The moment Lady Fabienne entered, the room changed. Conversation didn’t stop, not truly. Silverware still clinked against porcelain, and nobles still smiled over half-finished glasses of wine, but something in the air sharpened.

Behind me, Buckley went still.

Penelope leaned closer, lowering her voice. “I don’t like that look,” she said.

Neither did I.

Fabienne swept into the room with Sir Walton at her side, Ruby and Evelyn following close behind in silk and jewels that caught the candlelight. Her gaze found me immediately. Then, slowly, she smiled.

“Princess Vivian,” she said smoothly as she approached our table. “What a pleasant surprise.”

I forced a smile. “Lady Fabienne.”

Her eyes moved first to Sophie, who seemed to shrink in her seat.

“My dear,” Fabienne said sweetly, “I was wondering where you had disappeared to.”

Sophie’s hands tightened in her lap. “I… I thought perhaps—”

“That you had found better company?” Fabienne finished for her.

Her eyes slid to Buckley next.

“And your maid, I do hope she’s been behaving since our last meal. One would hate for another accident.”

Buckley dipped her head with practiced calm, though I could see her shoulders tense.

“I serve Her Highness to the best of my ability.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Then her attention landed on Penelope.

“And this one?”

“My attendant from home.”

“How charming.”

Penelope gave her a bright smile. “I do try.”

Sir Walton let out a low laugh. “The servants grow bold.”

“You’ll find anyone in Her Highness’ company to be so.”

“They are loyal. That is more than can be said for many in this court.”

Fabienne’s brows lifted and a few nobles at the table went quiet. Yet she said nothing, merely took her place among them, and for the next half hour sat like a perfume that would not clear from the room.

Each remark was small enough to deny. A comment about Buckley’s place behind my chair, something about Penelope’s laugh carrying across the room, and a sweet little question to Sophie about whether she truly belonged among noble company.

Each one light, deliberate.

By the time the final course arrived, Sophie looked close to tears again, while Penelope had gone uncharacteristically quiet. Even Buckley’s composure had turned rigid.

Then, breaking through the laughter of the accompanying nobles, Fabienne said, “It’s remarkable how quickly one poor choice of company can affect so many lives at once. Wouldn’t you say so, Your Highness?”

I set my fork down.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

The table fell silent.

“Then allow me a private word to elaborate further. Alone, if you will.”

Buckley leaned in. “My Lady, it’s alright—”

“Do you always let your servants choose for you?” Fabienne cut in smoothly. “If you’re having trouble with them talking back, I have no qualms keeping them in line for you.”

That was enough.

I rose from my chair. “Where do you wish to speak?”

“Follow me.”

Behind me, Buckley spoke under her breath. “My lady, please don’t go alone.”

I glanced back. Sophie looked frightened, Penelope looked furious, and Fabienne was waiting. If I refused, she would keep circling them all night.

I drew in a slow breath. “I’ll return shortly.”

Buckley’s expression darkened, but she stepped back.

Fabienne turned and led me from the room. I followed her from the dining hall and into one of the quieter corridors beyond it, where the noise of the dinner faded behind thick stone walls. The further we walked, the colder the air seemed to grow.

My hands curled tightly at my sides as Wulfric’s words echoed in my head: They’ll be testing you, seeing if you’re worth something. Show them you’re not.

I stayed quiet.

Fabienne slowed near a darkened alcove where only a single candle burned low in its iron sconce. The flame trembled, throwing long shadows across the walls.

She turned to face me. For a moment, she simply looked at me, her expression unreadable. Then the corner of her mouth lifted.

“The king probably told you,” she said smoothly, “that we’d be poking at you.”

A chill ran through me.

“Seeing if you’re worth anything. If I’m being honest, I didn’t see much at all. But Father,” she said, drawing the word out with a trace of annoyance, “seems convinced that you’re worth something.”

My stomach tightened.

“He has an idea in motion,” she went on, “one that he claims requires your help.”

I finally lifted my chin.

“Why should I help either of you?”

The question hung in the dark. For a moment, there was only silence. Then a voice answered from the shadows behind her.

“Because,” it said, low and smooth, “you don’t have a choice.”

Every bit of warmth left my body. I turned sharply and a figure stepped forward from the darkness at the far end of the corridor.

Feverent Wells.

The candlelight caught the sharp edge of his jaw and the cold gleam in his eyes.

Fabienne watched me carefully, satisfaction flickering across her face.

Wells took another step closer.

“You’ve done an admirable job,” he said almost conversationally, “playing the part.”

My pulse thundered in my ears and my breath caught in my throat. Yet, I forced myself to speak.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His expression barely changed.

“No?” he said.

Another step.

“Then perhaps I should address you properly.”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“Miss Winslet.”