Thursday came and went with no word from my Duke. Then Friday came, and with it, nerves as lucid as the day was long. I stood in front of my floor-length mirror, meticulously picking at every bead and detail on my gown, seeking and destroying every could-be flaw. I wanted to look amazing. I wanted the porcelain shade of my dress to fit and accent me so well that the court whispered about my tailor and begged me for his name. I wanted my Duke to demand that we sneak off just to caress each other the very moment he saw me. I wanted him to run his hands up and down my thighs until he found the dagger I had promised I was always wearing for him, and I wanted Lord Beck to notice when we had snuck out of the room and forgotten his dance. I wanted Lord Beck to think he'd made a mistake by leaving me. To fall back in love with me. To promise me everything he had promised me before, all over again, and then I wanted to tell him no.

Lord Beck kissed my neck. "Shh," he teased, pressing his finger to my lips. "Don't make too much noise." His words were hot against my skin. "It would be hard to explain what we're doing in here."

I shut my eyes, thinking about his pewter ones. I gripped the edge of the wood table that he had put me on. He settled my dress over my legs and dragged me close.

"Wait," I said.

One hand vanished deeper beneath my skirt; the other covered my mouth. "Princess, stop," he ordered me. His face was serious as he released my lips. "We're both adults."

"Yes, but..." I shifted. "I'm so nervous."

"I thought you wanted this?" he teased me.

"I did, but," I bit my lip.

"Princess," he purred. "Princess... Princess... Princess."

"Princess?" Willoughby asked.

He leaned against the wall as Amy tied my corset.

"Tighter," I told her.

"It's already very tight," she explained. "If I make it much tighter, I'm worried you'll pass out."

"I want to look beautiful," I said.

Willoughby folded his arms. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I told him, but with every loop my maid pulled, I thought about that night with Beck.

"Willoughby is always–"

He cut me off. "Honestly, Princess. You talk about your Blade so often I think I should be jealous."

"Of Willoughby?" I asked. "He's just my friend."

I took a sharp breath as the boning bit into my ribs.

"Knights shouldn't be friends with ladies," he said. "You like him, don't you?"

"No!" I sang. "No, I only like you."

"I don't know about that," he said.

"What do you mean?" I tried to kiss the corner of his mouth, but he turned just enough to dodge it.

"I think you're having doubts about us," he said. "I think you say one thing, but I think you'll do another. I think if your Knight in Shining Armor said the word, you'd be his pet."

"Eliza?" Willoughby asked.

"No!" I shook my head. "No, I would never. I love his wife; she's like an aunt to me. And Willough, he's–"

"Willough, see?" he said. "Did he ask you to call him that? Or did you think of it your own?"

"Amy, honestly, I can stand to— Gah!" I yelped.

"I don't think I like what you're implying," I said. I scoffed. "I only have eyes for you. You know that. We've talked about our wedding. What dress I'll wear, how many kids we want... I–"

"And now you don't want to make love to me," he said. "Even though we promised each other we would. It's not lost on me that this change of heart comes after a dance with Ser Willoughby."

"I'm just nervous," I confessed. "You're being sort of... mean."

"I'm not being mean," he sighed. "You're being insensitive. Flaunting another man in front of me. You know how that makes me feel."

"I don't have feelings for Willou– Ser Willoughby."

"Did you do that on purpose?" he asked.

"No!"

"Ma'am?" she worried.

"Okay," I conceded. "Too tight. It's too tight."

"I told you it was!" She huffed, unfastening the cinch by a couple of inches. "Is that better?"

"Y-Yes," I managed.

I had, at some point, found the ridge of the mirror to brace myself against. When I unhooked my hands, my knuckles were nearly white. My palms were wet.

My Sword frowned. "You disappeared there for a moment. Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," I whispered back. "But what can I do?"

"I will not leave your side," he said. "Do you trust that?"

I nodded. "Except for when I have to dance with him."

"Yes," Amy nodded. "She has a point, Ser."

"If you do not wish to dance with him, I will tell him so. Say the word. This Hunt and his win are meaningless to me," he said.

"Come, Willough," I croaked. "Do not lie to my face."

"I'm not lying," he said, canting.

"Please. You Blades enjoy these sorts of things. The Hunt is a knight affair. What message do I send if I can't manage a dance?" I asked. "That I hate knights?"

"That you have boundaries," he said.

"It'll be fine," I said. "I'll just dance with him. And I'll talk to him at the feast. And I'll spend the entire evening in his company." The words sagged lower with each realization.

