Mouse squeezed the little archer tafl piece tightly in her hands, holding it to her chest. You are the jewel of Aros, she told herself, tamer of terrible thoughts.

Her legs were tucked up tightly beneath as she lay under the thick blankets, willing herself northward, to the large stone house with a half-moon painted on the door.

She had not left her chambers in more than a day, so tormented she was by horrible images of arrows and screaming horses and Johannes’s sickening grin. Could any of it be true, she wondered, Ludger’s ravings

or was it all part of some horrible dream?

She rubbed her thumb along the little archer’s bow as she held it in her grasp, longing for the Foilunder’s comforting presence. If she could but borrow his ear, perhaps she might talk herself out of frenzied thoughts that plagued her, or better still, he might distract her with stories of his homeland.

How she yearned to hear his thick northern accent, to see the sunlight dance in his bright blue eyes, to watch the pink tufts of Persian silk fall upon his shoulders.

She would go to him, she told herself. North she would ride on the back of noble Passavant, to the mighty Manau and across Kingfishers’ bridge, just as soon as she gathered the courage to leave her chambers.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door, rousing Mouse from her thoughts and sending her heart into her throat. Quietly, she climbed from her feathers and padded to the door, pressing her ear against it to listen for any suspect sound.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“Georund of Caldiff,” the muffled voice came from the other side. “Oi, Mouse, it’s me, Pritha.” Mouse allowed a sigh of relief to escape her lips as she unlatched the door and opened it just enough to see that the gap-toothed serving girl on the other side was alone before ushering her quickly inside.

“What’s going on?” Pritha asked with a laugh as Mouse pulled her by the arm through the crack in the door, relatching it hurriedly. But the smile quickly fell from her face as she stopped to look Mouse over.

“Are you alright?” she asked, no doubt noticing Mouse’s unkempt hair and rumpled gown, telltale signs that she had not left her room in some time.

“Yes,” Mouse replied. “Well, no. Maybe.” She smiled weakly. “I will be.”

Pritha gave her a sympathetic look.

“It’s not Lord Johannes, is it?” she asked. “I tell you, I laid eyes on him the other day and it looked like someone clocked him a nice one,” she smirked. “Can’t say he didn’t have that coming from someone or another. A lot of someones, most likely.”

Mouse bit her lip, trying to decide how much to say to the girl. It was not as though she did not trust Pritha, but there were things she dare not even repeat out loud to herself.

Besides, she hadn’t any idea how much of what she had heard was true. The part about her being the Empress’s sister was decidedly the most fallacious piece of information passed to her recently, but the implication that Johannes may have somehow been involved with the dead man from Silver Lake, well, who was to say whether or not that might be grounded in fact.

“Johannes is part of the problem,” Mouse admitted hesitantly, “but—” She shook her head. “Well, there’s always something, isn’t there?” she sighed.

Pritha took Mouse’s hands up in her own, looking into her friend’s eyes.

“Tell me what I can do,” she said. “You want me to sneak you up a bottle of something nice and strong? There’s a new one in the pantry, and I’m telling you, he’s got eyes for me. I reckon there’s not much he wouldn’t let me get away with.”

Mouse laughed appreciatively.

“Thank you,” she said, her heart lightening at Pritha’s kindness. “Actually,” she said, an idea suddenly occurring to her, “if it’s not too much trouble, do you mind asking Jasper about something for me?”

Pritha smiled.

“Go on, then,” she said.

“Ask him if he knows anything about a saddler from Silver Lake,” Mouse said. “Johannes may have been in contact with the man. He’s called Jens.”

“Jens the saddler from Silver Lake,” Pritha nodded. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Mouse said with a smile, crossing to her dressing table and taking up a small white cube from a wooden bowl. “Ask him to give this to Passavant for me,” she said, placing the sugar cube into Pritha’s open hand. She’d been collecting them from the breakfast table, taking one or two down to give to the grey gelding each time she passed the stables.

