Rosamund led me down the hall to whatever lay in store.

When I tried asking for a hint, she remained silent. That's when I remembered what I'd done to her the day before. I felt the claws of guilt rake across my belly. Out of everyone, I felt like Rosamund was the only one I had truly wronged in my escape attempt.

"I'm sorry,” I mumbled at her back, unsure how to address the scary woman. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble by running. I'm really, sincerely sorry." I sped up a little to watch the profile of her face as I finished my apology.

I wasn’t sorry for running, but she had done nothing personally to warrant my disrespect. Other than, of course, kidnapping me in the first place. But I couldn’t exactly hold it against her for doing her job.

In a rare moment, she looked down and made eye contact. "If you do not run again, I will be able to do my job. That is apology enough." Her words were spoken blandly, but I couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by her intense hazel-green eyes and sharp features.

There was something about her not entirely like the rest of the Roanokians I finally decided. Her features were more angular, making her look less human than the rest of these not-quite-human humans. It made her extra scary.

I bowed my head subtly, accepting her conditions. I doubt she believed me, but I would make an effort to respect her wishes. When I found my escape, I would try to do it when I wasn't under her charge. She didn't deserve to take the heat for my escape anymore than I deserved to be here.

With the apology dealt with, she seemed to ease some. After a moment of visible hesitation, she informed me of the day's events. "The Dare wants you trained," she explained, "so you will attend a series of lessons every day for the foreseeable future."

That doesn't sound great, I couldn't help but think, but perhaps I was making more of this than I needed to. My only source material were Hollywood's depictions of princess lessons.

They usually involved a lot of silly things like learning how to sit correctly and how to walk in heels. However, I feel like Ms Perry's cotillion—you know the one that is mandatory for everyone to take in seventh grade?—prepared me plenty. However, if I had another ruler duct taped to my back, I would have to protest. I can still hear Ms Perry's voice ringing in my ears whenever I picked up a salad fork. 

But Roanoke is not a monarchy, Reece has emphatically reminded me. So maybe these lessons would be sans-rulers.

Rosamund came to a stop, pulling me from my reminiscing. She knocked once and a somewhat older woman appeared behind the door.

The woman smiled warmly, her dark eyes giving her a gentle appearance despite her immaculate attire. Her hair was pulled up into a tight perfect bun that dared a single hair to move, and her silver pants suit was so wrinkle-free it almost looked like it was made out of actual silver.

"Lovely for you to come, Miss Gwyndolyn," she said, pushing the door further open. "You must come in. We have much to accomplish today."

I followed her gesture and entered the room. It was a simple study with bookshelves, a dainty Victorian desk, and a little sitting area stationed by a quaint fireplace that lay dormant.

I took a seat on the loveseat beside the fireplace, unsure what to do other than twiddle my thumbs. Thankfully, the woman seemed astute enough to recognize my awkwardness.

"I am High Madam Maeve Hemmington," she introduced, extending her hand. "I will teach you the written and oral communication skills necessary to be the Dare in a formal environment." She began droning on about formal addresses and the appropriate format for this diplomatic situation and that one.

I tried to pay attention, but after she started explaining the different titles that you have to refer to different people by—and there were about a million—my mind began to wander. How was I supposed to escape now? After that one botched attempt, I knew Annora would be more vigilant.

Also, without Ace's help, it would be more challenging to find a viable exit. Especially when I knew absolutely nothing about this place. Then again, maybe I did. Auntie's seemed to be based on real places here. They spoke of portals to other lands without magic—places that sounded like they could be America. It was an old book though. Even if they were real, I had no idea if those passages still existed, or how I would be able to reach them.

Perhaps I needed to do a little library research...

The High Madam cleared her throat, tearing me from my plans. She waited until I made eye contact before continuing. "We are just going to begin with a diagnostic of sorts. I want you to explain—in the appropriate format for someone of my standing—why you should be allowed to forgo my teachings."

I winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so rude. It's just... this is not exactly a riveting topic, and, honestly, I am having trouble without knowing what the difference is between a Senior Advisor and an Elder Commentator."

She sighed, taking on a small smile. "It is I who should be sorry. I forget how foreign this entire system must seem."

She reached out and clasped her hand over mine. The gesture caused my throat to tighten. It was the first real comforting gesture I'd received since this whole debacle began, and I didn't realize how alone I'd felt before that moment.

"I will do my best to explain everything to you, but you must pay attention or you will never learn." She straightened, releasing my hand, "Now, let us begin."

She started with the address for someone 'common'. "If you want to demonstrate respect for someone, you add G' in front of the person's surname. However, you must remember that this address should be used on someone older than you. First names are reserved for mikros without titles and family only.

"If you use someone's first name without their consent, or if someone does the same to you, it's considered highly disrespectful. Either action is hazardous for the heir to the Dareship."

"So..." I asked, my head swimming with everything she'd said already. "What exactly is a Dare? Up until a few days ago, I thought it was just my last name."

She chuckled softly. It was barely more than a quiet breath of laughter. "That is a very complicated question. I think it takes each Dare many years to figure that one out. Annora struggled for the longest time to understand it, and I don't believe Conan ever did."

"Conan? Was that"—I cleared my throat uncomfortably—"I mean, was he, um... Annora's..."

"Husband? Yes," Maeve concluded for my own sake. "He was a great man, but he never wanted, nor intended, to become Dare." She looked down, closing her eyes for a heartbeat in nostalgia.

"Did you know him well?" I whispered.

At that, she snorted, and her hand flew to her face immediately to cover the slip of behavior. "I should hope so," she replied, her voice tinged with both laughter and sadness. "He was my only son."

The news registered like a boxing glove to the ear. I shook away my bubbling confusion and looked over at Rosamund still sitting calmly by the exit. She nodded passively, confirming Maeve's words as if she'd just informed me of the weather outside. "He was your..." I cleared my throat again.

Gracious, why did this all feel so uncomfortable? Strong. I was supposed to be strong. I had managed better when I'd found out my mother was alive two days ago. Because this made Maeve my grandmother. Such a wonderful, much less scary, much more cookies-and-fun type of grandmother, at that. "What was he like?"

She wore the ghost of a smile. "Conan was a good man with a good heart. He loved you very much," her voice faded, and a battle of memories seemed to wage war inside her. "We should get back to the lesson. If you wish to know more, I will tell you about it during your free time. Would that be alright?"

I nodded, unable to dislodge the bundle of nerves clogging my throat. Did she honestly think I would be able to pay attention through the rest of her lesson?

Apparently not. She dismissed me a few minutes later and offered a hug that I couldn't refuse.

She smelled like lilac.