"How do you wish to wear your hair?" Amy asked. She finished the back of the dress and helped me into the seat at the vanity. "Up?"

"Um." I couldn't decide. "I-I don't know."

"Down?" she tried, rearranging my hair to demonstrate.

"I...I don't know," I told her.

"Did you do that on purpose?" he asked.

"No!"

"Okay! Okay!" Amy said quickly. "You don't have to yell at me. We'll try something else."

"What?" I found her face in the mirror. "I didn't yell at you?"

Willough touched my shoulder. I looked up at him, confused, but he was staring down at me too intently.

"What?" I asked.

Amy paused. "I said I liked the updo, and you yelled 'No!' at me, and you tore yourself away. You said not to touch you."

"I did?" I shook my head. "I don't..." I tried to find something to fidget with, collecting my brush into my lap. "I didn't mean to. The updo is fine, if that's... If that's what you think looks best."

"What do you like best, ma'am?" she asked.

"I don't care," I stressed.

She brought my curls up to start the crown weave, but I flinched at her touch–

"You're hurting me!" I cried.

Amy let go, taking a step back and holding her hands up in front of her. "I'm sorry!" she hurried. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

I was panting.

"What is happening?" Willoughby asked.

His hands were at my jaw, cranking me around to meet his gaze. He looked into both eyes individually and then felt my head.

"Stop it!" I whined, shrugging it off. "I'm fine!"

He frowned.

"I'm fine," I said a second time. "I'm just so annoyed right now... Not at you two!" I added. "At... At this silly ball and its silly dance. And all the silly things about it. The birds," I swallowed. "I don't want to eat birds, you know?"

They relaxed.

"You don't have to eat birds," Willough said.

"...May I finish your hair, Your Highness?" Amy asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Yes, please. Thank you. I'm sorry. I'll sit still."

My knight returned to his lazy post but kept a careful eye on me, and I felt weird. I wasn't about to tell him he was the content of the conversation that was present in my mind.

Ser Willoughby walked me from my chamber to the corridor just outside the entrance to the Grand Hall. The Pheasant Feast, or whatever we were calling it, was to take place between the ballroom and the garden. There there were long tables and chairs set up for the meal, but my father was near the front door of the castle on the other side. We had planned to corral guests in this way and let them wander through the two venues open to each other. I waved at him, but my knight cupped my arm enough to pull me to the side before I could walk in.

"If I can... for just a moment," he asked.

"Yes?" I stopped. "What is it?"

"I know you are nervous," he told me. "And I know I am very bad at advice but–"

"That's not true," I said, brighter. "Just the other day, Mom told us about the advice he gave her for being a happy queen."

"She did?" he asked.

"Yes, and she said it was very good advice, too."

"She did?" he said.

"Yes," I said back.

"Alright then," he nodded. "Then I will say this with more oomph."

"Oomph?" I narrowed my eyes. "Really?"

"Just... Listen. Tonight will be difficult. It will not be easy to see someone you no longer have a relationship with. Especially an intimate one. But you'll do better to remember why you're here."

"Because I am Hostess," I laughed.

"No," he said. "Because you are strong. And what happened between the two of you was not enough to break you. Yes? I know virtue feels like a vital concept to a lady, but as a man who's seen some things, including virtues, trust me when I say love is more important."

"Thank you, but I don't need the pep talk, you know? I'm sure I'll be fine. Or I won't be, in which case..."

"Eliza," he said. "That isn't funny. I'm being serious."

"I know," I said. "And I'm being defensive, but deep down, somewhere, beneath all this emotional turmoil, I am very grateful you are by my side. And for however little time we have together to come, I will be as thankful for the guidance as I am tonight."

"What I'm going to say is going to sound...." He paused.

"Sound... what?"

"A bit convoluted, perhaps?" he told me. "But again, trust me. I know what I'm saying."

"You just said what you're going to say is convoluted, which would imply the opposite of–"

He cut me off, leaning down and meeting my eyes. "The absolute best thing you can do is forget Lord Beck and let him know it."

"How can I forget him when–?"

"You're not listening to the words. Forget Lord Beck. He means nothing to you. He never did. No matter what you were, how you felt when you felt it, whatever he told you, or he promised, or whatever dreams you had, they're gone. They never existed, and they never will."

"But...? They did. I was there."

"Yes, but he does not deserve to know that."

"Oh. I see."

