Astra sighed as she put down her teacup, regarding the very calm dark-haired prince who was sitting across the table. Today he was dressed in a gold and indigo jacket the same colour as his hair.

Taking tea with the prince was not something she had thought she would do again, after their initial introduction, but now that she was a little more familiar with his temperament, she found she wasn’t so nervous about it anymore.

“Am I meddling where I’m not wanted?” the prince asked without regret, smiling at her over the rim of his cup.

Astra shook her head. “It’s a bit unexpected, but you’re actually helping us, so I thank you for that.” The bigger the crowd and the bigger the hype, the more glory Conrad would accrue when he won.

He bowed slightly in his seat. “I am pleased to be of service, miss.”

“Please don’t say that.” He laughed as Astra’s brows furrowed while looking at him. “If the nobles heard that the Crown Prince was ‘pleased to be of service’ to an unknown commoner of questionable origins, they would probably riot.”

Amused by this thought, the Crown Prince chuckled and apologized without much sincerity.

When Astra had brought reports of the two Raven Knights’ dealings, the prince had not been particularly surprised. He was not a fool, and neither was Azela. Both men were more than aware of Brin and Castor’s misdemeanours, but were curious as to how the soldiers would go about handling it and thus had decided to wait and watch for now.

However, the plan Astra had laid out for them took them both by surprise. It was a well-thought, thorough, and even slightly devious strategy that would ensure Conrad’s victory if all went well, and remove the two problem knights from the ranks of the men.

Initially, the noirette had only asked that the prince not intervene with the duel, allowing the course of events to naturally happen if the two Knights came to complain. She had also asked him to guarantee that the conditions of the fight would be kept. She didn’t put it past the two shameless knights to cheat, or later claim that anything they had bet was invalid if they lost. The presence of a royal would ensure that they didn’t dare try anything funny.

However, the Crown Prince playing witness to the confrontation in the hallway was something she had not expected. The prince had chosen to act on his own, not only taking part in the formation of the duel but even going so far as to spread news of the upcoming fight, in order to attract as many spectators as possible. She had to admit he was thinking ahead; in this situation, the crown’s image would get a boost regardless of the victor, for presiding fairly over a formal duel and holding a public event to please the people.

“You’re certain your man can win?” the prince inquired lightly as he reached for a scone. “The people will enjoy a public spectacle nonetheless, but if this goes badly, that young soldier may find himself facing the end of his career.”

“Conrad will win.” Astra had full confidence in her protégé. There was a hint of wickedness in her smile as she picked up her teacup and said cheerfully, “Please come and see it for yourself, your highness. You may be surprised.”

No one could garner support like an underdog, and Astra had taken great pains to ensure that no one save herself, Ilia, Rain, Liam, and their star student were aware of what, exactly, he had been learning. She was sure that the other soldiers suspected, but so far no one had tried to spy on their training sessions, meaning that Conrad’s new skills were still a secret. Weren’t fights more exciting with a few unexpected happenings thrown in here and there?

Grinning, Astra drained her tea as she corrected herself. “No, you will definitely be surprised.”

The prince and his bodyguard exchanged looks. So far, this young woman from another world was proving to be very interesting. It had surprised him when the first person to finally report the two hooligans was not a victim of their bullying, nor one of the other Knight Captains, or one of their peers, but instead this petite young woman who, at first glance, didn’t look like she would hurt a fly.

Not only that, but the fire in her eyes while she had described their transgressions was enough to make him feel a little sorry for Brin and Castor. They probably had no idea what lay in store for them, nor that the entire confrontation in the corridor, from her timely appearance to the conditions that had been set, were all within her calculations.

He had thought her to be a quiet, albeit intellectual, girl, but she was proving to be very clever, indeed. The prince was eager to see if she could back up her claims, so he nodded. “Very well. I will be in attendance.”

“I am certain you will enjoy it, your highness.”

Observing her self-assured air, the prince felt a smile twist his lips as a new thought occurred to him. Why not have a little fun himself, since everything was setting itself up so nicely? “Miss Astraea, shall we make a bet of our own?”

Behind him, Azela shook his head, already knowing what he was planning.

“A bet, your highness?” Astra’s eyes narrowed.

As a general rule, she did not have a habit of gambling. In addition, she had a strict standard for the bets she did make: never place yourself at a disadvantage when playing the odds, and never bet anything you might regret later.

However, the offer did make her curious. “What are the conditions?”

“They are quite simple. Since you seem confident that that young boy will emerge victorious, let us assume that he wins. However, Sir Brin and Sir Castor have stated that if he is victorious against either one of them, they will consider it a general loss.” His smile was growing. “So. If he wins both fights, we shall consider it my loss, and if he only wins one, or chooses not to fight in the second round, it will be yours. What do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, what matters is what you’re requesting… your highness.” Astra spoke before she could remember proper etiquette, and quickly added the man’s title onto the end of her sentence.

