Grigori awaited the Master's return outside his private chamber. He still didn't know what he was doing there. He had planned to ask the Master about what he overheard earlier, but in doing so, he risked endangering himself or worse — the Romanovs. Deep in thought, he jumped when a delicate hand touched his arm. It was Katheryn Howard.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you."

Grigori sighed and offered her a smile in greeting. The Howard girl was one of the few souls in the Circles who'd made it particularly hard for the Keeper of the Gates because of her innocent-looking and charming personality. She'd been doomed because of her actions in life, but in all honesty, worse beings lurked in Hell.

"Huh, you don't do that much," she said. "Smile, I mean."

"There is not much cause for it here," said Grigori.

"Then you must create moments that make you smile. And you really should. You have a lovely smile."

It had been a long time since anyone gave Grigori a compliment like that. He didn't know how to react to it, especially coming from this fickle girl, barely a woman. She had been the lowest of the low in the Circles but had managed to work her way up with the only skill she knew. Grigori now wondered if the Master had a hand in her elevated station. There was still much he didn't know about the man, as it turned out.

"Perhaps you are right," Grigori said. "One needs to smile."

"Of course I'm right." Katheryn leaned against the wall beside him. "Do you mind if I wait here with you?"

"You have business with the Master?"

"I need to report on an important task he entrusted me with."

"Nothing dangerous, I hope, milady?" The girl blushed at the title, and Grigori moved closer to her. "May I perhaps be allowed to help you with your task? You can have all the merit, of course. My reward will be to have aided such a charming young lady."

"Oh, I... I could not —"

"And perhaps... you could also provide me with some advice? I face a problem that is too grand for me. But a grand lady like yourself might just have the answer I desperately seek. Yet you must promise to keep quiet about it."

"Is it a secret?" Katheryn's eyes gleamed at the notion.

"A secret, indeed. But then again, you may not be interested in the affairs of a simple man such as me. Forgive me. I was not thinking."

"No!" she squeaked. "No, I do want to know. Very much. Oh, tell me, please?"

Grigori pretended to look through the corridor to ensure nobody was coming and then leaned in to whisper, "I have recently learned something that could possibly mean the end for... a dear friend of mine. The threat against him is far greater than he may realise."

"Why not simply dispose of this threat yourself?" inquired Katheryn.

"The man jeopardising my friend is somewhat unique and extremely dangerous. A direct attack could mean my own demise."

"Then let another do it for you. I remember Henry had his spies everywhere around the kingdom and beyond. When they told him of a threat, he would ask them; what is the weakness of the threat? Then he would send the one most fit to deal with that weakness. You should do the same."

Grigori had to give the girl credit. She was smarter than she appeared. 

"That is exceptionally good advice indeed." He bowed to her. "Now, how may I offer my service... your Highness?"

Katheryn beamed at him. Grigori figured flattering her enough might get her to tell him what he needed to know.

"I have been instructed by the Master to be a companion to Cesare Borgia," Katheryn spoke in a hushed tone.

"The Borgia Bastard?" Grigori acted surprised. "I saw you with him before, but thought nothing of it. I never imagined you had been ordered to maintain an actual affair with that beast. Oh, how brave a lady you are."

"He's not that bad," she said shyly. "Once you get to know him, I mean. In some ways, he reminds me of Henry. On his better days, that is."

Grigori did his best not to scoff or roll his eyes. He had to keep this girl as a friend. If only she weren't so incredibly naïve.

"Do you remember the night he murdered some of my cousin's descendants?" asked Katheryn then. "Well, I told him how to find them. You see, the Master instructed me to do so. He knew Cesare wanted revenge and would do something that stupid. The death of those mortals was just meant as a distraction. With those Nephilim worried about their families and the message about the Horsemen delivered to Gabriël, it was much easier to lure Joan away from Resia and Michael from the Vale."

"Michael?" Grigori raised his brow. "You mean the Master has the Lord Protector in his keeping?"

"Oh, no!" She put a hand to her cheek. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that. You won't tell anyone, will you? Please promise you won't!"

"Of course not, milady. But please tell me, why does signore Borgia need to stay confined?"

