Maren was the happiest she had been since coming to the palace. She was finally riding Snowdrop (astride) in the fields near the palace. It felt fantastic to be back on a horse after so long.

She and Snowdrop were still getting accustomed to one another, so she kept the horse to a brisk trot as they traveled the perimeters of the fields. Snowdrop was a joy to ride—she was well-trained and highly responsive—but Maren would have been equally content atop a slow mule or bucking stallion. The freedom she felt while riding was like a balm to her soul after so long in such difficult circumstances.

She had promised Mr. Gregory that she would keep the ride relatively short, so she contented herself to a few loops around fields before returning to the stables.

It was the time of day when late afternoon and early evening blended together, and it appeared that Mr. Gregory and his assistants had retired for the day. She was somewhat surprised, but didn't mind. Maren was actually pleased he finally trusted her to care for Snowdrop without supervision.

She was supposed to have dinner with Prince Donovan that night, so she would need to work quickly, though. She was putting up the saddle when a voice startled her.

"Good evening, Lady Maren."

Maren jumped in surprise.

"Oh, Your Highness," she said, turning and seeing Prince Kieran. She bobbed a curtsy. 

She had absolutely no idea what the Prince was doing in the stables at this particular hour. It was the first time she had ever been alone with him, and it made her uneasy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She would've liked to have asked him the same question, as the reason for his presence was far less obvious.

"I went for a ride, Your Highness, I'm just finishing up with the tack," she said.

"I see," he said, surveying her. He was clearly scrutinizing her attire.

"You ride astride," he observed.

"Yes, Your Highness," she said. "I'm not accustomed to a sidesaddle."

"Hmmm," he said, still staring at her.

It made her feel very uncomfortable. She knew women did not generally wear trousers, but he was staring like she was the first woman he'd ever seen wearing them.

"I do hope you'll excuse me, Your Highness, I need to brush her down," she said, gesturing at Snowdrop.

"Is there not a groom for that?" he asked.

Maren smiled, "I believe they've left for the day, Your Highness, but I don't mind caring for her myself."

"I see," he said again. He continued to stare. Maren felt like running from the stables, but she knew that would probably cause more problems with Prince Kieran.

"Please proceed," he said. "I'll wait until you're finished, then walk you back to the palace."

Maren smiled and nodded and hoped her unease didn't show on her face. She walked to Snowdrop's stall and began brushing her. Thankfully, Prince Kieran did not see fit to follow her into the stall and instead stood outside of it.

"I thought you'd like to know, your advice to move all the prisoners to the Capital ended up being most fruitful," Prince Kieran said.

Maren made a noise indicating her interest, but did not look up from the horse. She had tried very hard not to think about that particular conversation with Prince Kieran, and did not enjoy being reminded of it.

Unfortunately, he saw fit to elaborate.

"It turns out that one of the women I was going to release before our conversation turned out to be a true witch! Who knows what sort of harm she might have done if she had not been transferred. I am most grateful to you," he said. 

He sounded very genuine, which made his words seem that much more disturbing.

"I am glad to hear it, Your Highness," she said.

She thought her tone was light, but her stomach felt as though it were filled with lead. She focused on her task, vowing not to think about what the Prince was saying until she was alone.

"Do you know what we do to witches, once they're convicted, of course?" he asked.

Maren kept brushing. "I know they are executed, Your Highness," she said.

"Ah, so you don't know how. Well, you know, in the old days, they were dragged into the Amphitheater and burned at the stake. I've read their screams of pain echoed for miles as the flames took them."

He sounded nostalgic, which disgusted her.

Snowdrop snorted as Maren brushed her too roughly.

"In any case, the Crown went through something of a lax period, and they switched to hangings for a time. Then there was a prince maybe two hundred years or so ago who got the idea to use the Darkness to smother the witches. I imagine it was astonishingly unpleasant to have your throat filled with it. Did you know the Darkness can cause burns? But not from heat like the Light, from cold. Isn't that interesting?"

