The oak floorboards creaked, her ears following every step long before the old door opened with a groan, inviting the hallway’s dusty light into the room’s gloom. Even with the fireplace crackling and oil lamps along the walls, it seemed like only moonlight could cut through the shadows, bathing her in a silvery light.

“Lord Grosburg,” she said.

“Your not-so Royal Highness,” he said, pausing there to chuckle, eyes pinched by his broad smile as he very much enjoyed his own joke. “Lady Augstadt, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She gave no reaction to his antics, simply took a sip of tea before closing the large book on the table. Raising her gaze, she picked out her butler and, at her look, he stepped out the room. Grosburg’s butler watched, but did not follow.

“This matter is one of secrecy,” she said, pointedly looking at the butler. “Is he to be trusted?”

“Oh, old Grim? I dare say I would trust him with my life,” Grosburg said, turning to give his butler a heavy clap on the shoulder, nearly toppling the middle-aged man.

She smiled, the kind of smile that looked sweet. “I hoped you would say that.”

Grosburg shuffled over, his eyes darting around the room. “You know, when your father was still around, I visited quite often. This place hasn’t changed much, has it? He kept his records along that bookshelf,” he said, pointing over.

“Indeed, he did. I have had no reason to disagree with his arrangements, so I have kept things as they are,” she said, her gaze never leaving him.

“A good child, very filial,” he said, more muttering aloud than speaking to her.

She crossed her hands on the desk. “The matter, then,” she said, her voice quieter.

He seemed to sober up, what passed for his joviality melting into a sombre expression. With a creak, he sat down on the chair in front of the desk, already tapping his foot. “You say the Prince had designs on my land?”

“I am careful not to say anything, and twice as careful not to leave it in writing,” she replied, pulling a slip of paper out of the book in front of her. It had a single sentence on it, which read: “He hopes to bring more grain to the capital.”

Grosburg looked over the familiar sentence, then slid it back to her; she turned around and placed it in the fire, watching the entire time it burned until there was nothing left, then turned back to face him.

“You understand his intentions?” she asked.

“How can I not? The grain comes through my land and it’s only by taxing it can my barony prosper,” he said, again talking aloud more than to her. “Whatever plans he has, the first part is surely to seize control of the toll.”

She said nothing, simply sat there, watching.

He raised his gaze, finding hers and giving a rueful smile. “Of course, your father raised you well, did he not? You sought me, not out of kindness, but knowing that he must have other means to deal with you than marriage, no?”

“My Lord is as clear on these matters as my father thought,” she said, answering his smile in kind.

“Yes, your father and I often spoke of these matters too. A brilliant man. Truly, he gave me much good advice over the years. If not for him, well, I remember being unconvinced at the time, yet he was correct in most things, so I took him at his word and it has all worked out perfectly.”

She tilted her head. “That is, you are speaking on the matter of the grain tax?”

“Indeed. A mercenary company with no ties to this place, what do they care if some have to suffer? If anything, they relish in it, any excuse to wet their blades,” he said, pausing to chuckle. “While other lords have to fear rebellion when famines comes, I can instead make a tidy profit. After all, there are always more peasants, sprouting up in open fields like weeds.”

At his joke, she gave a smile. “So they are.”

While his humour faded, he tapped his chin. “Enough of the past. This matter, do you have insight into what means he plans to take? Whether material or of his personality, I do not care, any clue helpful in planning to obstruct him.”

“Well, it is not that I do not wish to help My Lord…” she said, bowing her head as she trailed off.

“Afraid, are we?” he said, his tone gentle. After a long second, she gave the smallest nod. “No need for that. Your father, I owe him a great deal, and it is not good to allow the Royalty such injustices. On principle, I would try my best to preserve your land. However, if all else fails, I extend an offer of safe haven.”

She listened patiently, then let out a shaky breath as she raised her head. “My father said you could be trusted, so I will do my best,” she said.

He grinned, picking at the brim of his top hat. “Such a good daughter. Do call me Uncle William,” he said.

