The Fjerdan & The Kerch

the fjerdan & the kerch

kaz brekker x reader - the fjerdan & the kerch

summary: kaz and matthias butt heads over someone they both care for

warnings: roughly follows parts of the ice court plot, matthias x childhood best friend!reader, fjerdan!reader

word count: 2.5k

“Lucky for me, I’ve got another Fjerdan to confirm your information.”

As Y/N climbed the stairs to the deck, her palm sliding along the wooden railing, she could hear Kaz’s gritty voice booming from above. She’d joined the job at the last moment after a last ditch effort of begging Kaz to allow her to join. Of course he was hesitant bringing along someone so fresh, new and untested, but relying upon the intelligence of a Fjerdan fugitive was not something Dirtyhands wanted to do. And so here Y/N was, on a bobbing ship bound for the country she left so long ago.

“Don’t you trust me demjin?” The question was a snarl, one of an animal bound and caged, silently fearful of there being no escape in sight.

As Y/N stepped onto the main deck, light pouring over her form, she felt as though she were basking in the feeling of home. That rough accent traveling on the high sea winds was a jolting reminder of home, of the family she once had. Of the small village she’d once lived in, just a few miles from the coast, wedged between frozen rivers and thick pine forests. She could nearly smell the pine sap in the air, the chilling breeze seeping into her bones.

And as she opened her eyes, she swore she was hallucinating for a moment. Squinting at the blond burly man, she allowed her gaze to roam over his face. Those features were foreign yet so familiar. On the outside was a war hardened soldier, fighting for a country he blindly pledged loyalty too. Fighting too young. But underneath, Y/N could still peer at the little boy she had grown up beside. The lopsided grin on the squarely set jaw, now clenched so tightly he looked like he might snap his own teeth off. Ignoring the shaven head, she could still remember the wavy blond locks he’d had, that seemed to shine like gold during the summer months.

It was Matthias and somehow at the same time, not him at all.

Y/N stood frozen, simply staring at her childhood friend who stared back with a sense of disbelief. All she wanted to do was run to his side, fall to her knees, and hug him until her arms gave out. But she couldn’t. They weren’t little naive children anymore, running through a field of snow as reindeer migrated through the village. Their grubby hands no longer sought out freshly baked cookies on the countertops. She no longer braided her hair like her mother had done, no longer placed a ruby red ribbon in the braid like the one Matthias had given her.

Deep inside, Y/N knew they both changed that night the Grisha had struck their village. An eye for an eye seemed to be the one thing shared between drüskelle and drüsje. When her father had been struck down, heart stopped in his own chest, her mother had fled with Y/N’s hands in hers. Running far far away from that quaint village. Away from their cozy patchwork quilts, made of whatever pieces of spare fabric could be found at the time of their making. Away from the tiny cabin that had been their home, that had provided shelter during blizzards, warmth during the winters. Away from her father lying dead on the ground, eyes blankly staring up at the sky. Away from Matthias, wherever he was.

Staring into his eyes now, she knew something horrible had happened. The blues within his eyes had once reminded her of the spring melt, when clear blue water came streaming down from the snow-capped mountains. It was the sign of new life, of rebirth in Fjerda. Those soft blues were like the little tiny wildflowers that would sprout over the tundra, only to be grazed by horses or livestock. But now, there was no hint of softness in those blue irises. They were hard. Solid like ice that could run for miles underfoot. No matter how long you chiseled away, it was ice. Endless ice. That pale, nearly white, blue - unrelenting to any outside force.

“Y/N,” Matthias breathed out, barely audible over the howling winds.

But Kaz heard that single word, his hawk-like eyes flashing between the two Fjerdans. His jaw was set tight, muscles twitching every few seconds. “You two know each other?”

Nodding, Y/N took another step forward until she was standing by Kaz’s side, whose long coat flapped wildly in the wind like a large black sail, pushing them towards the icey country.

Matthias’s eyes stirred with something Y/N couldn’t quite place her finger on. Was it concern, a longing for their childhood, happiness over their reunion? And when she glanced at Kaz, she couldn’t describe his expression either. His dark eyes, like billowing storm clouds, seemed to swirl with anger, resentment… jealousy even.

“We grew up together in Fjerda,” Y/N clarified, reminiscing with nearly a smile upon her face. “His house was just a few down from mine.”

“How do you know this demjin?” Matthias’s gaze bore into hers as he questioned her in Fjerdan, voice heavily laced with concern.

Heart thudding in her chest, Y/N fumbled over her own words. It felt wholly impossible to describe whatever her relationship was with the Bastard of the Barrel. It wasn’t friendship yet it also wasn’t more… just that odd inbetween. Mutual appreciation?