"Quite," Maren said, and she realized she had been brushing the same spot over and over.

She moved to the other side of the horse and was making a very conscious effort not to tremble.

"But subsequently, they went to beheadings. I think there was some notion about that being the safest way to kill the witch without releasing the evil in her spirit, but that may have just been nonsense. But as it was, beheading went out of vogue a few generations ago, and we've been back to hanging the witches ever since."

"How interesting," she muttered.

Just keep brushing, she thought. She felt safer having the horse between herself and Prince Kieran.

"Although, I'm not sure that I feel comfortable with just hanging them anymore. It really doesn't seem appropriate to the crime. So, I'm thinking about bringing back the burnings. Although of course then we run into the issue of the screaming, and I think that would be altogether too disruptive. But perhaps I could find a way to silence them with the Darkness? I'll have to see. Although the screaming does seem to be a critical part of the deterrence. You gave me such good advice before, what do you think I should do?"

Maren did not know if she could bear to answer that question. Fortunately, she didn't have to.

"I think that is an entirely unsuitable question to ask a lady," Prince Donovan's voice rumbled from the doorway.

Maren had never been so relieved to hear him.

Prince Kieran paused, just staring at Prince Donovan. From Maren's perspective, they seemed to be having some sort of masculine posturing competition.

Prince Kieran broke the silence first.

"Ah, perhaps you are right, brother, I shall seek your advice at another time. I am so glad to see you, though, I wanted to make sure Lady Maren was not obliged to return to the palace unattended.  I shall leave her in your capable hands now, though. I wish you both a good evening," he said.

Prince Donovan stood aside from the door to let his brother pass, but said nothing. Maren decided to follow his lead and stay silent.

Prince Kieran left.  When Maren could no longer see him on the path leading away from the stables, she rested her head on Snowdrop. She leaned against the mare, just breathing and trying to regain some semblance of composure. Part of her mind suggested she might wait to completely fall to pieces until after Price Donovan was no longer there to see her, but in the end, she found herself so overwhelmed by terror that she couldn't be bothered to worry about it. She would worry about that after she stopped envisioning her execution—or worse—at Kieran's hands.

Prince Donovan came into the stall and took the brush from her hand. He finished brushing Snowdrop while Maren kept her head leaning on her and trying to focus on nothing but the pleasant warm animal smell of the horse.

"Are you finished?" he asked quietly.

Maren lifted her head from the horse's body. "Nearly, I just need to do her hooves." Her voice sounded raspy and shaky.

"I'll do it, go sit down," he said.

She nodded and left the stall. She sat on the bench across the walkway and watched as the Prince efficiently cleaned the dirt and debris from Snowdrop's hooves. The small part of her mind that wasn't overwhelmed with terror was mildly surprised the Prince was not only familiar with the care of horses, but willing to do it himself. When he had finished, he patted the horse and gave her an apple, then came out of her stall. He put away the grooming tools and then sat next to Maren on the bench.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"No," she breathed.

"Did he hurt you?"

She noted traces of alarm in his voice.

"No, I think he just wanted to upset me," she said.

She hated that Prince Kieran was able to cause her so much distress, but she really was not prepared to listen to him describe all the various ways in which he might like to execute her.

"I expect he was trying to provoke you into revealing yourself," the Prince said.

Maren felt sick. She was relieved that she had not given herself away to Prince Kieran, but still horrified at the encounter.

"Lucy came to help you dress for dinner and was concerned when you weren't there. I decided to come looking for you," he explained.

Maren closed her eyes and leaned against the wall behind her.

"I am very glad you did," she said.

She had never thought she would have said those words to Prince Donovan, but if she had to choose between the brothers, he was far and away the one she preferred.

"Would it sound paranoid of me if I thought he knew exactly when I'd be alone here and timed his entrance just so?" she asked.