“Once we finish this discussion,” she said, smiling. “This is a talk between peers, is it not? My apologies, I should be more formal.”

He let out a chuckle as he leaned back the chair. “You are doing well—your father would be proud.”

She held her smile for a moment, then settled into a neutral expression, her hand resting on the book. “I cannot say for sure; however, if I had to guess, he intends to find issue with your son and pay off your guard.”

“Murder and interfering with lawful succession?” Grosburg mumbled, looking down, then looked up at her and asked, “You think him capable and courageous enough?”

She gave a lopsided smile. “He is courageous enough to break a betrothal arranged by his father and I heard rumours on my many visits to the Royal Palace. Besides, whether or not he is, it is not as if he would be the one to put the blade to your neck. Which of us cannot find the courage to say a single word?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Indeed, all he would need is an advisor willing to ask him,” Grosburg muttered.

“Of course, that plan hinges on the loyalty of your guard. What good is him finding issue with your son if there is no inheritance to yet contest?”

His hand rested over his mouth, eyes focused on some distant spot beyond the fireplace. “That is, to meddle, he intends to frame my son?” he asked.

“I would think so. How else would he justify suspending the inheritance to our peers?” she said.

He shut his eyes, face scrunched up, rubbing his forehead. “Such a vile man would become our king one day,” he whispered.

She smiled. “He hides it well.”

Grosburg let out a heavy sigh, slouching in the chair as he did. She picked up her teacup and took another sip before placing it back down.

“If he is brave enough to frame my son, then he is brazen enough to claim such an act would disinherit my grandsons,” he said.

“While we can discuss contingencies for the worst, suffice to say it would be better if we could avoid them altogether,” she said, softly smiling.

He looked at her, nodding. “Indeed it would. Yes, the matter of my murder,” he said, his lips curling into an ironic smile. “My apologies, you even asked of my guards’ loyalty. It is, I suppose, feasible that they could be paid off. After all, I sought them out precisely for their loyalty to money. That said, they have lived well off my coin and the leader is a cynical man, knowing full well that a chicken which lays eggs is better than one meal of meat.”

“I see…. And you are comfortable to keep paying them? If not, I have some savings I could contribute,” she said.

He chortled at that. “My dear, of all the worries I may have, money is not one. Although I may indulge, it is reasonable.”

She nodded. “Then there should be no reason to worry about his plan at all,” she said.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, combing his moustache with a nail. “I doubt he would give up so easily.”

Pouting, a wrinkle formed on her brow, which made him laugh. Before he could comment on it, though, she said, “I fear that he may simply focus on me first. If I die, there is no one left to inherit, so it would be easy for him to seize the land. Rather than that, what if I leave my title to My Lord?”

His expression softened. “You are quite brave to think beyond your life so clearly,” he said.

Her hands atop the book clenched. “After what he did to me, I wish for nothing more than to be a nuisance to him, however that may be,” she whispered.

Grosburg looked on, a softness in his gaze as if he truly was her uncle. “Yes, you really are as clever as your father, and as beautiful as your mother. That is a wonderful idea.”

She broke into a sweet smile. “Truly?” she said, then her eyes widened. “Oh, what if you did the same? That is, after your son, of course. It would mean that, if the worst did come to pass, I could hold on to it until your son is cleared and rightfully return it to him.”

He nodded along, eyes pinched. “Certainly, that would make it easier to sleep at night,” he said, then turned around to his butler. “Grim, would you see to the lawman when we are back? A trivial change, it shouldn’t need much of his time.”

“Yes, sir,” the butler said, bowing his head.

At that moment, a knock on the door rang out. Grosburg looked to her and she smiled.

“You may enter,” she said loudly.

The door opened without a sound, her butler entering with a tray. Grosburg saw that and tutted. “Poor thing, you can barely pay for the staff, yet offered to help me with money? When I return home, the first thing I will do is send some maids over to help. On my coin, of course,” he said.

She softly smiled, watching her butler pour the brandy for her guest. “Like my father did?”

