It was the middle of the night when I heard noise right under my window. At north-east of the palace, a gut-wrenching scream shook me awake. When I looked in the hallway, blurry shadows were running around, pushing the guards out of the way. It was chaos. My eyes still full of sand, I wiped them fiercely, until I could see clearly.

Father came out of his chamber, in his robes, looking around and shouting for anyone to explain what was going on. Mother appeared in the hallway, holding Spica close to her leg. Everyone was sleeping so it seems. What the hell is going on then?

“Was someone hurt?” I ask, approaching Father. He shrugs, looking extremely tired. I sometimes forget he is an old man and does not need his sleep pattern interrupted. He grabs a servant by the arm and holds her tight, demanding answers.

She only sobs, looking at me. “A knight was killed! Right here, in the gardens.”

My eyes widen and Father lets the girl go. “Guards are alerted?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but it is best not to go down… the image is nasty.”

“I am king, I will go,” he huffs and pushes the girl out of the way. I grab her at the elbow.

“Calm down. Panicking will get you nowhere!” I hiss and let her go. “It was a matter of time.” I say, but lower.

The servant nods and bows, leaving through the main stairs just to the right of my chambers. I follow suit. Rigel is nowhere to be seen, while Mother brings Spica back to my sister’s room.

I go all the way down to the ground floor and am stopped by the guards.

“I am not leaving the premises, for spirits sake, let me go!” I push them hard and pass through the foyer unto the gardens.

My heart’s beating faster as I approach the gathering of guards and maids. They are all in shock. In the center a man with a disfigured face lies on his back. His mouth is torn apart and his eyes gouged out, his nose broken and he misses an ear. It's a harrowing thing to see, so I turn away, trying to shatter the image from my mind.

“Who did this?” The king blares. He looks consumed by anger instead of fear. He should have learned by now. They won’t stop. They will kill us and burn it all one day.

“Your Majesty, he attacked me.” A knight moves towards the body. He stands proudly, holding his helmet to the side. His silver armor shines under the bright moonlight, just like his hair. It becomes metallic gray where moonlight rays fall. “He is the spy we’ve been searching for.”

All of us gasp, except for the king. He approaches the man, who is a tad taller, and nods. “How did you learn he was the spy?”

“I found this in the library, after it burned down.” He shows our emblem and I nearly lose my footing. No way. It is identical to the one I found. It can’t be. “I examined armors, in secret, and found his emblem was stuck recently.”

The man kneels and points to the empty socket where the emblem usually is. The king listens and nods again. “You’ve been conducting this investigation alone?”

“Indeed.”

“Why, sir?”

“Demus. Because with spies around, we cannot trust our comrades.” Other knights, standing opposite of him huff, but say nothing.

The new knight, the replacement of Sir Faxon - this is him. And he sounds so very familiar too. But I’ve met so many people today. Maybe the voices are mixing together, moreover, I met him personally a week ago.

“I am inclined to believe you, but this is such a gruesome way of stopping a traitor…”

“He deserved it, Your Majesty.” Demus’ words spark a cheer from the crowd.

“Yes, this spy has burned down the library and spread fear all over the castle, it had to be done!” A guard slams his polearm into the ground and nods at Demus. Other guards follow. The king claps his hands once and everyone stops.

“This is not how justice is served, ladies and gentlemen. But under such peculiar circumstances… I have to agree with our knight. He deserved it. And we’ll find his associates very soon.”

“I will be honored to serve, Your Majesty.” Demus kneels in front of Father. The king clicks his fingers and orders men to take away the body and cremate it.

‘Tomorrow, at dawn, I will see you personally, Sir Demus, and we will discuss what else you have learned about this traitor.”

I feel dreadful. Is it so easy then? Demus is not the mole put in by minister Jenn? Then this disfigured knight was the one who killed West? The one who talked about the coup? Is it over now? This cannot be right. It would be too easy. After so much intricate planning of using fear, he is caught in the middle of the night by a new knight. I don’t believe it for one second. But Father will never trust me on this, he didn’t listen the first time, and now that peace is being offered on a silver murder platter, he will ignore me completely. I am, again, alone on this.

I am accompanied to my chambers by two guards. They will keep watch even if one of the spies has been ‘caught’. I look around, an alarming idea raising. I slowly approach the desk and open the drawer, my fingers shaking. The emblem is here.