In Fjerdan, she mumbled, “I met him in Ketterdam. He’s taught me the ropes.”

Scrunching up his nose and crossing his arms, Kaz harshly snapped, “I am right here, you know.”

But the two Fjerdans pointedly ignored him, now in the midst of a silent argument, staring at each other with fiery eyes as they did as children.

“He is not good for you.”

Y/N scoffed as her hands fell into place on her hips. “And you think you know what’s good for me? Years after we went our different paths.”

“He is an evil man,” Matthias snarled. “I can see it in those soulless eyes.”

“Don’t you even start!”

“I was imprisoned, Y/N! All because his Grisha pet claimed me a slaver.”

The last word of Matthias’s proclamation was spoken in clear Ravkan, as perfect a pronunciation as the Fjerdan man could muster. It was a clear message to Kaz as to the topic the two were discussing in their native language. Matthias’s eyes gazed at hers, eyebrows slightly furrowed as though he were begging. Begging for her to see his side, to understand why he was so concerned.

But Y/N simply shook her head, glancing at Kaz and speaking in Ravkan, “There must have been a misunderstanding.”

Matthias’s face grew red, the shade of beets her mother had harvested in the summer months. Standing up, he furiously reached towards Y/N fumbling to grab ahold of her wrist. “These Ravkan and Kerch people are horrible.”

“That is quite enough from you, Helvar,” Kaz snapped once more and with a swing of his cane, brought it roughly down upon the Fjerdan man’s shoulder.

The first day had been rough, taut tension rippling through the air between the Fjerdan and the Kerch as Y/N now liked to call them. The two men that marked the two different lives she had lived. Matthias with the naive girl who not once even wondered of a life outside her little Fjerdan village. The girl who made sticks into swords and rocks into cannon balls. And they’d played on those snowy fields, each commanding their own invisible army and conducting their own duels. Of course, like the little gentleman he was, a quiet and reserved boy, far too timid for the games the other boys played, Matthias had always let her win.

And now there was the current version of her, the one whose life was marked by Kaz. That naive little girl had no clue what to do when arriving upon the docks at Ketterdam, her mother gravely ill from the tedious journey. And when she was left all alone, stranded and lonely, not a person to turn to for comfort on those grimy streets, was when Kaz appeared. Practically a knight in shining armor, someone to guide her through the city that rode that fine line between life and death.

In a way, he’d saved her. Silently directed her along the easier path, placing a few kruge in her pocket when she needed it. Whatever she needed, he provided some way, somehow. That was when her loyalty turned away from Fjerda and it’s gleaming snowy fields, her mind turned away from Matthias. And after that, it was Kaz… just Kaz.

Now as the ship cut through the harsh waters, ever heading more north, she could hardly stand the two men glaring daggers at each other. Part of Y/N thought, if given the chance, they’d willingly throttle each other to death. It would simply be a matter of who could throw the other overboard first. And as mildly entertaining as it sounded, that was one thing she did not want to witness.

By her side, Kaz fidgeted with a large padlock, tossing the rusted object between his hands as he worked those fingers, picking and relocking it. He liked to think he was a figure of confidence going into a job, the commander standing proud at the front of an army, head held high and shoulders pinned back. But really, he was a bit of an anxious mess. Everyone around just pointedly avoided the topic. Kaz always had his thing going. Something to work with his hands, something to exercise his brain.

“Can you show me?” Y/N found herself asking. For the longest time she admired the ways he could work a lock as though it were an extension of himself. How with just a few gentle clicks, like a puppet master pulling strings, anything would open to do Kaz’s bidding.

Kaz nodded, one corner of his lips turning up into what could resemble a smug smile. Outstretching her hand, she wrapped her fingers around the padlock he’d dropped into her palm. The metal was smooth under her touch, polished but tarnished by the rough patches of rust. It was like a little secret held within her hand.

Matthias, whose head was turned towards the churning waves, staring off into the distance for any sign of the icey coastline, chirped sarcastically, “In Fjerda, breaking into locked places is a crime. Is it not that way in Kerch?”

Y/N sent a scathing glare in his direction, just like how she used to when they were children. A smug grin sprouted upon Matthias’s lips, the same boyish look he had as a child. Even back then, they butted heads - the type of friendship anomaly where both were so different, yet so frustratingly alike. A sudden urge rose inside Y/N to poke her tongue out at the boy, but she didn’t. Instead, she rolled the padlock in her hands, cradling it like a precious jewel.

“Picking locks is an art,” Kaz began, folding both gloved hands in his lap as he learnt forward. “It takes time and practice, but it’s all in the hands. Locks are no different from people. With just a nice, light touch, a flick of the fingers, you can bend the object to your will.”

