Donovan was having a peaceful breakfast when a servant arrived with a note. He took the note and thanked the servant. He knew he would be displeased by the contents as soon as he saw the handwriting on the outside of the note. It was from his mother, and he was quite certain she was summoning him to another family dinner. Reading it confirmed his suspicions.

Dear Donovan,

Please join your family for dinner tomorrow at eight o'clock in the evening. We are excited to further our acquaintance with the newest member of your household.

Mother

The note was the perfect embodiment of his mother. It was addressed informally, as any parent might write to a child, but sent on official Her Majesty the Queen stationary so that he could not forget that saying no to her was also saying no to his sovereign. It was written in such a way that assumed Donovan would bring Lady Maren, so he was unable to claim he forgot or that she was otherwise occupied, which was quite clever of her. The dinner was also scheduled relatively soon after the last family dinner, which Donovan knew was his mother's way of signaling that even if he found a way out of this dinner, she would schedule another next week. And he knew his mother well enough to know she would schedule the dinners every night until she got what she wanted.

And he knew what she wanted was not to "further her acquaintance" with his supposed mistress but find out why, after seven years of abstention, he had taken someone from the Selection. Which, it just so happened, was not something he wanted her to know about.

No, he'd have to make it seem like some sort of last gasp of bachelordom. Which also meant he needed to seem to be enjoying The Girl's company.

He sighed. He hadn't seen The Girl since he had sworn her the oath.

That oath. Gods, what had he been thinking? He must have been the only person in the history of the kingdom to swear an oath to his mistress or pretend mistress or whatever she was to him. Not only that, but it was probably the most begrudgingly given oath since the dawn of time.

He didn't regret it — it didn't change anything after all. Donovan would never force a woman — even a witch (perhaps even especially not a witch) — to his bed anyway. He had apologized and made clear that he would not harm her, but she didn't believe him, and that was extremely irritating. Could he have convinced her not to question his honor in a less dramatic way? Possibly. But at the very least, the oath had been efficient and effective.

He set the oath aside; there was nothing to be done about it, and he had more pressing problems.

Of course, he would have to bring her to dinner with his family. It would be much worse if he tried to delay it. He had planned on another attempt to display her in the gardens that afternoon, and would have to instruct her on the matter then.

When later that day the time came to bring The Girl to the gardens, he found her, as expected, in her rooms. As before, they both performed their expected greetings, only this time she agreed to come with him. (Thank the gods!) As before, they greeted the various courtiers milling about, and then he led her deeper into the gardens.

He decided to take her to an entirely different section of the gardens than he had before, reasoning that the locations they had previously visited were somewhat marred by their disastrous encounters. Of course, if they continued at their current rate, the entire gardens would be spoiled in a few weeks.

He took her to sit by a fountain he rather liked. It was large, almost as tall as he was and had numerous levels stacked on top of one another and the water flowed down the tower making very pleasant splashing noises.

"My mother has organized a 'family dinner' tomorrow evening. You will—" he stopped, realizing that giving orders was probably not going to be particularly helpful. "Would you please attend with me?"

"If you like," she said.

Her tone suggested she thought it was a particularly bad idea. He decided to be blunt.

"The Queen expects you to attend," he told her.

Her eyes went wide, but she nodded.

He thought for a moment, trying to determine the best way to communicate what he wanted.

"My mother is very perceptive and will be looking for any signs of deception," he said.

The Girl nodded.

"More likely than not, my brother will also be in attendance," he added.

She nodded again.

"Lady Maren," he paused, ensuring he had her full attention, "you —we— will need to be very convincing for them both," he said.

She looked at him, and he realized he had hardly ever actually looked at her face. He'd seen it, of course, but only in the way you might see a painting as you walk rapidly past it in a hallway. You see it, but you don't actually notice it.

Her eyes were quite striking—a brilliant shade of blue. Though they seemed to belong to someone much older than her. She had rather elegant features, and her face was the sort that probably seemed friendly to those that did not know what she was. He thought he might have found her rather pretty if he had met her under other circumstances.