***

I barely slept that night. I must overhear the conversation between Father and Sir Demus. My gut is shouting he is the mole - not the dead knight. He stole the emblem from my room and used it as evidence. But it returned… I never saw it coming. We don’t lock our doors, it’s not a habit. We’ve always lived in peace with everyone - those attacks prove just how ill prepared we are to true danger. The revolution knows it, since they’ve infiltrated the castle.

I look at the walls and feel eyes staring at me. I feel as if they’re inside, waiting for the opportune moment to strike me down. I might not pose a threat to them, as Kaytus said, so why would they try to kill me? What is their end goal? To eradicate us or to make their demands heard? What if they’ll get exposure by eradicating us from within?

I’m shaking uncontrollably as I walk through the halls, turning around at every unusual sound. Most of it is just the wind outside, or maids whispering. I’m becoming paranoid. Being terrified of them will disrupt my plan, but I cannot ignore the sheer terror their presence installs in me.

I’m facing the office when the door opens. Father and Sir Demus go out. The knight throws me an uncanny look and I take a step back. His face screams danger for some reason, but I cannot place it.

It’s too late. They’re done.

“Norella?”

“Father…” My eyes follow Demus as he leaves. I barely control the urge to run away and hide.

“It is early, daughter, what brings you here?” His hands are behind his back, as he watches me press onto the fence.

“What have you talked about?”

“We’re putting additional guards around the palace,”

“That’s all? Won’t you check people coming for the Equinox tonight?”

“No, why would we?”

I bite my lip as I struggle to keep my face straight. He starts walking away, but I catch up.

“Please, don’t act like everything is under control. This Demus is acting weird. There were no witnesses!” The king rolls his eyes. “Isn’t this way too easy? He happened to find an emblem and started investigating by himself, against all regulations? Come on, Father, I know something is wrong.”

“Norella. I warn you one last time and listen to me when I say,” his gaze burns my skin and I shudder. “If you don’t stop imagining things that aren’t there, you will be a very bad queen.”

Outrage fills my veins. “You became too emotionally involved in this and now you start looking for culprits and traitors when there are none. Our country is doing fine, there are no secret missions, and this knight just gave us valuable information to destroy the little group that call themselves revolutionaries.”

“How can you believe him and not me? I am your daughter!”

“And you will listen to my orders!’ He shouts. A servant, going our way, stops and turns around. I feel nauseous, imagining how the scene must look from an external point of view. Pathetic. Royalty should never act so carelessly - our image is sullied, with every incident. That’s what they want, these murderers, they wish to tear us apart politically and emotionally.

“You’re signing our death sentence if you don’t find the true killer. Who is right under your nose, Father.”

“Sir Demus? That’s it, you are done. I don’t want to hear another worthless allegation from your mouth.”

He is leaving and I have one last card I could play. I hesitate. But I have nothing to lose. “The emblem he found - it is I who found it in the library. He stole it from my desk.”

There is deafening silence for a minute. He clenches his fists and slowly turns around. “Now you are outright lying to push your agenda, Norella.”

“My agenda? What’s that? Justice for those we’ve lost? Retribution for those who harmed us?”

“I know very well that losing this Fae did something to your brain. You’ve not been yourself since then. But blaming someone who has nothing to do with this is foul. Now you will stop pursuing this truth you’re seeking and let me work.”

I swallow back tears. “I’ve not been myself be-”

“Stop it! Don’t make me lock you off in your room for the holidays, Norella.”

“You could try.” I spit out and turn on my heels. “We’re all going to die anyway.” I whisper to myself, wiping away the hot tears.

Fine. I’ll do it myself. I’ll save us all because nobody else will. Mother is passive, like a doll, Spica is too young to care and Rigel is too full of himself to help others. Additionally, he’ll never work with me.

I slam the door to my room and stare at my desk. It’s filled with perfumes, jewelry: all gifts from the nobility. Ideal for a princess, they said. So pretentious. So unaware. So stupid. I growl and slide the things off the table, feeling the rage overwhelm me. I let out a crude scream and throw the stool in a corner. My fingertips hurt as I throw my fluffy pillows at the window. I tap my foot angrily and crumble on the ground.

