The maids—though she would not call them her maids—returned upon the hour, thankfully with the item requested instead of excuses. Troia huffed at them and practically ripped the soundproof curtain from their hands. “I’ll take care of this myself,” she said. Which was just as well; they might have set it up in a way to allow eavesdropping. “How long have you two worked in the Seraglio?”

“I entered the palace a month ago as a lady’s maid,” Ida said in a small voice.

Khloe’s shoulders tensed for a moment. “I’ve been here a little over four years now, Miss Troia.”

Khloe definitely did something else before returning then, Mydea thought. Reported on her actions to whoever bribed them perhaps, waiting on further instructions? She sighed and shook her head. Lackeys without initiative were such a pain. Thank goodness she had Troia.

With Ida it was harder to tell, but the fact that her first posting was to be a lady’s maid raised some suspicions in itself. Strawborn did not stumble into prestigious positions by happenstance, and she had neither the seniority or the social graces to be considered. That left sorcery or subterfuge as the likely explanation for her good fortune.

“Does it normally take you so long to carry out your mistress’ wishes?” Troia asked rhetorically. “You are aware she might marry a prince one day, yes? I should hope your performance improves before then.”

They stayed silent, dipping their heads. Ida trembled slightly.

“Don’t just stand there! Go tend to Lady Mydea,” Troia said, shooing them.

“We’ve returned, my lady,” Khloe said. “Shall we draw a bath for you?”

Mydae did not answer from her seat on the sofa, only took her mother’s sword and laid it across the table. “Fetch me some ink and parchment.” She pointed to Ida. “You, some tea.”

Do I contend with one master or two? Mydea asked herself. It was redundant for someone to send two spies to do the job of one. Furthermore, if Ida and Khloe were indeed working together, it would only make sense that one act less suspiciously than the other. Unless, of course, neither knew the other was paid from the same purse.

If that were true, that suggested neither was truly trusted at this point, and so their master sought a second source to be sure.

The greatest argument against it remained Mydea’s own insignificance in the grand schemes of the Seraglio. Far more likely that two parties thought to get her measure than for one to be so thoroughly interested in her.

I can verify my suspicions, Mydea thought as she signed her name onto the parchment.

“Shall I find a kennel master to have this delivered, my lady?” Khloe asked, holding out her hands to receive the message.

“See to it. This letter is for Tomas, Prince Jaeson’s valet,” Mydea said.

Khloe curtseyed, shutting the door behind her as she exited the room, leaving her fellow maid to Mydea’s mercy for a while at least.

“The tea, my lady,” Ida said, setting a cup of bone porcelain before her.

Mydea picked it up, looked straight at Ida, and upturned the cup, its contents forming a puddle by her feet. “Do you not know how to make proper tea?” she asked.

The girl trembled. “I apologize, my lady!”

“Don’t apologize,” Mydea said, her voice scathing hot unlike the brew. “Do better.”

Ida sprung into action, taking back the cup hurriedly and nearly tripping over her own feet as she sought out the kettle. Her second attempt fared no better than the first. The fluctuating glow in Ida’s hands betrayed her inexperience with heat.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“This,” Mydea said, dumping the contents of her cup yet again into the growing puddle by her feet, “is tepid piss. You know what tea is, I hope?”

The pale girl said nothing, and refused to meet her eyes.

Mydea might have felt some pity if she wasn’t sure Ida was definitely a spy now. Mydea did not let her fail a third time, bringing the water to a boil by her own will. “Tea,” Mydea began, as she let her mix of herbs steep, “is a herb that’s been dried out. To bring it back to life you must use boiling water, before letting it cool to the right temperature for pouring.”

Ida nodded her head meekly.

“What you served me wouldn’t be acceptable anywhere,” Mydea said.

The girl was seventeen by Mydea’s estimation. That meant she’d spent four years at an athenaeum, likely less considering she was strawborn and not a rich one. Is she scared enough for what I need? Mydea pondered. It was hard to tell given how easily startled the girl was. If Mydea chose to keep her, she’d have to teach her too. After all, the maid reflected on the mistress.

“Bring me a whetstone,” Mydea ordered, as she pulled her sword from her sheath and inspected it for any nicks or scratches. “Do you have family?” Mydea asked as she applied a thin film of oil to the whetstone. She pushed the blade back and forth like her grandmother had taught her. Each time she did, Ida’s shaking grew worse.

“I have a mother and two younger brothers in the city,” Ida said.

“Are you close with them?” Mydea asked, already suspecting that she knew the answer.

“I s-send them a part of my pay each fortnight.”

If they lived in poverty, it would certainly explain why she was so easily bribed. Mydea held up her sword against the light to inspect it. “Family is important.” The words lingered in the space between them. “I trust that during your time in the Empress’ service, if you’ve not been taught to brew tea the right way, you’ve at least learned who the Empress’ family is?”

Ida nodded slowly.

“I’ve heard that Prince Jaeson is away from the city. Why?” Mydea asked.

“I don’t know much about that. I’m new here, my lady,” Ida said.

“Then what do you friends say about it?” Rumors were never wholly reliable, but there were some seeds of truth to them once all the exaggeration and speculation were washed away.

“Well … they say he’s currently staying at the Middle School,” Ida said. “He has been for over a year now.”

Mydea frowned and took a moment to understand which athenaeum she was referring to. The Syngians had different names for them. Still, it was odd for Prince Jaeson to be attending the athenaeum in the Everbloom, when his father hailed from the Primemarch. Those two great regions had been at war as often as any, and she could hardly imagine he held much affection for them. “Do they say why?”

Ida nodded eagerly. “Yes, my lady. Prince Jaeson had a disagreement with the Archystor of the High School over the direction of his advanced studies.”

That might explain why he’d left the Imperial Athenaeum at least. The Primemarch, alongside the Vaynish Plains, were the only two regions which had never established athenaeums. If Prince Jaeson was determined not to continue his studies in Aelisium, he had precious few options that didn’t belong to one of his homeland’s ancient rivals. Perhaps it was simply timing and a quirk of geography which had forced him into settling for the athenaeum in the Everbloom?

“What else do they say about him?”

“He’s fond of that game with all those different rules … eminent domain I think it was called?” Ida said. “I really don’t know much else, my lady. I was never stationed at the Imperial Palace, only the Seraglio.”

There was a soft bark coming from outside the room. Ida sprung into action, thankful for the interruption as she opened the door. A pup came striding in, tail wagging with vigor and a bit of rolled up parchment attached to its neck. Ida knelt to try and detach the letter, but the border collie growled at her fingers, forcing her to back off. It held its head up high, sniffing the air, before bounding up to Mydea and presenting itself by tilting its head.

“Aren’t you a handsome one,” Mydea said, stroking its black-and-white fur with one hand, and retrieving the parchment with the other.

The messenger pup’s tongue rolled out, clearly enjoying her touch.

She skimmed through the message and gestured for her maids to bring her a quill. Mydea wrote a quick response to it, reattached it to the pup, and gave it one last rub before saying, “Fetch!”

Long hours of training kicked in and the pup scurried out the room, returning to whoever had sent the message.

Mydea turned back to Ida. “Assist Troia in picking out a dress for me to wear for now. I’ve been invited to high tea, and I do despise tardiness.”