Gazing up into Kaz’s eyes, she thought he was more like the locks than anything else. Vehemently guarded and yet, the softness was still there. Way down beneath the tough exterior, vulnerable secrets held closely to the heart. If only she could scratch away at that, expose the truth beneath so she could know. Know Kaz for who he truly was, not this scary legend around him. But rather the true Kaz, the part of him that reigned over the motivations, the values, the reasons why he did what he did.

That was all she wanted in the world. To get to know Kaz. To learn the secrets of his trade, model herself in his image. To be talented enough to pick locks, twirl guns, and throw knives. To be someone worthy of being a Crow.

Each of the members of their group took turns peering through those glasses to examine the prisoner wagon rattling along the road on its way to the palace gates.

“This is genius,” Jesper breathed out, his eyes wide as he stared through the glasses.

All of them were jittery, adrenaline running through their veins that was nearly as cold as the Fjerdan ice. It chilled them to their core, but also stirred something inside. A deep wanting, a desire to make this whole job a success. To walk out of Fjerda in one piece, return to Ketterdam where their hands would be full of kruge.

“This is idiotic,” Matthias grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. His nose wrinkled up in disgust at the rather unappealing food placed in front of him, but Y/N would be willing to bet her life, some of that disgust was also meant for Kaz.

“How so?” Inej inquired as her thin frame practically leaned over the railing, staring at the prisoner wagon that slowed to a roll by the guard’s station.

“It would be,” the Fjerdan man admitted. “If Kaz knew everything about the Ice Court.”

An icey silence fell over the group as Matthias looked happily smug, a devilish grin upon his lips as he stared at the high walls of the Ice Court. The Crows all glanced at one another, fear sparking in their eyes at the thought of the Fjerdan destroying their heist.

Clenching her fists, Y/N sat up higher in her seat as she stared down her childhood friend. “Matthias if you don’t tell us, I swear to Djel I’ll-”

“He’s bluffing,” Kaz casually announced, wholly unbothered by Matthias’s little drama show.

“What?”

“Your dear Matthias wouldn’t risk withholding information to put you in danger. And he’s certainly not clever enough to think of blackmail.”

“Demjin,” he muttered under his breath, not daring to glance at Kaz’s face.

“Can you two just stop it?”

Both men practically jumped in their seats like nervous rabbits, staring at Y/N, and everyone else curiously watched the confrontation.

“I can’t go on with the two of you at each other’s throats,” Y/N begged, glancing between both of them. Matthias shifted uneasily in his seat, glancing back yet again at the large stone walls lying just down the road.

“A truce, please? You don’t have to like each other, or even think of one another as friends. But please just stop snapping.”

Tense silence hovered in the air as Kaz and Matthias both eyed one another, their jaws tense and heads held highly with confidence as if both were Kings on a chessboard. But ultimately both nodded, giving in to Y/N’s plea for the same reason - to please her. Neither wanted to see her upset, eyes wide and voice wavering as it was now. They both treasured the times when she smiled so widely that her eyes sparkled. Both aimed to see her happy, as carefree as a butterfly crafted of the most intricate hues and patterns fluttering in the wind.

Perhaps the Fjerdan and the Kerch weren’t so different after all.

Kaz Taglist

@oliviasslut @ameliathackray @purplewcrld @subjecta13-thefangirl @aysegust @amberash05 @beatitlikeabongodrum @mindofasupernova @kaitlyn2907 @renataligorio @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ladydaemon @just-a-new-start @nlnlpanini @kaqua @chaoticneutral3 @thedelusionreaderbitch @spawn0fsatan @vintagebitc @itsnotquimey @datrie @aliiiyyaaah @morganayenneferburnham @magravenwrites @kykymyeon @fandomstuffff @whatiswrongwithpeople @bilesxbilinskixlahey @imagines-and-preferences1216 @dreamer-writer-fangirl @alice-the-nerd @rika90 @for-bebbanburg @ancientbeing10 @everwhovian @theoroseo @jaystaysinside @moony-is-bae @ms-awkward @glowstick-lesbian @xetherealbeautyx @lillypotter00 @black-kitten-imagines @shortimaginewriter @ohfuk @aleksanderwh0r3 @yummyfanta @gallysonegoodlung @bicyhot1 @notplutos

The Accidental Princess (Part 10)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: Kit learns the truth

Word Count: 13.9k words

Warnings: angst, a bit of violence, mentions of poison and murder, period-typical misogyny. if i missed out on something lmk :)

A/N: Hey, everyone! This is just mostly blurb and more of Prince Kit's POV so I hope it's not too boring. Thank you to the people still reading this! There's still one more chapter before the last one so just hang on! As always, your thoughts, comments, suggestions, requests (and reblogs) are very much welcome! Thank you to the people taking their time reviewing each and every chapter! Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy Part 10 of The Accidental Princess!