My breathing is hitched, I’m feeling too much to think clearly. I want to kill them all, one by one, I want their heads on spikes. Nobody believes, nobody wants to see the truth. I am their crown princess, the rightful heir and that’s how they treat me?! All these years I’ve trained, studied, cried for the crown and that’s how they acknowledge me? With nothing but distrust and mockery?

I feel angry tears fall down my cheeks and I wipe them in a swift motion. I won’t cry again. I won’t let them see they’ve hurt me so deeply. Traitors, all of them. To Hell with family traditions and loving, I’ve had enough!

I get up and throw off my shoes. I get undressed and search for an outfit for the training. I will fight the guards with my own bare hands if I must. They won’t stop me from leaving the palace grounds.

I find black pants and put them on. A dark blouse with a lace collar - that’ll do. I let my hair free and leave it unbrushed. It’s wavy due to the nightly braids. I put on high boots I’ve been saving for long travels. It’s time to shake things up in this palace.

I will use everything I have to my advantage. I could bribe servants to spy for me, I could use the Autumn Equinox as an excuse to talk to nobles and learn more about the revolution. I could go to Sir Demus directly and question him without any repercussions. What is Father going to do anyway? Lock me up in my room? That is quite childish for someone who thinks he is above everyone in the world. He would have frightened me if he threatened to execute Auretta, or disinherit me. Locking me up seems pathetic after everything I’ve been through in the past week.

I go down the stairs to the treasury. That’s where some of our money lies, for personal expenses or to pay the workers. I grab a whole purse and leave through the backdoor. In front of me stand the guards, a different pair.

“Am I allowed to go out?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. They share a glance and stutter.

“I don’t think the king’s orders were clear, Your Highness.”

“Then listen to mine! Let me out immediately.” They nod hesitantly and open the gates. Once outside, I say, “If he fires you for letting me out, then I’ll hire you again. Now back to work.”

They salute me and I head to the carriage parking place. A black shiny one is waiting for me. I get inside and input the destination on my left. It’s a small glass screen with a neon map of Argenis. It’s the first time I sit in the front passenger seat. The carriage turns on the engines and leaves, making funny puffing noises. I look through the window, scowling at life before me. Everyone acts so polite, so slow. If only they knew what is going on within our walls.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I can’t find what I’m searching for, every article of clothing seems to be not stylish enough, quality is not good enough, a migraine soon starts to bang behind my eyeballs. I grit my teeth and feel my hands shaking against my will. I cannot describe this feeling. It’s blinding. I want what I want now. I pace around the stores, huffing under my breath, unhappy. The people working there follow me around like dogs, trying to find something of value for me - nothing pleases me.

I want pants to move easy in, I want comfortable boots with intricate designs and medium heels, I want light coats that hide half of my chest - I want clothes to make me look powerful. But the only things I see are dresses, perfect for innocent cute princesses, not someone I wish to be. I furrow my brows, letting my annoyance known. I exit the stores with no purchases, leaving the salespeople confused.

As I’m walking back to my carriage, a memory waves over me. The actor, dressed in rags, passed me a note. There was no actor. It was a true beggar, asking me for help because Father did not listen. How ironic. I disregarded him like he was trash, and now I find myself in the same position. Begging the gods and spirits for help, because the king is unwilling to hear reason.

Damn it all, I am such a weakling. Even if I bought everything in the world it would not fill the empty space under my ribcage. I sigh and stop in the middle of the street. Looking back at it all, I find myself speechless. The line between hate and love within the royal family is thin. If I want to save us from demise… No. There is nothing else to do but to fight on my own.

***

The sun is at zenith when I arrive at the palace. The white walls gleam under the sunlight, blinding me. It’s so rich and bright I have to face the other way. There’s a bitter taste in my mouth as I approach the gates. Our butler is already standing at the entrance, his arms behind his back, awaiting. I step inside and dismiss his questions; I have no time to lose.

I have to find the knight before the soiree starts.

The barracks were left untouched by the flames. They’re on the other side of the palace, to the right. The more I watch the small gravel trails, the more I imagine spies following them in the dark of night to meet at their secret spot beside the greenhouse. I knock, and after a second, I push the wooden door and enter the building.

