“Would his majesty prefer to come inside for breakfast or would he prefer we bring it to him,” Valmond said from the stable gate.

  Vigora shifted her head from resting on Draka’s cheek to look up at him and huff with annoyance. Draka put a hand up against the daylight shining in. The older man regarded him stiffly, his only expression being the single brow raised over his thin wired round glasses. Draka nodded and stood.

  “Very well, bath first or after?” Valmond asked after a curt nod to the woman standing beside him.

  Draka winced at him. A waving shrug.

  “First, then.”

  Draka rolled his eyes. Vigora awkwardly stood up and turned with the little bit of room she had to huff again at the man from over his shoulder. Draka rubbed her cheek with a grin. He agreed. That was a good night of rest for the both of them and it was a pity to end it. But, duty calls, Draka supposed.

  He followed Valmond to his room and looked to the other servants filling the bath with buckets of steaming water. Valmond waited patiently, standing stiff and expressionless until they were fully gone and the door was shut behind them. Draka kicked off his boots from the edge of the bed he had yet to sleep a full night in and eyed him expectantly.

  One last look at the door and Valmond’s face filled with urgency, “I only stayed so I can plead with you on behalf of Alicia Renneaux. She’s to be executed tomorrow on your behalf.” Valmond threw himself at Draka’s feet with his fingers laced together in front of him as if he were praying. “Please, your majesty, please have mercy. She never meant to offend you, I swear it. By the Holy Father, I swear it.”

  Draka was stunned. Tomorrow? I ran out of time.

  He pointed to the quill and parchment on a table across the room. He hoped that his expression would let Valmond know that he was of course going to give her mercy. If he can. He had a feeling that Christophe would rush the execution if he had any idea that Draka intended to free her.

  “Of course,” Valmond pushed himself off of his knees. He was rickety with age but seemed capable enough that when Draka went to help him, he was already on his feet. He brought them to Draka, “I forgot that you have a vow of silence, please forgive me.”

  Draka shook his head with a grin. No need, he thought as he began to write, ‘I will have Christophe free her. I took no offense, but he did. I will write a decree now for you to bring her and the girl called Nina who works here before me.’

  “Of course, of course,” Valmond held the parchment to his nose. Then, with a bewildered look, “Why on earth would you need her?”

  Draka tossed his shirt to the floor beside him and rolled his eyes. He snatched the parchment back and wrote, ‘Make sure both are here. And summon Christo…’ The quill scratched a hole through the parchment. Draka didn’t wait for Valmond to do it, he stood and went to the inkwell on the table, dipped it and finished, ‘Christophe to come in shortly after they arrive. No sooner. Understand?’

  “Yes, your grace. Of course.”

  Draka hunched over the desk and wrote on the parchment beneath it, ‘This is an official summons for the prisoner Alicia…” Draka looked up to him, waiting. Valmond only blinked at him until he ran his finger under her first name. Valmond understood and spelt her surname out loud for him to mark down, ‘…Renneaux to be brought to Paladin Grande Prince Dietrich Luminis. Signed,’ Draka scribbled his named beneath. It had taken him a moment to remember how he was supposed to mark his name on official documents. He handed it to Valmond.

  “Thank you, thank you, you won’t regret it,” Valmond bowed again and again on his way to the door. Draka snapped his fingers at him and pointed at the parchment he had written his replies to their conversation on. “Right.” Valmond handed that one to him.

  As Valmond went out the door, Draka used a candle to burn the paper and tossed it into the unlit fireplace. He looked to the steaming bath. This would have to be a quick one.

  The servants who brought in his breakfast were led by a woman who looked about the same age as Alicia. Draka was still toweling himself when they burst through the door in a rush of covered plates on wooden trays. He leapt to pull the curtain to cover himself until he pulled his trousers on at least.

  “Your majesty’s breakfast,” the woman said, a stationary blur bleeding through the curtain surrounded by other, moving blurs in the shapes of women in dresses. “I hope it is to your liking. My predecessor left no notes regarding your preferences.”

  Draka tightened his belt and shoved the curtain open. The woman’s eyes burst wide open at the sight of his bare chest with a gasp. She ushered the other girls, most of whom were giggling, out of the room as Draka grinned.

  “I…well…you…”

  Draka chuckled on his way to his bag where he pulled one of the few cotton shirts Maud had made him. He pulled it over his head and tugged the laced strings to tighten the collar over his hairy chest. He had to grit his teeth not to yelp when a few hairs snagged in the lacing. Fine day this is turning out to be, he thought with a rub to sooth the stinging.

  The breakfast smelled good. Not as good as Maud’s, but good. Eggs, it seems, and, once he took a long whiff of the air wafting from the covered plate, sausage. Blood sausage? Just browned links of honeyed sausage, Draka glumly saw when he lifted the cover.

  “Oh, no, I can do…” the woman jumped too late to stop him from setting the round cover on his bed. That, too, made her wince.