Grosburg stilled for a moment, then nodded. “You are talking of old Grim? It is true your father recommended him to me, yes; however, I assure you, I have been the one paying him,” he said.

“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” she said.

He settled, his gaze drifting to the glass in front of him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Your father did always have the best brandy. I must confess, I have quite missed it.”

“Then please, indulge,” she said, gesturing at the glass with a smile.

Without a second thought, he picked up the glass and gave it a swirl. “Yes, your father and I talked many nights over brandy and whiskey, oh how he loved to praise his sweet daughter. You know, if he did not manage to snag up a prince, I dare say I would be your father-in-law,” he said, ending with another smile that scrunched up his face.

She gently laughed. “Uncle William will have to do,” she said.

As if waiting for her to say that, he took a sip, the old taste as familiar as the last time he’d had it years ago. “Ah, liquor truly is life’s finest luxury.” After another sip, he gave her a wink, saying, “Uncle William will have some suitable drinks for ladies prepared for your birthday. When is that, next month?”

“Rather than that, how about we sign the new wills now?” she asked, opening the book in front of her.

He frowned, but took another sip before asking, “You had your will prepared already?”

“Of course, and yours.”

A chill ran down his spine and, as tipsy as he felt after being reunited with his beloved brandy, what he saw sobered him instantly. “Th-that is—” he said, pushing himself back from the table, scrambling to his feet as the chair fell back, hitting the floor with a loud thud. “How did you—”

“It would be best if you signed it,” she said, pushing the book over with an exact copy of his will shown—except for where it had been amended to include her.

“No, no, what game are you playing? I won’t. I won’t!” he said, voice rising to a shout.

She smiled and, this time, there was no doubt in his mind that it was a sickly sweet smile. “I would recommend calming down. After all, your heart might go at any moment.”

His eyes widened and gaze jerked to the glass still in his hand. Overcome with a rush of rage, he went to throw it at her, only to find his arm in a tight, unyielding grip. All he could do was drop the glass, shattering on the floor, his beloved brandy spread across the floorboards.

Turning around as far as he could, he caught his butler’s eye. “Grim! Go get the guards!”

“Right away, sir,” his butler said, only to stay there, unmoving.

“My father was rather talented at finding good people,” she said.

He snapped around, his eyes wide, breaths laboured, and the tightness in his chest only made him panic more. “My son—he won’t let you get away with this!”

“Oh dear, but didn’t you know? Your heart attack is because we learned that your son and his whole family are dead,” she said, the concern on her face, in her voice, so believable that, even knowing it was a lie, he couldn’t help but half-believe her.

“My… son?” he said, forcing each word out.

She sighed, bringing the book back to her side of the table. “It is a good thing we updated our wills a month ago, as verified by your executor, Mr Grim, otherwise some may have suspicions. Of course, it is not unexpected that, after all you have done, some peasants would attack your son’s carriage upon learning of when and where he would be travelling. Given your lifestyle, to die so suddenly isn’t unexpected either. I dare say no doctor would be able to tell it was a premature ending.”

As his heart struggled, a shooting pain down his arm, he held on to the surging anger for strength. “Did you utter a single truth this night?” he asked with a strained and pained voice.

She smiled. “It would have been easier if you signed the will,” she said, tilting her head. “Oh and, let it be known, my father was a great man who raised me well after my mother’s passing. However, this game of politics he played so well, he played by mother’s rules.”

Her hand tapping the book in front of her, he looked at it, only now that he was reminded recognising the first name paired with the maiden name. That book he had always seen her father reading, the book her father would often check during their discussions, which had disappeared upon his death, only to return now she had.

“Unlike you, I won’t dare leave anyone to take vengeance on me,” she said, standing up, walking over until she was a step away from him. Before he could even think of trying to do anything, her butler took hold of his other arm. Staring him in the eye, she whispered, “My father sends his regards.”

Walking over to the door, ready to send out the call for a doctor, she had one last thing to say.

“The poison was not even in the brandy, was it, Mr Grim?”