Really, the timing was far too advantageous to Prince Kieran to be anything less than suspicious.

"No, I think that sounds accurate. He has many friends in the palace. It would not surprise me if he had had someone watching you or even if he had Mr. Gregory leave early," the Prince responded.

Maren shuddered.

"You should avoid being alone out here again," he said. There was no reproach in his voice, he said it only with the tone of giving sound advice.

"I am in full agreement with you," she said.

He stood up and offered her his hand.

"Come," he said. "I have never seen someone in such dire need of a massive glass of brandy in my life."

Maren breathed the shadow of a laugh, but took the Prince's hand and rose.

As they walked back to the Prince's rooms, Maren tried not to think about Prince Kieran, but was not particularly successful. Nightmare visions of her execution kept popping into her head.

She didn't realize her hand was trembling on Prince Donovan's arm until he placed his own over hers to steady it.

Once they had reached his apartment, he led her to his sitting room, and she sat in the same place on the leather sofa while he went to his bar.

"Has he always been like that?" she asked.

"Kieran? Yes," he said, handing her a glass.

She drank deeply and found herself somewhat steadied by the comforting burn of the brandy.

The Prince sat down in his chair next to her sofa and looked thoughtful.

"I think I told you, Kieran was unpopular as a child. He was always causing problems. He made a point of making sure people knew how much smarter he was than them," the Prince explained.

"He always seemed to like making people hurt. I remember him trying to make our nursemaids or some other staff member cry, and then telling me he did it because it was fun. The other children didn't like to play with him because he seemed to always 'accidentally' injure someone. I swear he pushed another child out of a tree once.

"He'd do things like kick another child's puppy or cat because he could. When he was twelve or so, he started leering at the girls and saying lewd things. As he got older though, and got a bit better looking, he got better at seeming more...normal...but I think he's still that child who likes to cause harm."

Maren shook her head. "Didn't anyone stop him?"

The Prince sighed and shook his head. "He got in trouble a few times when he was younger, but I don't know if anyone realized he had a pattern of abusing others. I didn't even fully realize it myself until I figured out he was stealing powers."

Maren shuddered. "I think...not only did he enjoy talking about executions, but he also seemed to like how much it made me uncomfortable."

"That sounds accurate," the Prince said with a matter-of-fact tone.

Maren shuddered again. Part of her was glad to have her feelings about Prince Kieran validated, but the rest of her was terrified about what that meant.

"I thought perhaps that it was the Light that made him evil," the Prince offered. "Everything that's written about it says it's a 'corrupting force' so I had thought that perhaps changed him."

"You don't anymore?" Maren asked, curious. She obviously didn't think the Light was evil, but it was the general viewpoint of nearly everyone in society. It sounded like the Prince was saying something different, though.

He looked at her for a moment, as if trying to decide what to say to her or how to say it.

"Now, I'm not so sure," he said, still looking at her. "I think perhaps he's always been that way, and I wasn't seeing him clearly. I don't think it's anything to do with the Light, though. After all, I'm fairly confident in my assessment that you aren't evil."

"You flatter me, Your Highness," she said, smirking.

He laughed wryly. "I suppose it's not much of a compliment, but it stands."

Maren fell quiet, thinking.

"He tried to kill me, you know," the Prince said after a time, his tone very nonchalant despite the seriousness of his words.

"You aren't serious!" Maren exclaimed, shocked at the notion.

"Well, I cannot prove it, but it's the only logical explanation. He paid someone, or ordered one of his Trackers—I'm not sure which, to attack me in the city. I repelled it easily enough, of course," the Prince explained.

Maren thought for a moment, suddenly struck by a new notion.

"Was he...do you think he had something to do with the almonds in your food?" she asked. She had assumed it was an accident, but perhaps she was wrong.

"Probably," he answered quickly enough to give Maren the impression he had considered this before.