"I shall do what I can," she said, and he really wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.

—

Donovan was nervous, which wasn't an emotion he was accustomed to experiencing. He found himself far more concerned about bringing The Girl to family dinner than he expected.

He disliked the idea of trying to deceive his family—well, he disliked the idea of trying to deceive his parents—trying to deceive Kieran was an excellent idea indeed. But he also couldn't let the king and queen find out the truth about The Girl; otherwise, they'd have her arrested immediately. And if she were arrested, she would wind up in Kieran's lair, which was precisely what he was trying to avoid by taking The Girl in the first place.

He cursed his brother yet again. He had actually been doing it so often lately that he was becoming bored with his run-of-the-mill curses, so he vowed to invent some more interesting ones.

Although dinner with the King and Queen was an entirely normal experience in his life, he knew it would be an unusual meal for the average courtier. He hoped The Girl was up to the task. She had done well enough when he introduced her to them at the ball, but dinner would be a lot longer.

He dressed carefully that evening, knowing his mother's sharp eyes would not miss any sign of weakness. He spent some time debating between a bowtie or a necktie and even briefly considered a cravat, but ultimately opted for a deep maroon necktie.

Donovan wondered what The Girl would be wearing. Hopefully, Mrs. Whitley had ensured she dressed appropriately. Should he have told Mrs. Whitley to have The Girl wear something to match his tie? No, that seemed contrived, his mother would smell that from a mile away.

He needn't have worried. When The Girl emerged from her suite into the receiving room, she was wearing a pleasant blue color. It had gauzy sleeves and some sort of sparkly beading around the neckline and hem. He was not familiar with women's fashion, but it seemed appropriate enough.

"My lady," he said in greeting, tilting his head to her. She curtsied in return and murmured, "Your Highness," back at him.

He offered his arm, and they left together, heading deeper into the residential wing of the palace.

As usual, there was a palace guard just outside his parents' apartment. Donovan nodded to him, and the guard bowed and opened the doors.

His parents' apartment was similar to his own, but much larger. They had a receiving room, but rarely received guests in it, preferring to wait in a sort of sitting room that adjoined a large dining room. The dining room could comfortably sit twenty or more; his own could only hold twelve. This was of course the dining room where they held semi-private events but not events of state or more intimate affairs. Events of state were held across the palace in one of the ballrooms or other halls. They also had a small dining room within their own private suites, but Donovan had not eaten in it since he was a child.

Their butler was there, of course, to greet them and direct them to the sitting room, even though Donovan had been joining his family in that exact room at least monthly for a decade. Donovan nodded to the man as he always did and led The Girl to see his family.

"There you are, Donovan, I am so glad you made it!" his mother said. They had arrived just at the requested time, which meant that his father thought he was early, and his mother thought he was late. Donovan always decided to split the difference.

She rushed to meet them at the entrance to the room and kissed him on the cheek, as she always did.

"Good evening, Mother," he said and then saw his father reading a report of some kind in an armchair and called, "Hello, Father."

Only then did his father notice he had arrived, having been quite absorbed in his reading. As he usually did, he gave a sort of grumbling sound of acknowledgment. Then his mother cleared her throat pointedly and his father looked up from his papers and boomed, "Oh! Son! Glad to see you,"

Now that he had both of their attentions, he could present The Girl.

"Mother, Father, you recall Lady Maren Casteris," he said gesturing at her.

The Girl curtsied and said, "Your Majesties."

"Lady Maren!" his mother exclaimed. "I am so glad you were able to join us this time."

"I am delighted to join you, Your Majesty," The Girl replied in a tone that at least sounded sincere.

His father smiled kindly at her, but returned to his report.

"Kieran and Lady Callista will be here any moment," his mother said.

And, as if on cue, Kieran, and his mistress, entered.

"So sorry to keep you all waiting," he said.

