It was a very long day.

No, a very long few days.

The Crown Prince kept insisting Em joined them. Flint wasn’t completely sure, but he thought it might be to keep him on edge. If that was Thiago’s strategy, then it worked.

It was only when Em acted like a child and began interfering with the work that Flint could send her away.

The problem was, Em had to force it.

Not that she was mature in every way, but Em usually wasn’t a demanding or childish presence. Sometimes she had an emotional break-down and that one time tantrum. The rest of the time, she wore whining and acting out like a costume.

Flint wasn’t certain Thiago didn’t see through her acts.

Flint did. It was training that kept him from wincing. And he sent more than one prayer that he was the only one who saw her behavior for what it was.

But he needed her to leave. It was the only way he could fully concentrate on the task at hand.

Once they were done with the estate, they left for the reeves. But, not the ones he selected. Thiago casually vetoed his selections and made his own instead.

Of the three reeves he chose, two of them were the worst in the March.

For the first one, Flint convinced the prince to let Em stay home. Because it would be an overnight stay if she went. But not the second.

The final reeve the prince would inspect on his way back home. Which meant another long ride toward the border.

It was annoying by itself, but again the prince insisted that Em join them. Which doubled the annoyance factor.

It was almost over.

With the inspection of the second reeve done, the prince would be returning to the Capital in the morning. Flint would take the carriage to the border reeve for Em’s comfort, then bid the royal couple goodbye once the last inspection was done.

That was tomorrow's trip.

Tonight, they were just getting back from the latest reeve long after dark.

Em had ridden her own pony to the reeve, played with some of the reeve’s few children while the adults did their inspection, then sleepily rode with him on the way back.

She fell asleep soon after sunset and would shift and mumble uncomfortably as she leaned against him. Flint looked down at her often. Making sure she didn’t fall… while not acknowledging the small smiles he gave her.

She was a very patient child.

“There are a few more documents I’d like to go over before bed,” Thiago announced when they reached the manor’s yard.

Flint winced when Em flinched awake at the sound of the other man’s voice.

Under cover of darkness, Flint shot Thiago a scowl.

“Flint?” Em mumbled.

“Shh, go back to sleep.” Flint swung down from the horse and pulled Em into his arms.

To his relief, she promptly did as he told her. Snuggling into his shoulder.

That only lasted a moment as Em’s maid came down the steps and offered to take her. Em was too big for the maid to be carrying (for anyone to be carrying, really), but he needed to deal with the prince. Reluctantly, he handed his sister over.

“Did you hear me, Baron?”

“Yes, those documents are in my study.”

Flint didn’t look at the prince as he spoke. Instead, watching the maid walk away with Em in her arms.

“You must adore your sister.”

Flint flinched and returned his attention to the prince.

“Isn’t that natural, your highness?”

“Hmm.” Thiago watched him with a look Flint didn’t like. Like a cat who’d found a mouse hole. “Shall we?” He waved toward the house.

“You two do as you wish. I’m going to bed.”

Lady Madeline handed her reins to a waiting stable hand then stalked toward the building.

“I’ll see you soon, love.”

Unlike Flint, Madeline couldn’t hide her flinch. And she was under the lantern when it happened. She didn’t look back and didn’t answer as she stomped inside.

“I wonder what got under her skin?”

Thiago’s question was more dismissive than curious. So Fint didn’t bother trying to find an answer. Ignoring the quiet activity of his people taking care of horses and going to bed themselves, he led the prince to his study.

Where the prince kept him up even later with the same questions he’d asked the first day.

Flint realized that this delay meant they wouldn’t be leaving the castle tomorrow. Not unless they wanted to leave late in the afternoon.

Bastard.

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Tiredly, he escorted the prince to his room and headed to bed himself. Barely glancing at Lady Madeline’s door as he went.

Once in his room, instead of going straight to bed, he pulled a bottle of strong whisky off the top shelf of his wardrobe and popped it open. Drinking straight from the bottle as he stood by the window.

Maybe it was because he’d just passed her door. Maybe it was because he was agitated. But his mind drifted to the first night of the royal couple’s arrival.

When he saw Madeline breathing through a panic attack outside her door.

His hand shook, and he took three more gulps than he meant to.

That wasn’t the first time he’d seen her panic attacks.

The first time had been after a battle with the Allgris. She had, as usual, pushed herself beyond her limit. Normally, he didn’t personally monitor their magic wielders (he had other people do that).

But she was different.

A month after her mercenary band joined them, she said something. He couldn’t remember now what it was, but at the time it jogged his memory. He suddenly realized where he thought he’d seen her before. And who she was.

Dulce. The sorceress of House Dulce.

He swore long and loud, pulled her into his tent, and confronted her.

Why he didn’t turn her in and send her home, he still didn’t know. None of her arguments were valid…

It was his duty to send her home.