"It might have been an accident," he said. "But I don't think so. The kitchens are not supposed to even have almonds in them at all. My mother personally threatens the chefs and staff in charge of ordering supplies at least annually."

Maren smirked, "I suppose being the future king has its benefits," she said.

The Prince chuckled. "Occasionally."

They fell silent, both of them staring at their glasses and thinking.

"I can't help but think... I can imagine few torments worse than having the Light ripped from you. I have no doubt that is what causes their deaths," she said.

"Do you think?" the Prince asked, interested. "I had assumed he killed them afterward, or had one of his goons do it."

Maren shook her head. "I don't see how a Light Wielder could survive it."

She tried to find a way to explain what she knew deep in her bones to be true.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's my understanding that when you manipulate the Darkness, you are manipulating a force outside your body," she said.

"Yes, that's right," he confirmed.

"It's different for the Light," she said, looking away and suddenly feeling shy. She was not accustomed to discussing her powers with anyone. "The Light is within us—within me. If I use it, I am manipulating a force within myself."

"I see," he said, although Maren wasn't sure he understood.

"To be honest, I don't know for sure, but I believe very strongly that that force is intertwined with...well, with my soul," she said, feeling slightly embarrassed bringing up the concept of souls. It seemed rather absurd.

"So, losing that force..." the Prince began.

"I think it would destroy my soul," she said. "And, I don't see how anyone could physically survive that," she added, returning to the original point.

The Prince thought for a moment then said, "I have no idea whether that's accurate or not, but I can imagine you'd have to be fairly evil to destroy someone's soul, or worse, the souls of multiple people."

Maren nodded in agreement and returned to her brandy. She thought vaguely she should have something to eat, but was still feeling too unsettled.

"He'll keep trying, won't he?" she asked. "To find his evidence against me, I mean."

The Prince sighed. "I'd be very surprised if he didn't try again," he said.

Maren rubbed her temples with her hand. Life at the palace had been stressful enough already.

"I am sorry. I do bear some responsibility in your situation," the Prince said.

Maren sighed. "I thank you for it...but in all honesty, your intervention likely saved me from something far worse," she said.

The thought of what the Other Prince might have done to her made her nauseous.

"I think I'll skip dinner, if you don't mind, I'd like to go lie down," Maren said. She couldn't fathom eating and the idea of sitting through dinner with the Prince, pretending as though everything were normal, sounded exhausting.

"Of course," he said, and they both rose from their seats. He walked her to the door.

"Ah...should you need anything..."

Maren smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank you."

—

Donovan had been angry at his brother many times in his life. Every time he thought he was as angry as he could possibly be with his brother, but when the next time came around, he found himself angrier still.

When Donovan was six and Kieran four, Kieran had broken one of Donovan's favorite toys on purpose. Donovan remembered it vividly. He had been filled with the righteous outrage of a child and thought he would never be so angry again.

Several years later, Kieran stole the essay Donovan had written for their tutor. Donovan found out later that Kieran had passed it off as his own. Kieran said he wanted to find out if anyone would believe he was as dumb as Donovan. He had punched Kieran in the face, furious his brother had done something so dishonorable.

When Donovan was seventeen, Kieran had seen him kissing a girl in the gardens and saw fit to humiliate her in front of half the Court. Donovan was so enraged when he saw his brother at training later that his uncle had to use the Darkness to physically restrain him.

After Donovan turned eighteen, he took on more responsibilities and spent far less time with Kieran, and he could not recall any particularly infuriating incidents in the last decade. To be sure, he was alarmed and disturbed by Kieran's behavior. He was very concerned by the attempts on his life, but he wasn't infuriated by them, since he could only guess that his brother was responsible.

But finding Kieran in the stables tormenting Lady Maren had kindled a new kind of fury towards his brother, more than any he could recall.

He did not fully understand why he was so enraged. Part of it, possibly even most of it, was surely that his brother had the audacity to harass someone who was his—as far as Kieran knew at least—mistress. Part of it was a sort of outraged horror at having seen so directly how sadistic his brother could be. Yet, there was another part of his rage, the part he understood the least, that felt furious on behalf of Lady Maren herself.