Knights are polishing their swords and reading reports. A door on the far corner is open, letting me glance at the shiny armory. There are many weapons there - something the spies must have taken account of. Dangerous place. I shouldn’t be here, and fear freezes me. It’s not a lion’s den, those are my subjects, ferociously loyal to Father. Except for one. He would not dare to attack me in the broad daylight, but somewhere deep inside, I still hear West’s words, simmering fear, “Do not trust everyone at the palace.”

“Your Highness!” One of the knights gets up, in his slacks. No armor, no helmet. It must be his time off.

“At ease,” I say in a calm voice. “As you must know, I recently lost my bodyguard. I need a replacement. I wish one of you would take on the role.” I notice some knights look at each other, shrugging. I nod. For now, everything is okay. “I will only take volunteers. I would never force you to change your lifestyle for me.” I smile the most innocent smile I can. He will take the bait. To be so close to the royal family at all times. That’s too precious of an offer. It must work.

Several knights step forward, bowing. “It will be our pleasure to be taken as your bodyguard, Your Highness.” I smile, checking the room. Most of the men and women stand in their places, content with their posts. A tall man steps from the dark corner and approaches the volunteers. His hair is gray, with blond ends. I recognize the look.

He stays silent, looking intrigued to see me here of all places. “Thank you, good sirs. I’ll need your names on a paper and I’d like to interview you, one by one. I'll choose one of you this way this afternoon - so the post is taken for the second day of Autumn Equinox.”

They bow and write their names down on a piece of paper.

Yele P.

Simon H.

Crescent A.

Layla W.

Demus K.

Here he is. Demus, alias Kaytus, or the other way around. Either way, he lied his way all the way here quite well. Now it’s my turn.

“See you after lunch, knights.”

Force of habit, I feel the need to tell Father about demanding a new bodyguard. I decide against it - he will learn when the time is right. It takes me all the courage to return to my room after seeing Demus up close again. This morning and now.

All of this to keep him close, to prevent him from contacting other spies or murdering his next victim. Machinations and scheming are not my forte - I’ve been raised on justice, laws and ethics. I’ve read countless books on humane ways to interrogate prisoners, medicine, economy, not revenge and murderous spies with weird hair color.

I pace around my room, amidst the mess I’ve created two hours ago. Everything splattered on the ground, smelling of perfume and bath soaps. I step over the ripped clothes and the stool, and lie on the unmade bed. Nobody has entered my room since I left, at least. It brings comfort.

I wait. The minutes are long, but I feel no hunger, no thirst, I put myself in a numb state for a while. I mastered the mental escape a long time ago, when I was still at the Academy. Who knew it would help me overcome the cruelties of life outside the magic borders. I bite my long nails, cutting them short. I won’t need them to be pretty for what’s to come. My hands will burn and be cut many times, if I am to develop my assault skills. There will be no beauty left in them. I’ll keep my face good, though. I’ll make sure nobody knows what I am doing. Except for the knight, who will be by my side every moment of the day. I’ll work him to death if that saves us all from his scheming.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I wake when I hear knocks on my door.

“Come in,”

“Your Highness, lunch is served,” Auretta comes in, bowing low. I yawn and get up, nearly stumbling on the objects lying around.

“Clean this up while I’m gone,” I say at her shocked face. “But do not tell the king and queen. And do throw away these.”

I scowl at the sight of shattered perfume and jewelry I don’t want anymore. I want something different and I cannot find it in Argenis. Where else would I acquire such clothing and accessories?

“Auretta, one moment.” I turn around and call her. “Do you know where I can buy… clothes for easy movement? In dark tones too. And accessories of witches?”

“Uhm…” she smiles, blushing. “I know a place, but it’s not in the capital. You’ll have to go to Mar for that.”

“Give me the address. I’ll have someone to accompany me just fine.” I smirk, through grief and fatigue, through pain and betrayal, I manage to find pleasure in it. And he will pay in a manner he is not familiar with. When I first met him he would not bow, he looked like a prince, proud with an unyielding character - well, he will have a taste of what it is to be stuck with your enemy all day long, shopping.

If he is indeed a revolutionary, then he will hate nothing more but to see me spend, control and laugh while his people are allegedly suffering. The smirk doesn’t leave my face even when I arrive at the throne room.

Father doesn’t glance at me while I eat. There is tangible tension in the room, but nobody will acknowledge it. Mother doesn’t speak, her hands trembling a little as she puts the wine glass to her lips. Rigel plays with his food, staring at Spica. My sister moves around her chair, unable to find a comfortable position.