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

Kit always knew there was something about the Grand Duke that did not sit well with him. The man was too pompous for his own good, too proud of achievements he was yet to show, and he always had a menacing air about him. Kit only thought it was the Prussian pride in him but it was something else entirely.

The man killed his mother.

His mother, who the kingdom loved for her benevolence and service, who the kingdom mourned for her sudden passing. His mother did not die because of the heat of the sun. She did not pass for no reason.

She passed because she was killed by a foreigner in her own kingdom.

I have reason to believe Queen Amalie’s death was not accidental.

You suspected. Of all people in the palace, all the people who were present when it had happened, it was you who suspected. You, who did not know his mother, who had only been in the palace because of your accidental marriage to him. You, who started to uncover the events of her death because you were suspicious of tea leaves—of all things!—and had gone missing because of it.

You were missing. All because you saved his father from suffering the same fate his mother had.

His father. The Grand Duke used the hemlock—which you had thought was intended for you—on his father!

His father trusted the man, the very same man who murdered his queen.

And for what? You did not know—you would not know—because only the nobleman can answer that question.

Kit always thought him jealous of his mother’s achievements. It was apparent that she had passed more laws as compared to the man who boasted he had been a royal adviser to one of the princes in his country. The late Queen Amalie passed laws that benefitted the people and they all loved her for it. Whilst the Grand Duke had not but one law that he had passed and it did not bode well to the people of the kingdom . The man’s jealousy was as pernicious as the poison he placed on the queen’s tea.

The prince’s hands fisted your letter. Jealousy, he thought angrily. The man was jealous and he decided that the best way to have dealt with the emotion was to have her killed.

Kit strode towards the door without a word. He had every intention of making the nobleman pay for his actions. He killed his mother, he attempted to murder his father, and he had a hand in your vanishing. The man must be dealt with immediately!

His hand wrapped around the doorknob and pulled it open, only for it to shut close. He glared at his cousin, who was now looking at him with alarmed eyes.

“Cousin! What are you doing?” Louis asked. His hand, which had pushed the door shut, was still against it.

“What does it look like I am doing!” He boomed in anger. “He singlehandedly hurt my family! He must pay for his actions!”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” the duke asked, pushing the prince away from the door. “By killing him?”

“He killed my mother,” he declared angrily. “He must be held accountable for his heinous crimes.”

“This will only alarm the man, Kit,” Louis reasoned. “And think of diplomacy!”

Diplomacy? His cousin was absurd. The nobleman did not think of diplomacy when he deliberately poisoned the queen!

“Damn diplomacy!” the prince spat.

“No. You will not damn diplomacy,” his cousin told him. “We do not want to sour our relationship with Prussia because you decided to kill one of their citizens in your quest for vengeance.”

“But he hurt my family!” Kit exclaimed in disbelief of his cousin.

Louis had never been one to think of diplomacy when he dealt with his matters. Why now? Why was he to play by the rules when the Grand Duke did not.

Louis remained calm, however severe what had happened was. “Yes, he did. And we have proof. We have enough proof to accuse him of such.” When he saw the prince ready to rebut his reason, the duke clamped his hands on his shoulders and shook him in frustration. “Act rational, cousin! I understand that you had been wronged, as have all of us, but if you decide to plunge your sword in his heart, what then? Your anger only clouds your judgement.”

“My judgement is sound.” Kit pushed Louis away from him. “I say he dies.”

“And he will. In due time.”

Kit frowned at his cousin. In due time? He had taken his mother’s life long before her time! Who was Louis to tell when the right time was for the Grand Duke to die? All for diplomacy? Unless Louis was acting with the man…

He looked at the duke sharply, eyes accusatory and angry. “Why are you prolonging the inevitable for the man? Are you in league with him?”

His accusation caught the duke off-guard. He looked at his cousin with confusion as he reeled back. “I beg your pardon?” he lashed in surprise.

“It seems to me you are defending him!”

“And it seems to me you’re being an uncomprehending ass! Are you even hearing yourself, Kit? Me? In league with the man who killed your mother?”

“Yes, so he may bring over his nice that you so love. The same niece who is betrothed to me!” Kit should have seen that his cousin was jealous. He may be older and in possession of one of the oldest and grandest titles in the land but he was not a prince. And he was not betrothed to the Princess Chelina.

