Willoughby took the week off with his wife. I didn't know where he went or if he left or stayed home, or if he'd followed the Duke and Lord Beck back to the Riverlands to finish the job he'd started on a different set of stairs. Ser Elías had kept me company for everything. A few gowns that I had ordered were delivered on Monday. I was not allowed to go anywhere alone, and after days of not discussing anything with my family– just ignoring the entire night– Friday was there, and I found myself in a familiar sort of trance. Amy fastened the back of my dress, and I watched her do it in the mirror.

"Are you sure we like this one better?" I finally asked after nearly an entire half-hour in it.

She shook her head. "If you're having second thoughts, we can switch," she told me, "But I think they're all beautiful options."

"Alright," I said. "It doesn't wash me out?"

"No, Your Highness."

"...Do you know if there's been any word from the Duke?" I asked.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," she said. "You've no letters this week."

"And no flowers," I muttered. My stomach was in knots. "Do you think he'll come tonight?"

"I think he promised you he would, right?"

"Yes, but..." My breath was shaky. "What if he's changed his mind? What is Ser Willoughby beat him, what if–"

"What if Ser Willoughby beat him?" she snickered. "Where in the Heavens would that idea come from? Ser Willoughby wouldn't hurt a fly. He is the kindest, sweetest soul."

"Is he?" I asked.

"Yes. When I first started here, the cook told me about the time he tried to pet a swan. Then it attacked him, and he wasn't even mad about it."

"He tried to pet it?" I croaked. "I thought it just... launched itself at him. I didn't know he was an idiot!"

"An idiot, eh?" On synchronistic cue, my Sword's voice cut into the room, and I snapped to it.

"Willough!" I breathed.

"Aye, Princess." His eyes were heavier than they were normally, and he looked exhausted. "I bid you're well?"

"Are you alright?" I asked. "I haven't seen you since... Hi."

"I'm grand," he stated. "And yourself?"

"I'm... I'm... struggling to pick a dress," I told him. "Where did you go?"

"I had to take some time off," he said.

"Amy," I said. "Leave us." I turned back. "On purpose? Or did my mother make you?"

"No, Your Highness, I asked."

Amy finished the big ribbony bow in the back and checked my curls in my reflection for their evenness before she complied with my request. When she was gone, Willoughby shut the door, and I stiffened.

He paused. "Are you scared of me?" he asked. "I'll open it."

"No," I whispered, reaching as if to stop him. I was so very convincing. "It's just... You've only ever shut the door once, and I... The last time you did it, you scolded me for being reckless."

"I'm not going to scold you," he said. "I want to apologize for what you saw. I just don't want Amy or anyone else in this castle to know about... that side of me. I have worked very hard at keeping up a certain mask."

"You don't have to apologize," I said. "We all wear masks."

"I think I do," he replied.

"My mother told me that you... You... I don't know what she said anymore. But I'm not angry about Lord Beck; I understand why you did it. I just feel bad that it had to happen. That he–"

"Lord Beck needed to know that there are consequences for his actions. I am not here to apologize for educating him; I'm not sorry he can't walk. I am here to apologize for subjecting you to the lesson."

"He can't walk?" I asked.

"And he never will," he said. He waited. "I don't like that part of me," he said.

"W-What part?"

"The part that liked hurting him," he said.

"I see."

He nodded. "I would never hurt you," he promised. "Do you believe that?"

"I don't know what I should believe, if I'm honest" I said.

His brow sank. "I would never hurt you," he told me. "Not ever. I live to serve the Crown."

"But if you did... Would you enjoy it?" I thought to ask.

He shook his head. "No."

"But you just said–"

"Lord Beck deserved his pain," he told me. "I... I hurt people who deserve to hurt. People who hurt others. That is not you," he told me. "You're the good of us."

"So you're like... some sort of... vigilante, I guess?"

He didn't even grin.

"Willough," I started.