For once, I feel at my place. I have a plan while they don’t. It’s not the smartest way to dismantle a revolution, but what would others do? The ones in power believe what they want, or cower beneath the comfort of guards around. The guards won’t save you, not when shadows creep all around. The whole castle smells of death, but nobody seems to notice.

I finish my plate and stand up, not even glancing at them all. I’ll only see doe eyes, staring at me with hatred and incomprehension. Why is she like this? Why is she so paranoid? Doesn’t she see the king is doing all to save us from burning? How can she be so angry? Why is Norella being a nuisance ever since she was brought to this earth?

I had tried, all my life, to be the perfect heir. I walked through the halls, watching the paintings and seeing myself in them. Powerful rulers, kindhearted and just, those who saved Malachite from poverty and hunger. I saw ministers bow to the king and imagined how it would feel to be at his place. I believed everything everyone told me, tutors, professors, parents. Now, everything is crumbling under my gaze. I see the castle walls shattering under the pressure.

Those who kill in the name of justice deserve nothing less but eternal damnation. Whoever dares to hurt my family must pay. Now I know my greatest wish. With West gone my dreams were shattered, one by one, my beliefs were crushed. But I must have a dream, otherwise I’ll end up like them. Powerless in their cages. My dream is the greatest of all. For my years not to go to waste. For my anguish not to be in vain.

My greatest wish is to trample our adversaries with the weight of the malachite crown that will one day lay on my temples.

As I arrive at the barracks, the knights are already out, training. Showing off their skills. I stand by a tree and watch, from a safe distance. I’ve heard them train but was never intrigued enough to see. Their swords clang, sparks flying as they move with grace. I’m mesmerized by the sheer strength of their arms. There are two women and three men.

I see them dance, as they cry out, pushing each other. I approach and they stop in unison. They stand like statues, waiting. I hold the list and call the first on it. Lady Yele comes forward, bowing and putting her sword into the scabbard on her side.

She follows me to the gardens, and we sit on a small round table made for tea afternoons. The festivities will be held inside this time, a big ball to honor the Equinox. A holiday taken from the Fae centuries ago, now an indispensable part of our culture.

Yele sits straight, her posture impeccable. Years of training are not easily forgotten. “I will ask you some questions.” I say, my palms sweating. She looks at me, her face unyielding. I’m scared of her, but try to hide it under a soft smile. “How old are you?”

“Thirty one, my lady,” I nod.

“What brought you to work here?”

“Since I was a kid I’ve always wanted to serve the Seagraves line. My father was part of the king guards back in the day. Before the sickness. It was the only fight he could not win. ”

I feel bad for not being interested in her past. I feel bad for wasting their time, very well knowing who my choice will be. Still, I continue.

“And why are you loyal to us? To me?”

She hesitates for a moment, but speaks clearly, “I believe in Malachite’s prosperous future. I believe that protecting your wellbeing will bring us a fortunate future.”

I nod and get up. I shake her hand and thank her for her time. I tell her to bring the next. I repeat the same process three times. I start to grow tired but push the feeling away. He is just meters away, being told to come see me at the rotunda. My palms and armpits are sweating. I feel hot. Fear is a nauseating feeling, but I repeat to myself that he won’t dare attack me here. He has too much to lose: his cover, Father’s trust.

Kaytus, or Demus, whatever he wishes, strides over to me. His walk is confident. Last time I thought he looked like a prince. If he were one, he’d be a cursed one.

“Your Highness,” he bows, his voice raspier than last time. A chill runs down my spine. It’s him. It’s his voice. I can’t be mistaken.

“Sit.”

So he does. He puts his hand on the table and moves his gloved fingers. Previous knights weren’t wearing gloves. I wonder why he does. He considers himself special, then. A little different from others; close to the king, investigating on his own (if I could call murdering an innocent investigating), an addition to the armor.

“How old are you?”

He gives me a surprised look. “Thirty,” I nod. Not as young as I thought. Must have a lot of experience fighting. I dig deeper.

“I remember that minister Jenn was the one to put your candidacy forward to the King. Last time you were quite offended by my question, but let me ask you again. What brought you to work here?”

