The Queen and her retinue left Clervaux the following day as advised by the Duke. Their next destination was Loire, the duchy under Alain's supervision.

Now that she could think about it, the last time she had spoken to him was almost five months ago at Rafael's welcoming Ball – that is, other than the missive that Napoleon had dispatched on her behest, informing him that he should be expecting her at his manor.

However, she could not help her mind from dwelling on how she would be received by the people of Loire.

"What is on your mind?" asked Rafael, bringing his horse closer to hers. Estelle blinked, bringing her mind back to the present and out of her musings.

"Nothing of great import, be rest assured," she answered, kicking the horse's hip and hastening along. Rafael did the same and followed on her tail.

Even from as far as the both of them were, they could hear a ruckus close to the boundaries of Loire. Estelle could feel a sense of foreboding wash over her as they neared and the noise increased in its volume.

"There they are!" a gruff, male voice shouted, pointing an outstretched hand to the Queen and her retinue as they rounded the corner, entering the city square.

And the sight that Estelle was met with, sent her emotions into an indeterminable tumult.

People were everywhere: from the stalls to the cobblestone pavements, to the meadow beside the main road; it was a sea of people – commoners, to be exact.

And in hand, they held pitchforks, torches, axes, and all kinds of paraphernalia that an angry mob always had. The men and lady's eyes surveyed the mob blocking their path in a mix of astonishment and fear.

Rafael could see the emotions flitting past Estelle's eyes; they did not bode well for her people, that he was sure of. He saw her eyes changing from stale grey, to a steely shade and now, it looked almost silver. Then, it all stopped, and one expression settled in her eyes: an eerie calm that sent shivers down Rafael's spine.

Dropping her reins, Estelle exhaled and jumped off her mare in one deft move. Slowly, with determined steps, she walked towards the crowd and stopped once she reached the place where the cobblestone began, just a few feet away from where the mob was standing and she crossed her hands on her torso.

Rafael jumped down from his horse as well and followed after her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he leaned down to ear level to say in her ear:

"What on earth are you doing?" In response, Estelle just gave him a side-glance that promised nothing on the positive side.

"Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire?" asked she, her tone levelled but a wave of low-lying anger in the depths of it that only Rafael could sense.

"Alain est innocent!" the crowd yelled. Estelle's right index finger tapped on her arm and she inhaled then exhaled.

"I quite appreciate it when I ask a question, I am answered directly. What. Is. The. Meaning. Of this?" she asked once more, her tone rising just a few decibels.

"Alain is not guilty and this is a demonstration!" another person from behind the crowd answered.

"And who, pray tell," she began, her tone still the said eerie calm, "proclaimed him guilty? Did you hear The Crown declaring him guilty and that we are shipping him off to Nayern on the first ship we shall get?" A silence fell in the city square; it was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. From the distance, they could hear the sound of horse hooves pounding on the cobblestone. 

Up ahead, Alain emerged atop his horse, a look of bewilderment settled on his countenance as his eyes took in what was happening and he spotted a poster that explained it all. Quickly, he unmounted from his horse and went up to Estelle and bowed.

"Majesty, my deepest apologies for what you have been met with. This is most unforgivable," he said, shutting his eyes and rising. However, Estelle paid no attention to him, her anger still flaming at the crowd.

"So, you saw it fit, to come with pitchforks and torches on the very first time you meet your Queen and welcome her to your duchy? Excellent choice, if I do say so myself," she went on, putting one foot in front of the other, nearing the angry mob – well, more of a silenced mob by now.

"I came here with nothing but good intentions. You see that building over there?" she asked, pointing to the building at the very centre of the town. "That is your new school! Shove it down your throat for all I care, burn it down, tear it down with those god damn pitchforks, for you quite seem to have a fetish for those items, don't you?"

Rafael attempted to take hold of her arm to stop her from nearing the dangerous people, but, she got out of his grip with the most minimal of efforts.

"Do you know, that I can charge you all for treason because of this?!" And there it was, the outburst that Rafael had felt was a long time coming. Her left eye was twitching and she had long let her arms fall to her sides, and at the moment, she was pacing up and down. Her anger would explain the silvery shade her eyes had turned into.