"Think about this situation. You're nervous, yes?" he asked.

"Yes," I swallowed.

"It is because your mind knows something is up." He poked my temple, and I flinched. "Your instincts will never fail you. You must listen to them. I don't know for certain why this man has decided to wander back, but if he is like the hundred men I've known of his archetype, he wants you to want him."

"He wants me?" I asked.

"No. He wants you to want him. He's a hunter; you're his prey."

"Do you think he's jealous of Askar?" I wondered.

"Yes." He stood. "And further, I absolutely think the kinship is playing a part in this game for him. In the chase. But your heart is no longer with Lord Beck, correct?"

"No," I croaked. "No, I don't want him anymore. I–" I realized what I had said and felt liberated in saying it. "I don't want Lord Beck. Ha! I don't want him. I don't want Lord Beck! Willoughby!" I told him. "I don't want him!"

He hummed. "I know. So, when the lord asks, your heart is with the Duke of Gosil. Understand?"

"Y-Yes. That will be easy to say; it's true."

"You may want to practice saying it anyway," he suggested. "It can be harder to declare than you think."

"O-Okay." I nodded. "I can do that. I don't want Lord Beck. I want the Duke. The Duke of Gosil. Duke Löff."

"You do not care about the relation between them because you do not feel anything for Lord Beck, good or bad. When he talks to you about your past, ask him questions as if you don't recall the topic. Don't fall for his trap. And when you can, call him out for his sins. He will try to manipulate you. Everything he says will be an attempt. Make him say what he means out loud. Make him explain any innuendo. Don't give in to his pleas, and when he is raw and exposed, tell him you don't even remember whatever it is that he's clinging to."

"That sounds... evil," I said.

"It's necessary, I assure you. I know his kind. I've broken many a man like him. His identity lies within his importance," Willough said.

"B-Broken?" I asked. "You've broken men? Who? What?"

"Rosie?" my father called. "Terrorize Danny later and come help me greet everyone. We're about to open the doors."

I looked between the two, then whispered. "What do you mean broken?" I asked.

The phrase 'rust and copper' came to mind, and I paused, bewildered.

"Ser," I started. "What do you mean–?"

"Come on, Rosie," Daddy repeated.

He led me away before I had an answer, and all I could do was wave as Willoughby vanished into the Hall to walk the room's perimeter before he did the same outside.

"Everything alright?" Dad asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" I groaned, smoothing my skirt. "I'm alright."

"You look alright. You look a vision," he replied. "And an interesting choice in color."

"What!?" I stood straighter. "What's wrong with the color? Do I need to change!?"

"No," he sang. "Relax. It's just a bridal color, is all."

"Gah! Should I change?" I whined. "I thought you were going to say that I looked bad, not desperate!"

"Sweetheart, you could wear a literal tree and still look better than anyone in this room. Except, of course, your mother."

I looked around. "She's not even here yet?"

"No," he said. "But I am legally obligated to say such things. We both know her ears are always listening." He winked. "And you don't look desperate. The color might put the idea into Askar's head, but it's already there."

"What if they don't wear white in Gosil?" I worried. "What if white is like... a funeral color!?"

"Hmm. I never considered that. Welp. That will be most unfortunate."

"Daddy!"

"Oh, hush. It sounds like you have your first question to ask him tonight. Yeah?"

"You think I should ask the man I want to marry if my dress reminds him of funerals?" I scoffed. "Good Heavens, Daddy!"

He wore a big grin.

"What?" I glanced over my gown. "Is it so bad?"

"No," he said. "It's just nice to see you happy."

I frowned.

"Don't... Why must you always hate it when I draw attention to something good about you?"

Ser Elías and Ser Willoughby arrived near us quietly. My half of the pair turned his attention to the door as it opened, and the first of the guests of the evening came in.

"It's just... I may have sent him a message, and maybe he didn't reply. Now I am left to think, what does that mean? That can't be good, right?"

Dad shrugged. "Good things come to those who wait."

"That is a lie that anxious people wove to settle their nerves," I whined. "I want to know now."

The King cleared his throat, nudging me, and to my surprise, the wave of entering invitees was of Askar's party. First, it was Ser Fridrick that came in, then the Duke himself. He smiled at me as soon as we saw each other, and it was possibly more infectious than any plague that had ever dared the empire. I felt my chest flutter, and then there was no music at all to be heard, just my breathing, which was far louder than any instrument could ever play.

And then there was Lord Beck.