He only remembered one of those arguments though. Just one. Perhaps it was the one that was the deciding factor for him, he wasn’t sure.

“I’d rather be miserable here than have that ass touching me!”

How old was she at the time? Eighteen? Nineteen? Barely of age. And as far as he knew, she’d run away from home when she was fifteen. A talented sorceress even then, it wasn’t hard for her to pretend to be merely a mage for a year or two. Add to that, she looked a few years older than she was.

As a woman, she was an oddity but not out of place.

No one thought to look for her in a war zone.

It occurred to him she was fifteen or younger if she was referring to someone back home… Someone who'd been…

Even now, it made him angry.

In any case, he hadn’t sent her back.

It was on the condition that she accepted a place in his own knightage, where he could monitor her. And when she was finally discovered and dragged back by the Crown Prince’s people two years later, he would have admitted to knowing who she was and purposefully hiding her.

Except she denied it.

Vehemently and with poisonous looks at him.

He was not a stranger to remaining silent when it would do no good for anyone to speak up.

Why was he thinking about this again? He took another sip of the whiskey and popped the cork back in.

Ah, yes, her first panic attack in front of him.

It was a strange thing that had caused it, too. A wagon had gotten out of control and ran into the side of a tree. Lady Madeline’s legs collapsed right then, and she covered her head.

It was the worst of her attacks he’d ever seen. But because of that first one, he quickly learned to spot the others.

If she’d lost control of her magic, even once, then he would have been forced to send her away. But she never did and always rallied when they needed her. So he’d selfishly kept her around, even knowing how much more hurt she would probably bear.

He put the bottle away before he gave into the temptation to drink the rest of it. Then went to bed without changing, only leaving his boots beside the bed.

When he went to his study late the next morning, he found a new stone sitting in the middle of his paperwork.

Patience.

For some reason, Em had chosen a tree with a noose hanging from it in the background. He choked on an unexpected laugh before putting it on his mantle with the others.

As he predicted the night before, Thiago did not get up until after the noon meal. It gave Flint time to go over the reports he was sending back with the prince. As well as the copies he intended to send separately.

Just to make sure the Emperor received them.

When Thiago came, he plunked a scroll on Flint’s desk before Flint had time to stand and bow.

“Here. This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”

Flint eyed the scroll warily.

“I thought you wished to give it to me once we saw the last reeve, your highness.”

Thiago shrugged casually.

“Despite the atrocious state of things, I’m convinced you’ve done much to restore the area. As much as is possible for the short time you’ve been here.”

Flint hesitated.

“Thank you… your highness.”

He’s being too gracious, Flint thought. Studying the man as he continued talking, suddenly praising everything he’d seen. What are you up to?

“Oh, by the way.” Thiago suddenly leaned forward on the desk, smiling benevolently. “I heard Madeline gave you a reward for your service to her a while back.”

Flint tensed. Suddenly and horribly aware of the lump in his pocket.

He hadn't gone a day without it on him. Since that was her request.

His hand flinched, almost reaching for the lump. Though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. Protect it, maybe?

What did she tell Thiago?

He was almost sweating with worry, though his face remained unreadable.

“More of an unwanted memento, your highness. I gave her a mana stone for her work when she first joined my knightage. She was just returning it, though I did not expect it back. In fact, I had forgotten about it.”

“Is that so?”

Flint bowed his head.

“I think she wanted to reminisce a bit as well on that occasion. I’m the only one of the right rank for her highness to talk to, I’m afraid. No matter how uncomfortable it makes us.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“She’s the Crown Princess, I am but a military man.” Pause. “I suppose I was the only one uncomfortable.”

Thiago didn’t reply for a heartbeat. Then he threw back his head in a laugh.

“That’s because you have sense!” Then, still smiling, he added the poison. “Continue to feel uncomfortable. It is only good and right to reverence the imperial family.”

Flint tilted his head again. Something aching in his chest.

“I won’t forget, your highness.”

Thiago stood up and stretched, forcing Flint to stand in respect.

“Get some rest today, Grimshaw. We’ll set out in the morning. Don’t forget to bring your sister.”

Flint clenched his jaw. Relieved the man was leaving.

“Oh, by the way.” Casually, Thiago turned in the doorway. Smiling benevolently. “I thought I’d inform you the Duke over your March will be appointed at my wedding.”

Ah. Flint was wondering when that would happen.

“I see.”

“Don’t you want to know who it is? After all, it is the man you’ll have to report to.”

“Of course I wish to know.” Flint calmly straightened a stack of already straight papers and put them aside. “But it is not my place to ask.”

“After much debate with my advisors, we’ve chosen Duke Waghorn as your superior. For his admirable loyalty to the Empire.”

Flint didn’t flinch.