Anna and I were enjoying tea and biscuits, compliments of the kitchens, and she was regaling me with tales of her privileged youth on the morning that my peace was destroyed. Our disagreements were such a thing of the past that I quite failed to react when the Captain came marching in, looking peeved. Was it only a few moons earlier that I would have panicked to see him in such a state? Or to see him at all.

Anna sailed into grace and poise so quickly that if Avery had not noted her Charm, I never would have. As with any perception Charm, once known it fell away, leaving Anna marginally more human in my eyes.

The Captain’s immunity was painfully apparent. He stared at her only a moment too long before reverting to Gentleman Winter. Likely he had seen her so much as a child that he had unwittingly become forever blind to both it and her natural charm.

“Contessa Annalize.” He very properly bowed over her outstretched hand. “What an unexpected pleasure it is to find you here…” and he led her out, for all that it was such a pleasure, without a backwards glance. As usual I was left immobile to await his return.

He came back looking all kinds of stressed, which was unusual, and unaware of my presence, which was not. He spent several minutes straightening all the books on his shelf, strangely agitated.

Avery broke the silence by pushing me to say, “You might as well tell us, or you would have already sent us away.” Only she probably said me. “Is it about the fire mage?” she guessed.

He sat, “No.” Then frowned, shook his head and repeated “No,” but with less certainty. I wondered if he knew the source of his frustration.

“Did the Guild of Mages ever have anything to say about it?”

“Explain yourself clearly.” He was looking for something in his file cabinet and seemed unable to follow the conversation, which was odd.

Part of me did not want to ask, but I also really wanted to know. “About the spoon. You never told me what happened with it.”

“It was returned to its rightful owners.”

“Is it..an object of power?” Objects of power were rare, and took a lot of magic. I had researched them in his absence. If I had thought I could possibly make one, I never would have asked.

“Oh. No, of course not. It is a spoon. Thanks to a mage with little control and less training, it has an extra property or two, but it is nothing particularly special.”

Although his dismissal of it was still annoying and offensive. “But you said the baker-”

“I underestimated the power of greed. Reynolds knows collectors who pay well for unusual objects, and the Thieves Guild promised to pay as well, for some strange reason.” He set a sheath of papers on his desk and spread them out, appearing to read them. For several minutes, he shuffled through them, rereading different pages.

To destroy the padfoots?

Hopeful, I stood and attempted to leave the room. Despite his preoccupation, he noticed and also stood, too frustrated to be properly annoyed with me. “Sit down.”

There was none of the usual force behind it. I sat and wondered if I should be ringing the bell for a healer. He remained standing behind his desk and flicked the papers in irritation, or to draw my attention to them. “Anything interesting or unusual?” I asked. It was what he normally wanted me to find when he gave me his case files.

“I have before me a curious letter which regards a marriage between a count and a young girl.” I felt a chill run down my arms and up my spine. “His previous wife died in childbirth, along with the child, and he lived alone for a number of years.” He glanced at the paper again, but he was not reading from it. “A year ago he married a girl of 16 years.”

Avery let out a breath and slumped into my chair. That was terrifying.

Not me, not my story. Not Essel. Not Count Tergin. I breathed in, lightheaded, and sought my voice. “Which is illegal?” I intended to make a statement, but my voice came out uncertain and high-pitched.

“No.” He frowned slightly. “From before—there is a law regarding childless widowers. A widower or widow may, with proper permission from both the parents and the intended spouse, marry a willing person of sixteen years or more. It is an old practice intended to protect even older bloodlines. It does not happen often.” He rubbed his forehead between his eyes, looking almost human. Until he turned to look at me, captainly mask firmly in place.

“The problem is that the bride was kidnapped. This man is requesting assistance in locating his missing wife, who he believes has been brought to Saliz.”

Feeling encouraged, or possibly pressured, I accepted the letter from him. The handwriting was unmistakable. The words, “My beloved Avery” glared at me before the page blurred. Avery caught my hand to steady it.

Captain Winter had returned to pacing, so he was not looking while I controlled my expression. Or rather, while I failed to. “We could give him assistance in finding the girl. He included a detailed portrait, making it a very simple task.”

I felt cold staring at the illegible paper. His continued silence drew my eyes up from it, but he was too preoccupied by his own thoughts to wonder at mine.

“However, I hesitate to do that, as she clearly ran away.” He motioned the other papers, which no doubt detailed my journey to the city. I did not move to look at them. “We could keep her here on the basis that she is a wanted criminal, but he would simply bribe the aggrieved persons to not press charges.” He stopped again and looked at me, though he did not appear to see me.