Louis glared at the mention of the princess. “Do not—”

“She agreed to be betrothed to me! She has agreed to marry me even before she had even met me! She desires to be queen to a land her uncle has already infiltrated! Her designs are the same as her uncle’s. If he is evil, so is she.” he declared, eyes challenging the glare from the duke.

“Her uncle’s actions are not her own.” He told him, his tone serious and grave. “Do not think her capable of such evil ideas!”

“Are you even thinking, Granville? You—”

“Yes, I am.” Louis ground out viciously. “I am thinking for the greater good of everyone. I demand satisfaction like you for what had happened, but I also demand that you do not question my allegiance because you must know I am loyal to you. Do not accuse me of scheming with the man because I am in love with his niece. If you would even think that I had a hand in killing your mother—my aunt!—then you are sorely mistaken. We grew together, Kit. That in itself would account for my loyalty to you and to your family.”

The duke advanced to his cousin and grabbed him by his coat so they saw eye to eye. “And if I let you act on your anger and kill the Grand Duke, what then? Only he knows where Y/N is. If you kill him, we might never see her ever again. And I know you cannot bear to think of that possibility.”

He pushed the prince away and huffed in frustration.

Louis’s tirade chastised him. Kit shrunk back and walked away from his cousin, only to sit heavily on a chair.

He was right. His anger only clouded his judgement, much like how his pain fogged his memory of your putting lavenders in your letters. If Kit had acted on his anger and killed the nobleman without hesitation, he knew he would be plagued with more answers than ever before and would have accomplished nothing. Diplomacy was only a reason for Louis to stop him from going after the nobleman’s neck. The duke was thinking much clearly than he was.

“Forgive me, cousin. I—I—I didn’t know what came over me.” Kit apologized, frowning at his own words and actions.

The duke heaved a deep, regretful sigh. “I understand your anger. I am angry too. The man did things that are inconceivable and for what?” Louis stood before his cousin, patting him on the shoulder. “You must keep a level head, cousin. It is for the best.”

Kit only nodded. “I just want all things to return as how they were,” he said. “I want my mother’s death avenged, my father to be well, and for Y/N to be found.” He swallowed a painfully thick lump in his throat. “Do you think we are not too late? For Y/N? Do you think he spared her?”

“I do not know,” Louis admitted quietly. “But I can promise you that I will deploy my best men to scour the kingdom for her. They will not stop until they find her… or her body.”

Kit did not like the thought of your corpse returning to him. There were a lot of unsaid words and actions not yet done between the two of you. He could not take it if you were dead. He did not think he would survive without you.

“But for now,” Louis said as Kit turned to him. “We must gather all evidence Y/N has stated in her letter. We need to prove his guilt. We would not want what she had worked so hard for to only be in vain.”

Kit merely nodded. “Yes.”

Louis patted his shoulder. “Good man.” He broke away from his cousin. “What’s our first order of business?”

Kit looked at the crumpled paper in his hand. You stated everything that was needed to indict the Grand Duke. They only need to follow through your orders. You were brilliant in your uncovering of this plot but he would rather you not pay for your life. He would do everything to have you back, including killing the nobleman responsible. If he lingered on his heartbreak and pain, he would not accomplish anything.

He rose from his seat, his resolve renewed. “We must talk to Captain Thibault about this so he may assist us. You send your men a missive while I tell the captain of what had happened. We will convene in my father’s chambers.”

He left his cousin’s room with purposeful strides, heading to his father. He instructed the footmen to send for Thibault and to not let the Grand Duke near his father’s chambers. Inside, the physician met him with no news of improvement on his father’s condition, only assuring him that he had expected the king to take an extended sleep after such an ordeal. Kit nodded and asked the man if your—and his—suspicions were correct.

“My findings, Your Royal Highness?” the doctor asked, unsure.

Kit gave a tight nod.

The physician opened his brown notebook and peered at what he had written during the night.

“Let me preface, Your Royal Highness, that there was no need for me to alarm you by having not told you of my findings last night. The worst was over and the king was saved.” He cleared his throat and read on. “The food contents the king had vomited were one and the same with the food that had been served during dinner. There is, however, the presence of an emetic that I had taken note of. The reason for the use of the emetic was to induce vomiting when one is poisoned with hemlock.”

But Kit was unfazed with the information since you had already discovered of it.

“And how did he get poisoned with the hemlock?” he asked instead.

The physician only regarded the prince with an odd look, at Kit’s being unbothered with the news, before he schooled his features. “The vegetable dish, Your Royal Highness. I had come down to the kitchens to inspect the food and found hemlock within the pantry. It is easily mistaken for parsnip because of how similar the roots are in appearance but it is in the stem that I had differentiated it with the poisonous herb. The king, your father, partook what he thought was parsnip and was immediately poisoned due to the large portion he had ingested. I had already disposed of the hemlock so there would be no other victims.”