"Vigilantes operate outside of the law. I was paid by the Crown to inflict the Crown's hand," he said. "It's not my detail now, but it's a part of who I am."

"Rusted Blades," I said. "So they hurt on behalf of the Crown?"

"Yes," he said. "And if you ask, I will tell you what that means, but not today. Please."

"...But soon?" I asked.

"Soon," he said. "I'm sorry you saw what you saw."

"I should have told you about what happened, but... I deserved it for all the manipulating and lying I did to even get in that position. So–"

"You did not deserve to be raped," he said plainly. "Never say nor think that. No one deserves it."

"Still... I kept this massive secret from you," I said.

"I am only sorry that you felt you had to." He exhaled, moving to lean against the wardrobe the way he liked to do. "You can tell me anything; I will bear it."

"Even if it's like," I tried to find a joke, "a thousand complaints about this dress?"

"Your dress is very pretty," he said. "What's wrong with it?"

"You always say my dresses are pretty." I rolled my eyes. "But do you like it? Or should I wear the red?"

"How many do I have to choose from?" he asked.

"I have this one," I said, running my hands over the silky pink. They trembled. "I have the red one," I pointed, "in there; it's the first. And I have a sort of lavender one."

"Oh, the lavender," he sang, coming to life. "That's a perfect color."

"You think?" I asked. "You haven't even seen it?"

He took it out of the closet himself. "Yes, this is the one."

"Poor Amy," I croaked. "She's already changed me twice."

"The third time's the charm, I hear." He ran his fingers down the seam. "This will make your Duke very happy to see."

"Is purple your favorite color?" I teased. "I always thought you'd like red or some sort of teal."

"My Jocelyn once wore a lavender dress for me, back when she was just Miss Josie and not my wife," he said. "I remember watching the sun shine around her braid, and I remember thinking how lucky I was that she even spoke to me. I was so uncomfortably strange to her."

"Uncomfortably strange?" I laughed. "You? But you're so... confident."

"It's a mask, and she's always seen through it. I can't fool her," he said. "She's the love of my life, and I am half a man without her. I'm not a man without her. I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster," I said. "A sap, but not a monster." I felt a wave come over me. "Thank you... For not killing him. I know he did a horrid thing, but I... I don't want any more blood on my hands."

"I was never going to kill him," he said, more of a whipser or a discarded thought. 

"You weren't?" I took the dress as he handed it to me, and I carried it to the bed.

"If I killed Lord Beck, how would he remember his what he did was wrong?" he asked. "This way, he'll wake up every day with the thought."

I stopped and started a few times, before changing the subject. "...Could you undo this ribbon? I'll change behind the screen."

He slunk over and did as I asked, and I took the lavender with me to the divider. I hid behind the little wall, leaving one dress for the other.

"You'll have to fasten this," I said. "I'm sorry this is weird; I just. I'm so fucking nervous, and I– Oh, shit. Sorry. Sorry," I cracked. "I keep cursing."

"Why are you nervous, Princess?" he asked.

"Well," I shrugged, although he couldn't see me. "What if the Duke has changed his mind? What if... And I'm not mad at you, but what if what happened with his cousin has scared him off of me forever?"

"I thought he asked for your mother's blessing?" he said.

"What?" He poked my head out but then dove back in, hurrying to lift the bodice all the way. I scurried out, offering him the back. "He did? When?"

"Josie said that at the ball last week, he so much as stated he'd intended to ask her that night?" he said. "Is that not accurate?"

"Oh," I groaned. "Yes. I was there, but we're past that now, Willough. He could've changed his mind since!"

"Men who can change their minds don't dare tell the woman's parents', let alone the Queen of her nation."

"Yes, but he isn't Oreian. He doesn't have to obey the Queen if he doesn't want to. Duke means something more in Gosil, you know?"

