---------------------------

PART 2

---------------------------

THREE MONTHS LATER

Esther stared at Leo wryly as he sauntered into the room—a very tiny room. It was one of the many ones they lived in for months after they emerged out of the forest a week after their narrow escape from death. They had traveled on foot for days, slept in a small, dingy space the owner of the cottage they found on the side of the road called a room. She endured it, for she had spent a week in the forest with very little sleep. But as weeks went by, and then two more months, she was beginning to think that Leo had lost his bloody mind.

They seem to be traveling aimlessly. He claimed to be an expert traveler, thus she should trust him, but it was getting quite obvious that they were nowhere near Ross, the place he claimed to be the safest and nearest. It was that or he simply had no plans of going anywhere.

Worse, he seemed to enjoy running away. He would go away for the entire day, leaving her alone in a small tavern in the middle of nowhere, and return with food without telling her what he did or where he had been. She had thought of running away, of leaving him, but she never gathered the courage to do so. The Soldiers could be anywhere looking for her.

"Pie," Leo said, smiling at her broadly. "Meat."

"That's an improvement," she said, snatching the parcel from his hand. "Where are we going next? Another small town? Another tavern—one with a better bed, perhaps?" She did not let him answer, adding, "Or perhaps we should just go back to Calbridge and just let the Soldiers kill us both. I'm willing to take my chances."

He rolled his eyes and brushed his hair back with his fingers. "You are too impatient." He started to undress, and she stared at him boldly with a wry smile as she chewed on her food.

"Mayhap because I no longer wish to be dragged around by an insane man," she said. "Or by someone who is deliberately taking his time because he refuses to go back and face whatever it is he should."

He chuckled as he put on his only change of shirt. "You mean your men who want to kill me and the Soldiers who want to maim me?"

She offered a wide smile. "Yes."

He sighed and turned to the bed. "Mayhap."

She scowled. "What do you mean by that?"

"That I'm tired of this discussion," he groaned, dropping onto the bed.

"You said we should go to Ross. I asked the barmaid, and she said we are weeks away from Ross."

"Because we are."

"The last tavern we went to was three days away from Ross. You are leading us away from our destination." He did not reply and pretended to sleep. "Stanhope."

"Hm?" he mumbled.

"This is part of your plan, is it not? To take me away? To keep me to your side until I agree to your plan to marry?"

He scoffed. "You mean to seduce you?"

"If seduction is your means to get a wife, then I believe you are the worst of the lot. It hardly leads to marriage." She stood and went to the bed. "You are playing with my mind. You are manipulating me until I submit to you."

"I cannot tell you of my plans."

"I do not think you have any."

"Then I do not."

"You are a bloody bastard."

"My father would disagree."

She growled and walked away, stumbling on the shirt he threw on the floor. She kicked it aside, picked up her pie, and stormed out the room, slamming the door.

She would give him another week and then she would leave, she thought as she descended the stairs. But before she could reach the landing, she heard men angrily talking to the barmaid.

"He has long hair, yes," the man growled. "He said his name is Leo. Bring him out now or we'll ruin this bloody place after we ruin his bloody face."

Heart in her throat, Esther quietly ran back to their room. "What have you done?" she demanded, throwing the pie in his direction.

He just moaned, half asleep.

"There are men looking for you downstairs and they sound angry."

His eyes snapped open. "Bloody hell." He jumped out of bed, fully awake now, and gathered their things. "We have to leave."

Esther frowned. "Now?"

"Yes."

"What have you done, Stanhope?"

He pushed his soiled clothes into his rucksack. "I may or may not owe them a few gold coins."

Her eyes rounded in disbelief. "Did you bloody gamble—"

"You sound like a wife, darling, and it doesn't become you." He rushed to her, grabbing her coat along the way. "Let's go."

As he led her to the window, Esther almost erupted, but the shouting downstairs sounded angrier.

"Trust me, we will reach Ross soon," Leo said before he climbed out the window.

"I don't trust you," she said, warily looking over her shoulder at the door. At the sound of heavy the footsteps, she faced Leo again. "This is the last time I'll ever climb out of a bloody window!" she hissed.

