a tie with the traditionalists.”

It suddenly clicked for Ginger what Mara was saying and her eyes widened.

“B—but with you having left Darius, and with me and Martin becoming a couple… that’s basically saying that Conthwaite is declaring support for the reformers. The political balance in Erisdale will shift. Unless your mothers forbid us?” Ginger stammered.

Mara smiled sadly and nodded. “You are sharp. And no, I don’t think our mothers will.”

“Wait, really?” Martin asked.

“Martin, they love you and with what you’ve been doing, you’ve brought honour and fame to the Conthwaite name. If they do, you have my support as the Conthwaite heir.” Mara snorted. “Besides, even if they went mad and disowned you, once news of your relationship with Ginger spreads, and it has already begun to, the reform faction will eclipse the traditionalists.”

Ginger frowned, glancing at Martin, but he was shaking his head. He had no idea what his sister was saying.

“Sis, I’m a little lost here. Why are you saying as if my support for the reform faction will tip the scales? I understand Ginger and mine’s relationship pulling Conthwaite to the reform faction, but why would my support affect Erisdale’s politics?”

It was now Mara’s turn to stare at her brother. Her jaw dropped open. “Wait, you don’t know about the songs and ballads?”

“What songs? What ballads?” Martin asked.

Ginger blinked as it suddenly clicked for her. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Mara shook her head in disbelief. “Where have you two been living under? Erisdale has been singing praises for what you’ve been doing throughout the war! There are stories of you swimming through the river to assault Kwent, leading the charge at the battle of Freeburg, and fighting side by side with the Firehand to defend Erlenberg’s fleet!”

“But that’s impossible? I mean, they kind of happened, but I was just helping my friends!” Martin spluttered.

Ginger groaned. “Mara, we’ve been in Erlenberg for months and most of it was spent with our friends. We had no idea about this. I mean we have heard stories about Frances and Elizabeth and we were in those stories, but most of the time we were fighting, too busy to hear tales.”

Mara chuckled, “Oh, brother, only you can go make yourself a hero and not know you did!”

“But why me? I’m just… me! A normal human knight!” Martin stammered. Ginger winced at the horror and complete shock in her lover’s voice and reached out to take his hand.

“Martin, I know you don’t think of yourself as amazing, but I think you being normal is why they’re celebrating you. You’re a normal human without magic, and an Erisdalian, who has always done the right thing, no matter how hard. We like to hear stories of the Otherworlders like Frances, but you’re one of the Dale-folk and Dale-folk love their own.”

Martin looked stricken, yet he managed to nod dumbly, and squeeze Ginger’s hand.

“An accurate summation,” said Mara, nodding.

“Alright. Oh wow…” Martin breathed in and out and took a sip from his cup. As he put it down, he furrowed his brow. “Mara, there’s more, is there? I mean, yes, the political balance in Erisdale shifting is dangerous because the traditionalists won’t be happy about it. But you sound like it’s a lot more than that.”

Mara grimaced. “Yikes, you both catch on way too quickly. I’m… well I talked to our moms about this. Rachel-mom thinks I’m right to be worried, but Esther-mom thinks I’m being too paranoid.” The woman took a large gulp of her cup, looking desperately like she wanted to get drunk. “The thing is, I still think that I’m correct in worrying that Erisdale is heading toward civil war.”

Ginger had never felt more sick than she had in her life, and that was including the times she’d been shocked by the pain spell. The dark voice in her head was screaming at her that this was what she deserved. This was just another fact of her life; that all good things, like what she had with Martin, deserved to end in flames or be wrenched out of her hands.

Pinching herself, the convict forced herself to mumble, “I deserve good things. I can be good.” Forcing her thoughts to the back of her mind, she glanced at Martin.

He was not doing any better, staring at his sister in utter disbelief.

“But… how… oh no, it’s Earl Darius isn’t it?” Martin asked.

“Not just him, but he is a dangerous man. I… if I’m being honest with myself that’s what drew me to him. It’s more that Darius and the traditionalists are far too willing to go to the extreme to preserve their power. I shared drinks with most of those people he’s associated with and they.” Mara winced, eyes dropping to her cup. “We—we saw most of the reformers as traitors and weaklings. We demonized them as we did with the Alavari. In the conversations I had, I couldn’t remember even the suggestion made about talking with the reformers and negotiating with them.”

“Amura and Rathon… is there anything we can do?” Ginger stammered.

“Yes, but not yet. You two need to tell our moms and then we’re planning a response together,” said Mara.

“Mara, how… what… please tell me you’re lying. Tell me this conversation’s been a dream,” Martin begged.

“It’s not brother. I’m sorry,” said Mara, shaking her head.

Shoulders sagging, Martin faced Ginger, eyes filled with regret. “Love… I’m sorry to have to put you through this.”

It was enough to make Ginger lightly punch her love’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re a team. You didn’t put me through this. Shit just happens. At least your family isn’t the one in the way now.”

Martin sighed, “Yeah, only now we have half of Erisdale against us.”

“We have the other half, and we have a Stormcaller and maybe even the Firehand,” said Ginger. She leaned over and kissed Martin’s cheek. “Stop moping. We’re going to get through this.”

His blue eyes met hers, a bit of surprise widening them. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“I was going to say the same,” said Mara.

“Oh, I’m not happy about it. We are definitely cuddling, and doing other things tonight. But it isn’t our fault, we just need to deal with it, and well…” Ginger glanced at Mara. “I was honestly more worried that you were going to tell me to get lost.”

“Get lost—oh you mean tell you to break up with Martin?” Mara winced. “Yeah… old-me would have, but now I find myself rather pleased with you, Ginger. Just don’t let my brother mope about this too much please.”

“I think this is a worthy subject to mope about,” muttered Martin.

“In moderation my knight,” said Ginger, ruffling Martin’s hair fondly.

A bittersweet smile graced Mara’s features. “She’s right brother.” Downing her wine glass, the knight stood up. “I’ll have a carriage take you back to your quarters. I take it you need some time to process all this so use it. We can meet in two days.”

Martin stood up. “Thanks for explaining this to us, sis, and um, thank you for supporting us.”

“You’re my brother. I might have had my head in my ass for a while, but we’re family and we stand by each other.” Mara extended a hand to Ginger. “And when you’re ready, I will be happy to welcome you to the family.”

Ginger blinked and had to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand before she reached out and shook her love’s sister. Her love’s smiling sister.

“I… thank you.”

“Thank you. You’re the one taking care of my brother,” said Mara, grinning. “Now get going. A good cuddle is what you both need after this.”

Martin, smiling tiredly, nonetheless got up and hugged his sister warmly, before he and Ginger left for their carriage.

There was a lot to think about and they would rather prefer to do it in private and in each other’s arms.