The next morning I found myself sat on the bed, turning an ashy white envelope in my hands, staring at the cream colored note which had come with it.

It had arrived first thing, Jemima said, before the court had headed out for their hunt. Delivered by Lachlan Kent himself, apparently - master of the royal household.

The note was short, too sweet, Gavrila's swoopy, messy hand covering the small bit of paper. It had been tucked inside a larger cream envelope, which held the ashy one safely beneath the Prince's wax seal.

Thank you for your help last night. In return, here is my favour. There's more, but I'll hold them off for a rainy day.
- Ganechka xxx

Those three kisses haunted me almost as much as what the letter actually meant. Whatever was in this envelope, he would keep its successors until he needed to use me again. The ashy letter was from Jon. I'd recognise the hand any day.

As I turned it over one final time, I made my mind up. Gavrila was to be my puppet, I was not his pawn. If I was to meet with him again, it would be for my political benefit, not any emotional one.

Even though my heart broke a little as I did it, I stood and tossed the letter into the fire, watching as the paper melted away to burn Jon's message to me.

As the last of my loyalty to the De Balivans combusted, I contemplated my next moves. Unsafe though it was, I had an opportunity in this place to help the villagers - well the ones who weren't already dead. If I could just spend some more time with Gavrila then I could easily persuade him. Henrietta said that she held no power at the moment, so maybe if I secured it for her as well, then she'd work on my side. With Henrietta to speak to me, I wouldn't have to risk Gavrila's emotions.

A plan forming in my head, I set to pacing, the logistics developing with every step. The court were out hunting all day today anyway, so I might just be able to find the Prince's rooms. After all, I was placed in the new palace now wasn't I? Perhaps I could find something, or leave something for that matter, which may lead him to me this evening.

I knew for a fact that the guards stationed outside my room would not take kindly to my snooping. Instead, I took advantage of Jemima's absence to rummage around in the many jewelry boxes which Gavrila had provided for me. Finally I found a pin of the right size.

The lock to the servants door took quite a lot of wriggling, even more colorful language, but eventually clicked open.

A good few minutes passed in uneasy almost-silence as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim, low corridor. Then I set to padding down the hall. I thanked Jemima's resourcefulness in having dressed me in one of Henrietta's much more plain dresses - it's flowing white silk was almost reminiscent to the maids white cotton uniforms at a glance.

Upon squinted inspection of the next door I came across, I almost whooped with joy. There was a little card attached just above the round door handle, block writing clearly stating who occupied those rooms.

Lord Colonel Lachlan Kent

I didn't register that he was Angel and Howard's father at that time, instead setting off with reinvigorated paces to the other doors. A maid carrying a stack of laundry was coming down my way, so I flattened myself against the wall, turning my face to my feet in the hope that she would take no notice.

As I waited for her to pass, my eyes strayed to the door across and just to the right of me. Whilst the light was terrible, the print was easy to read.

HRH Prince Gavrila

My heart leapt in time with my feet - the corridor now satisfactorily abandoned - and I pushed the pin into the lock, jigging it about again until there was a hearty click. Gavrila's door swung open into an immaculate, sun drenched bedroom.

The walls were covered in a light blue damask silk, separated from the painted ceiling by a golden trim. His bed was made neater than any I'd ever seen. The crisp corners and paper flat sheets seemed much more a result of military habits than palace maids. Did the crown prince of Ilragorn and Baracosia make his own bed then?

One of my hands involuntarily ran against the smooth poster of the bed as I gazed towards a floor to ceiling window. A simple, folding table was set up before it, paper and a glass dipping pen sat on it at awkward angles. As I approached and sat on the hard backed chair, I noticed something rather more strange weighing the paper down. It was a small brass shot glass, collapsible so it seemed, which rested in a pocket watch case.

It was strange; whilst he seemed to know so much about me, Prince Gavrila was still a very difficult enigma.

I was pulled out of my musing as the sun fell through the wide window, illuminating the front gates of the palace and the wide lawns and trees which preceded it.

The sun also made the writing on the top page shine. The ink was gold, in his scrawling hand.

It was a list of names, most of which I unfortunately recognised.

On the first line was Holly, Bastien and Henri. Each name was followed by a question mark.

Ottilie, beneath them, was connected by a dotted line to Howard. Underneath the dotted line was a dashed one. Also spanning from Howard's name was a dotted line to Serena, with a swirled question mark over the line.

Below them was Emile connected by a dotted line to Amber, who was also connected by a dashed line to Eric.

Then there was Angel in between George and Humphrey, the former being connected by a dashed and dotted line with a question mark, the latter having a simple dotted line.

Annabelle was connected to Fenester by a dashed and dotted line and Eloise was connected to the very same George as Angel was.

Henrietta and Bastien were joined by a single dotted line, decorated with multiple question marks.

At the very bottom of the list, I recognised my name, my full name, connected by a dash to Andrey's name.

A shiver ran down my spine.