It was true that he and Lady Maren had come to a truce of sorts. He felt that he was indebted to her, and he had promised to help keep her alive. But he wasn't sure that accounted for how he felt regarding Kieran. He seemed to feel something...protective? He found that very odd, why should he feel protective of her? Their arrangement was closer to a business partnership than anything else.

But he could not forget the sight of her in the stables, pale and shaking, clearly imagining her own execution. She looked even worse than when he had yelled at her the first day he met her. Since that day, she had always been composed when he saw her. Not always happy, occasionally distressed, and furious more than once, but never out of control of herself.

To see her so distraught was very ... well, he wasn't sure what exactly it made him feel, but he very much disliked seeing her that way. After all, she was under his protection, a member of his household, which should make him feel protective of her, or rather, anyone in his household.

Donovan was still trying to make sense of his feelings about the day before when he ran into—literally—Alec.

"Your Highness!" Alec gasped, bowing ridiculously deeply. "I humbly beg your forgiveness for placing myself in your most royal path!"

Donovan rolled his eyes. "Apologies... I should have been paying more attention."

Alec looked at him, studying his face.

"Gods, man, what's happened?" Alec asked.

Donovan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure how much he could safely tell his friend, and wanted to err on the side of caution. But he also thought that Alec may be able to offer some assistance.

Donovan gestured for Alec to follow him and brought his friends back to his rooms. At that hour, there would be tea in his dining room, and he knew Alec was happy enough to go where there might be a bite to eat.

Once they were seated and had their tea and biscuits and the like, Donovan had decided exactly what he wanted to tell Alec.

"Last night, just around dinner time, I found Kieran in the stables alone with Lady Maren," Donovan said tersely.

Alec raised his eyebrows. "What were they doing?"

Donovan knew Alec was trying to judge the degree of scandal.

"She was brushing down a mare she had just ridden, and he had her backed into a corner like a predator," he said.

"Ah," Alec replied, "so she was going about her business and Kieran was being... Kieran."

"Precisely," Donovan confirmed.

"And you are trying to decide what to do about it?

Donovan sighed. "I don't think there's much to be done. He was only talking to her, after all. I asked her to avoid being out in the stables alone, but..." Donovan shrugged.

"It's not as though you can keep her locked in her rooms," Alec said.

Donovan flushed. Alec had no idea Donovan had done that for a time.

"I can keep an eye out for her...keep her company if I know Kieran is out prowling," Alec offered.

Donovan nodded, that would be helpful.

"I would appreciate that," Donovan said.

Alec waved his hand in dismissal, saying, "It's no trouble." Then added with a very friendly smile, "Besides, it gives me an opportunity to get to know her."

Donovan grumbled and hoped he wouldn't come to regret accepting Alec's offer of help. If Donovan actually had a mistress, a woman he actually cared for and wanted in his life, he would have been delighted to have his closest friend take an interest in her. But since he was trying to obscure the fact that Lady Maren was not his mistress, he didn't like the idea of the very perceptive Alec getting too close to the situation.

There was just no plausible explanation—at least not one that Alec would accept—for Donovan choosing Lady Maren and then not having any sort of amorous relations with her.

He also wasn't at all sure how his friend would react if he found out what the lady truly was. Alec was a kind-hearted soul who was so extraordinarily friendly that it was impossible not to like him. But he couldn't recall ever discussing the topic of witches with his friend in great detail. Donovan had to assume that Alec felt the same way everyone else in the kingdom did, and would turn Maren over to the Trackers the second he thought she even might be a witch.

And even if Donovan could convince Alec not to, concealing a witch was treason, and he was very uneasy at the notion of asking his friend to take on the burden of such a heavy crime. Donovan hoped very much it wouldn't come to that.