Duchess Cadence had a heart of gold.

That's not to say she was a particularly amicable person. Far from it, the Duchess of Witschblume regularly sentenced her loyal subjects to weeks of pistachio peeling for the most innocuous of slights, while the less loyal ones were commanded to pop a thousand sheets of bubble wrap that had already burst. Some say that those who weren't driven bonkers by her ceaseless repertoire of demands gained spiritual enlightenment, and later, a cushy job as a hammock tester on the rooftop gardens.

No, her heart of gold was very much real.

Born from the whims of a mad scientist, a clockmaker and the head of a household with a minor civil war brewing on their hands, Cadence Joyister Loventeidt was created specifically to act as the governing ruler of the duchy.

Permanently.

Enshrined in the form of a rebellious teenage girl, she would rain fire and brimstone down on anyone who dared take her creature comforts away from her.

As a result, there were no more disputes. No more awkward family gatherings. No more errant heirs and their insatiable in-laws. Measuring just a smidgeon over [CLASSIFIED] centimetres tall, she was the sole guardian of the House of Loventeidt's domain, and to that purpose, she served her role with both grace and dignity.

I knocked on the door to her study, previously her bedroom, heard a shoe thrown in response, then duly invited myself in.

“Duchess Cadence,” I said, curtseying as she demanded of her subjects. “I've arrived as summoned.”

I stood up as straight as I could, ignoring the fact I'd stepped into a sea of strewn laundry baskets. There was another just outside the door, filled with fresh socks and underwear.

Duchess Cadence, still in her pyjamas, didn't bother looking up from her book as she casually lounged on her bed.

She instead doubled down, purposefully flicking over a page in the wrong direction as she exuded the image of a girl who sent distinguished tutors searching for a new career path each week without fail.

I decided to begin sorting through the checklist of issues arising, starting with the least egregious.

“Lady Uxna wishes to inform you that the delegation from Troll Country awaits your decision on the purchase of glassware for the Ducal Estate. They have now lodged at a local inn for several weeks at their own expense, and imply that they may seek reimbursement for loss of profits should they be denied a suitable outcome.”

Duchess Cadence rolled onto her back, her golden twin-tails crumpling under her as she held her book out at arm's length.

“Tell them to eat a shoe,” she said, alternating between narrowing her eyes and bringing the book closer and further away from her face. “Then to die choking and grasping on the air as their lives slowly wheedle away.”

“Yes, Duchess. I'll inform them at once.”

I stood perfectly still.

“Really, who do those trolls think they are?” she continued, ignoring the fact her pyjamas had crumpled to reveal her belly button. “Con artists who shamelessly mewl for my fortune and then demand I also throw it at them? The pits of the abyss would reject them for being so crass.”

I nodded as decorum dictated me to, although she was far too engrossed in her backchat to spare a look at me.

“Yes, Duchess.”

“And I've seen some of the things they're trying to offload. Pink glass lacquerware gaudy enough that the castle's mice would be too embarrassed to eat from them. What unholy tablecloth matches with semi-transparent pink? I've half a mind to order a crusade against anyone who’s known to have purchased one.”

“It goes well with white,” I suggested.

The Bread & Berry sometimes used pink plates. Not glass, certainly, but I didn't think it was anything worth instigating a divine inquisition over. It wasn't like the plates were orange.

Duchess Cadence glanced over at me, eyes narrowing slightly as though actually realising I'm here.

She reached out for the plate of chocolate digestives by her nightstand with one hand while maintaining her grip on the book with the other.

“Honestly, the sheer nerve of the suggestions I've been subjected to as of late,” she said as the first crumbs began to rain. Just like that, half a digestive was swallowed in the blink of an eye. “Lady Uxna informs me it would be wise to invest in a working relationship with Troll Country's most reputable traders.”

“That sounds like a reasonable notion to consider.”