Kit neared his father and watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His father had been near death if it weren’t for your quick thinking. The hemlock you thought was for you had been used on his father and the emetic you had bought saved his life.

Clearly, the Grand Duke wanted to rid of his father the way he did with his mother. Although, he did not know why the man would do such a thing. The king had given him a position among his council: a seat in his assembly upon the queen’s passing and the position’s vacancy. He even heeded his advice, despite the fact that since the arrival of the Grand Duke, the kingdom had fared poorer than before. He was already in a position of power.

What more did he want? Kit thought to himself.

He turned to the physician and said: “I need your trust, doctor. But before that, I need to know if you have no ill intention towards my father.”

“I do not wish the king ill, Your Royal Highness.” He told him earnestly.

Kit nodded. “I entrust my father’s life to you. We had not been fortunate to save my mother’s life and so, we shall take utmost care to save my father’s. What I will say must be kept in strict confidence. You shall only confide in the Captain of the Guards, the Duke of Granville, and I. Do you understand my words, sir?"

"Yes, Your Royal Highness. I am your humble servant.”

“Then know that you cannot trust the Grand Duke. You are to stay with my father until I tell you to leave. If you are given orders that did not directly come from me or the Duke of Granville or the Captain, then you are free to disregard them. Ours are the only orders you will heed.”

When the physician agreed, Kit set his plan into motion. He made a small office for himself near the door, barricading access to his father with the long table he asked to be brought over. Louis had returned some time after writing two missives: one to his men in Granville to search for you and the other to Prince Frederick of Prussia on behalf of Kit, asking for his presence so they may deal with matters regarding the Grand Duke’s punishment. Kit thanked him for his quick thinking.

Captain Thibault arrived a few moments after Louis. He looked concernedly at the prince when he saw the determined look upon his face. “What is the matter, Your Royal Highness?”

Kit passed the letter to the captain and said nothing more.

“Your mother was poisoned?” Thibault asked after he read through your letter.

“As was my father,” Kit said gravely. “Captain, I need your men to guard this room while my cousin and I gather the pieces of evidence Y/N had written down. I do not trust anyone else to do it but ourselves at the moment.”

Louis turned to his cousin, brows quirked as he recalled their earlier conversation. “Kit, you were insistent that I called for Y/N last night. How did you come about that?”

“A footman told her you summoned her to the library.” Kit answered.

“If I had called for Y/N, I would have sent my valet to collect her. Or myself since it is never a tedious task to come for my friend.” The duke turned to the Captain. “I fear we have a traitor amongst our midst, Captain.”

Kit was angered at Louis’s revelation. He turned to the physician and remembered the man’s finding of the poisonous root crop within the pantry. “I do not think the kitchen staff are unknowledgeable of which crops are poisonous and which are not. Have someone investigate the kitchens as well. The physician had seen hemlock in the pantry. I would assume it is not placed there deliberately.” Kit ordered the Captain. “Keep them in the dungeons so we may deal with them later.”

Thibault bowed slightly at the prince’s words. “While I understand your need for secrecy at a time like this, what you are attempting is dangerous.” He said when he handed the letter back to Kit. “The Grand Duke will surely hear of this.”

“Then we must take extra care when we gather the evidence. This cannot be known outside of this circle.” Kit said.

The Captain nodded. “While I believe Her Royal—Miss Y/N’s words to be true, we must go about this without bias. Her word is only as good as that in the face of the law. There is no weight to it until we find the first proof.”

“Of course,” Kit nodded. “Can we trust Abigail, Captain?”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.”

“Then have her look for the canister of tea leaves in her room. Tell her not to trust anyone for the task. She must be the one to do it and should only directly answer to any of us.”

Thibault bowed. Kit turned to his cousin.

“Find the book Y/N talks of. It should be in the library, along with my mother’s other botany and herbology books. Find a way for the Grand Duke to not be suspicious of you.”

“What will you do?” Louis asked as he readied himself.

“I will have a talk with the Princess Chelina. If she has an idea of Y/N’s whereabouts, then we may have need of her.”

“Do not accuse—”

Kit brought a hand up to stop the duke’s berating. “I will not accuse her of anything she is not,” the prince promised. “But if she so much as says she is a part of her uncle’s schemes, then I am sorry, cousin.”

Louis nodded grimly. “I understand. Do not hurt her.”

At Kit’s parting words, he and the captain left for their respective tasks. Kit gave instructions once more to the physician and the footmen stationed outside of his father’s room before he headed for the Princess of Zaragoza.

