Having wisely spent the rest of the afternoon back in my orangery, I found that dinner that night was bearable. Perry still glared daggers into my set ringlets, but any threats were lost to his mother's whispers of excitement.

By the time dinner finished it was 8:00 anyway, so I trudged down the steps to the servants' hall, sleep already in my eyes. To my dismay, every footman, maid, cook and butler was crowded around the table, clearly having been awaiting my arrival.

"What do you all need?" I asked, suppressing a yawn by pressing a hand to my forehead.

As one body, they seemed to urge Jason, one of the newly recruited footmen, to stand. He was old and his face was a map of wrinkles, but beneath the skin seemed to be tear-filled eyes. "It's time the mangoes should be harvested on my farm, Miss," he began, even now just to hear another Ilragese accent brought me a little joy, "the - the fella who took it over, he won't know that. The mangoes'll rot before he picks them."

Grey pushed himself forward too. "We want our farms, our breweries, our vineyards back," he articulated, challenge in his eye. "We worked hard on the prep, all through the winter so now we deserve to reap our rewards."

I sighed, annoyed at the situation, not the villagers. "You know I can't get them back for you, right?" At least twenty tired faces stared glumly back at me. "Look, this situation is awful, but we've lost. As a country, we've lost. We just have to grin and bear it, but you'll get used to it I promise."

"No!" A angry voice piped up from behind their cluster. Kennan, one of the few footmen who hadn't fled, came around, getting closer to me than the rest of them, as though that would change my capabilities. "Pardon me, Miss Bence, but what's happened to you? Since you've come home from Baracosia you've been completely different from who you were. You had the prince's ear last time!" Murmurs of interest fell through the group. Kennan took another step closer to me. "If the prince really is coming here next week, won't you speak to him for us? You always used to be kind to us, now you're just like the rest of them," his deep green eyes bored into mine.

"I'm not like the rest of them." I muttered quietly.

Kennan took yet another step closer and I found myself stepping back.

"You are, Miss, but you have the opportunity to help us. Please speak to the prince. There's not many of us, we only own about ten farms between us. Why can't we have our family's life's work back?" There was a whine in his voice which made my chest contract a little. 

The walls of my throat stuck together as I found anywhere but their eyes to look. It was such a valid proposition, but the idea of speaking to Gavrila again filled me with such fear I could hide under the table and cry.

"I... I can't do that" I murmured, my eyes now focused on a glob of wax which had fused into the table. "Gavrila and I aren't on...speaking terms. In fact, when he and the entourage arrive, I need you all to act as though I'm not here. I'll be in my room for their whole stay. if anyone asks, just say that I never returned home from Baracosia. Is that alright?"

Their faces clearly stated that it was not alright.

Sighing, I turned to Kennan again, whose eyes were downturned to probably the same blob of wax. "Why don't you attend to him, if he doesn't have his own valet? He liked you, before."

Kennan ignored me, turning back to the group, placing a consoling hand on Ivy's shoulder. None of them could meet my gaze, well except for Grey, whose eyes were flaring as they stared me down. One of his arms was protectively around Hannah, who was crying, the other was brandishing a candlestick.

Afraid of both my failure and their upset, I turned and fled from the room, running all the way back to my bedroom on the third floor. I cried again, until I noticed another little note on the pillows. Curiosity enough to pause my shame, I unfolded the little bit of paper.

I'm sorry I shouted at you.

-P

The apology made me smile, as I could imagine Perry grumbling as he was forced to write it. Perhaps I did have more care for my replacement family than all of the staff I had deserted. Perhaps I was just like the rest of them.

Hannah came back in to dress me for bed before I could get sucked into another torturous session with my own mind. She worked quietly, seeming like she wanted to say something, or for me to apologise. I did so, briefly, but she waved me off.

"It's just that I can't bear to face him, Hannah," I explained as she forced my wild hair into plaits. "That doesn't mean I don't want your properties back for you. Why don't one of you send him a summons to the servants' hall? He's not like other nobles, I'm sure he'd come."

She just kept on silently plaiting.

I went to try and explain myself again when a question from Hannah got there first. "Why can't you bear to face him?" She asked quietly.

I chuckled to myself. "That's an awfully complicated story." I glossed over it, turning to face her on the bed now that she had finished with my hair.

"Is it - is it because he's a Marguerite?" She asked, the stumble in her speech juxtaposing with the challenge in her eyes.

I stood up, angry now. Marguerite was a horrible slur for people in same-sex relationships.

"Don't use that word." I snapped, turning back to face the maid, who stood with her hands up.

"I'm sorry, Miss, I was just trying to get a picture of your stance, so that I can save my Da's vineyard."

Shaking my head, I sat back down. "I'm sorry for snapping, but that name is horrible. It's none of your business that the prince likes both men and women. Where did you even hear that?" I turned to her, feeling awful for Gavrila, stupid though he was, to be subjected to this behind his back.

"Rumours are circulating." Hannah shrugged, getting up. "Will that be all, Miss?"

"Wait, but where-"

"If you'll excuse me, Miss." Hannah completely cut me off, returning the brush to the vanity and closing the door behind her.