"Sit down." Razvan narrowed his gaze at the servant...allowing the sight of the object Bernard had been presented with to really sink in; waiting until the sheen of sweat had become visible across his brow, before finally asking, "Does this thing look familiar to you?"

The cleric's assistant stood uncomfortably close to Bernard, cradling it within a piece of cloth for him to view—like a broken bird that had not yet expired.

"...Yes." Bernard's reply was a soft, trembling whisper, but in the stark silence, it sounded far too loud.

"Then tell us what it's for," Razvan said harshly.

"I-I don't know."

Cleric Stanislav tutted while Razvan's lip curled. "Continue to lie to her majesty and the imperial advisor, and death will be the most merciful end you could wish for."

"I'm not lying! I don't know! Yes, I've seen it, but I don't know what it is or what it's for—where it even came from is a mystery to me!"

"Then why did you order the maid who discovered it not to tell anyone about it?" There wasn't a trace of empathy in Razvan's tone, nor in the eyes of any of the people staring at him.

Bernard could only think of Ruslan, and his intense discomfort in being watched... Bernard understood it now, and he hesitated, trying to choose his words very carefully. "...I was worried that it might start gossip among the staff..."

"You were aware of this being among Lady Raya's laundry just before she died," Cleric Stanislav rasped. "An effigy! An instrument for devilry, and something similar was found under the late dowager's bed, and you were worried about gossip?"

"Two women of the royal family murdered by very suspicious means," Razvan cut in, "You attempted to hide evidence of witchcraft, then physically attacked Lord Franz-Heinz just yesterday evening... Was the duke truly your next target or did you just get impatient and sloppy?"

"What? No! I would never—It wasn't me!" Bernard pleaded.

As the royal advisor and the cleric looked at the tsarina, Bernard's stomach dropped. He had always prided himself on being honest, however, her repugnance towards him had nothing to do with his moral integrity, but rather, with whom he served. He'd never imagined in his worst nightmares that he would be in such a position. Accused of murder? Him? He'd always minded his own, kept to his tasks, worked hard and spoken very little. He'd never been one to gossip or wish ill on others—he'd always told the truth. So, how? How had he come to this? What sin had he committed to now be on the edge of losing everything over a single night?

"...I only did what I did to protect Ruslan."

The tsarina looked taken aback. "What did you say? ...To protect her?" she snatched her nearly empty plate from breakfast and raised it as though she were going to throw it at him.

"Lisa!" Oksana shrieked in surprise, catching her sister-in-law's arm as a half eaten tart landed on the floor and the cleric's assistant leaped and backed away, fumbling with the effigy as he did.

The Tsarina was seething, chest rising and falling furiously. "I've given my daughter everything! She's had everything she's ever wanted! Even to parade herself around as a boy to my own embarrassment without a care for her mother's distress! I even found a suitable match for her! A willing one at that!"

"Lisa-Lisa, he's just a servant, he doesn't understand," Oksana whimpered, though her tears were not for him, but rather for her late mother. "It isn't even his place to understand..."

Slowly, the tsarina was coaxed into lowering the dish... "Clearly, you think you're responsible for more than just serving her meals and helping her dress," she said in an ominously calm tone.

Ruslan's affections were Bernard's only damning quality, that much was inescapably obvious... Ironically, he wasn't even sure that he still had Ruslan's affections, after the way he'd spoken to him, and that was just salt in the wound.

The tsarina continued, "You've been allowed to forget your place and your insignificance, Bernard, but that will be remedied... That will be remedied."

Cleric Stanislav sniffled, then let out a wet cough before he cleared his throat. "...I was told by the staff that the pair were unable to consummate their marriage last night. It's a bad omen for the marriage," he noted with clear condemnation in his eyes. "Not to mention the princess's future ability to bear healthy children..."

Lisa nodded, taking a moment to further compose herself, and allowing an agonizing silence to stretch, only punctured occasionally by the sharp sound of her tapping her ring against the arm of her chair. "...And now I wonder what should be done with a selfish tool that's overstayed his usefulness at best."

"And who may have committed high treason at worst," Razvan added callously. "What do you have to say in defense of yourself?"

As Bernard stared at the crumbled mess of pastry and filling marring the expensive rug, resignation sat heavier on his weary shoulders than it ever had. This was always going to happen... Bernard knew that one day he and Ruslan would part ways. He never knew how or when—if it would be Ruslan's undoing or his own, but there was no version in which it was a pleasant occurrence.

"My...deepest apologies... I understand I've overstepped my position... It was never my intention to harm anyone, least of all, Ruslan-er, Princess Ruslana and her husband..."

The tsarina didn't at all look moved by his statement. "Ruslana and Nikolai are leaving for his home tomorrow. Help her pack her things. She'll be impossible otherwise if I disallow her to see you. You'll be notified once I've decided on a fitting punishment for last night's assault on the duke."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Bernard croaked out, painfully aware that even if they somehow did determine his innocence in regards to the murders, the best he could hope for now would be a quick dismissal and merciful referral, if he got one at all...

Oksana waited until everyone but Lisa and Razvan were gone. "I thought you still suspected Alexander Vissarionovich..."

"We do," Razvan said flatly.

Puzzlement shaped Oksana's weary, tear-stained expression, and she awaited an explanation. When one didn't come, she spoke up again. "Then...why did you implicate Bernard in these awful incidents?"