"As a country, are we not supposed to stay united when such a challenge as this befalls us!? But nay, what do my people do? They come at me with pitchforks and torches as if I were the one who charged him with murder! I, I am beyond angry, nay, I am enraged! Who knew I was such a fool to think that my country will be by my side as I rise to such a claim on one of my nobles! Instead of preparing yourselves for war with the Nayern army, you come against me?" She was past asking now, she was shouting, flailing her arms about as she walked up and down.

The crowd then had lowered their pitchforks and snuffed their torches at the sight of their Monarch's wrath.

With a sharp turn, she faced the crowd as her anger intensified and she said four words that sent everyone into a shock.

"Execution for you all," said she.

Rafael jolted and strode towards her, grabbing her arm and turning her around successfully.

"You have to be jesting," said he, his eyes turning into a shade Estelle had never seen before: a deep-set umber, nothing like his usual twinkling hazel. However, she narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, her irises turning silver and her pupil decreasing in size.

"Look into my eyes, Rafael, look well and good." And Rafael did look. "Do I look like I'm remotely jesting?"

"We need to talk," said he, tightening his grip on her arm and pulling her back to the corner before one emerged into the city square.

"Let go of me," said she, her voice low, but her eyes the same shade. He released his grip on her hand and turned around to look at her.

"Are you out of your wits?" he asked, his tone not playful but the rare seriousness that he had only displayed during the council meeting.

"Excuse me?" Estelle asked, her tone peppered with indignation.

"You want to sentence an entire village to execution?" he queried, shaking his head and walking away to a tree a few feet away from her.

"Aye, I do believe that I am from saying that earlier on," she replied.

"Slow down, fuego pequeno," said he, his tone turning soft. Estelle raised a sophisticated eyebrow and her mouth popped open. She marched towards him and poked his chest with her right index finger.

"I am not a 'little fire'! I am an inferno that burns anything and everything in its path!" said she, increasing the pressure that she put into poking his rock hard chest. She had to struggle to remind her brain that she was angry he had belittled her so and not how toned his torso was.

"That is beside the point," said he, his tone turning serious once more, and taking hold of the hand that she was using to poke him with, "you want to sentence an entire village to execution; I must admit, that is the punishment given to traitors, however, stop and think. Do you not think your decision is a little rash and made while emotional?" he asked, raising a brow. Estelle yanked her hand free from his grasp and took a step back.

"So you want to say that I am irrational and moody?" she asked. Rafael sighed.

"What I mean to say is that you should rethink your decision. Let me give you a lesson on politics," he said, taking a step forward.

"You mean to tell me that you are knowledgeable in politics?" she questioned, raising a brow.

"You forget, mi amor, that I was raised to be a King, what with being the firstborn son of King Leonardo of Zejardo and all," he answered. "Now, think. If you execute all these people, there is an eighty-five per cent chance that you will not execute all the perpetrators of the demonstration. And the ones which would have managed to escape will most surely tell others of the rally that they did and in response to such, their Queen executed all his fellows. The people will start to question, 'Why did the Queen do such a horrid thing?' It is widely known that those who are right are silenced through death. The people will start thinking that maybe the Queen did proclaim innocent Duke Alain as guilty – who shall maintain his innocence until proven otherwise. And what will the people do? Why, they will form yet another demonstration, this time bigger and hopefully more effective. Now, Estelle, do you still think it wise to sentence these people to execution and let the aftermath be even more demonstrations that will send the entire country into an uproar and, I daresay, render the country ungovernable?" he finished, and Estelle's eyes widened in shock.

"When did you become smart?" was all she had to say. Rafael chuckled.

"I have always been smart. I just don't wish to use my smarts ever so often," he replied. "Now back to the present matter, will you sentence all those people to execution?" he went on, his tone having no inkling of sarcasm or anything of the like.

"So you want me to go back on what I said?" she replied with a question like she had been doing all along. Rafael sighed and he stepped closer to her, taking her hands into his and rubbing circles on her palm with his thumb. He rose one hand and brought it to her face to caress her cheek.

"What I am advising you to do is to be the rational and wise you that you always are," he answered and Estelle sighed, placing her head on his chest in resignation.

"I knew you would come around," said he, patting her head. "You expected this to happen, did you not?" he asked, holding her shoulders and pushing her back to look into her eyes. He released a breath he knew not to be holding when he noticed her eyes had turned back to their usual stale grey.

"Aye. How could you tell?"