"The Master worries he might discover the whereabouts of his... well, let's say, a family member. Cesare believes she's in the Heavens, but she's somewhere else. If he were to leave to find her and be captured, that would be bad, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, I see. So you must keep his mind off this family member?"

"Precisely so. If I do so to the Master's pleasing, I shall be a Queen again. He said I could be. Can you believe that? Me, Queen once more."

Katheryn rambled on about all the jewels and gowns she'd wear, but Grigori paid her no further heed. A few things were starting to make sense, and Grigori had to admit it was a brilliant plan. It all fell on the manipulation of a few players by the master puppeteer. The strings were in place. All that had to be done was pull at the right time. 

***

Joan woke up, bathing in sweat. Someone had put her in bed again. She sat up, and a wet compress fell from her brow. She looked around, but she was alone in her room. Suddenly, the door opened, and Leonora came in, with Bathory close behind her. The maidservant saw she was awake and ran to the bedside.

"Joan, thank goodness! For a moment, we feared the worst!"

"Why am I in bed?" asked Joan.

"You collapsed." Leonora took the compress away and put it back in the water bowl on the bedstand. "Don't you remember? You finished writing your note to the Nephilim, and you just doubled over and fell. I asked some of the other servants to help you to bed."

Fear gripped Joan's heart.

"Is it...?" She didn't dare to say it out loud.

"Your brat is still in there," answered Bathory coldly.

"You want the other ankle crushed too?" snapped Joan.

"You insolent little —"

"How is everything going here?"

Morpheus entered the room, silencing Bathory instantly. He had a smile on his face, but Joan didn't fail to notice the sweat drops on his brow. Clearly, he had been worried, though maybe not so much for her as for his own well-being. He was, after all, responsible for her.

"Just a dizzy spell," she replied.

"Then perhaps you should stay on bed rest," suggested Morpheus sweetly. "For now, anyway. We wouldn't want anything unpleasant to happen now, would we?"

Joan wanted to scream at him to mind his own business, but she kept quiet. She still needed him to send the letter.

"You stay with her," Morpheus ordered Leonora. "Countess, if you please."

He stepped back so she could exit the room first, but Bathory stayed perfectly still, looking sharply at Joan without even blinking. Joan glared right back at her. Finally, she turned and left. Morpheus followed, but then lingered outside. After a moment, he rushed back in and closed the door behind him.

"Tell me honestly, you're okay, right?" he asked in a panicked tone.

"Why, Kyrios, I'm touched by your concern," sneered Joan.

"Hardly." He scoffed. "The Devil will destroy me if anything happens to your little bundle of joy. And the walking corpse isn't making it any easier to relax. I swear that odour can't be masked, not with all the perfumes in the world. The sooner she's gone, the better."

"We'll just have to work together to accomplish that, then. You can start by sending out my letter, as promised." Joan nodded to Leonora, and the girl handed the letter to her master. "Go ahead. Read it if you like."

"Oh, what do I care what you write to your friends?" Morpheus made an impatient hand gesture. "Even if they find the entrance to the Dream Realm, I'll just trap them, too. I've always wanted Nephilim for my collection."

Too? Well, well, isn't that interesting? Looks like I'm not the only one here.

Morpheus clearly wasn't aware he'd misspoken, but Leonora was. Joan could tell by the way she avoided her gaze and fidgeted with her sheer dress.

"Out of curiosity; what did you mean when you said we should work together?" inquired Morpheus.

"Lucifer will do anything to ensure I'm okay," explained Joan. "There might be a way to make our lives more comfortable. Can you get him here?"

Morpheus chuckled. He gave her a quick nod and then left the room. Leonora smiled as she sat down at Joan's feet.

"You keep surprising me," she said. "He didn't even read the letter. Did you suspect he wouldn't? Did you hide something in the letter? No, wait, don't tell me. The less I know, the better."

Joan nodded. She gave Leonora an inquisitive look. Maybe the maidservant would speak now.

"The door we passed earlier, near Morpheus's chambers. It's not really used for storage, is it?" she asked.

Leonora bit her lip nervously. Her eyes travelled to the door before settling on Joan again. 

"It is storage," she said, "but for something special. Something only Morpheus can control."

Joan wouldn't press any further. She knew enough, for now.