“I would rather massage my face with a brick. Did you know that reputation is bartered like a commodity in Troll Country? You can buy reputation as easily as you can overpriced tea from a souvenir shop. They would sell the air they breathe if they could. Not that they haven't tried. Twice. And they wonder why I'm letting them build up a tab. They should be grateful I'm not charging customs duty for all the scandalous notions of easy pickings they bring hovering around after them.”

“Yes, Duchess. Although I think the air in Troll Country is actually widely known for its invigorating properties and is readily sold in bottled form. The health properties are purportedly due to the high concentration of waterfalls in the mountains.”

Duchess Cadence shut her book, then rolled back onto her front.

I felt a pang of remorse for her hair. Despite being constructed to be impervious to any amount of neglect she regularly inflicted onto them, her golden twin-tails failed to immediately return to their regular state of fluffiness.

“Elise, please,” said the Duchess, holding up her palm. “Despite the vast and unbridgeable gulf which exists between our two stations, I'd like to think of us as friends. Therefore, there's no need to refer to me as Duchess. Simply, 'Your Majesty' will do.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Duchess Cadence looked visibly delighted.

She'd been waiting for someone to humour her for a while now.

Realising her reaction, she immediately sat up and retracted the expression of joy on her face. Adopting the nearest look to regality she could muster while palming biscuits from what I suspected to be a bottomless plate conjuring sweets directly from the castle kitchens, she flicked away some of the crumbs from her lap and coughed.

“Thank you, Elise. I shall broach the matter of amending my noble title to my advisors in due course. But for now, my loyal subject, we must discuss the topic of peril.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“It's come to my attention that imminent doom may be upon us. This is highly inconvenient to my schedule.”

I nodded, all businesslike. It was time to dip into the serious end of this conversation.

“Is this regarding the blue stuff?”

“Blue stuff?”

“The blue stuff, Your Majesty.”

“What blue stuff?”

I pointed at the window. The one with the curtains both glued and sewn together and forming a wall of darkness bleaker than a moonless night.

“There are unidentified blue petals raining from the sky. It began overnight and has since not stopped. I'm not sure what the origin is. Was this not why you summoned me?”

Duchess Cadence frowned.

“Petals? Are they acidic?”

“Not that I'm aware of, although I haven't had the time to determine truly whether they pose any danger to the public yet.”

“Well, unless people's faces start burning off, I'm not interested. I need something highly volatile to do away with the undergarments, anyway. My abode is littered with dirty laundry baskets.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I stole a peek at said laundry baskets, then quickly regretted my actions. Until now, I was able to live in a world where these were somehow fresh clothes tipped all across the floor.

“Should the castle staff not be seeing to the laundry?” I inquired at the nearest inside-out sock.

“They should,” replied the Duchess with a sour expression. “Instead, they complain ceaselessly about my magically reinforced locked door. Apparently, it prevents them from entering. I swear, the type of people I work with.”

I made a mental note to undo the powerful seal on the door when I left.

“Yes, Your Majesty. But if you didn't summon me regarding the abnormal weather phenomenon, may I inquire as to what this is about?”

Duchess Cadence swallowed a pink macaron. It hadn't even fully conjured, so she ended up with buttercream filling caked over her fingers. She wiped them over her pyjamas.

“Yes, of course. The reason I summoned you.”

With a cough, she sat up on her bed, looking as imposing as any grim-faced adolescent with macaron filling on her pyjamas possibly could.

“This concerns the witches.”

I blinked. All of a sudden, the tiredness I didn’t even know was weighing down my eyelids fell away like the tide.

“The witches?”

Duchess Cadence nodded gravely. The triple white chocolate oat cookie appearing on the plate was ignored. This was serious.

“I had Lady Uxna place an order for a guinea pig to do away with the last of the badgers terrorising the courtyard. It was to arrive yesterday noon or earlier. It still hasn't arrived. Do you see the problem?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I don't believe guinea pigs are naturally suited to combating badgers. There is a severe disparity in size and aggressive instincts.”