"Well, I saw you whenever we were leaving a duchy to be biting your lower lip and furrowing your brows as if pondering to come here next or to just avoid it. Also with all the detours we took. For example, when we were in Bordeaux, Loire was just on the eastern border of the duchy, but we turned left and rode for two days to reach Havre when Loire was so close," he replied and smiled. Estelle let out a chuckle and stepped back, beginning to pace.

"Turns out I wasn't as discreet as I thought myself to be," she said, chuckling once more.

"However, if you expected this to happen, why were you so angry when you were proven right?" he asked. Estelle closed her eyes and exhaled.

"Even though I know that I am always right, just this once, I wanted to be wrong. I did not want to believe that my people would turn on me. I hoped that they would welcome me calmly, maybe advocate for Alain's innocence a little bit. But pitchforks and torches? That made me downright angry. Because it hurts for your people to turn on you like that when all you've ever done is move heaven and earth for them," said she, rubbing her face with her hand.

"It really hurts." She turned towards Rafael and he did not hesitate to wrap his arms around her. Estelle relaxed into his hold and inhaled his citrusy scent, feeling all her tense nerves immediately calm down.

Who knew I had been missing out on this with my insecurities?

"Let us go back, we do not want to keep the poor people in suspense," said Rafael and Estelle could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his voice reverberated through his chest and the thump of his heart. She did not feel like letting him go.

"Why should I? Let their punishment be the suspense. Serves them right," she mumbled into his chest and she relished the sound of his chuckle.

"You sound like a vengeful five-year-old, mi amor,'' said he, attempting to push her back but miserably failing to do so. Estelle's heart stilled at the way he addressed her – when had it changed? It had always been mi corazon.

But now he calls me . . . my love?

Before, she had been too angry to notice that he had called her that; and the previous night, she had dismissed it, taking that he said that in the spur of the moment.

And sure, there were other times, way back when he had called her that, mostly during the balls, but, he had said it playfully and dismissively. However, now, he said it with a smile in his voice – if that were possible – as if it were the softest of addresses, as if . . . as if . . .

He meant it.

"Come on, Star, let us go," said he, this time successfully pushing her away, but, not before placing a fleeting kiss on her forehead. Taking her hand, he led her back to the clearing and they saw Alain standing in the middle of the mob, his face set into a grimace.

"Your Grace, s-il vous plait, beg for our lives to Her Majesty, we beg of you," a commoner pleaded, resting his head just ahead of Alain's feet.

"Why should I? What you have done is simply unforgivable and it is treason. Which is by law, punishable by execution. You would have done well to think of your lives before setting up such an abomination. And let me tell you that Her Majesty is not easily persuaded."

"I have forgiven them," Estelle spoke, emerging from the corner, her hand in Rafael's. The crowd's eyes glimmered with gratitude. "However, if I am to see a replay of such, be rest assured, I will not hesitate to give you your due punishment." The crowd exploded into mumbles of gratitude and expressing that they would never again commit such a folly and thus, they dispersed, going back to their activities.

Estelle looked at the crowd with relief; they were back to normal and she could not imagine that she had almost executed all those people and –

She met a pair of eyes that looked not the least bit grateful or filled with remorse, that she could tell straight away. Getting out of Rafael's grasp, she started to walk towards the person. In effect, the person retreated and she hastened her steps, almost breaking out into a run. The crowd easily parted for her and she could see the man. He looked every bit shady and suspicious, and upon seeing that she was following him, he turned away and started to take quick steps in the opposite direction.

"Star, where are you going?" Rafael asked, managing to catch up to her; she had gone quite a way off.

"Suis-moi," said she, the gears in her mind spinning too much to change the sentence into Nayish. So Rafael did follow her wondering what had made her go all tense.

Estelle kept a steady eye on the shady man and said man looked back, and upon seeing that she was onto him, broke into a run. She did not hesitate to start running as well.

"Alain, quick, my horse!" she shouted and Alain was spry in mounting his steed and heading over to take Estelle's.

Rafael found it hard to keep up with Estelle's fast run. She ran like the wind, her feet light as she took large strides. Behind them, they could feel and hear the horse hooves pounding on the ground.

Estelle kept a sharp eye on the man. Right ahead, he took a horse and mounted it. With a kick to the horse's hip, the man galloped away. Turning her head for the minutest of moments, she saw Alain approaching with her horse. Bringing her hand to her lips, she placed two fingers in her mouth and a sharp whistle came out.

