The sea was calm that day. The sky finally opened after the two-day storm. Many onboard savored the bright sun by stepping out of their cabins, walking down the decks, silently glad they were not lifeless debris floating in an open ocean.

Sasha and West were inside a large cabin, sitting around a small table where tea and biscuits were laid out, half-consumed. Across from the couple sat Reginald, quiet. For two weeks now, the former king was naught but impatient. He wanted to reach Sutherland as soon as possible.

But the ocean was his enemy. And it was not posing more problems than Reginald had anticipated. The two-day storm had delayed them for almost a day. And they still had more than a month left before they reached Sutherland.

West once complained to his wife that he felt like they were taking care of a child, to which she only laughed, reminding him that Reginald had waited years for this to happen.

"How are they going to do it?" Reginald asked, breaking the quiet of the cabin.

"Prepare Sutherland?" Sasha asked.

"Prepare the people for my arrival, yes," the man said, nodding. His dark blue eyes bore into hers. "Kill Louis?"

"No, of course not, Your Highness," West replied. "The Circus will play the same game Belcourt and Louis played to take you out."

As the former king regarded them with a proud, curious look, Sasha added, "We have gained control over the Sutherland Post and The Grimes."

The man slowly narrowed his eyes. "You are going to expose Louis."

"Not entirely," said Sasha. "We are only going to give them a story."

"Fabricate a story, child?" the man growled. "Lies sent me scampering out of Sutherland. I shall not let it bring me back. What do you plan to do? Make me the victim? I will never take anyone's pity!"

"You are not a very easy man to like, Your Highness." The man scowled at her, and Sasha shared a secret smile with her husband, adding, "We will not make them like you. That requires more time, I believe," veering her bluish gray eyes back to Reginald. "We are simply going to tell them the truth."

Reginald frowned. "How? People hardly believe the truth of a man they despise, child."

"Yours is not the only story to tell. Belcourt also has one."

"You are going to expose Belcourt?" the man asked, looking doubtful.

"We are doing more than that," she replied.

Reginald let out a scoff. "You think the people will believe you?"

"Some will, yes," West said.

"People love to hate, Your Highness, as much as they like to fight for justice," said Sasha. "For them to fight those who violate, they first must have hate."

"You plan to make them hate Belcourt."

"Oh, they already do. Their wives, their daughters do. They hate every woman who came from Belcourt," said Sasha. "We simply have to give them more reason to express that hate. And for those who truly care, those who learn about the children and the others trapped inside, the truth will drive them to take action."

"You are turning against Belcourt. It was once your home."

"Yes. And I wish for the other women to turn against Belcourt."

"It will be a bloody revolution!"

"The truth does that, does it not?" she wistfully asked. "When it contradicts everything you believed in, the truth can cause quite a turmoil."

"And that is where you come in, Your Highness," said West. "To be the calm after the storm."

Reginald shook his head but said nothing more.

*****

Leila regarded Oliver St. Vincent with curious eyes. She had only met one man her entire life, and that was Albert, the man who taught her everything. Albert was bigger than the ladies in Belcourt, but this man—this Oliver St. Vincent—was larger. Almost humongous.

But his hands were gentle. And he told her terrible stories that she found humorous.

He was married to Aliya, and Leila wondered how much Oliver St. Vincent knew about Belcourt. Was it true that he was part of the Royal Circus? Surely, apart from serving as their doctor, Oliver St. Vincent served more purpose. He was there during the Everleigh attack. He knew where they took Leo Stanhope.

She blinked as Oliver looked up and smiled at her. "You remind me of my wife," he said.

"How so?"

He shrugged. "She's from Belcourt. Paid her way out, of course. And without my help at that, child."

Leila frowned at Oliver St. Vincent, curious at the pride in his voice. "And why do I remind you of her?"

"She was fifteen when she entered Belcourt."

"I am twelve. I see no similarity. And I was a day old when I came to Belcourt."

"Yes, yes," said Oliver. "But you have the same look in your eyes as when I saw her when she was a Belle," he said. "Pride. So much of it. And detached, too."

"Aliya does not look detached."

"Ah, so you know my wife," he said, grinning as though he caught her with something. "You must be telling the truth then."

Leila's jaw tightened. "I am telling the truth. I was the High Priestess. I know everything about Belcourt."

"Of course, you do, child. Of course, you do," murmured Oliver, frowning at her leg.

"You do not believe me."

"I believe you came from Belcourt."