Pritha looked down at the sugar cube in her hand.

“Have you got one for me?” she asked with a grin.

When Pritha had gone, Mouse retreated once again to the safety of her bed, climbing atop her feathers and pulling the heavy blankets back up over her head. She was glad for her friend’s helpfulness and the momentary reprieve from her ruminations, but she still did not feel herself equal to the task of facing the world at large.

However, she was not long at repose before another knock came at her door. Could it be Pritha back again so soon? she wondered, climbing from her feathers. She padded back over to the door, leaning close enough to it that her ear rested against the wood.

“Who’s there?” she called.

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The voice that came back was too quiet to be heard, too muffled to make out the speaker. Mouse reluctantly opened the door a sliver, just enough to see a crop-haired page waiting outside.

The girl, upon seeing her, did not wait for Mouse to open the door any further before addressing her.

“My lady,” the girl bowed. “I’m bade tell you that you are no longer unwell and therefore have no excuse to be further absent from Council.”

Mouse scoffed indignantly.

“And who may I thank for these glad tidings?” she asked.

But the page only looked back at Mouse, pressing her lips together, creating the distinct impression that she had been asked not to disclose this information.

Mouse raised a querulous eyebrow.

“Was it my sovereign who sent you,” she asked, “or some old man who imagines himself a great keeper of secrets and master of all?”

The girl looked at her for another moment as if deciding whether or not to answer.

“The old man,” she said at last.

“Well then,” said Mouse, “I thank you for your diligence in conveying this communiqué.” And with that, she closed the door. But no sooner had she latched it shut then another knock came.

Mouse pulled it open once again, allowing only enough space through which she could see the girl.

“Can my lady be expected then?” the page asked. “At Council, that,” she added quickly.

Mouse forced a smile to her lips.

“Your master must be satisfied in knowing that you have carried out your duty, for I have no further answer on the subject,” she said tersely.

The girl looked back at her questioningly.

“That means no,” Mouse said, closing the door once again and hoping that this time the page would leave her to her peace. But alas, her wish was not to be granted, for the girl knocked yet again.

Mouse cracked open the door to see the girl still standing outside. This time, however, she did not speak, but instead held out a small flower to Mouse, the stem clasped in her small hand.

It was a mallow, Mouse saw, looking down at the bud, a white one with pink around the edges of the petals.

“What am I to do with that?” she asked, sighing impatiently at the page.

The girl shrugged her shoulders.

Mouse took the mallow from the girl’s hand and bit the flower off of the stem before handing it back to her.

The girl stared at her in blank-faced confusion.

”Now, knock on my door again,” Mouse said, “and I’ll send you back to your master the same way as that flower.

Mouse closed the door and turned back to her room, wondering if she dared tempt fate by crawling back into her bed. She stopped to look in the glass at the frowzy girl who stared back at her from behind a mess of uncombed hair that hung about her shoulders.

You, she thought to herself, are not the jewel of Aros.

With a reluctant sigh, she took up a comb to begin to work out the knots from her hair. Though she had managed to free herself of the persistent page, she had not been able to do away with the feeling that she must tell someone what she had gathered of Johannes’s possible involvement in the incident at Silver Lake. She did not know if her concerns would be taken seriously, or if they would even be heard, but she knew that she must defer the telling of it no longer.

In the worst case, it would come out that Johannes had indeed hired the dead man to carry out his dread deed. It was Mouse’s worst fear, to think that she had been living alongside a murderous monster all the while, and in that case, it would not matter who had been his object; he would be arrested at once and likely see the noose.

However, it may well be that his connection to the man was innocent, a coincidence. In that case, Mouse could only pray that he would not find out her accusations against him, for if he did, she certainly would not go unpunished. But better, thought Mouse, to live a lifetime under the nobleman’s torment than under the fear of being killed at any moment.