Then they all performed the various ritual introductions and greetings. Kieran, as he did with most women, kissed the top of Lady Maren's hand. Donovan swore he saw the barest hint of a shiver in The Girl when she touched his brother, but he was not at all sure what it meant.

Once they had finished, the butler arrived to announce dinner was served.

As he led The Girl into the dining room, he tried to position things so that he would be sitting next to his mother and The Girl would be on his other side. That way, he reasoned, his mother would have a more difficult time observing The Girl.

"Oh, and you'll sit next to me, of course, Lady Maren," his mother announced.

Donovan stifled a groan.

—

Maren grew up in a noble family. Though their estate was isolated, she had been educated as well as any young noblewoman. She knew history and literature and could keep accounts. She could also embroider, dance, and play the piano somewhat passably, and knew all the various protocols and mannerisms of behaving in polite society. (She could also do things a lot of other young noble women could not, like care for a horse and light things on fire with her bare hands.)

But nothing in all her years of education, socially acceptable or otherwise, had prepared her for an intimate and relatively informal dinner with the royal family. Had it been a formal banquet like the one held the night she arrived at the palace, she would have been completely comfortable. Even if the Queen had invited her personally to take tea on the terrace, Maren would have known the protocol. But what was the protocol for attending dinner with the family of the man whose mistress she was pretending to be when that family also included the ruling monarchs?

Maren smiled to herself, imagining sending her former governess a complaint letter about the ways in which her education was lacking.

She had not expected the Queen to insist that Maren sit next to her, but resolved to handle it as best she could. Prince Kieran was across from her, something she could have done without, and the King on one side of him and Lady Callista on the other. Maren did not miss Lady Callista's pout when Maren was asked to sit by the Queen instead of her.

The table was set for six courses, which, Maren supposed, was relatively modest considering there could be as many as thirteen, but was still more than the standard five. What seemed to be an army of servants appeared out of nowhere, placing plates before them and pouring wine, and then evaporating as rapidly as they arrived. Maren scarcely paid attention to the food, except to analyze which utensil would be most appropriate: hors d'oeuvres fork, the salad fork, then the soup spoon, fish knife, don't confuse the fish fork and the dinner fork, and finally the dessert spoon. But the utensils, at least, she was familiar with, the dining partners, not so much.

Maren's original plan for the meal was the same as it always was; keep her head down, be unobtrusive, escape notice. The Queen, however, had other ideas.

"Tell me, Lady Maren, are you settling in at the palace?" the Queen asked at the beginning of dinner.

"Oh, yes, Your Majesty, I am quite settled," Maren said. "I do feel very much at home," she added for good measure.

"How wonderful! I am so glad to hear it," the Queen said. "And I do hope my son is treating you well."

It was not phrased as a question, but it was obviously a question.

Maren smiled as sweetly as she could. "He has been ..." she paused, turning to Prince Donovan and gently placing her hand on his, "so very kind."

His hand twitched slightly at the surprise of her touch, but fortunately, he caught on and covered her hand with his and smiled an indulgent sort of smile at her. Maren tried not to think about how uncomfortable she was.

The Queen, apparently satisfied with the performance, allowed general conversation at the table to proceed.

Prince Kieran took the opportunity to launch into a lengthy discussion about the current work of the Trackers. Maren did not enjoy this any more than the previous topic. Prince Kieran was sitting directly across from her but even still, he seemed to be doing an unnecessary amount of staring at her, as though he wanted to see how she reacted.

Maren focused on maintaining an air of polite interest. Fortunately, she was familiar enough with the work of the Trackers that his discussion didn't really phase her.

"... So, all in all, that makes ten arrests last quarter. We are still holding four, but I think I only want two of them brought to the Capital. I'm not sure, though, what do you think, Lady Maren?"

Maren had to be careful not to choke on the wine she was sipping. She did not expect to be brought into this discussion.

She set her glass down, trying to buy a moment to think. There was absolutely no good answer she could give.