The prince’s smile grew even more. “I knew I liked you.” She was quick. “If I win, you are to have tea with me again, just like this, whenever I wish.” Astra’s brows rose, but he was not yet finished. “And if I lose, I’ll immediately promise that young soldier a future position in the Raven Knights, provided he gains Azela’s approval and serves on active duty for two years prior to his promotion.”

“Offering bets with conditions that gain me nothing, I see, your highness.”  

Astra was correct. It was odd for the prince to offer such conditions. If Astra won, the only person to benefit would be Conrad, not she herself.

However, the prince was also confident. “That is the most likely way to make you agree, is it not?”

He saw the slight curl to Astra’s mouth and knew that he was right.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Laughing lightly, Astra dusted a few crumbs from her tunic and stood up. “Very well, your highness. I shall accept your bet.”

Azela went to open the door for her as the prince rose to his feet to see her out. “Then I will see you at the fight,” he promised. For an event this interesting, even if he wasn’t hosting it, he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

With the Crown Prince himself so invested, how could the people of the palace and the city be any less excited? The servants, especially those who had been victim to the two bullies before, were silently cheering for Conrad in their hearts, even if they had doubts as to whether the young man could win or not. Some even went so far as to leave him little gifts of encouragement; an ointment meant for treating bruises and blisters, packs of dried herbs said to be good for the body, even little notes offering advice or general well-wishes. Packages for the cadet were left outside the soldier’s barracks nearly every day now.

Having become quite the celebrity overnight, Conrad was a little flustered at this attention. The extra pressure was making him nervous, and he confessed as much to Astra during one of their morning training sessions.

Her response had been frank, as though she were saying something she thought was obvious. “Why would you be nervous when your victory is assured?”

Conrad had stopped his movements to study her face, looking for a sign that she was lying to cheer him up, and found none. “Do you really think that?”

“I do.” Her maple eyes were very clear. “The four of us have watched you hard at work for some time, Conrad. Trust in our assessment of your skills. So long as you don’t panic and let this nervousness get the better of you, you can certainly win against them. Both of them.”

Not only was she certain he would win, she was certain that he would win twice. The young soldier felt assured, especially after seeing the way his other three mentors were nodding along with what she said. It was not lost on him that all of them had assumed that he would fight both fights, even though he technically could be considered the victor and withdraw after winning just one. The nervousness forming in the pit of his stomach disappeared, to be replaced with anticipation and a slight antsy feeling as he trained and waited for the day of the fight to arrive.

Meanwhile, Liam and Ilia had taken charge of explaining things to Jeorge and Aleron. Not wanting to go against Conrad’s wishes, they had kept things simple: Conrad had intervened when he saw the two knights picking on a servant, and the confrontation had boiled down into a fight. Nothing more needed to be said; Aleron had only nodded and instructed them to spread the word that the Castle Guard should support Conrad however they could.

They had half-expected their Captain to be a little upset that they hadn’t reported this to him in advance, but Aleron proved surprisingly understanding. He’d only looked gravely at Ilia and Liam, standing in front of his desk with respectful but tentative expressions, and nodded with a soft “you’ve worked hard” before sending them on their way and sending a message to Astra to let her know that he wanted to speak with her after the duel was over.

She could hardly wait for that conversation.

“The Captain knows more than he lets on,” Jeorge had told them. “But he understands that growth requires trials. He won’t intervene, so do your best. Even if it doesn’t show on his face, he’s secretly rooting for you, too.”

After hearing that the object of his admiration was cheering for him, Conrad’s enthusiasm reached unprecedented levels. He was so excited and worked so hard in preparation that Liam had to recruit Rain’s help to practically wrestle the younger man into taking a break.

The maid Conrad had saved was called Shula, and she and Astra became quite friendly with one another after the events of that day. To repay him for helping her, Shula insisted on cooking Conrad a good, hearty meal the night before the duel, to make sure he was at full strength. Astra, who enjoyed cooking, had volunteered to help (as well as oversee and make sure no one tried to slip anything odd into the young man’s food).

Shula, despite her low position, turned out to be a vivacious and plain-spoken young woman with a clear outline of her own life and the things she wanted to accomplish. Her hands were deft, her tongue swift, and the two women had a great deal of fun discussing a number of topics while they worked. The maid had very bold opinions and was not afraid to share them, and was fascinated with Astra’s unique and sometimes even controversial take on the subjects of their discussion. She didn’t shy away from Shula’s frank and harsh opinion of their monarchy, and even added in some thoughts of her own. Astra, in turn, was able to speak freely and as informally as she pleased, feeling comfortable with someone of a similar status. There was a gap between their ages, but it was not very large, and Shula’s playful, spirited attitude made her feel older than she actually was. Astra personally felt that Shula and Ilia, who were similar in many ways, would get along very well with one another.

Conrad had practically inhaled the meal they’d made, enthusiastically throwing out compliments between every other bite until Shula had told him, in no uncertain terms, to stop talking and focus on eating. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere if you choke,” she’d informed him with a superior air, and Conrad had blushed and lowered his head to focus on his food while hearing his mentors start to howl with laughter.