“How did you…” Artemisia trailed off, not sure where to begin. “You knew I was meeting Georgio?”

“Why do you look so aghast?” Christopher said, examining his gloves. “Aren’t you glad I came to save you?”

“Save me?” Artemisia raised an eyebrow. “Were you listening at the door or something, choosing the perfect moment to step in?”

“I admit I hesitated for a minute or so outside the inn, but I could hear the commotion through the windows, and I entered as quickly as I could.”

Indeed, one of the windows was cracked open, something Artemisia had not noticed before.

Artemisia finally laid the poker aside. “Thank you,” she said quietly. I probably would have been fine, but… it did feel nice to have someone come to my aid.

“Say that again? Louder, perhaps?” Christopher held his hand to his ear.

“In your dreams,” Artemisia scoffed, before remembering why she’d been so shocked. “Anyway, why are you here? Did you follow me? How did you know? Tell me, what gave it away?”

Christopher laughed, crossing his arms. “You think I wouldn’t see through your scheming? I’ll explain in the carriage.”

Christopher had noticed something amiss when Artemisia had shown an unusual interest in Fernstal, and fully cottoned on once she’d made the excuse to leave the party early. From then on, it had been a simple thing to trail her to Fernstal and discover her clandestine meeting with Georgio Gloriosa.

Hearing this, Artemisia made a face. “I thought I’d been more subtle than that.”

“I’m your brother – of course I noticed,” replied Christopher. “Emile is none the wiser, however.”

Artemisia went quiet, mulling something over in her mind.

What’s she going to say now? Ever since her accident and memory loss, she’s not been as predictable as she used to be. Now she has a habit of uttering the most unexpected things.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” she finally asked in a small voice, fidgeting with her hands. Christopher almost laughed, suddenly reminded of a much younger Artemisia.

“No,” he said, serious once again. “The less people know of your pretend dalliance with the Gloriosa scoundrel, the better.”

“Oh.” She sighed, her expression softening. “I’d prefer it that way too.”

“I think Mother would have quite the fit if she found out.”

Artemisia blanched. “Yes, I can see that.” A pause. “How do you think our father would react?”

Ah, she always did care about how Father saw her, as much as she pretended not to. “Oh, I think he’d probably laugh it off. He wouldn’t approve, but you know how he is.”

“I, um, don’t actually.”

“Ah.” Damn it Topher, you idiot. Got to run your mouth like that, haven’t you. Christopher itched at his chin. “He considers the Lindt name immune to slander, and claims we may act however we please without consequence.”

Artemisia nodded. “He’s said something similar before. I understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t say I completely agree.”

“Yes, I follow the same train of thought. Nobody would dare slander us to our face, but I know gossip about us will be rife behind closed doors. In fact, we are scrutinised all the more because of our status.”

“It’s not easy being part of a ducal family,” Artemisia mused, only half talking to Christopher.

He looked out of the window towards the fields he knew they would be passing through, although the knife edge of a moon made it difficult to make out anything. “I suppose, but imagine if we were the children of a farmer. You would likely already be married with a baby or two by now.”

Artemisia shuddered. “No way!”

Christopher laughed. “When did you become so against marriage and children? It’s not that bad, I’ll tell you.”

“When I lost my memory, that’s when,” Artemisia retorted, although there was no bite in her bark. “Emile is nice though, so I’ll give you a pass on that.”

She’s become much more direct since her accident… although I won’t say I consider that entirely a bad thing. “I’m glad you think of her kindly.”

Artemisia smiled. “I can’t believe I wasn’t fond of her before. She’s been an invaluable help.”

“She has a gift for teaching. I’ve been teasing her that we won’t need to hire a governess for Elspeth – she can do it all herself.”

“I think exactly the same! She’s so good at explaining, she’s patient but also pushes you when it’s needed, and she knows exactly when to compliment or criticise you!” Artemisia said brightly.

“Wow Arte, you really do like her.”

Artemisia flushed, drawing back in her seat. “Sorry, I got carried away. I spoke without thinking.” She looked pointedly out of the window, the conversation grinding to a halt.

I didn’t mean it in a bad way, but she always has to search a conversation for an insult. Christopher sighed, and let the silence carry on. In some ways she’s changed, but in others she is exactly the same.

“My lady,” Elise began, poking her head into Artemisia’s rooms. “Were you expecting a visitor today?”

Artemisia put down the embroidery that she’d been battling with for the last half-an-hour. “No, why?”

“The Lady Hilda der Gild, daughter of Count Erion, has arrived. She claims that you invited her at Lady Selwyn’s soirée last night.”

“Hilda der Gild?” Artemisia echoed. “I don’t… wait. Damn it! I forgot!” The green-haired girl that almost cried!

“My lady! Language!” Elise gasped, but Artemisia was already striding across the room to her wardrobe.

“Elise, can you ask for a parlour to be prepared? The one in the new wing, that gets the afternoon sun. And can you help me pick a suitable dress?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll be back in a moment!”

Somehow, it only took fifteen minutes for the room to be prepared and Artemisia to get ready.

“Apologies for the wait, Hilda.” Artemisia entered the room with a maid pushing a tea tray behind her.

“No, Artemisia, it’s my fault for arriving with so little notice,” Hilda said, rising from where she’d been perched awkwardly on the edge of a chair. “I should have sent a servant ahead, but my eagerness was just so great that I… well…” She let out a breathy giggle. “My apologies.”

The two sat, and this time Artemisia allowed Hilda to pour the tea.

“How is your family?” Hilda asked.

“They’re quite well. How about yours?”

“Oh, I had quite the argument with Heidi this morning! She came down to breakfast in one of my dresses – the cotton with the red ribbons. She’d taken it from my wardrobe without my knowing, and I was not having it!” Hilda paused, looking at Artemisia expectantly.

“Oh dear,” Artemisia said to appease her. “What happened next?”

“Well, I strode up to her, and told her, ‘Heidi, if you do not go and take that dress off right now, I will go into your room with my scissors and cut all your favourite gowns to shreds.’”

“Oh my, really?” Artemisia took a sip of her tea. I thought she was a bit of a wet blanket, but not with her sister it seems.

“Yes! She steals my clothes all the time! I’ve quite had enough!” Hilda laughed. “And so had Mother, apparently, as she then told us both to stop arguing and for Heidi to go upstairs and change. Oh, Heidi gave me such a glare. And then, she wouldn’t stop knocking my arm whilst I was trying to eat. I almost spilled jam on myself. It’s a good thing I didn’t, as I love this dress so – almost as much as the one with red ribbons, and…”

Artemisia zoned out as Hilda prattled on about the inconsequential happenings of her morning, leading up to the very moment that she had entered the room they were currently sitting in.

“But I’m so sorry, I’ve spoken too freely. You know you can interrupt me if you find me boring, Artemisia.”

“That would be rude of me,” Artemisia replied, despite internally wishing she’d done that several minutes before.

Why does she look shocked? Was me saying that so odd? And now she looks like she’s thinking about something.

“Artemisia…” Hilda began, setting her teacup down and leaning forward. “Pardon my forwardness, but is everything well with you? You’re much more… subdued than normal. Something bad has happened, has it not?”

Here we go again… why did I have to transmigrate into a character with such a vastly different personality to my own?