*****

The seven Maidens stood in a line outside the door, their heads bowed, shadowed by the hood of their purple cloaks. None moved as Arielle stepped out, in her new golden robe. No hood, no other ornaments. Her brown hair was down, free behind her.

She stopped and said, "Take your hoods down."

They did as ordered. Asa, the seventh and youngest Maiden, was the first to take the courage to raise her head and look at her. There was fear there, uncertainty. Arielle could tell the young woman wanted to say something, but they both knew there was no turning back. The High Priestess had made up her mind.

Arielle nodded and Asa turned, leading the way down the corridor. The others followed, slowly lifting their heads as they turned away from Arielle. She followed them, the last in line. Their footsteps echoed as they traversed the path out of the hidden chamber, up the stairs that led to the secret garden. Eight Elected children were already waiting for them when they emerged into the hall of the Palace. And when they stepped out, more Soldiers were waiting with carriages.

No one was in sight. All eight carriages rolled down the roads of Belcourt alone. The Common Court was just as empty and quiet. No running footsteps of children, no tiny heads poking out of the hallways. Not even a whisper could be heard, only their footsteps.

They walked down the familiar path to the great hall and stopped outside the closed giant doors. Two Soldiers moved forward and flung them open, revealing the entire population of Belcourt inside, all wearing their respective colors, all with heads bowed in fear.

They had every right to be fearful, Arielle thought, but today, she would change that. She would make them feel safe again.

Asa led the way into the hall, and they all moved. No hoods, their faces in full view. But no one dared to look because for these ladies, stealing the Maidens and the High Priestess a look could land them in the dungeon. She would change that today. Today, these ladies would be free.

The closing of the doors followed their footsteps up to the front of the hall. No one spoke, not one soul moved, even the children standing at the back.

And then Arielle, stepping in front of the Maidens, ordered everyone to raise their heads.

*****

Ellise was quiet during their entire journey. The carriage had made a few stops because her father needed it, but she never moved. She stayed motionless where she was until the next stop, then another.

It seemed an endless journey with no end in sight. The view in the window was mere shadows behind the curtain.

It had been three months to this day, and it still seemed fresh. She had always thought she was strong, that her detached attitude towards others would spare her from the pain. That was not the case now. Darcy or not, Ellise St. Vincent or not, she was not spared of the guilt.

This must be how Robert felt. For a long time, he had been blaming himself for Garmont's death. Was that why he stepped in front of her that day? Caught the bullet for her? Was that his redemption?

Then what was hers? For the lives lost that day, how could she ever redeem herself?

She felt her father's hold. She looked down, staring at his wrinkled hand over her own. He squeezed. She turned to him and found him smiling. He did not have to say the words because she knew what he wanted to say.

It was not her fault.

She could only disagree silently. She was responsible for all of them. It was her plan to take them all to Winfield, and it was with her permission that they were on that ship.

Brierwell soon came into view and her head started to throb again as images of that day came back to her. Of the blood and fire, of the cries and tears that followed. They lost more than they won thus far.

Reckless, that's what she had been. Proud, too.

Finally, the carriage came to its final halt. And with as much dread as that day on the ship, Ellise could not move. The air in the carriage seemed to consume her, the open doorway of the large estate even more frightening. Inside awaited grief.

At first, they were all numb. They had to take care of the bodies, bury them with grace and affection and pride. It was the children and the wives and mothers... they grieved first and longer.

After weeks of silence, of taking care of Reginald and more planning and more spying, it was their turn—them, the Royals—to pay their respects, to face the loss.

"Ellise, darling?" her father asked, reaching out for her from outside the carriage.

Ellise squared her shoulders and took a long breath. Then she took her father's hand. The drawing room was bright, the people inside laughing. She thought it odd, but she did not comment. The pain was clear in their eyes, the loss carved in their smiles. So she did the same. She pretended. As much as she could, she acted like she had accepted it all, that they did their best. That she was not to blame.

Caroline had a smile on her face when she approached. Her friend told her trivial stories about the curtains, of her mishap on the road last week, but her strong grip told Ellise of the story she was not saying. The way her friend clung to her as if her life depended on her made her want to cower, to drop to the ground, because she was not as strong as her friend thought. She was not even worthy of her friend's trusting hold.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Caroline asked.