Rouge wrestled out of Alain's grasp and galloped ahead towards Estelle; it felt like the old days of when she used to train with her beloved horse, back when she was a preteen.

Slowing her speed the slightest bit, she counted the steps left for Rouge to catch up to her.

Three.

Two.

One!

And she jumped, just in time as Rouge showed up, grabbing Rouge's firm neck and swinging herself onto the saddle. In response, her beautiful mare threw her head back, lifted her two front feet and kicked the air. Estelle's hair fell out of its ponytail, and she shook her head to clear her face of her wild locks.

Rafael slowed down and he was soon joined with Alain who was atop his steed. Alain reined his horse in and the both of them stood there, their faces filled with admiration as they watched Estelle who was cast into a majestic light by the setting sun.

"That has to be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my lifetime," said Rafael, an adoring smile on his countenance.

"I find myself in total agreement . . . don't let my wife hear that."

Snapping the reins, she spurred her mare on and at once Rouge began to gallop ahead, decreasing the distance between them and the shady man.

"Hyah, ma cherie, hyah!" she called out and her mare neighed in response.

Letting one hand steer Rouge on, she let the other rummage through the saddlebags and after a short time, it emerged triumphantly out with a bow and a quiver of arrows. With one swift move, she slung the quiver across her back. Tapping Rouge's neck twice – it was the signal to her mare that she was leaving all control to her – she completely let go of the reins and took hold of the silver encrusted bow, made specifically for her by her father. Holding the bow with her left hand, she reached out her right hand and plucked an arrow.

Nocking her arrow on the string of her tried and unerring bow, she raised her arms and marked her target – the man's right shoulder as he seemed chiefly dependent on it while steering his horse, she observed, she drew the arrow and loosened it. It flew with awe-striking velocity and landed square on its target.

"Bullseye!" she couldn't help but exclaim when the man cried out, spooking his horse in the process. Without a tight grip on his horse, he fell as the steed kicked its feet into the air and ran away.

Reining her horse in, she patted her on the shoulder and jumped off, racing to the man who was trying to get up and run.

"Halt!" she cried out, and the man's head snapped upwards to where she was approaching, not all that far away. The man gave up, and he fell to his knees.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am but a merchant, Majesty," he answered. Estelle narrowed her eyes.

"Not with that accent," she replied, her tone rising. Behind her, Rafael and Alain showed up, coming to stand next to her.

"What is it with these bloody, damn Martinian enfoires!" she shouted, turning around to look at the two men beside her. "Tell me, who are you? And don't you dare lie to me," said she, her tone an eerie calm. She crouched, seizing the man's chin and forcing him to look into her steely grey eyes.

"I—I am Ettore!" he answered, his tone quivering. Rising, she looked down at the man with a look of disdain on her countenance.

"Men!" she shouted and her escorts were quick to show up at her sides. "Round him up and bring him to the manor dungeon," she commanded.

*~*~**~*~*

"I will ask you this one more time, who sent you?" asked Estelle, leaning close to the chained up criminal in the dank, dark dungeons of Loire.

"I—I cannot tell you!" cried Ettore, beads of perspiration dripping down his forehead.

"Tut—tut." Rafael walked slowly towards the chained up criminal, rolling up his long sleeves up to his upper arms, flexing his biceps.

"Now, Ettore, I am going to give you one last chance—and you had better take it for your own good. Who. Sent. You?" asked Rafael, grabbing the armrests on the chair that Ettore was sitting in, bringing his face closer to his. Ettore's face showed a mix of emotions like he was struggling not to tell them. Looking down, he shook his head and Rafael sighed dramatically.

"You leave me no choice," said he, standing up and going over to the dungeon door. Opening it, he leaned to the other side and whispered something to the guard standing on duty. He returned to the room with something in his hands.

"Back at my home country, we used to have this truth-evoking-instrument called the empulgueras," said he, his tongue seeming to roll as he pronounced the words in Zejaro. "In your country, it might be known as the schiaccia pollici; ring a bell?" asked he, winking devilishly at Ettore. The effect was instantaneous: poor Ettore started to tug at the chains that bound him to the chair panicky, sweat pouring from all the pores in his body.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a paltry little thumbscrew," teased Rafael in a sing-song voice, mock-pouting. "If I would have pulled out the real torture instruments, mi amigo, you wouldn't have lasted more than an hour. The soldiers back in Zejardo used to take criminals and subject them to torture beyond compare. For example, they would have taken you and . . ." Rafael leaned into Ettore's ear and whispered something that made him blanch instantly.