He found her in the sitting room with her maid. She had been playing her guitar and while she looked distraught at what had happened the night before, she looked oblivious of the revelations of the morning.

“Your Royal Highness,” Chelina said as she rose from her seat to curtsy.

“Princess,” he said as he gave her a bow. He dismissed her maid and closed the door, locking it from the rest of the palace. “There is a grave matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course.” She looked confused as she sat demurely on her seat. “How may I help you?”

Kit cleared his throat and paced the room as he considered how he was to go about the matter without alarming her. Having no other choice—and no time to waste—he asked her directly. “Why did you agree to this betrothal?”

The only indication of her surprise was the miniscule raise of her brow. “Because it is what is expected of me,” she said plainly.

“Surely I am not the only prince and kingdom who has offered for your hand.” Kit said as he stood before her. “Why did you choose me?”

She gave him a smile of amusement as she arranged herself in her seat. “I am flattered at your assumption that there had been others but there was only you. I had not been made aware of any other offers other than that of yours and your kingdom’s.”

He raised his brow at that. Only him? he thought to himself. She would have a multitude of offers just for her being Princess of Zaragoza alone.

“And who made this known to you?” he asked, although he had an inkling of who it was.

“My uncle, the Grand Duke.”

Of course. “What did he say the reason was for our betrothal?”

She looked at the prince peculiarly. “You had not asked me of this before. Is there a reason you are asking me now?"

"I would appreciate if you answer my question, Princess,” was all Kit said.

Her brow raised further but she replied to his query. “Very well. He said that your kingdom is bountiful and rich and it needed a royal from a family who knew what to do with its resources.”

He knew his kingdom was rich in resources but in the past year, there was a steep decline in the yield as compared to those of the years before. He had been privy to the kingdom’s accounts and he saw how the crops made for less than they had in the previous years. Taxes had been raised, much to the resentment of the citizens, and yet it had done nothing for the kingdom. Their other products had not been faring well and it was this that his father wanted to sell the mines.

The mines.

His mother was gifted, upon her marriage to his father, the mountain ridge that held the biggest mine in the kingdom. They had surveyed the mines, appraised its value, and found them to be worth more than all of the current products combined.

If Kit married Chelina, she would be gifted the mines, as was the tradition. And she could do as she pleased with them. She could sell them, with her uncle’s advise.

The Grand Duke had been pressuring his father to do the very thing. What was he to gain with them?

Unless he was to divert the money of its sale into his own account.

Kit had always been curious of the man’s sudden rise to more riches. He had said he merely brought over his money and treasures from Prussia into the kingdom. If he were to pocket the money from the sale of the mines, it would make him nearly equal in riches to the king.

It was a plausible thought. It did not seem beyond the man for him to do it. After all, he had murdered the queen.

“Did he tell you of our kingdom’s custom for its new queen?” Kit asked Chelina suddenly.

She shook her head. “No. He has told me nothing more than that. Other than, of course, that you are a kind prince and that I shall want nothing more.”

“Then you have no idea of the gift you would receive when you are to become queen?”

She shook her head once more.

“You will be receiving lands. Those lands, you may do as you wish with them. They shall be under your power and jurisdiction.” Kit said. “These will include the ridges and the islands away from the mainland. Any product from there shall be under your direction. I will have no say in them.”

“Am I to believe these lands are valuable?”

“Yes.” He nodded at the bracelet on her wrist, similar in style as the one you had but with a different stone. “All the materials in your bracelet are taken from those mines. The gold comes from a now-abandoned shaft. The stone cannot be found anywhere else.”

Chelina touched the stone gingerly, looking down at it.

“Your uncle had been insistent that we sell those mines.” Kit told her. “Once we are married, you would have immediate control of them. Your uncle may impose his position as my father’s adviser to persuade you into selling them.”

The prince saw her look at him pointedly. “Your Royal Highness, I may not show it but I am confused as to your inquiry. I would appreciate a direct approach to your line of questioning.”

He took a deep breath before he pinned her with a grave look. “Are you scheming with your uncle?”

Her brows raised. “Scheming?” she asked, startled. “What for?”

She appeared to be genuinely surprised at his question.

“Do you truly not know what your uncle had done?” he asked as he peered into her face.

“I do not. Like I had said before, Your Royal Highness, I only tolerate my uncle. I do not know of his plans or anything at all for you to think I would be scheming with him.”

But Kit was still skeptical. She was, after all, kin to the Grand Duke, despite what she had said. The same Prussian blood ran in her veins.

“Are you telling me the truth?” he asked her rather bluntly.