***

Thomas was troubled about Anne's behaviour. Upon returning to the Sanctum after speaking to Gabriël in the Vale, she'd shut herself away in the library. She refused to come out and wouldn't touch the food Olympe left at the door. Joan's disappearance had been another blow for his wife. Even with everyone helping, they found no trace of the Fallen Angel. Anne blamed herself for not seeing the signs. She blamed herself for everything.
The death of their daughter Lucille and grandson Edward weighed heavily on them both, but Thomas could see it nearly broke Anne. With all that had happened, they hadn't had the chance to properly mourn. And then there was Adeline. 
Their daughter had finally woken up, but when Thomas rushed to tell Anne, she still wouldn't come out. It frustrated him so that he went straight to the Vault. If she didn't let him in through the door, he would use his magic to get in.
He cleared away the items Hypatia had used for her spell to find Joan and summoned Anne's reflection in a body mirror. His plan had been to walk through the mirror to get to his wife. But the sight that greeted him left him stunned.

The library floor was covered with crumpled papers and open books. More were stacked high on the desk. Ink stained the carpet. The only light came from the standing candelabra. Anne was pacing left to right, her hands shaking at her side and her eyes wild. Never had he seen his wife like this. Not even when she was taken to the Tower to her eventual death. She always maintained a certain composure, befitting the stature of the Queen she used to be. Things were worse than he feared.
Thomas regained himself and stepped through the mirror. Anne didn't notice him. Or perhaps she did, but chose to ignore him. He walked over the scattered papers and books, wanting to hold her in his arms and give her the comfort she clearly needed. Instead, he kept some distance, seeing she was far too agitated and could lash out or unravel even further.

"Anne, my love," he said, "you need to stop this. You need to eat. To sleep."

"I'm fine," she replied curtly.

"Everyone is worried about you. I'm not asking you to stop your work. Just take a break."

She kept pacing, her silence ear-deafening.

"Anne, please..."

She halted. Thomas waited with bated breath. Had he reached her? But Anne resumed her pacing, ignoring him once again. Thomas jumped at her and forced her to look at him.

"Dammit, Anne, enough! You need to stop this now!"

"I can't!" Her fists hit his chest, and tears welled up in her dark eyes. "I can't stop, Thomas! I failed everyone! Because of me, Borgia went after our family, and Lucille and Edward died! Because of me, Adeline and Remy got hurt! I let Joan slip away!"

"Anne, stop. Listen to me. Listen!" Thomas shook her by her arms. "We are always under threat, and so are our families. And Joan left on her own. You know the girl; she's almost as headstrong as you are. She would have found a way out, eventually."

He embraced his wife, stifling her sobs. She clung to him, and he gently stroked her hair.  

"Stop blaming yourself for what's happened," he spoke softly. "No one else does. You have done all you can and more. Starving yourself and shutting the door isn't doing any good. We need you with us. Our family is safe — or at least as safe as they can be. And we can work together to get Joan back. Just let me help you."

Thomas felt Anne stir in his arms. She looked up at him, eyes glazed but smiling. 

"How did I ever manage without you?"

"Well enough, you're the strongest woman I know." Thomas grinned. "But that still doesn't mean you're Wonder Woman."

"Who?"

Thomas chuckled at his wife's ignorance of modern references. He knew she preferred the classics. He leaned in and captured her lips. It was a moment of bliss, which they both desperately needed. A knock on the door pulled them out of their kiss, and a female voice called out.

"Grandmamma, I know you're busy, but we've made dinner. We'd really like it if you came to eat with us, even if just for ten minutes."

Thomas winked at her, and Anne answered with a loud voice, "Give me a moment, Fleur. I'll be right there."

"I mean, I understand if you — wait, really? Guys, she's coming out!"

The happy cheers from the other side of the door made the pair smile. Thomas took Anne's hand and hooked her arm in his.

"May I have the honour of escorting my Queen to dine this evening?"

"You may, Lord Wyatt."

They walked out of the library together, leaving the mess Anne had made for later. Neither noticed the envelope dropping out of mid-air, making the unstable stack of books on the desk topple as it landed on top. The books tumbled to the floor, and the envelope slipped under the bookcase, lost from sight.