Lysandra waited for Harold Wood to drift over to the table she was meandering around. He was General Arnold Wood's brother and for that sole purpose his life would have meaning and importance.

She tapped her foot against the floor impatiently. Wood had a craving for the chocolate-dipped strawberries draped all across the lavish table. To be fair, so did she. They were amazing. When on earth was he going to come and collect another one like a good little puppet?

As discreetly as she could, she watched him across the room. He was so ordinary looking. She could have mistaken him for a hundred other

Kallians, though of course the same dark hair and olive skin that marked him as Northern State by birth would have made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the fair-haired, pale valkyries of Miras.

But the man was ordinary in more than his appearance. His entire life had been unambitious and boring. Like every other noble he spent his life carefully tiptoeing, walking on eggshells whenever Medea so much as looked his way. He served in the military, instantly an officer like every other noble, like every other second son she had ever known or heard of. The man's own sons served for a while as well. His daughters were married off for some minor political gain. He sat there, getting fat, priding himself on his tiny advancements and costing her mother the coin it took to feed and clothe him and bathe this man and his family in luxury. Only his elder brother, his father's heir and her mother's trusted general, made this man somewhat consequential.

Indeed if things went well tonight, Lord Arnold Wood would play a vital role in the raising of armies and the falling of empires.

And at last, the extraordinarily boring man walked over, his eyes fixed on the largest strawberry of the lot. Lysandra frowned. That particular one was meant to be hers. But oh well. It wasn't as if she could nick it from him. He was the kind of man who cared enough about chocolate-dipped strawberries to let the theft of one get in the way of gaining a connection with the heir of the Kallian Empire. She bumped into him entirely on purpose and he gave a look of such condescension that she almost let her anger jeopardise everything.

Lord Arnold Wood was exactly like a thousand different men she'd met before. He would be just as easy to manipulate and deceive and just as liable to make her rip his throat out and leave him bleeding all over the castle gates, hanging by his intestines with his eyes torn out—

Lysandra paused her imaginings of Arnold's corpse and smiled at the man. He inclined his head politely, not bothering to bow. No doubt he believed she was beneath him, even though she was the Empress' eldest living child.

"My apologies," she said, smiling insipidly. The negative side of framing her five brothers and arranging their execution was that rumours started to emerge that she was not the docile, weak princess she paraded as. This man had heard the rumours that she had killed her elder siblings for the throne just like everyone else and her most important job was to dissuade him of the notion. After all, like everyone else, he didn't really believe those rumours. It was impossible that woman had done such a brilliant, daring theme. Court intrigues were the domain of men after all.

Lysandra sometimes really, really wished she'd been born a valkyrie. An all-female society sounded wonderful.

She gave Arnold Wood another meek smile and said:

"I love the strawberries, too," she told him, trying to avoid gritting her teeth.

"They are lovely, aren't they, Your Highness?" He said the last word with such open derision that a shadow flickered over her hand. She drew in a deep breath. It was lucky he hadn't seen that. She needed to calm down.

If her mother was there, she would flay the man alive. If it had been her brother, second-in-line to throne rather than Heir, the man would never have said a word, fearing the prince's wrath. But he expected Lysandra to do what every other woman-except the Empress-did: to shut up and smile.

Her mother hadn't cared enough to reform the court. As longer as no one disregarded her, disdained her, than she was just fine. But when she took the throne idiots like these would be kicked out of the palace and left on the street to die.

"They are indeed," Lysandra smiled. "My compliments to the chef."

"Hmm," the man agreed. Despite the disdain written all over his face, he hungered for the power that radiated of Lysandra in spades, just like she had once done whenever Markus, her older and now dead brother, was around.

"I heard you've proposed a project for the Empire to my mother," she said, gently turning him in the right direction. This was the most dangerous stage. When the man might wake up and realise that this was a very coincidental meeting, and that the girl he so disdained had a knowledge of the inner workings of the court.

"Yes," he said proudly, eating it right up and puffing his chest out. "It's all very complicated, I'm not sure if you would be able to grasp it."

Lysandra entertained herself with visions of this man's dead body draped over the balustrade of the stairwell, his corpse draped in blood.

"Oh, I'd love to try," she said, forcing curiosity into her voice. "It sounds like a worthy pursuit, improving the aqueducts. I'd certainly love to help you present it to Mother. How about you explain it to me over lunch tomorrow?" The man's eyes filled with desperation. She hid a smile. Arnold's plans for the aqueduct, his sole hope for importance in the court, had been failing miserably. Medea hadn't even given him an audience yet.

"I would be delighted, Your Highness."

————————————————-
Lysandra marched into Jasper's office, sat down on a chair and began spinning around gleefully.

"Get Talia," she instructed him.

"Give me a minute, Lysandra." He grumbled.

"Now," she snapped. Sighing as he went, Jasper left the office and returned ten minutes later with an equally frustrated Talia, in which time she took the liberty of occupying his chair.

He began to protest but the words died on his lips with a single stare from her. Finally, he slumped down into his chair like a petulant child and Talia followed, albeit with more dignity.

"No one else knows yet, but the valkyries tricked my mother's army and escaped. Myra Isidore, Nala Merson and Layla Swallow remain alive, as do the majority of the rebels. However, Rhea and Reyna died in the escape." Talia's face brightened and darkened at each word. Jasper

breathed a deep sigh of relief. Lysandra gave them a minute to digest the news before addressing the next topic.

"We can't poison Wood and Green before your matches like we did with the other generals," Lysandra informed them. "Medea cares more about the higher-ranking duels and she'll care when you drug a general to take his position. So this has to be done carefully. In a way that's not
so...blatant and easy to convict you with."

Talia and Jasper waited in silence for her to continue and she took in a deep breath.

"I've spoken with Wood's brother, Arnold. Apparently General Wood has a severe allergy to mint. Jasper, I trust you can exploit this. There's a nice waiter at his favourite Friday night bar who might be susceptible to a few coins and a bit of flattery. He might put some mint in his food to get the reaction starting and then you can wear it on the day." Jasper nodded, smirking.

"Okay, what about me?" Talia asked. "I'm not that good in the ring. There's no way I beat Green."

"Exactly. Which is why darling Arnold Wood is also a longtime friend of General Green—they met back when the general was a captain and they served in the army together. Rebel—might be Nala, actually, based on Arnold's description—gave him an awful injury years ago. Left knee still pains him a bit when he knocks it."

"And?" Talia asked, her face blank and emotionless.

"You're not allowed magic in the ring. But no one could tell if he took a nasty knock on that very knee just before the match...after all, it happens all the time. Certainly wouldn't be you getting into his mind and taking over for a second or two." Talia grinned fiercely at her and a part of Lysandra mourned that the elf's spirit had been broken from her from whatever tragedies she'd faced in this war and before it.

"And the ships?" Jasper asked, finally voicing the question they'd both been thinking.

"Leave that to me, my vipers."