“And as I told Lady Uxna, that is the guinea pig's problem, not mine. No, Elise, the problem is that it has been almost 17 hours since the guaranteed delivery time has passed.”

“Which service did you purchase?”

“Archwitch Premium Express.”

I would have whistled if that was one of the powers being a heroine gifted me.

Sadly, I was still as hopeless at puckering my lips as the day before I started carrying a magical sword on my back.

“I didn't know that service was still available,” I said.

“It isn't. But I have a castle.”

I nodded.

I suppose there was no other explanation needed.

“A late parcel, Elise.” Duchess Cadence frowned. “If there can ever be a clearer sign that the world was ending, then I don't know what it is. Witches. They can conjure magic and they can fly. Time and space do not matter to them. To a witch, physics is a rulebook written by a younger sibling solely to be ignored. They have no excuse for tardiness.”

I thought for a moment.

This was more than a late guinea pig. Clearly, the Bewitching Postal Service was under considerable stress. The one who'd delivered Tutu's scarf, Marissa Haycroix, had admitted as much. But I never realised just how stressed it was.

I only ever used the standard service. Guaranteed delivery by an archwitch was out of any waitress's budget, heroine or otherwise.

And they took their guarantees very seriously.

“Something is tying up the witches,” I informed the Duchess. “Something more important than the postal service.”

Duchess Cadence gave a short nod. The fact that she wasn’t asking for information told me she already knew much more than I did.

“Yes, Elise. And you'll recall, I'm sure, the last time in which Ouzelia's witches were indisposed.”

I did. It was hard not to.

Even now, Widzenport had not fully recovered. The barn that Martuk the Mad had been laying waste to when disturbed by his younger kin was still burning, such was the magical power of dragon fire.

“I don't like this,” said Duchess Cadence, her hand reaching for the cookie that had momentarily escaped her sweet tooth. “In particular, I don't like the silence. There’s only been unexplained explosions and earthquakes rumbling continuously in the near distance. Nothing to suggest that anything is amiss. You're in contact with the King of Dragons. What clues has he left you in that abominable waffling way dragons do when they can't get straight to the point?”

“I've had no unexplained riddles or cryptic ciphers inserted into any of my letters, Your Majesty. King Ralgoz the Patient asks me to attend to disputes between his kin with little regard to verboseness. His requests rarely extend beyond 16 pages.”

Duchess Cadence took the time to crunch her cookie, chewing every bite instead of swallowing it whole. She looked so stately when she was thinking.

“Troubling,” she said at last. “It would be easier if the beating wings of an ancient chimaera were to soar above us, spewing acid on a rival castle in its wake.”

“I hope not, Your Majesty. An ancient chimaera would be a life or death struggle for even the most sagely of archwitches.”

“Whether they are fighting against a killer monstrosity or choking on doughnuts, my realm is imperilled. The Bewitching Postal Service must be allowed to function, for it serves a vital role in ensuring I do not need to leave my room.”

Duchess Cadence paused to eye her half-munched cookie. She frowned as if only just noticing it was white chocolate, and not the milk she preferred.

She proceeded to eat the rest, anyway.

“There you go, Elise. I need you to locate the witches. Find out what in Ouzelia they are doing, and then tell them that I wish to claim my guarantee. Even better, I want my parcel.”

“The guinea pig?”

“The guinea pig in the parcel, yes.”

“Understood, Your Majesty. I'll make sure to relay your wishes. Should I find the witches, I'll also endeavour to inquire about the blue stuff falling from the sky.”

Duchess Cadence blinked, then quickly waved her hand as though flicking away a helping of vegetables.

“Oh, yes. That. Well, I'll leave it to your judgement.”

I nodded, then curtsied. The hand flicking gesture from the Duchess was multi-purpose, signalling both the end of a topic and my need to feel envy at the fact her mechanical stomach was quite literally immune to calories. It was time to fulfil my duty.

Or it was, usually.