“How long would that take?” I stared at the letter without seeing it. Instead I saw a warrant for my immediate arrest.

“A moon, or less,” he flipped through the papers distractedly. “Just look at these records. Is there any crime she did not commit?”

None. I had charmed the Count’s personal guard to fall in love with me and to run away together. I had persuaded a tanner in the next town to fight the guard, and then had to run away after setting fire to the tannery. Was anyone caught in it? Did the fire spread to the neighbors’ houses? Had the guard killed the tanner? I had no idea.

I had lived in a farmer’s barn for awhile, until I was discovered. I had stolen food, clothes, soap. And that was all before I reached Atelis.

In Atelis, I had thought to join the woodcrafter’s guild. When they refused me the first time, I broke in and tried to steal student’s papers, but I was caught and most of the building collapsed during my escape.

Weak foundations.

I had stolen a prize stallion in Atelis, one that was intended as a gift for the king’s next birthday, and then attempted to sell it in Sorya. It was unluckily recognized, and I broke into a house to avoid capture and then made up a whole pile of lies to keep the residents from reporting me. I had to lock them in their own cellar to escape the city.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The rest of the way to Saliz, I had kept to petty thieving and avoided cities, so there would be no records of the chaos I caused in the little towns whose names I had never bothered to learn.

“And then there is no record at all for several moons.”

Until Saliz, where I stole from the Thieves Guild and killed a man.

And yet the Count could make it all disappear in one moon.

“And yet he says she was kidnapped, and I am expected to believe him. This is why I told the King to abolish that wretched law. It was bound to cause trouble sooner or later.” He glared in the direction of the King’s quarters, and I wondered if the King felt it. “If she seeks asylum..”

I wet my lips and attempted to do so, but no sound came out.

“It is likely that she is the unidentified mage, judging by the timing. It is too much to be a coincidence.”

I lost all desire to say anything, partly in shock that he had not, apparently, realized that it was me. Avery flipped through the papers until she found the detailed portrait. A pretty, heart-shaped face, long glossy brown curls, that playful, coquettish smile… A perfect likeness of Kivalya. I did not know whether to be offended or relieved. Did that make me safe?

"Count Tergin is well spoken of in his town, and his status as a widower is certainly pitiable. Many would agree that his bride should be returned to him, regardless of whether she ran away or was kidnapped.”

Thankfully he had completely forgotten my purpose-driven arrival, or he might have guessed my identity. Had we really thought it was a good idea to ask that question of the king? What difference would it make, could it make?

“It is a difficult situation.”

I certainly saw my difficulty. I could hear it ringing in my ears.

“My, but you are plain.” the Count’s gaze flitted over me, leaving me feeling exposed for all my heavy finery. Avery was uncharacteristically silent and his carriage was made of metal, leaving me no choice but to bow my head away from his hand and wait for an opportunity to escape. For Kiva’s sake, I could not leave until the ceremony was complete and the papers signed. He could not touch her if he was already married to me. And perhaps Mother would be proud of me, for protecting the daughter she loved.

“He has been chasing her all this time?” I had not expected that. Perhaps I should have, and sought legal council.

"Apparently so.”

There was a whole crowd of people. The Count helped me out of the carriage, keeping a heavy hand on my arm. He need not have worried—I fully intended to sign his stupid papers. Maybe Avery would burn him as he slept and we would take his wealth and title.

I did not think to be scared, only sad. Really, he cut a fine figure in his suit. And in public he was almost charming.

“He names her kidnapper as one of his guards. This is consistent with the report from Ateles, but it is the only detail in his story that is remotely credible.”

Everyone in town was there, it seemed. Was that Mother?! No. She was not coming—she had signed the papers when she let him take me away only a phase earlier, on my fifteenth birthday.

Once the papers were publicly signed and stamped, he ignored me for the rest of the festivities. His guards kept a close eye on me, though. One seemed more human than the other two, but I ignored them all. Their uniforms and steady stares were unnerving.

But the food! It was divine.

I danced with everyone, it seemed, save the bridegroom.

“The guard was found murdered by enemies of the Count, who apparently made heavy ransom demands, but then she escaped and became lost, running south rather than north to her husband. The report is well-detailed coming from someone claiming he has no idea where she is.”

I made sure everyone saw me up close. No one could confuse Kiva and I. We looked nothing alike.

Somehow I ended up at the Count’s residence, alone, at the end of the night. The guards were still keeping a close eye, but two of them clearly thought me harmless and the other was susceptible to being charmed even by me. I did not try, but I paid attention to everything, just as Master Thorne had taught.

