“It doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like, so long as somebody loves you.” — Roald Dahl, The Witches

  ???

  No one in Evershade was surprised anymore to see Yuliana Nightray riding into the village on her black horse, dismounting just outside the shop of the local blacksmith, and leading the horse over to the blacksmith’s apprentice.

  “I’ll tend to Noir, my lady,” The blacksmith said politely, having stepped out from behind his forge to greet the Nightray heiress formally. “I’ll have my apprentice bring him back up to Nightray Manor once I’m done adjusting his horseshoe.”

  “That’ll be appreciated,” Yulia murmured, inclining her head. She held out an apple to her horse, who whinnied in recognition, before accepting the fruit, crunching it happily. “I’ve been riding Noir a lot the last few months. He might need a new horseshoe, at any rate.”

  “I’ll see to it,” The blacksmith promised with a slight bow, before Yulia turned and left the blacksmith’s shop, heading towards The Black Blade tavern.

  The sight of Heiress Nightray in Evershade on weekends once lessons at the Academy let out on Friday was no longer an uncommon sight, considering the problems that had been plaguing Nightray territory for the past six years.

  In recent months, things have been improving for not just them, but also for the territories of the other Great Houses. Despite that, the problems plaguing the kingdom won’t just vanish overnight.

  “Noir looks exhausted, don’t you think, Master?” The blacksmith apprentice asked, gently patting the horse’s sleek neck.

  Noir had a striking appearance: a lustrous black coat and mane, with a single silver star on his forehead. From what the apprentice had heard, Noir descended from the same stock as the horses that House Hunt bred for their head and heir.

  “Considering that our lady’s been travelling all over Alathia the moment that she is free of classes, I’m not surprised,” The neighbouring florist muttered, having stepped out of her shop the moment Yulia arrived. “I’m more surprised that Lady Yuliana had yet to collapse from overwork!” Her voice was indignant. “If what I’ve heard from the manor’s servants is true, she’s juggling her Academy work, resolving local issues, fending off bandits, and rooting out their hideouts, and who knows what else.” She ticked off each task on her fingers. “We fared a lot better than the Northern Holds, for sure, and it’s all thanks to Lady Yuliana.”

  “To be fair, things have been improving the last two months,” The butcher chimed in, having came over from his shop to gossip with his fellow shop owners, the way most of the common populace in Evershade does from time to time.

  “Doesn’t bring the dead back,” The grumpy blacksmith pointed out, examining the bottom of Noir’s front hoof with a critical eye. “Definitely needs replacing,” he muttered. “Reid, be a good lad, and take Noir’s measurements, would you? And while we’re at it…” He examined the saddle carefully. “Might want to patch up the girth strap as well. It looks worn through.”

  “We might need to make a new one altogether, Master,” His apprentice replied hesitantly. “Wouldn’t do for the saddle to snap mid-ride while Lady Yuliana is riding Noir.”

  “Too right you are,” The blacksmith muttered. “Take the measurements.”

  “Right away, Master.”

  “Well, certainly explains why our lady looks exhausted,” The florist murmured, and the butcher nodded grimly. “Though personally, I’m honestly impressed that Lady Yuliana is still willing to give Prince Rem a chance. Most of House Nightray had lost patience with him long ago.”

  “Our lady still wants to believe in him,” The blacksmith grunted, wiping his hands on his apron. “Our job is just to support her. Let’s hope that Prince Rem can live up to that belief.”

  The butcher snorted dismissively. “He’s going to have to earn it, and not expect it handed to him, just because he’s the prince,” he muttered.

  Across the street, by the entrance of The Black Blade tavern, Yulia paused with her hand on the door, having overheard every word by the gossiping shop owners. To be frank, they were already being really kind with their words when it comes to Rem.

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  Yulia had heard worse from other shop owners or merchants over the past two months. Especially those from the Northern Holds and border territories that have fared the worst from Rem’s inaction over the last six years.

  Yulia turned the doorknob of the tavern and stepped in.

  The usual murmurs from the few patrons inside greeted her the moment she’d entered, along with the usual scents of ale, and the soft strumming of a lute being played by one of the villagers near the hearth. The noise dimmed for a moment as people noticed her presence, then resumed, being quieter than before.

  Yulia walked toward the bar, where Seren was standing behind as usual, wiping down the bar counter with practised ease.

  At one of the bar stools sat Ewan Nightray, dressed in travel-worn clothes. A satchel and cloak rested on the chair beside him. The man looked visibly exhausted, and was currently nursing a tankard of ale, drinking it like it was water.

  Yulia’s eyes fell on Ewan as she approached the bar, giving a small nod to Seren. “Ewan.”

  Ewan nodded back in response, straightening in his seat. “My lady,” he greeted. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.”

  Yulia only shrugged. “It’s Friday and I’ve already finished classes for the week. My assignments were also handed in. I needed to check on Nightray territories,” she explained, and Ewan nodded. “More importantly, did something happen to Luca?” Her voice lowered, but it didn’t mask the concern.

  “Oh no, nothing like that,” Ewan was quick to reassure Yulia. “I’m just here to exchange information with Seren.”

  “Oh?” Yulia’s eyes shifted to Seren, who nodded.