"Well, Your Highness, I am no expert in these matters, but certainly, it is always more advisable to err on the side of caution," she said.

"Excellent advice," he said, "I shall have them all transferred at once. I thank you, Lady Maren." He raised his glass to her.

Maren smiled in response and hoped it hid her true feelings. Had she just sentenced two more women to death?

She squashed the thought. She needed to focus, or she'd be sitting with them in prison.

She could feel Prince Donovan's eyes on her, but she kept her eyes on her plate.

"Lady Maren, I was wondering if you could confirm something for me," Lady Callista said. She had the way of talking that many court ladies did, very high-pitched and as though she were constantly in a state of shock.

"I heard the most ridiculous rumor from Lady Vanessa just the other day. She said that in the North—and do forgive me because it is just the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard—but the rumor is going around the Court that in the North they still use horses to travel?"

And that was when the dinner went from very uncomfortable to extremely awkward.

Horses were the primary mode of travel in the North, and it was true that the vast majority of the young nobility who lived in the far more developed southern regions of the country found that shocking. However, Maren doubted very much that the King was unaware that the northern regions relied on horses due to a lack of infrastructure. And even if he happened to be ignorant of that, Maren had absolutely no intention of being the person who brought that to his attention. After all, the King was ultimately responsible for decisions regarding infrastructure investment.

Lady Callista, apparently, had fewer compunctions.

"Ah, yes, horses are common," Maren said after a palpable silence, hoping to deflect the heart of the question.

"Really? How quaint!" Lady Callista declared. "Why, I don't think my family's estate has kept horses since before I was born!"

Maren smiled and nodded and hoped Lady Callista would drop the matter.

"But why would you use horses? Surely speeders are so much easier?" Lady Callista asked. Apparently, she had absolutely no ability to read a room.

Maren quickly tried to come up with a diplomatic way of explaining the situation that did not make it sound like she was criticizing the King at his own dinner table.

Fortunately, Prince Donovan interjected, "Horses are better suited to the landscape, are they not, Lady Maren?"

Maren glanced at him, grateful he interjected.

"Yes, that's right," Maren said.

Lady Callista seemed like she might say something else, but then abruptly picked up her wine glass. Maren suspected that Prince Kieran must've done something under the table to get her to be quiet.

The King and Queen did not comment, but had been watching the conversation closely.

The rest of the dinner passed more or less uneventfully. Maren seized a few more opportunities to appear to fawn over Prince Donovan. She hoped she was convincing. Probably it would get easier to pretend to be smitten with him with practice, but as it was, she found it distressing. Pretending to be so enamored by someone who obviously despised her felt awful.

After dessert, and coffee, and brandy, dinner was finally concluded. Maren was relieved to bid goodnight to the King and Queen and leave. She was even more relieved to find that, apparently, Prince Kieran's quarters were in another direction so that she and Prince Donovan were not obliged to walk with him and Lady Callista for very long.

Once they were alone in the halls, Maren hazarded a question.

"Ah, if I may, how often —"

The Prince laughed. "How often do my parents summon me for dinner? About once a month."

Maren nodded. That was manageable.

"I recognize it isn't the most entertaining way to spend an evening," the Prince said.

"No, it isn't that," Maren said. "It's just rather...ah...intense."

"Ah," he seemed thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose it would be if you hadn't grown up with it."

"For what it's worth," he continued, "I do believe it went rather well."

Maren nodded. She had no way of gauging how well or disastrous the evening had been, so took the Prince at his word.

They had returned to his apartment when Maren let go of the Prince's arm.

"Goodnight, Your Highness," she said, heading towards her suite.

She was nearly at her door when the Prince stopped her.

"My lady," he called.

She turned to look at him. He looked troubled.

"My brother...he likes to play games with people. I would be very much surprised if he had not already transferred all four women to the Capital."

Maren nodded and entered her suite, but still felt terribly guilty at the memory of what she had said. She could not shake the notion that she had done great harm to others to protect herself.