"You do not believe I was its ruler." She looked him up and down. "You cannot believe a child could hold such prominent position."

"Oh, no, darling," said Oliver, laughing. "My daughter is a tiny little thing compared to you and she has power all over us."

"You are mocking me."

Oliver merely chuckled. "I do not, Leila."

"I am nothing like your wife. Or your daughter."

"Of course," he said, throwing her a smile as he wrapped her leg with a fresh bandage. "Because you were High Priestess."

"And your wife is naught but a traitor."

"Of course, she is. She chose love over Belcourt. Chose her past over being a Belle."

"Her past."

"You did not know? We were friends before she came to Belcourt. That is how our romance flourished."

"You have many friends, Doctor."

"Of course, I do. I also happen to have many enemies."

"Truly? Who?"

"The drinks—brandies, for one."

When she only frowned, he laughed. "I ignore them because Ali is disappointed whenever I get too foxed."

"Who else are you enemies?"

He shrugged. "My patients," he said. "And their limbs I cut off. And their money."

"And me?"

"Well, your leg does not require amputation. And you do not have money..."

"I am from Belcourt."

"Yes. And?"

"And you are a part of the Royal Circus."

"Oh, no, darling, I am not." Oliver frowned at her with amusement. "Is that what the rumor inside Belcourt says? What else do they say about me apart from my charming qualities?"

Leila did not answer. She looked at her leg and ordered, "Are we quite done?"

Oliver smiled at her. "Quite."

*****

"I do not like her," Ellise said, arms crossed over her chest. She stood against the wall beside the door that led to her office.

"We have already established the fact that you do not," Robert said, an amused smile curling the corner of his mouth as he slowly paced in front of her, hands in the pockets of his trouser.

"She's a bloody child. But is she the child?"

He just shrugged.

"Her story has not changed?"

He shook his head. "She still claims that a Maiden from Belcourt planned everything."

"They also have greed inside," she said.

"And apparently, they can also kill a child."

Her brow arched. "If her story is true."

He smiled. "If she is the child."

He watched her brows dip in a slow frown and her lips purse. Her hazel eyes were shadowed by her thick lashes as the frown deepened. "Since you seem to believe her—"

"I do not—"

"For argument, let us say that you do—how did she survive the attack? Belcourt has too many soldiers of their own. They had sentenced their women to death and only one has escaped thus far. How could this child have survived an assassination?"

Robert sighed. "Aliya said there are many secret passages out of Belcourt. And as Leila claimed, she passed through one which was too small it only permitted her size."

"And how did she break her leg?"

"Tripped on her way through the forest," he said. "As she claimed."

"And now she comes to you because she believes you are the Royal Master."

"I was for a little while, was I not?"

"Arrange a meeting with Tanner. Arielle is playing a game just as Sasha predicted."

"You truly have no doubt this is all a scheme," he said.

"Dior, if Belcourt can exploit its women, they can very well exploit their own children."

He sighed. "Not surprising, of course. She is too smart for her age."

"She was groomed to be smart." She rolled her eyes. "She is not the High Priestess."

"She does not claim she is. She says she was."

When she remained silent, Robert cocked his head to the side and waited. When she refused to say anything more, he asked, "Can you not believe that a High Priestess is a child?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I cannot believe how Belcourt could utterly be so stupid to trust a child to rule over them."

He shrugged. "One of the many mysteries of the place, I assume."

"If she is telling the truth, then Sasha's theory is turning out to be true. She must have a regent," she murmured. "A child could not be fully developed. They can be reckless and impetuous."

"So do many grown people," he countered.

"Are you talking about my brother?" she asked.

Robert snorted. And then he chuckled, shoulders shaking with laughter. He stepped closer to where she stood beside the doorframe, chuckling. Their eyes held each other. Her lips curved into a small smile, as if she found his laughter amusing. Crossing the proper distance and stopping a mere foot away from her, his laughter dying down, Robert sighed. "Today is Monday."

She nodded. "I am starting to hate Mondays," she admitted, smiling wanly as she tried to roll her eyes, as if trying to be nonchalant.

"Because our secret plan keeps getting delayed?" he asked.

"No, because I hate anticipation."

"I quite agree." His eyes flickered to the closed door, then to her eyes. And down to her mouth.

His heart started to pick up pace. Not too fast, but enough to make him take one small step toward her. She smelled like nothing in particular. Or perhaps she just smelled too familiar. Like his study and his books, or his closet and his clothes. His bed and the sheets, the carriage and the leather seats.

