“I’m afraid not in here, miss. You could try the stables?”

Em took the advice and went to the stables. It was considerably calmer out there. First she visited her pony, stroking the creature’s face as it stuck its head through the gate and nickered at her.

“Sorry, I forgot to bring a treat,” she said, stroking its nose.

It made her giddy to touch it. Even though she had Emmaline’s memories, it wasn’t the same as making her own. And knowing that this animal was hers… She was glad she was still asleep.

“Soon, you and I will go for a ride,” she whispered.

The pony seemed fine, so she walked up and down the aisle. Inspecting each of the huge horses closely. Since the household also had an active knighthood, there were quite a lot of horses.

She was on number 12 when she heard Felix’s voice outside.

“Sir Doyle! I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

Em stiffened. Then in a panic, she ran into the nearest open stall and closed the door as quietly as she could. She expected Felix to leave, heading toward the house, but instead he entered the stables.

“Do you have some news for me?”

“Yes, young master.”

Em peeked through the cracks of the stall. Trying to see the two men as they walked down the aisle and stopped three horses away. Just out of sight but not out of earshot.

“So, what is my brother up to? Is he on his way?”

“He’ll be delayed by a day or two. I’m not sure he’ll make it to the memorial.”

“Damn it! I need him to be here!”

“I know. We’re doing the best we can, sir.”

“If this doesn’t go to plan, then everything else will be shot. Do you understand what that means for your promotion, Sir Doyle?”

“Yes, sir, I understand.”

“What needs to happen for my brother to make it?”

“Her Highness the Crown Princess made the delay. No one knows her purpose other than the young master.”

Felix swore, and Em’s ears pricked.

The Crown Princess.

That’s right. She was already engaged to the Crown Prince, aka, Thiago Cyrin. The worst protagonist ever.

What did she want with Emmaline’s oldest brother?

“Do you think they’re plotting something together?”

The other man didn’t answer, and Felix swore again.

“No. No, this is Flint we’re talking about. The man’s square as a desk. Where did she summon him to?”

“The Palace I believe, sir.”

“Then there’s still hope.”

She heard them moving toward her. Leaning against the stall wall, she squinted through a small crack.

And, with no warning, sneezed.

For an instant, there was absolute silence.

Then she yelped in surprise as the stall door abruptly swung open and a hand grabbed her by the nape of the neck. She struggled, but it was hopeless. The big man who grabbed her dumped her at Felix’s feet.

She looked up into the face that gave her such mixed emotions.

For an instant, the true Felix glared at her. She felt the glare like a stab and it twisted Emmaline’s betrayed and unhappy heart.

Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. She could almost read his thoughts in his expression.

I don’t have time to be playing with the little fool.

“Emmaline, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see my pony.”

“Really?” He pointed. “She’s that way.”

Her shoulders dropped in annoyance. “Obviously I hid from you as soon as I heard you.”

He sighed again. Irritated. Visibly trying to keep his cool.

Again, he pointed. “Out.”

Cautiously, she glanced at the other man, the knight who dragged her out of hiding. Then she backed up to the wall so she faced the two men as she inched around the murderous brother.

“Emmaline, go!”

She bolted for the outside door.

Once outside, she turned sharply left and climbed over the corral fence. Then walked along the backside of the stalls and stopped at a stall door, where she estimated the two men to be. There, she pressed her ear to it.

“... rid of the nuisance?”

“Easy, Doyle. Once Flint is out of the picture, I can just hand her over to the Marquis.”

“I thought you already forged his signature.”

She wrinkled her forehead. They forged some marquis’s signature? Or someone else’s?

“Yes. And no one will question the signature once he’s dead.…”

There was a pause.

“What is it, young master?”

“I just had an idea of how to make sure he shows up. Come. I need you to deliver a letter.”

Em hurried back to the corral fence and crouched down behind a trough. Watching the two men leave the stables and walk back toward the house.

When she was sure it was safe, she stood up. Tapping the fencepost, she looked toward their backs.

So.

Felix not only arranged the murders of the Baron and his wife, but was actively working to sell off his little sister. In the story, he was successful. But by then, he knew Emmaline’s talent and could bargain her straight into the Crown Prince’s harem.

Of course, she already knew he was intending to kill the other brother.

Which marquis was he talking about?

There were four Duchies and each of them had at least one marquis.

The title had become more honorary as the borders of the Empire pushed away from their territories. But they still had significant power on the Emperor’s council because they could still legally raise a battalion of 600. With or without their duke’s direct involvement.

In fact…

If she remembered correctly, the recent wars with the ‘Triad Rebellion’ had led to the bestowal of several more of these titles and lands.

Currently, Emmaline’s oldest brother, Flint, was up to inherit not only her father’s title but a marquis’ title as well.

Flint put Felix in charge of the barony out of necessity. Between military activities and his responsibilities over the newly conquered lands and its people, he was simply too busy to oversee the barony himself.

By being born second, Felix was denied the family title. And the best he could hope for was a viscount title, but that meant sucking up to his brother to get a recommendation.

And a viscount, of course, didn’t come with land and power built in. If he wanted that, he had to grovel even more.

Too much work for too little reward. All of it must’ve been infuriating to him.

As she pondered, Em suddenly understood what she missed before.

“He needed Flint’s signature,” she murmured to herself.

She didn’t know why that surprised her.

Of course Flint Grimshaw was her actual guardian. Not Felix.

But from her memories as Emmaline, she thought the inheritance and the guardianship had been separated. Probably because Flint had never acted like a guardian.

Too busy amassing his own power to bother with the unloved little sister.

A depressed lump dropped into her stomach. For a moment, she stared at an ant crawling across the fence post.

She missed Maddie. When was she going to wake up?

Shaking it off, she climbed the fence and went back inside the stable.

At the far end of the building, she heard someone moving around. He was murmuring and muttering under his breath as he tried to get a big animal to drink warm water.

The horse was not having it.

The creature turned its head away. Kicking at its own belly as it made strained, whinnying noises.

“Come on, young buck,” the stable hand murmured. “Just a little water. No, no, you can’t go rolling around. I know it hurts, but you must stay upright if you don’t want your insides to turn.”

The stable hand was too engrossed with what he was doing to notice Em as she crept up to the stall’s open side. Peeking at the animal.

The whinnies sounded like the horse version of whimpers. Poor thing.

It knocked the bowl of water out of the man’s grip. While the man bent over to retrieve the bowl, Em reached through the slats and put a hand on the creature’s side.

Healing was the easiest of all powers to do.

It didn’t require a particular element. (Though some people speculated it would be greatly enhanced by water or light elements).

The reason it was so easy was because all one had to do was push their mana into the living thing. From there, the person’s or creature’s body would automatically use that mana to restore health.

When Em talked to Maddie about it, they decided it must be something to do with DNA. The mana just followed DNA instructions and the body healed itself. Ta-da!

There was a problem with healing magic, though.

And it was why she kept out of sight of the stable hand while she concentrated on pushing mana. He would stop her, push her away, do something to keep her from doing what she was doing.

Healing magic was painful.

Excruciatingly painful. A thousand bee stings and a snake’s venom rotting your flesh, painful.

So healing was considered an absolute last resort.

You didn’t do it unless you wanted to risk dying of shock instead of from the actual injury or illness.

And by the time you’re desperate enough to try, you’re probably dead either way.