"Do tell, Rafa. I have been looking for new ways on how to . . . evoke truth in scumbags such as him," said Estelle, her curiosity eating on her.

"It is not for female ears, mi amor," said he, throwing her a mischievous look.

"So, mi amigo, just let me slip this through your thumb, and let me . . . surprise you," said he, waving his hands.

"I'll tell you, I'll tell you. Just please, don't put that thing on my thumb," he pleaded and Rafael shrugged, unfastened the thumbscrew then gave him a pointed look.

"Please, please protect me. I have a family, a wife and three children and I do this to provide for them. They have none other than me. Promise me you'll protect us," Ettore begged, biting his lower lip, anxiety flooding all his senses and stopping him from thinking rationally.

"We will do our utmost best in protecting you, Ettore," said Estelle, standing up from her seat and circling Ettore, "Tell us, who sent you?" she questioned once more and the criminal nodded his head.

"A man just came at me one day and gave me this task. I know nothing about how they got me out of the country. But, they told me that if I finish this job, they will pay me a pretty penny that can take care of my family for an entire lifetime. The man never showed his face. I think his name started with a 'P' if I am not wrong— cannot remember. Oh!" he exclaimed, but just then, the door opened and a guard stepped in.

"Majesty, his Grace is summoning you," said he, bowing and motioning for them to go first.

"Are we to come at the moment?' asked Rafael impatiently, eager to know the perpetrator.

"Aye, his Grace asks for your attendance immediately and he also instructed me to remind you to make haste, he has something to show you back at the manor," he explained. Rafael groaned, dragging himself out of the door whilst Estelle reluctantly followed him as well.

"Don't you dare go anywhere," he called out to Ettore, but, Ettore was too frightened at the moment to pay any heed to what he had said.

*~*~**~*~*

"Alain, do tell what was so important that you dragged us out of an interrogation for?" asked Estelle, bursting open the doors to the Duke's study, her jaw clenched. Rafael leaned on the door frame, seeming bored of everything.

"Dragged? Whatsoever do you mean, Majesty?" asked Alain, standing up from his study chair.

"Don't play coy with me, Alain, you sent a soldier to come and summon us. Even told us to make haste," said Estelle, narrowing her eyes and walking towards Alain

"Nay, Majesty! How can I do such an insolent thing as to summon my superior? If I did want you to see something I would have come down myself," replied Alain, seeming to shrink just from Estelle's glare.

"Bloody damn it!" exclaimed Rafael, breaking into a run towards the dungeon.

"Rafa, what is it?" she shouted out at the hallway where all she could see was Rafael's retreating rear. "Alain, come along." She turned to Alain and he nodded, gripping the ancestral sword by his waist.

Together, they flew down the steps, even skipping some in their rush.

After a long way down, they reached the dungeon, and what they were met with, was exactly as Rafael had said it, "Bloody."

Bodies were scattered everywhere on the floor—dead bodies. Blood spattered all over the cement floor and weapons were strewn around everywhere.

"No! No, damn it!" Rafael shouted, further down the iron-reeking dungeon and the two were quick to follow the voice.

"What is it?" asked Estelle, however, she needed no explanation.

"They killed him," said Rafael, his voice breaking on the last word. He dropped to his knees as he looked at the dagger planted deep into Ettore's neck.

"He had a family, he had a wife and children, for goodness' sake! I can't believe I let him die like this. This is all my fault. If only, if only I had seen this coming," cried Rafael, his entire being trembling as sobs racked his being. Estelle approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it lightly.

"'Tis not your fault, Rafa," Estelle tried to console lamely. She dropped down to her knees as well and wrapped him up in a hug, he started to gently cry on her shoulder, wetting her shirt through.

"'Tis all my fault. I should have been smarter," he went on, tears flowing down his cheeks endlessly. Guilt enclosed him in its tight tendrils in an all-encompassing feeling that he had never felt before.

But he had, when he let Arturo die.