If she did not like the closeness, she did not give it voice. But that seemed not to be the case because he saw her tilt her head to the side, as if studying one angle of his. Or perhaps inviting a kiss.

He moistened his lips and smiled again, slowly bending his head, welcoming the heat of her skin.

"Are we kissing?" she asked, voice low, lashes touching skin as she looked down his mouth.

Robert blinked. "We are may be about to kiss," he corrected, his hands still deep inside his pockets because he was unsure how she would react to his touch. "If you do not mind?"

She was blinking too often than necessary, and even that he could not decipher. Was she anticipating it? Or was she thinking of a way to send him flying across the room?

"What for?" she asked, now in a whisper.

He bent lower. Mayhap he liked a nervous Ellise St. Vincent. "A sample?" he murmured.

One hazel eye narrowed doubtfully. "We have already had a sample."

"Too long ago, yes."

"The memory is still very clear to me."

"Is it?" he asked, stepping even closer, his coat touching her. She uncrossed her arms and slid one hand on his shoulder. Finally, a clear invitation.

His heart raced faster in relief and anticipation, and even more when he heard the door of her study open and close. They both stiffened, frozen with their lips just a mere hairsbreadth apart, as the heavy footsteps became more distinct.

Robert stepped back and reached the center of Ellise's bedroom just as the door opened and Oliver's gigantic form stepped in. "She is twelve, a year younger than I have guessed, and she came to Belcourt the same day she was..." Oliver's voice trailed as his eyes traveled from Robert to Ellise. "Born," he finished his statement, eyes narrowing as they continued to jump from his sister to Robert. "Why are you here?"

"You left us here," Ellise wryly said, pushing from the wall, face completely stoic, movement graceful. Robert, however, could barely move. He knew he looked composed, but he was stiff as a board, his heart hamming hard against his chest.

"No, I left you there," said Oliver, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "In your office. This is your bedroom."

"And a room away from being eavesdropped as we discuss important matters," Ellise said.

"Why?" Robert asked, finally finding his voice. He frowned at Oliver. "Are you suspecting we were doing something else?"

Ellise scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Suspecting that we may be engaged in something more intimate?" she asked, eyes on her brother.

Oliver frowned, then his face contorted with revulsion. "Were you?" he demanded. Then at Ellise, he repeated, "Are you?"

"And if we are? Are you going to force us to marry?"

"If I do—"

Ellise scoffed and said, "Well, you cannot. We will decide what to do together."

Robert frowned at her. "Are you saying you are entertaining the idea of a marriage with me?" Then his eyes narrowed. "Did my mother talk to you?"

"Why would your mother talk to her?"

Oliver's question was left unanswered as Ellise addressed Robert's two questions, saying, "No and no."

"I was not saying—" Oliver started, but Robert stepped forward and asked, "Then why did you give your brother the idea about marriage?"

"I did?"

"Yes. You also insinuated that we may have intimate relations."

"Ah, yes, well," Ellise said, rolling her eyes to Oliver. "We are not marrying."

"Yes, we are not," Robert said, eyes at the gaping Oliver. "She is not ready to lose her freedom," and she added, "And my dowry," to which he replied, "You can have full control of your dowry."

"I will?"

"And an entire estate for yourself if you wish it."

Ellise turned on her heels to face him. "And my dowry goes to my children upon my passing."

"I will find no need for it," he answered with a shrug while Oliver turned his head left to right, looking at them in confused wonder.

"No mistresses," she said.

Robert frowned. "If you do not enjoy another lover."

"If you can prove I would not need one," she countered.

"What in the bloody hell are you two—" Oliver started, then stopped, "Are you getting married?"

"No," they chorused.

As Oliver stood in the middle of the room looking completely baffled, Ellise asked, "Where is the child?"

"In my office with two nurses."

Ellise turned to Robert. "Take her home."

Robert nodded. "Good day, St. Vincent," Robert murmured, circling around the man.

Minutes later, as they drove back to his villa, Leila was looking at him. He waited until she could no longer help it and asked, "You are quite close with Miss St. Vincent."

"We are friends as I said."

"Since when?"

"When we were children. I was ten, to be precise."

"Then you will marry her?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Curious, that is all," she said with a shrug.

"Even if I want to, she would have to agree first."

Leila frowned. "You have to ask her?"

"Of course."

"Odd," she said, peering out the window.

"What is odd?"

"You giving her freedom."

"It can be easily given."

"So is betrayal," she murmured. "And they both have a price." She turned and met his gaze, then smiled.