“... Falling flowers and missing parcels,” said Duchess Cadence suddenly, her words trailing off into a sigh. “Is this all the world has to offer?”

“Excuse me?”

The Duchess returned to her customary slouching position, arms flattening beside her as if dumping herself in a pile of snow.

“One crisis after another, and yet they all lack originality. Spark. I require entertainment. Tell me, before you leave, of the state of my domain, for I cannot trust in the blind simpering of my retainers. Specifically, I wish to laugh at the peasantry. It's been too long since I last truly cackled. Oh, I do hope to hear whispers of rebellion. Those were always most joyful to snuff out.”

I nodded, glad it was me who was required to deliver the bad news and not one of the servants. I was far better at dodging shoes.

“I'm afraid to say that the Duchy has greatly prospered since you last ventured outside, Your Majesty. Quality of life has significantly improved for all demographics, particularly those in lower income brackets. Employment is at continuing levels of record highs, education is guaranteed until adulthood, healthcare is widely accessible and public houses funded by your Ducal Estate exist to help those in most need. The Witschblume Times put your approval rating at 101.3%. The threat of rebellion is at a historic low.”

A freshly conjured pain au chocolat fell sadly against Duchess Cadence's bedsheets. The hand that was reaching for it was stock still.

“... How?” she said, her voice hoarse with shock.

“Your council of stewards are competent and efficient, are remarkably resistant to coercion, and appear to show no appetite in pursuing destabilising political agendas for their own personal gains.”

Duchess Cadence looked like she was about to violently throw up.

“What … What are those idiots playing at?! I told them to bring the iron gauntlet of despotism down on the people's heads! Are you telling me they disobeyed me?!”

“I don't believe so, Your Majesty. They followed your orders to the letter. It's now a common game during children's birthday parties to headbutt a paper mâché iron gauntlet. The harder they headbutt it, the more sweets come out.”

The Duchess planted her hands over her mouth, silencing the cry of horror even as she careened like a capsizing ship on her bed.

“Disgusting,” she whispered, her face white. “You're telling me my citizens are prosperous and happy? This ... This cannot be allowed. It must be stamped out at once.”

“It's not my place to ask this, Your Majesty, but is there a particular reason you wish for your citizen's permanent unhappiness?”

The stare I received was as hard as the cogs that made up the Duchess's body.

“Have you ever seen a land filled entirely with happiness, Elise? No? I'll tell you the reason why. It's because fields filled with flowers, unicorns and the laughter of children only exist in the start of stories. Do you know what comes after the words, 'Once upon a time'? It's lines such as, 'And then came the endless night', or 'And so woke the Demon Lord from his endless slumber.' This cannot happen. I am the custodian of this land, and I will not be held accountable for encouraging the rise of the Next Great Evil.”

My gaze flickered instinctively to the window.

Even shielded by a curtain designed to block the sun even if it was hurled at it, I could picture the blue petals drifting past, falling onto the meadows, the unicorn pastures, and the laughing children that crowded around them outside.

“Do you think this one is that kind of story, Your Majesty?”

The Duchess nodded gravely.

“So long as freckled farm boys and peppy town girls continue to pull swords out of stones, evil will always be waiting for their next stage call. One does not exist without the other. And I fear our director has long grown bored of the status quo.”

Once more, she proceeded to flick her wrist. This time, the sealed door behind me opened automatically.

I decided that instead of unsealing it, I would try to punt control over to Lady Uxna.

“See to those witches, Elise. And tell Lady Uxna to write up some crushing, draconian laws aimed at curbing personal freedoms as a matter of urgency. The sooner a town hall meeting is called in protest, the better. You may be guaranteed a happy ending, Elise, but the rest of us are not.”

I nodded and curtsied once more.

Someday, there might be a time to face down the Next Great Evil. But today, I had a postal service to fix. I considered both to be matters of paramount importance.

Especially since that scarf was only half of what I'd ordered for Tutu.