Of all the many things she and Isaiah had to attend to in the aftermath of Dinah's death, there was one Niccola looked forward to with unmitigated glee. Other anticipated moments were tempered by their somber sides. Seeing Meribah Cantor's face when the demi-queen of Varna walked into her palace in full royal garb would be doused by the effect Meribah had on her son. Scribing diplomatic correspondence for Isaiah while they bantered over wording was great fun, but undermined by the gut-dropping anxiety of answering return letters. Niccola and Isaiah spent each morning reading between the lines of new messages, trying to discern if Calis was indeed in good standing with the—rightfully—furious Madeira. An emergency meeting of the inter-realm council would convene in a week's time. Niccola knew they were both ready. But neither of them felt it.

Yet no such downside accompanied the task they now found themselves on the road to, days after their return from the Talakova. Niccola was in a fine mood. Margaret and Verde had not found a dress that fit her among their daughter's clothing, but Verde had been quick to recall that Margaret herself had once shared Niccola's build. A chance inspection of Margaret's wardrobe confirmed this. The dress Niccola now wore was the beautiful, golden yellow of the autumn leaves that cascaded over the lowlands, laying drifts in street corners and filling the air with fall's sweet perfume. It also twirled beautifully. Had she and Isaiah not been walking arm in arm, Niccola was sure she would be dancing like a schoolgirl all the way up the road.

Up the road they were indeed headed, but not as far as the palace. Niccola touched a hand to her hair for what must have been the twentieth time in as many minutes. She was featherless today—saving her full regalia for the palace visit—but the braided Varnic crown she wore was sure to turn heads. Especially where she and Isaiah were going. Isaiah fought a smile as she broke into skipping for a step or two. Her skirt wasn't just twirly. It was swishy, too.

"Are you ready for this?" he said.

Niccola fell back into step and grinned. "Are you?"

"You'll get to wear both your slippers again."

"I plan to wear them all the way home."

Nice shoes were the one thing her outfit lacked. The yellow of the dress and delicate pink of the slippers would not match, but Niccola cared about that as little as she cared about the chill wind poking fingers through the holes of her lighter-yellow cardigan. It was also Margaret's, and the colour had proven several times too sunny to cover up with a jacket. Not that Niccola was particularly cold. It was difficult to be cold when she was excited, walking at the brisk pace she and Isaiah shared, and walking arm in arm with someone she wanted to look pretty with, whether he could see her or not. And all that was discounting the warmth brought on by the joy of spite, which she suspected would soon be the garnish on the whole affair.

"This is it," she said, halting. Pekea perked up. She'd been napping across Isaiah's shoulders, having taken to doing so unless asked whenever they walked together. Niccola and Isaiah had identical strides, and found themselves so attuned to one another after two days of walking everywhere together that Isaiah needed little other guidance. Now the dragon lifted her nose and sniffed in the direction of the manor. She looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"And now," said Niccola, "we find out whether the upper gossip rings have figured out who I am, and if they have, if they informed this household of it and risked tarnishing their own images. I'm betting one of Verde's chicken pot pies on neither."

"I would bet against you, but I have no plans to give up my helping of chicken pot pie tonight." Isaiah tugged their linked arms. "Shall we?"

They strode up the walkway together. Isaiah held himself well no matter where he was, but Niccola relished in adopting her royal demeanor as she rapped the brass knocker against the door. It swung open a moment later. Lady Selah had always been quick to answer.

The woman's face contorted as her eyes met Niccola's. "There you are, you ungrateful—"

Then she saw the prince.

The response was everything Niccola could have asked for. All warmth drained from the colour of Lady Selah's face, replaced by the grey tones, bugged eyes, and speech loss of dumbstruck horror.

"Y-y-your majesty," were the first words she managed to utter. She swung the door wide, manners at least not deserting her. "C-come in. T-to what do I owe the p-pleasure of this visit?"

"I'm terribly sorry," replied Isaiah with flawless composure. "Given her vehement insistence that courtship was my idea, I must accept responsibility for stealing Niccola away from you, both at the ball and on subsequent occasions. Successful wooing is also my fault, and I'm sure she would much rather have returned to her home realm without me if given the choice."