He had promised himself that no one would ever die if he were the one involved in their protection.

He had failed, miserably, again.

"Majesty?" said Alain, his voice trembling.

"What is it?" she asked, irritation lacing her voice. Raising her head, she looked up to see Alain's deathly pale face, his eyes transfixed to one place. Rafael was quick to break out of his measly feelings, raising his head to look above Ettore's body unto the wall. As quick as he could muster, he took Estelle's head and buried it into his chest.

"Rafa, I want to see," said she, her voice muffled, however, Rafael could detect the slightest hints of fear in it.

"If you wanted to see, you would have fought me back a long time ago," he countered and Estelle went silent for a moment.

"I need to see," she pleaded and Rafael slowly released her, bringing her head back far enough to look into her eyes. They were misty, more blue than grey; he wasn't able to decipher what her feelings were.

He let her go and Estelle slowly turned her head towards the wall. There, written in Ettore's blood in Martinian, two sentences were written in capital letters:

"SNITCHES END UP IN DITCHES. GO AHEAD AND INQUIRE, YET ANOTHER SET ON FIRE." Estelle's breath hitched.

"Star! Estelle, where are you going?" asked Rafael, "Alain, arrange for our luggage to be packed up and the carriage to be sent out ahead of us, we will join it shortly," said he, and after he saw Alain's nod, he raced after Estelle who had then left the room.

Upon reaching the ground floor, Estelle made a bee-line towards an exit to the outside; she longed for fresh air. With a flourish, the door opened and Estelle took a deep breath of the earthy smell of the garden, letting it cleanse her being and calm down her emotions. Because, for the first time in a while, she was scared. The murderers were so close. Why, why hadn't they killed her and Rafael while they could? Pacing around, she took more deep breaths, closing her eyes to calm down her flighty nerves.

"We need to leave here, and I am not just talking about the duchy, I mean the Queendom," said Rafael, joining her out in the garden. Estelle quickly looked up in pique.

"Leave my Queendom? You have to be jesting," said she, nearing him.

"Nay. I am perfectly serious," said Rafael, taking a step forward as well.

"I cannot leave my country. What am I? A coward who runs at the first sight of danger? I will stay here. Let those bastards come at me," said she, her eyes turning steely.

"Estelle this is not the time to be stubborn. You need to leave this place for the sake of you and your people."

"For the sake of my people, I shall stay."

"Haven't you noticed anything?" asked he, running a hand through his already-tousled brown hair. "The places where you go, wherever you stay, someone must die. If you leave, the people who are hunting you will give up and leave as well. But if you stay, they will keep coming at you and they won't rest until they are assured that you are dead. And they will not hesitate to kill anyone in their way. Now stop being stubborn and come with me to Zejardo already!" he finished, throwing his arms up, his chest heaving.

"I will not run," said she, her countenance betraying no inkling of sarcasm or anything of the like.

"Oh, my goodness," said Rafael exasperatedly, sighing and tousling his hair once again. With two large strides, he was in front of her. Seizing her shoulders, he shook her in the hopes of that getting some sense into her.

"Mi amor, I do not want you in danger. If I can take you Zejardo and assure myself that you are safe there, believe me when I say," said he, gazing into her eyes, his a deep umber, "I will hit your head, tie you up, put you in a sack and carry you at the back of my horse to Zejardo," he finished, not once taking his eyes away from hers. Estelle sighed, her head falling onto his chest, where she could hear the fast beat of his heart. She stayed silent, letting Rafael's now steady heartbeat calm her down and actually set her mind to work. He was right. She had to leave. And soon at that.

"Send a letter to Napoleon, informing him that you are placing him in charge of the country for some time and that you are leaving to Zejardo to meet mi familia," said he, running a hand through her loose jet-black hair. He could feel her nod, and he hugged her, telling her everything was all right.

"The carriage is already at the front gate," said he, and Estelle looked up, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"For how long exactly did you have all this planned?" To that, Rafael simply laughed.

Salut! How are you? I know, I know, it has been a long time. But, a long chapter for you (as if there's ever a short chapter lol)

I'll try to write as much as I can these last two weeks I have at home before I go away to boarding school, ughhhh.

Thoughts on the chapter? Here are mine:

We're going to Zejardo, baby! ;) I'm so pumped for this.

See you next time, on The Knight Queen ;)))