"Yes, but your mother is Svana Eisson, not some nobody or all-bark-no-bite ruler. Her reputation is known, and her militia is thrice the power of your Duke's. She's also friends with Chalke, and while perhaps in years past Gosil has followed them, I suspect it would not go well for him. No. Löff would not risk it. He would not have told your mother of his intentions, let alone been so forward with you in the presence of the King and your knights if he had meant to wound you in some way. War wouldn't be unprovoked, and, not to brag, but he's seen what I will do to those who mean you harm."

"I hear that, but what if he's already on his way to Blythe?" I worried. "He may be relying on the idea that no one would travel nine or ten days to throw him down the stairs of his own castle, right?"

"I would travel longer for less," he told me.

I frowned. "I feel like that comment should concern me, but... I think I like this side of you, Willoughby. Maybe it's scary at first, but it does make me feel rather safe."

"You are safe," he told me. "And I would die a thousand deaths before you weren't."

"Okay." I rolled my eyes. "And the moment's lost."

"That's right out of your dragon book!" His facade cracked, and he shook his head. "Come, I was trying to make you laugh."

"Mock my book, if you must. You and Askar are same person," I said. "You both like to play. ...I do hope you will be friends, but... If he doesn't show up tonight, please don't hunt him."

"Hunt him," he replied. "There's a term for it."

"What, you can joke, but I can't?" I asked. "Hardly fair. You've just stated the man knows what you will do, did you not?"

"Why do you think he won't show up?" he asked.

"Because," I shrugged. "Why would he?"

"Shall I list the reasons?" he asked.

"Yes." I nodded. "That would help. Thank you."

"Alright... I was not actually prepared for that... Let's see," he started. "He said he would." He counted each with his hand. "He's been a man of word since we've met him. He's already in Oreia. He told your mother he wanted to marry you; What else? He didn't run from you the first time I threatened him; he's always–"

"The first time you threatened him?!" I asked. "How many times have you threatened him?"

"I'm supposed to keep count?" he asked. "Come, I'm using my fingers to make a list."

"Willoughby!" I cried. "You're not supposed to threaten the man I love!"

"We've decided on love, then?" He drew the o out for emphasis. "Have you told him yet?"

"Don't traumatize me, please," I said. "I take it back."

"I wouldn't. We'll add it to the list. The Duke didn't run any of the times I threatened him, and he promised he would be back after he saw what Lord Beck got for breaking his. And... you love him. And I suspect he knows it."

"I haven't said the words," I said.

"You don't have to say the words for someone to know it. The man gave you his dagger; he knows."

"I," I sighed. "I told him I needed him to propose. Not just to me, but to ask my parents and to make it all real. But I still might not believe it all until our vows are said."

"Then we'll have a Winter wedding, I suspect. Just like your mother's, very pretty time of year. Have you considered the Chapel in Rothingham?"

I tried not to let him win a smile. "How are you so sure when I am such a mess?" I cried, spinning around. I fell back into the bed and closed my eyes, trying to think of Askar's face.

"Did he tell you he loved you?" he asked.

"...Maybe."

"Maybe," he hmmed. "Then maybe I had an answer for you, but now..."

"Willoughby!" I spat, sitting up. "Tell me."

"Did he say he loved you?" he asked. "Did he give you those words?"

"Y-Yeah...?"

"Yes? Or Y-Yeah?" he teased.

"Yes. He said them. So what?"

"Trust him," he said. "His Grace has no reason to lie to you. In fact, it's not in his best interest."

"No," I breathed. "And you're right. He has always been honest."

"He loves you. He will come tonight, and he will ask you to be his wife, and you will be happy, and you will accept, and you will come find me and tell me, and we will be excited together. We will find you a shimmery sort of gown, and you'll marry in the winter, and then you will be Duchess, Princess."

"Yes." I felt sad. "And you won't be my knight," I added. "Even if I build you a home in Gosil and barricade you in it, tricking you and Josie when you come to visit?"

"Eliza," he said.

"I marry the Duke but I lose you, forever."

"We will remain friends," he said.

"He could still back out. He could leave me the way Lord Beck did. I could be left, and I could be... forgotten. And you would be stuck with me for all eternity you poor, poor fool."