  With a raised brow and eyes on the woman’s expression, he scooped up one of the yoked eggs with his fingers and shoved it in his mouth. He sucked on his fingers as he pulled them out. Her skin went green. He scooped the second into his fingers. She turned away and squeezed her eyes shut as he repeated it exactly the same way. Then he plopped himself on the edge of the bed with one of the sausages and began taking bites from it, regarding her with a grin through his chewing. Not bad. Maud would have done far better. If only he knew who could teach her to make venison sausage.

  “I…” She gulped at her nausea, “I am Headmistress Vera Guise. I’ve been assigned the duties of the…” She had to gulp through another wince when Draka took another bite and used his tongue to rub a piece from between his teeth the moment she tried to look again. “Former…” Gulp. “Head Mistress.”

  If only Isa or Philip could see him, now. They would be rolling on the floor with laughter. He had to concentrate not to do that himself.

  He sucked the juices from his fingers again and wiped them across his trousers. Another wince. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. If you laugh, she’ll know this is false.

  “If you have need of anything,” Gulp, “Don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Draka waved for her to leave. Once she was gone, he snickered. He needed the fa?ade to hold. He knew he needed to be meticulously delicate with this. Christophe is going to fight him on it. He already knew. He needed his servants to relay how much of a disgusting beast he is. He needed them to fear the wildness. He needed them to go against their liege.

  He went to the desk with the parchment and ink. He waited, sitting sideways so that he could look at whoever came through that door while writing. And he waited.

  He finished the last sausage and ate the browned fries…with the fork. Finally, the door was opened by a footman to allow two others with filth of the dungeon dripping off of them, Alicia staggering between them to the rattle of the chains.

  The look on the poor woman’s face as they threw her to the floor in front of him. Her ankles were dripping blood through the filth of her bare feet. Her dress was already in tatters at the seams, blotches of filth staining it. Her face was covered in smears of dirt broken only by the streaks her tears had created. Small bits of straw were in her wild and stringy hair. One week, and this woman looked broken.

  He expected her to weep at his feet. Beg, plead, kiss at his hand before he had a chance to write what he wanted to say.

  As the two who brought her in took only half a step back from her, locking their heels at proper position of attention, she let her head hang. Slowly, awkwardly from the chains binding her wrists and ankles together, she stood. She didn’t raise her head to meet Draka’s gaze until she had stiffened her back and pushed her matted hair from her face.

  “I have been summoned.” No, Draka saw, not broken. Weakened, but not broken. He wondered if her pride was still getting the better of her.

  He tapped the parchment to draw her attention to it, then wrote, ‘I want you to read this out loud and bow, incorrectly.’

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  Alicia’s brows pressed together. She began to take a step closer, but the two who brought her in pulled her back. Her rapid breathing gave away what her face wasn’t allowed to. She said as if she were reading, “You want me to properly curtsy. Fine.”

  The guards looked, but neither seemed to understand.

  Though her ankles were unable to spread as far as she needed, she still gave a bowing curtsy that would have tickled any lord. He grinned. Unbroken.

  He wrote in larger letters, ‘Guards, what are your names and ranks?’ He held it up for them to see. They looked, but acted as if it weren’t meant for them.

  Alicia turned her eyes to one, Draka waved her back.

  ‘Anything I write, you will read out loud incorrectly if they ask. Answer with short answers that cannot define the question.’ He held it for her to see.

  “You’re educated?” she whispered, gaping. Then nodded. The stiffness, as with Valmond, faded.

  Draka wrote, ‘Have you confessed since being imprisoned?’

  “Yes,” She nodded. “Twice.”

  Draka nodded before writing, ‘How long ago was your last confession?’

  “Yesterday,” She answered with a swallow that Draka could hear the dryness through.

  He looked at the door behind them. How long until Nina gets here? Did he make certain that Christophe would be after? He didn’t want a surprise burst.

  ‘Are you loyal to your Baron.’

  She nodded but let a pause linger. “Yes.”

  Draka pressed his lips together. ‘Tomorrow, the Baron will execute you for what you did.’

  Alicia’s lips began to tremble the moment she read it. Her eyes filled with water, “What about the Baroness?”

  Interesting, Draka thought as he leaned back in his chair.

  Nina caught Draka’s eyes from the doorway. He ushered her in with a wave of his hand. She stepped around the guards wearily, keeping a few steps away from them, then stopped a little to the side of Alicia, whose eyes widened at the sight of her.

  “Your Majesty,” Nina did a perfect and humble curtsy.

  “What is she doing here?” Alicia hissed.

  Draka raised a brow at her. He indicated with a wave of his hand for Alicia to explain.

  “She’s…” Alicia turned a glare from Nina and met Draka’s gaze with a return to her formerly worried look. “…Young and unmanageable. We have…had our disagreements over the needs of the Lady Lisbeth.”

  Draka pointed to Nina for her to comment.

  Nina looked at Alicia, “I have done what Lady Lisbeth commands. No more. No less.”