Oh, the absolute mischief-maker. He'd caught her unable to elbow him in the ribs in public, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

He wasn't done, either. "I would compensate you for your loss if only she were a formal resident of Calis. Unfortunately, she has yet to fill out that paperwork on the grounds of being of equal status to myself, which complicates things and may only be resolvable with a legal social partnership. I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. However, if you would be so kind as to let us retrieve the remainder of her belongings, we won't bother you any longer."

Niccola could scarcely keep a straight face. She didn't know how Isaiah was managing it. Lady Selah's own features morphed through an entertaining array of expressions as Isaiah spoke. No less rewarding were the faces of Leah and Esther, who stood halfway down the stairs, mouths agape in convincing imitations of ornamental fish. When none of the three proved able to unfreeze in time to answer Isaiah's request, Niccola smiled sweetly and turned to him. "I can show you the way to my rooms."

Lady Selah leaped into motion with a sound like a half-deflated pigskin being stepped on. She remained only half coherent as she led them to the room, where her colour returned in a brilliant flush at the realization of having housed royalty in such conditions. Niccola thanked and dismissed her.

"You," she said, turning to Isaiah the moment they were alone, "are a menace. If I didn't know better, I'd have presumed you grew up with siblings."

He maintained that infuriatingly calm mask. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. You leave yourself as open to teasing as you are to wooing—it was really no trouble at all. Or perhaps the problem is that you'd prefer to prove me mistaken on the wooing part?"

She snatched the pillow off her no-longer bed and whacked him with it. He broke down laughing. There was only one pillow, though, so Niccola let it drop again in the interest of a fair fight. They set about clearing the room. It took inside of a quarter hour to gather the few possessions Niccola had brought with her to Calis. When they left again, Lady Selah tailed them all the way to the door like a lost puppy, bleating offerings of tea, dinner, dresses from her daughters' wardrobes, valuables from elsewhere in the house, and a myriad of other things that Isaiah and Niccola took turns politely declining. The pursuit continued out onto the front walk without sign of flagging.

"Do mind the sky for crows," said Niccola off-handedly as they passed beneath the front tree. "They can be quite the hazard along here at times."

"Perhaps there's something that draws them," replied Isaiah with a sparkle in his eye.

"If there is, I would never know what."

With that, Niccola faked a cough into her sleeve, covering a crow-call for backup. Only one was nearby, but it was one of the more mischievous ones she'd used to probe the sisters' rooms before. It perched on the lowest branch of the tree and began to stare at Lady Selah. Her insistent pursuits wavered swiftly. At the end of the front walk, she wished the two of them on their way and hastened back to the house, nearly slamming the door behind her.

"You know, I almost feel sorry for them," said Niccola when they were finally alone on the street.

"Don't be," said Isaiah. "I only knew them by name, but I've met two others who've worked for them before."

That was enough said. It was also uniquely validating, Niccola mused for not the first time. Isaiah's liaising with the lowlands might leave the Calisian royal line poorer than if he pandered to richer patrons, but Niccola harbored little doubt such an arrangement had saved him from turning into his parents. It had certainly made him a better leader.

They bantered as usual halfway back to Verde and Margaret's house. Yet Isaiah fell quiet after that, and remained so for the rest of the trip. Niccola steered them back the privacy of their room before turning to him. "Copper for your thoughts."

"We need to talk to my parents tomorrow."

His silence suddenly made sense. With nothing left to distract them from the inevitable, it was time. Niccola offered a hug that he leaned into. She could feel his heartbeat even through the thicker fabrics of her sweater and his vest.

"I'll be with you," she said. "Don't forget that."

"Thank you."

"We can talk out a game plan tonight, if that helps. What kinds of things I should watch out for. Also a signal for when you can't handle it and need me to step in."

"No political sabotage?"

"No political sabotage. Much as I would love to take on your mother. I know I'm needed."

He hugged her tighter, and Niccola returned it. The silence remained unbroken after that. The words Niccola truly wanted to say didn't feel right just yet. Not in this context, or with both their minds so otherwise occupied. Maybe tomorrow, after this final hurdle was over, that conversation would come.