"Left maybe, but never forgotten. Not you."

"But still your problem. And with my stupid heart for thinking, 'Oh, how likely is it to happen a second time,' yeah?"

"I see your fear," he said. "But all signs point to the obvious. Sometimes things are not drawn-out mysteries. Sometimes people just belong together."

"I'm still scared," I said.

"That means you care," he replied. "If you didn't love the Duke, it wouldn't matter to you. You'd feel indifferent. You might be disappointed not to be the object of his fancy, but you'd rebound, and you'd find someone even better than him– a Prince, perhaps?"

"I don't like Sameer; he eats a weird number of eggs each morning," I said.

"That is a stuck-up reason not to like someone, Eliza."

"I don't– We're not marrying me to the Prince!" I spat. "Who cares?"

"There are other empires than Chalke," he added.

"I don't– I don't want a Prince from anywhere else. What? You think I want a pirate from the Isles? Or, or... a man from Laurel, or...! I want the Duke. The Duke. The Duke of Gosil, if that was not clear."

He motioned at that statement hanging in the air. "And I'm certain he feels the same."

"Ugh! He's just so handsome," I buzzed. "The first time I saw him, I knew I'd never crossed paths with another creature so stunning. Because I was... Well, that's it. I was stunned, you know? You know that sensation? Where everything in the world is just dull, and nothing compares to your person or ever will?"

"Yes," he nodded. "And that is why you'll wear the lavender. It is a soft color. It is a feminine color; it says, 'I am regal, I am worthy, but I am yours if you are gentle enough to behold me.'"

"My," I half-gasped. "You're quite enraptured with this shade, aren't you?"

"With the memory of it, yes," he said. "And seeing you in that gown will be the color of Löff's dreams for years to come."

"Should I take it off and leave you two alone?" I laughed.

He huffed, long and silly. "I am happy that your reception of me has not changed. I was worried that if I came back too soon, things would be weird."

"Oh, they're weird," I flashed a toothy grin. "But then they always were. Weren't they?"

"I suppose."

"Listen, don't... Don't run away from me, okay? We have so little time, and I know I'm difficult; I know you're worried I'll see you as such, but... don't abandon me. Don't give up on us. Okay?"

"I never would," he said. "And if you're offering to build me a house," he trailed. "I might find a loophole. Yeah?"

I blinked. "I am very serious. I will trap you should you come to Gosil."

He sighed. "If you'll miss me so much, I'll come visit as often as I can, so long as you ask properly and you let me leave when it's time."

"...Really?" I stood straighter, painting a serious look on my face... a seriously depressing puppy-dog-esque pout. "Please, Ser, would you come visit me in Gosil? I will miss your jokes."

"I'll think about it," he said, shrugging.

"What!?" I clicked my tongue. "Daniel Willoughby, you will– Wait. Are you joking?"

"Yeah, absolutely," he said. "I'll make time to visit you, Princess."

"Well, if you don't want to," I whined.

"Eliza," he said. "Wherever it is that you go, Crown or not, I may not be your Sword, but I'll be your friend."

"That's all I ever wanted," I said.

"We should get to the party," he said "I would hate to keep your Duke waiting."

"Is he here?" I craned over to see the window, but there was nothing—no sign of his banners or carriage or party.

"He will be," he promised. "So. Let's go."

I stopped him from opening the door. "If he doesn't show up..." I asked. "Please–"

"Princess," Willoughby smiled. "If Löff does not show up, I will eat my armor."

"What?"

He chuckled. "I'm certain he'll be here. If he doesn't show up, I'll eat my armor."

"All of it?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Gauntlets. Boots. Sword."

"That's quite the wager," I said.

"Aye, and I hate gambling," he said.

"Hmph. Fine. But don't be cross if I send him home before you see him just to witness that. I'm very shocked by the idea, and I'm not sure it can be done."

He scoffed, opening the door. "After you."