Having changed her gown and tended her hair, Mouse now slipped quietly through the door, glancing up and down the hallway as she did.

Her object now was to find Ulrich and disclose to him what she had heard from Lord Alfric about Johannes and the saddler from Silver Lake.

With a deep breath and a last glance behind her, she began briskly down the hallway. She did not know where she would find the head of the Empress’s guard, but she supposed she had to start somewhere.

She continued down the hall as quickly as she could, moving quietly while keeping herself alert of her surroundings. However, she must have been more distracted by her thoughts than she realized, for she did not see the hand that reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into an adjoining hallway.

“Release me!” Mouse cried, as she tried to pull herself free, the smell of wine greeting her before she had a chance to recognize her assailer.

“Be quiet,” Johannes spat, dragging her further down the hallway. “For god’s sake, Mouse” he said, as she wrested her arm from his grasp, “you’d think it was I who struck you and not the other way around.”

Mouse looked up into the nobleman’s sneering face, at the large purple bruise on his right cheek.

“What do you want?” she demanded coldly.

“That depends,” said Johannes, his smile distorting the shape of the bruise. “What are you offering?”

Mouse huffed in disgust as tried to push past him, but the nobleman blocked her escape, grabbing both of her wrists.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll hold nice and still, and you can hit me on the other side. How does that sound?”

Mouse set her jaw defiantly, her eyes darkening at the pugnacious noble.

“I’ve a message for you from Lord Alfric,” she said through gritted teeth, yanking her wrists from his grasp.

“Do tell,” said Johannes, reaching for strand of Mouse’s hair.

“He wants the coin you owe him,” said Mouse, resisting the urge to swat his hand away, watching his face closely as she spoke. “And his saddle,” she said, “the one you had sent to Silver Lake.”

“Hmm,” murmured Johannes, spinning a lock of Mouse’s dark between his fingers before pressing it to his nose. “He’ll get it soon enough, I’m sure.”

Mouse studied the nobleman’s face. She had expected to see something there that would corroborate her suspicions, some momentary flash or unsuppressed twitch, a glimmer of guilt or dilation of the pupil, that might hint that he had something to hide.

But much to her surprise, no trace of panic—of anything—crossed his expression upon hearing her words.

If Johannes did have any knowledge of the man from Silver Lake and what he had been accused of, he was either too skilled at disguising it to ever be indicted or, Mouse wondered, innocent in the matter.

“Now that you’ve given me your message,” he said, his eyes moving from Mouse’s hair to her face, “I’ve a message for you to deliver.”

Mouse stared at him from behind cold, dark eyes.

“Tell Her Majesty,” he said, his eyes traveling over Mouse’s countenance, “I’ve a gift for her. One that I think she’ll like very much.”

“And why should I tell her?” Mouse asked coolly.

“Do so,” smiled Johannes, “and I won’t tell her that you’re the one who gave me this,” he said, taking Mouse’s hand and pulling it to the bruise on his face.

Mouse yanked her hand away.

“Do you really think she would care who it was that gave you your just dues?”

Johannes’s smile dropped away.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said, his green eyes hardening. “But if you care to find out…”

Mouse bit down on her lip.

“Fine,” she said, deciding it was not worth the risk. “I’ll deliver your message.”

An oily smile returned to the nobleman’s face.

“That’s a good girl,” he said.

Mouse, now free from the nobleman, pushed passed him and headed back the way she had come.

“Mouse,” Johannes called after her before she had chance to turn the corner.

Mouse sighed and closed her eyes before turning back to see what the nobleman wanted. Johannes stood in the dim hallway a few steps behind her, holding out something in his hand. Mouse took a step closer, furrowing her brow as she looked at the object.

It was a mallow, she realized, a funny feeling coming over her, a white one with pink around the edges of the petals.

She looked from the flower to the nobleman’s eyes, gleaming green against the purple of his bruise.

“I believe you dropped this.”