The tsarina stood, moving to a small table in the sitting room that she picked up a bell from and loudly rang. "Tell the maids when they arrive to clean this up," she said, motioning to the mess on the floor. "Razvan?"

"Yes?"

"Find our tsar-to-be. I mean to speak with him," the Tsarina said. "And if you're having trouble, check the library..."

Despite it being mid-morning, the sun was well hidden behind gloomy and grey clouds. The courtyard below Ruslan's windows looked cold, wet, and vacant aside from the occasional vibrant heavy coat worn by the guards. It struck him that this was probably the last time he'd see this view of them... Was that how he should measure things now? ...In 'lasts'?

His last time waking in his own bed, thanks to being dismissed from the bridal suit. His last time seeing the maids that occasionally flitted in and out of the open doors to his bedroom, stopping now and then to ask if he intended to keep a particular belonging or piece of clothing... They were all very busy, meticulously packing his most precious belongings, like bees in the height of summer, while he couldn't feel more cold.

It was the second day of their wedding, and there would be another banquet to attend, more gifts and congratulations to receive, more dancing, more music...and that meant he'd likely already had his last time of Bernard dressing him in his normal, male clothes, over a day ago...

Had he even properly cherished it? That last moment where he looked and felt like himself in his own home? Of course, he probably hadn't. How would he have known to? It had only been five days since his father's passing, but in that time, it felt like he'd already experienced a lifetime of sorrow.

Regardless, Ruslan now tried to recall every detail of that moment while a maid deftly laced him into the gown he'd be trapped in for the majority of the day—one similar in design to grandmother's monstrosity, but fortunately, far less detailed and only half the weight.

"...Where is Bernard?"

The maid hesitated. "I believe last I saw, he was speaking with the servants' staff manager, your highness."

Ruslan sighed. "Send someone to check on where he is?"

"No need."

Ruslan turned so quickly to see Bernard that the poor maid dressing him lost her balance. He leaped down off the tufted pedestal he'd been on, his dress dragging the stool onto its side as he closed the distance between himself and Bernard. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you last night. You know I didn't mean those things?"

"I do," Bernard said softly, looking both relieved and pained... That frightened Ruslan.

"...What did the staff manager want you for? Did it have to do with Nikolai?"

"Well..." Bernard cleared his throat. "Not entirely... The royal advisor summoned me."

Ruslan followed Bernard's gaze to the maid still fumbling with the dress's train, and the stool trapped beneath it, and to the others still folding things and laying them into trunks.

"Leave us for a moment," Ruslan said, watching them flee the room as quickly as whisps of steam. "...What else?"

Bernard found Ruslan's hand within one of the long sleeves, and took it into his own, leading him away from the door and further towards the window, the drop in temperature noticeable. "The deaths of your aunt and grandmother."

"My grandmother is dead?" An image flickered into the forefront of Ruslan's mind; the smear of red on Alexander's arm—the smear he'd quickly covered when he seemed to have noticed Ruslan was looking... Though his grandmother had never been particularly kind to him, the idea that it had been her blood that he'd spied on his wedding night caused a wave of lightheadedness that made him sway.

"Murdered, your highness..." Bernard said, helping balance him. "They called both murders. And I fear greatly for who may be next."

Ruslan's eyes were wide as he whispered, "I think I know who the killer is..."

Bernard paled and leaned in, slouching forward. "You do?"

Ruslan slowly nodded. What had the lord from The Hollows said? ...That there were only monsters and victims? If that was true, then Alexander Vissarionovich was no victim.

"Ruslan, listen to me," Bernard whispered, briefly checking over his shoulder that no one was near the open doors. "I know this isn't the way you wanted to leave the palace, but please, please don't do anything to delay it. Not on my account, or anyone else's. The only way I can rest assured, knowing you'll be safe, is if you depart here as soon as possible. The two of you will be the center of attention again today. Whoever's behind this shouldn't be so bold as to target you with everyone watching."

"I'm not leaving here without you, Bernard. I won't."

"We can still work towards a future together," Bernard assured quickly, rendering Ruslan stunned—his resolve weakened by the sweet ache in his chest. It wasn't fair for Bernard to say such a thing. To give him that kind of hope.

"We can?"

"We can. I promise. Once you've moved into Nikolai's estate and I leave here, I can find a way to contact you. To meet up with you again, but only if you make it away from the palace safely."

Ruslan pulled Bernard against him, and hid his face in the crook of his servant's neck. "But if you just come with me..."

"I can't do that." Bernard gently pulled away so that he could look Ruslan in the eyes. "But I'll do whatever it takes to return to your side as soon as I can. I promised nothing would keep us apart, didn't I?"

"...You did," Ruslan breathed. He wanted to chase Bernard's promise with a kiss. Reassure himself that parting didn't be the end for them—that it would just be another obstacle they'd find a way to overcome...together. Ruslan believed that. He had to if he was going to remain sane through this.

But just as their lips nearly touched, the stubborn, skeptical question surfaced in the back of Ruslan's mind, regardless... Would this be another 'last'?

Before the contact could happen, footsteps approached, and Bernard suddenly pulled away, giving Ruslan's hand another tender squeeze before letting go entirely.

I haven't asked in a while, but does anyone have a favorite character? (Are they still alive? 👀) A least favorite character?

It's always so motivating to get to know your thoughts! 🖤 And of course, thank you so much for reading!!