"Yes," she replied, looking around the room. The Duke and Duchess of Remington were talking with Oliver and Aliya, her father standing in front of the window with Alannah in his arms. Caroline's in-laws, the Duke and Duchess of Whitton, were nearby, sitting quietly, their smiles empty when Caroline gently told them she would be out for a while.

They did not take a walk. As they always did, they rode to the cabin. Caroline's face seemed calm, but her eyes were empty. The pain Ellise was witnessing now in her friend was different, not the same when she lost her unborn child, Philippa. She could not say it was stronger, nor was it weaker. Both seemed... boundless. And somehow, to her surprise, Ellise understood it.

In a few days, they would be in Calbridge and she would see the same pain again. Witness it. And feel it engulf her, too.

They tethered the horses outside the cabin and suddenly she felt lost. She had nothing in hand, so she looked around and picked up the first daisy she found. Caroline only smiled before leading the way. "He never liked daisies," Caroline told her.

"It is still a flower," she retorted as they walked, emerging into the garden.

"Camila, tell Ellise Jamie never liked daisies," Caroline said to her sister.

The girl, blond hair tied to the side and over her shoulder, looked up from her drawing pad. She frowned at the daisy in Ellise's hand. "He hated them."

"Then Philippa may want them," Ellise said with an apologetic tone, turning to gently place the flower on Philippa's headstone. As she straightened, she caught Trent's gentle smile. He was sitting on a bench near his brother's grave, reading a book, closing it as his wife approached and planted a kiss on the top of his head before she joined her sister on the grass beside Jamie's tombstone.

It had been a surprise when they found out Jamie was to be buried in the cottage. But as typical of the boy, he had planned everything with Camila. They both decided to be buried in the cottage should they perish before they were wed so Philippa would always have company. No one contested, not even the Duke and Duchess of Whitton.

Ellise slowly approached them, almost afraid to be near Camila. While their ship burned in the middle of the ocean that day, Winfield was also being attacked, and God only knew what Camila had been through on that estate. She was found inside the closet of Jamie's room, arms wrapped around Jamie's dead body. She had dragged him inside and waited until the fight was over. She told no one of Jamie's last moments. She told them, however, how the Royals from the woods rescued them. How Natalia St. Vincent shot one Soldier to save Mason after being shot herself. Until now, Camila only shared one detail at a time.

The children were supposed to be safe there. No one was supposed to know they were still there. And how could there be too many Soldiers? How could they have known?

Reckless. That's what Ellise had been.

After her trip to the cabin, she returned to the manor alone, leaving Caroline and Trent with Camila. She could not bear to spend another moment with another soul, so she crept into the bedchamber she always used whenever she was in Brierwell, back when they only came here to fence and talk about conspiracies. Back when Jamie and Camila would burn their ears talking about their plans for the future—their future manor, the number of rooms, their gardens. Those things would never happen.

Ellise let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes to stop the tears.

There would be dinner tonight and she had to prepare for it. Then after, she would have to spend tea with the ladies. And then later tonight, a drink with the gentlemen to discuss their latest plans. But for now, she had to be alone because in a few days, she would suffer through the same things in Calbridge.

She poured herself a glass of brandy. Outside the window, the sky was orange, rapidly turning purple. She finished one glass, and downed another. As she sipped through her third, she felt his arms around her. She frowned and looked over her shoulder and was only met by his cold coat. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I'll be your escort to Calbridge," Dior replied, his answer almost a whisper. He, too, was looking out the window. From afar, they could see the cottage, a tiny dot of shadow.

"Your mother needs—"

"She practically threw me out the door when your mother arrived. They both demanded that I be with you and your father on your journey."

"To catch another bullet for me?"

His arms tightened around her. "My father would want this to go perfectly as planned," was all he said, planting a kiss on her temple.

She was going to Calbridge to pay her final respects to the late Duke of Calbridge, to personally tell Lady Harriet that she was sorry for her loss.

But they would also be there because Prince Emory would be there to pay his respects. And so would be the Queen.