  “Indeed, my lady. Ewan was just telling me a few things that I believe you would be interested in,” Seren responded, setting down her cloth. “It’s about Prince Rem’s recent ‘change of heart’.” She drew quote marks in the air. “Not exactly a bad thing, which I believe you will agree.” Yulia nodded, “And between you and me, it’s about damn time. Villages and towns are finally getting the help they need, especially those from the Northern Holds.”

  Yulia gave a dry laugh. “If the situation had worsened any further, Rem would have an uprising on his hands,” she muttered. “Those from the Northern Holds shouldn’t be underestimated. Even my father had healthy respect for Lord Kael and his power.”

  “True, my lady, but there are some that aren’t taking it well,” Ewan chimed in, nursing his ale with a frown on his face. “Mainly those from Parliament. From the nobles and merchants in the capital who thrived on the kingdom’s stagnation. They’re not pleased. They haven’t made a move yet, but tension is thick in the capital. Best you keep an eye out for trouble.”

  Yulia sighed. “Why am I not surprised?” she grumbled.

  Seren sighed. “I’ll be more surprised if there haven’t been any grumblings,” she pointed out. “Prince Rem let them have free rein for the last six years. They’re used to being the ones in charge. To have Prince Rem try to wrest control back from them is likely a shock to their delicate sensibilities.” She mocked lightly.

  “They aren’t attempting anything just yet,” Ewan said cautiously. “But given the feelings towards Prince Rem from the people… If some members of Parliament try to incite an uprising or stir up unrest, it wouldn’t be difficult. The soldiers, in particular, are still seething. Their morale is fractured. Especially the garrisons and the border units are still nursing wounds and grieving the deaths of their comrades from skirmishes that no one in court acknowledges. They’ve lost too much and seen too much. Even some amongst the Crownsguards are furious. Heck, some members of our own House are still angry, considering what happened to Luca.” He lowered his voice. “Prince Rem’s inaction hurt more than just the outer territories.”

  Yulia sighed, cradling her forehead. “Our territories didn’t get away unscathed either,” she added grimly. “People have died. Wounds like that aren’t easily healed.”

  “Doesn’t help that House Nightray tend to nurse a grudge,” Seren pointed out. “We might forgive, but we’ll never forget.”

  Yulia and Ewan said nothing, but they knew that Seren was right.

  From the bannermen to the servants, from the stables to the kitchens, House Nightray still bore quiet fury toward Rem, and what his inaction had cost them. It certainly doesn’t help that several of the older members of the House blamed King Edric for Lord Hamilton’s death, convinced that if the late king had heeded the advice of their late lord, the war would never have happened.

  House Nightray’s relationship with the Crown had been fractured long even before Rem’s neglect began to bleed the kingdom dry.

  Yulia finally sighed, looking between Ewan and Seren. “I promised Luca that I’ll watch over Rem,” she murmured. “If he wants to be king, he’s going to need to prove to me, and all of us, that he’s indeed the king that Alathia needs. He’s going to have to earn the right. And considering that it was Rem who gave Parliament as much power as he did initially, it’s going to be difficult, if not impossible, to wrest control back.”

  Ewan’s fingers twitched around his tankard, and Yulia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Typical of politicians,” Seren scoffed. “One taste of power, and they will never let it go. I’m going to bet that Prince Rem is solely regretting not listening to you now.”

  Yulia said nothing. Ewan, however, rose to his feet silently, finishing the last of his drink, before setting the empty tankard down. “I should return,” he said at last, slinging his bag over his shoulder and fastening his cloak. “Can’t leave the villa for too long.” He nodded to Seren and Yulia both. “Seren. My lady.”

  “Safe travels, Ewan,” Yulia murmured, and Ewan nodded, before walking toward the tavern door.

  A slight draft of wind from the outside entered the tavern when he opened the door, with the bell tinkling somewhere as it did so. Then, he was gone.

  Seren stared at the door longer than necessary before turning back to Yulia with a frown. “Is it just me, or does it feel like Ewan is hiding something?” she mused.

  Yulia’s eyes flickered from the door and then to Seren. “Yeah, I felt that, too,” she murmured, her voice concerned, and her brow furrowed. She then gave the tavern a cursory glance. The few patrons in The Black Blade weren’t paying any attention to either of them, one of them laughing as he told a story over mugs of ale. “Actually, I’m back in Evershade today for a reason. And it wasn’t just because I needed to get Noir checked over.” Her eyes flickered to Seren, pushing a slip of parchment within her sleeve over the counter, which Seren pocketed quickly. “I need you to investigate him.” Yulia’s voice lowered. “But keep it quiet, Seren. And if it gets too dangerous, pull out. Don’t take any risks.”

  Seren’s eyes sharpened when she slid the parchment into her pocket without hesitation, making her look more like the assassin that she is, than the tavern owner that most of Evershade knew her as. “Understood, my lady,” she murmured, even as Yulia rose to her feet. “Have a pleasant evening.”

  Yulia nodded before leaving the tavern.

  Seren watched Yulia leave, then headed toward the storage room at the back of the tavern where she stored the barrels of ale. She took a quick look around to ensure that she is alone, before she then pulled out the slip of parchment that Yulia had slipped her.

  A name was written on it.

  Cyril Varence.

  Seren’s eyes narrowed, recognising the name as the Finance Minister. “Well now,” she murmured, striking a match and watching the parchment burn in her fingers until it crumbled to ash. “This is getting interesting.”