Since I was alone, I explored the castle. It was unfriendly cold stone, but surprisingly beautiful. The rooms were warmly decorated and completely at odds with my image of the Count. I found myself wondering if my first impression had been mistaken. Perhaps he was only awkward.

“He asks aid in locating the girl, who he feels must be here in Saliz, despite having been unable to find any trace of her for moons. He seems to think I will find her simply by opening my eyes—useless drivel.”

For a time I lived the life of a countess, spoiled by the finery of the castle. A dressmaker came, and a cobbler. They made the most beautiful clothing and shoes I had ever seen, let alone worn. Gifts of horses, kittens, fine woods, and trinkets arrived almost daily with little notes from the Count. The cook made the best foods, the maids cleaned everything.

It was only a moon before Count Tergin returned.

“He expects much, flatters much. Suddenly he is all apologies over any past disagreements. He even sent invitations in the last month to all the guilds to test the people of Essel. Everything about this reeks of manipulation.”

I was happy to see him, bored as I was. And all the gifts had softened me considerably.

He was full of more gifts and flattery; I was flattered. Unlike Kiva, no boy had ever noticed me. I had no experience with the ways of men.

“The girl must be in the city, or he would never have requested assistance. He knows he has no influence here. His wording in some places is almost accusatory, as though he suspects that I am already keeping her from him.”

It was not as though I did not know that we were married and what that meant—although I did not, not in full—but I was fifteen and figureless, not a real woman in any way that counted. He was as old as my Father. And he had wanted Kiva, who at eighteen was gorgeous and sweet.

And legal. Avery pulled my head up. “She was sixteen? Not..?”

“You can see the papers. Her birthday had passed. It was not illegal.”

It was the paper I had signed, but the date had been altered to make it legal.

“All dressed up, you could pass for a woman, almost.” The Count sneered, spit and poisonous words flying at me and sticking to my face. “Pretty as she was,” he stroked my face, “I shall enjoy breaking you.”

Though susceptible to the flattery, I had still resisted when he attempted to take me into his bedchamber. His whole manner had changed in a flash, and he told me exactly what he thought of me. Then he threw me into the dungeon beneath his floor—”Made just for you, dearest Avery.”

I pushed the memory away and focused on the picture of Kivalya. At fifteen years, I had been illegally young, but Kiva would not have been. When had he changed the dates? What about the witnesses? Why put her face with my name?

“Give me your opinion.”

I had missed the subject of the question. “Are there not more important things to be doing?” I asked vaguely. “Stopping murderers, preventing crimes and such, advising..people..”

The Captain said nothing, but as he went to his bookshelf, I could not help feeling that something had been lost. He was very professional as he handed me a book so heavy that I nearly dropped it on myself. He said, “Study.” I was dismissed.

I tried to read it, but the lockbox had been opened and the memories would not stop coming.

For a moon he had daily taunted me from his room. My tiny prison was too small to escape his reaching hands, which patted me on the head, tousled my hair, and stroked my face when he gave compliments and insults alike. As though he meant well.

Periodically the guards would take me out to clean the entire castle and cook all the meals. He had sent the maids and the cook away. My every moment controlled, I was forced to cook amazing dishes and permitted to eat only stale bread and sour milk.

Then the Count would take me outside, like he was giving me a treat. A boat ride on the lake; a carriage ride through the forest; a visit to the marketplace. As though I was going to like him suddenly.

I did not.

But it was not a sure thing. If he had continued his false kindness instead—

It did not matter anymore. It had taken nearly a year and many failed attempts, but I had escaped. And I would not go back.

The book was a giant compilation of the Captain’s previous assistants’ notes on all the cases he had handled since he had become the Captain, a whole decade earlier.

I was not thrilled, but a few passages, every forty pages or so, were very interesting. Well, interesting. Well, informative.

It took a long while to get through.

It caused me to realize, rather uncomfortably, that I had no life outside my little square room and the Captain’s study. Between the issue of the golden picks and living in the Captain’s closet, I had become a hermit. Most of the people who lived at the palace were older, or very nosy. Or both. Mostly both. Anna was not so free that she could visit often. Nor could I visit her, because she would be at the Woodcrafters Guild, and Master Thorne had returned.

How long had it been since I had been out of doors? For a few days it had been rainy, and then it had been sweltering. But I knew that was not why I had barely left my closet in two phases. Or was it more?

I could not allow the Count to continue to ruin my life. I needed to get out, to breathe real air.