Shadowheart slowly sipped her tea as her mother finished reading the day’s edition of Lady Whistledown. She had, of course, already read it - she wouldn’t have dared touch the Queen’s copy, but she had managed to bribe one of the serving staff into procuring her an extra copy. It wasn’t all that hard to do after all - the paper only cost two pennies, and Shadowheart offered them a full pound. She had always been known to save her money when she was back in Baldur’s Gate, but here, it felt like she had such infinite money that it was hardly worth saving. Plus, she wasn’t planning on staying in this plane for any longer than she had to, and if she happened to bankrupt the crown one pound at a time, it didn’t much bother her.

Besides, she thought, taking another long sip as her mother fanned herself with the pamphlet, clearly deep in thought, she’d already learned that it was incredibly advantageous for her to have an advanced knowledge of what was written so that she could prepare her thoughts before she was peppered with questions.

The Queen took a long breath, apparently finally deciding on how to phrase the question. But ultimately, she just landed on “Lord Ledger?”

Shadowheart shrugged. “I’m not sure where she got such an idea from. Lord Ledger and I were in the same traveling party, yes, and I did see him at the refreshments table, but I didn’t seek him out. However, when nearby him, it would be considered rude to not acknowledge him, would it not?”

The Queen took up her teacup and swirled it with her teaspoon, probably trying to blend in what Shadowheart thought was way too much sugar (but who, exactly, is going to stop the queen if she uses more sugar in a single cup of tea than most of London probably used in a week?). “My dear, you are a princess. You need not concern yourself with what the ton believes to be rude. You will be rude to them, and they will accept it as strength of character.” She took a sip of her tea, her mouth pursing slightly, but apparently found it acceptable. “So you have no attachments to this man?”

“None other than the bonds that come from traveling together.”

“A pity. While I of course do not wish for you to settle, coming into the season with a love match already established would make for quite the whirlwind of a season.”

Shadowheart restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Obviously, she didn’t know the Queen very well, but it was impossible to ignore that she had the same sort of determination that was present in the House of Grief, albeit in a different sort than she was used to. Still, it was like looking in a mildly distorted mirror. And like Viconia, she was sure that the Queen would not take kindly to any sort of sass by her. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have a particular affection for anyone who was in my party. It was a matter of mere convenience.”

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“As most traveling parties are.” The Queen put down her teacup and motioned for her servant, Brimsley, to step forward. He did immediately, handing her a small, orange box, which she opened and greedily snorted something out of. Shadowheart almost chuckled at that - though this world had a vast array of differences, it seemed both worlds still had snuff. “But it is no matter - there are many men throughout the ton who would kill for your attention, and not one of which would not be lucky to catch your eye. You will find someone who catches your interest, and I will be fortunate enough to have correctly labeled the incomparable of the season for two years in a row.”

Shadowheart smiled, trying to make her face as demure as possible, even though she again saw the similarities between her current and former rulers - their servant happiness didn’t matter so long as they stayed exactly in line. “I will get straight to work on it,” she promised.

“See that you do,” the Queen said, sweeping herself up from her seat. “After last year’s fiasco with Daphne Bridgerton, I want no surprises and a quick wedding. Brimsley!” she called, already heading for the door. In the little time she had been here, Shadowheart had learned that the Queen was like that - there wasn’t really an end to any conversation - they just were over whenever the Queen decided to move on.

She sat back in her seat, her back as relaxed as her stays would let her be, now that she didn’t have to hold her perfect posture. It was the same thing she’s always done with the Sharrans as well - hold a picture of a perfect subject until she was alone in her room, and then she could truly relax and become what she was. Not that she was truly alone here, she thought, her eyes grazing over the waiting servants. They, however, did not meet her eye, and didn’t look the least bit judgemental about her slouch. At least there was one positive about her life here, she thought.

The way the Queen laid it out, finding a husband sounds like it should have been the easiest thing in the world. All she had to do was choose whoever seemed the most interesting, but as she thought back on it, while she had danced with her fair share of men at the ball, she couldn’t think of a single interesting thing any of them had said. Yes, she could remember their conversations and some of the small talk they had bantered about, but no one had really had much of anything to say.

No one except for Eloise Bridgerton, of course. Now that woman arguably had too much to say, and though she’d been shy at first, she had become downright chatty the moment that Shadowheart was able to loosen her tongue. She’d hardly needed any prodding at all before she started telling her the entire history of the ton and what she thought about all of the people in it.

Maybe that, Shadowheart thought with a slight smile, was why she didn’t feel as though any of the men had had anything useful to say. Eloise certainly hadn’t been very kind in her assessment of the men of the ton, including some of her own brothers. Although she did say that she, Benedict, and Colin got along, so at least all hope wasn’t lost.

Shadowheart rose suddenly from her chair, and the serving staff jumped to attention, clearly used to doing the same whenever the Queen moved abruptly. And while moving abruptly wasn’t exactly ladylike, she thought, it was like the Queen had said - she was a princess, and everything she did was okay.

She turned to the nearest servant, who looked at her expectantly. “Please have my carriage readied,” she said. “I wish to go visit the Bridgertons.”

The servant mumbled a quick “Yes, miss, right away,” before scurrying from the room with a swiftness that left her quite impressed.

She wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to go to see the Bridgertons - alright, to see Eloise - again, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was exactly what she wanted. And damn it if she’d just seen her yesterday, and damn it if she was most likely waiting for gentleman callers and might be disappointed by a woman calling (even if she was a princess)! As sad as it was, Eloise was right now as close to a friend as she’d gotten since she was a child, and Shadowheart wanted that feeling again. And as a princess, she always got what she wanted.