“That wasn’t your exact question,” he smirks, but his eyes don’t follow.

“What was it already?” I put a finger on my lips, looking up. Play dumb, play dumb, Norella.

“Why did I deserve to replace such a great knight as Sir Faxon,”

“You said because you were more than capable of completing your duty,” I speak, venom clear in my voice. I tone it down. “So? Why did you want to be part of the knights in the first place?”

He studies my face. “I always loved fighting for what is right. And being a knight meant being righteous, noble at heart,”

His words make me sick. He’s everything but noble. “So you joined the training to fight for what is right?”

He nods, his green eyes still studying me. I could swear they scream with an eerie glow under the sunlight. They are unnaturally bright.

“That’s indeed noble of you,” I master to say without glaring. “I have another question for you.”

“Please,”

“What will you do if my life is in danger?” A simple question for a knight. But he was no knight, and I wanted a sign, at least something to prove my point. He smiled, his eyes cold like steel.

“I will protect you until my last breath.”

“How will you protect me?” I dare ask.

“I’m extremely well trained in swordsmanship. I am adept in basic medicine.” He speaks with pride. “And I can get out of any situation with my wit, unless I’m lethally wounded.”

I nod, noting his strengths. He would never tell me his weaknesses, but I had to try. He doesn’t know I cracked his cover. He looks too full of himself.

“You must have some sort of weakness. I should know it, so we both can be prepared.”

His eyes lit up. He must find it amusing. “As a royal knight, I’m one of the best.”

There's silence. Even the birds seem to have stopped chirping. “I don’t have a weakness.”

I let out a breath I was holding.

“You’re free to go.” I state, getting up. He follows but looks at me a bit longer. IThere’s a tiny hesitation.

“I hope whoever you choose doesn’t disappoint you,” I don’t know if I should take it as a threat. I wince still and he notices. I remind myself he's, first and foremost, a spy. He was probably trained for this mission. I am just a young princess, with knowledge of trading routes and political history, but none of what matters today. I’ll lose the game if I don’t step up.

“Don’t worry about that, Sir Demus,” I say, keeping a distance between us. I hope he can’t smell my fear. “I’m certain of my choice.”

I leave the gardens and head straight to the ‘safety’ of castle walls. A little bit further from the epicenter of death. I feel sick. I slide down the wall and start sobbing hysterically. I did it. I pulled it off. No reason to think he caught up. I push aside the negative thoughts. I’m sure it worked. He seemed way too comfortable. In his eyes, I am mourning my lover and guard, and need someone from the palace to protect me. He must think it’s perfect - if he wants to hurt me more, he’ll be close. It’s risky. I could pay for that choice with my life. But Father wouldn’t listen. I had to take things into my own hands, if I hadn’t… My family would pay the ultimate price for their ignorance. I can’t let it happen.

Sadness overtakes me for a time. I let tears fall, as I hug myself. Anger subsides and I feel small. I hug myself tighter.

I had escaped to the courtyard, in hopes none of the maids would find me there. Even if no one came after me, I still could feel their eyes within the walls, prying, ears listening to my every breath. Every ten minutes or so my eyes stung, and I quickly wiped them. All I could feel was anguish, this longing for the man I loved. One moment I am consumed by anger, the next I’m in a pit of sorrow. The more time passed, the more I thought, and the more I thought, the weaker I felt.

The sun is setting. Blood bangs against my temples - I have to move on. It starts to get chillier and I must prepare for the festivities. I must look well to welcome guests. I decide it’s time to go grab the spy and inaugurate his new title. I wonder if he’s afraid he won’t be chosen. It’s not according to their plan, if I don’t choose him, he might not care at all. Let’s hope this little stunt was tasty bait. I clench my fists and return to the barracks.

Demus is still outside, training with another knight. They’re not wearing breastplates or pauldrons, but still have a hard leather tunic, covering most of their chest and stomach. Their fists fly, as they attack, deceive and defend their position. I huff. Showing off again or searching for the knights’ weaknesses? Could be both.

“I’ve made my choice.” I speak loudly. Some turn around and the four I’ve interrogated beforehand come out of the barracks, fully armored, except for the helm. “Demus, you’ll replace the late shadowguard for the time being. Consider tonight your trial.”

His eyes shine with something otherworldly. “It will be my honor, Your Highness.”