  ‘We will speak after this is done. Until then,’ Draka pointed to the far side of the room, near the bath. Nina gave the bath a worrying look and turned pursed brows on Draka before going.

  For Alicia, ‘If I free you, it will be with consequences. You will no longer reside here. It will be considered a stain on the House name. Is your loyalty to the Baron worth your death?’

  Alicia stiffened, folding her hands in front of her as if she were still at her finest. “Yes. For House Strasse.”

  Draka nodded he understood. He turned and eyed Nina with his back to Alicia. He wrote, ‘Do you think Alicia should die for her Baron?’

  Nina hesitated. He could see that. She sunk under his gaze, then shook her head. Draka grinned. Also for her, he wrote, ‘Does the Baron have loyalty for me?’ The test, Draka narrowed his eyes at her, will be how she answers.

  Nina raised a brow with a thoughtful glance at the guards. She made a slight gesture with her hand. ‘No,’ it said.

  Draka turned back to Alicia. ‘Do you want to live or die?’

  Alicia’s eyes overflowed, yet she kept her back straight and her chin lifted. “If it is for the good of House Strasse, then I…” She stumbled through the words, “Accept my fate.”

  Christophe rushed in, shouting, “What is the meaning of this?” The moment he crossed around the guards, Christophe looked Alicia up and down then turned a fiery glare at Draka, “What is going on here?”

  Draka lifted a new parchment, flipping the old nonchalantly, and wrote, ‘I wish to see my assailant before she is executed.’

  Christophe smiled, a malicious twinkle in his eyes, “Want her to beg for forgiveness, do you? I’m glad you summoned me.” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest to rest on his bulging stomach. “Well,” he waved at her as he moved to Draka’s side, “Go on then.”

  Alicia looked at him and then Draka with confusion. Lowering her eyes, she said, “I have accepted that I am to be punished for the disgrace of touching our Grande Prince.”

  “On your knees. Do it properly,” Christophe growled.

  Again, Alicia looked at them, one and then the other. Slowly, she shifted her feet to lower herself to her knees and bowed her head. “I beg you to forgive me, your majesty.”

  “Lower.”

  She sniveled. Draka could see the tears forming tiny puddles under her lowered face. Her hair clung to the floor in wads as she lowered herself to rest her forehead at Draka’s feet.

  “Please forgive me,” She whimpered.

  “Not very good at it, is she?” Christophe gave a half-cocked smile. “Is this all I’m here for. I appreciate it, but I have other matters to attend to.”

  ‘Tell her why you intend to execute her.’ Draka wrote and waited.

  Christophe shrugged, “Because we will never allow someone to assault our beloved Prince and live. No matter how small it might have been or how insignificant they are.”

  Draka nodded and pointed for Christophe to move away from him. Christophe bowed his head and went to beside his guards.

  Draka turned his back to them, his eyes on Nina. He wrote, then looked up to Nina for her answer without showing her what he wrote. ‘If you are loyal to the Baron, then you will agree. If you are loyal to Alicia, you will disagree. If you are loyal to me, you will do nothing. To lie is to die for it. Which is it?’

  Draka watched her, waiting. She didn’t blink, still as a statue. ‘Is that your answer?’ Her nod was subtle enough that he wondered himself if it was there.

  He turned back around to show what he had written on a new parchment to Alicia, ‘Do you want to live, if it means you no longer serve House Strasse?’

  “No,” Alicia said flatly.

  Christophe furrowed his brow at her, amused. He scratched at the side of his neck.

  Draka drew in a breath. He knew this scenario well. Too well. An innocent, prepared to die. The people she loved surrounding her, making sure it happened. And just as that story went, Draka wrote, ‘I will not sign for her execution.’

  “Not that I was asking your permission, my Prince,” Christophe growled. He motioned for the guards to take Alicia away. To Draka, with a watchful eye to Nina, “So, the purpose of this was…?”

  Draka shrugged. ‘If you won’t give her mercy, then it will be you, and only you, who executed her. To have another wield the axe or sword at her beheading, will be your death shortly after. And it will be public. I want her to have mercy, she’s innocent. But I will intervene no further.’

  Christophe’s eyes widened. “So, I have to be the one to do it? To behead her?”

  Draka raised a brow but kept the rest of his face relaxed. He nodded.

  “I was honestly thinking a good hanging would be…”

  Draka shook his head and wrote, ‘Beheading by your hand in front of all your subjects or she goes free.’

  Christophe nodded. Draka weighed how he might react. Go through with it and stain his hands with showing his subjects that he is willing to kill them to save face or let her go and be seen as weak and indecisive among his own servants. Either way, he can’t use her death as a pawn for his power.

  “Anything else?” Christophe shrugged it off. Draka shook his head. “By your leave, your Grace.”

  The footman at his door remained in the open doorway, ensuring that Draka and Nina weren’t alone. Draka motioned for Nina to go. She nodded and brushed past him, only looking back as she went out the door. He slid the parchment he had written on to cover the rest.

  On it, he had written, ‘When I summon you, be discreet.’