She quirked her brows regally and Kit swore he saw a bit of the Zaragozan fire dance in her eyes. However, it did not frighten him. She may be a princess but her uncle had done a great offense against the kingdom. If there were people who should be afraid, it would be the nobleman and her, if he proved that she was in league with him.

“I would not lie to you.” She told him honestly.

“Can I trust you?”

“That would depend on you, do you not think, Your Royal Highness?” she asked as she rose. “Your questions are odd. Is this about your father?”

He watched her guardedly. “It has something to do with my father but more to do with your uncle.”

She stopped just before him, looking into his handsome face. “My uncle seems to be a problem for you,” she noted.

“Your uncle murdered my mother.”

She stepped back. In fear, Kit noted as he watched her royal façade break. He had not seen her composure crumble before but his statement seemed to have shaken the princess to her very core.

Her eyes widened in fright, and she brought a hand up to her mouth to cover her gasp.

“I beg your pardon?” she whispered shakily.

Kit cleared his throat, putting a halt at the onslaught of anger that came over him. “He poisoned my mother with plants. He has done the same with my father although he was not successful.” Kit paused before adding: “And I fear he has done something to my wife.”

“Your wife?” she echoed weakly before realization dawned on her. “Miss Y/N.”

He nodded seriously.

She frowned, utter confusion on her face. “If you are already married, why is my uncle planning to marry me to you?” she asked.

“I do not know but I have an inkling it had something to do with my mother’s sudden death.”

Her brows drew together as she looked at him. “Your Royal Highness, I—I didn’t know these were the circumstances of our betrothal.”

“Neither did I.” He cleared his throat. “I must tell you, Your Royal Highness, that the punishment for his deeds is death. There is no other penalty for something as violent as murder.”

She nodded mutely, dazedly. “His crimes are unpardonable. I couldn’t imagine any other… discipline fitting for what he had done.”

He let her ponder on his words for a while before he continued on the matter he was there for. “Y/N is missing. Do you know where she might be?”

She denied any knowledge of that, saying to him that she had not been anywhere else other than her room for breakfast and the sitting room for playing her guitar.

“Then I need your help, Princess.”

She nodded her head eagerly at him. “Si. Yes, of course. Anything you ask.”

“I need you to know where your uncle had kept Y/N. I fear he has something to do with her vanishing because she had saved my father’s life. Your questions must not make your uncle suspicious of you or else you shall be in peril.”

“Yes, yes. I will do my best to know where she is. I can give you my maid to search for her.” She offered.

“No, you must have her with you. I do not trust the Grand Duke’s actions even if he is your uncle.” Kit said. “When you have learnt of where she is, we convene in my father’s chambers. Your uncle is not allowed there. We shall be safe to talk of this matter inside.”

Kit turned to go but Chelina halted his steps.

“How is Louis? Does he know his friend is gone?” she asked him as he was about to open the door.

“Yes. He is determined to have her back, as am I.” He looked at her. “You need not worry for him, Princess. My cousin is very careful. He worries for you.”

She gave a small, soft smile at the mention of Louis before she looked at him remorsefully. “I am terribly sorry, Your Royal Highness. Had I known it was your mother’s death that sparked a betrothal between us, I would not have agreed.”

“He takes us for fools.” Kit said. “But not anymore. We shall put a stop to his nefarious ways.”

It was dark.

And silent.

You opened your eyes but you could not see a thing in the darkness . You had been used to the darkness, had been their constant companion in the nights when you traveled at sea. It often calmed you, along with the gentle rocking of the boat, but this darkness felt different. It was pitch-dark with no blanket of stars to comfort you.

You blinked but everything within your eyesight did not change. You blinked once more in an attempt to summon the light but it was all the same. You even brought your hands to your eyes to confirm that you did have opened it but it did not change the darkness you were enveloped in. You did not know if the darkness was blessed because your head still throbbed from where the Grand Duke pounced at you.

The Grand Duke!

You were not able to tell Kit of your findings because it was not Louis who had summoned for you in the library. Oh, how close you were to telling the prince of what you had discovered. The malicious man thwarted your plans as though he knew of it.

And he had. He knew you were on to him because you had asked for the emetic to save the king’s life. And now, you feared you’ve lost to the nobleman once more. That man must be stopped at all costs. You were determined to do it, despite your current predicament of being stuck in… wherever you were.

You groaned as you moved. You felt the uneven ground against your body, feeling shards of rocks and gravel against your exposed skin. You moved slowly to a sitting position, scraping your cheek and your hands against the jagged edges of rock as you pressed down to hoist yourself to your hands and knees.

Even with the renewed position, your vision remained the same. You swiped blindly at the dark space before you as you crawled. The ground felt sharp against your knees and it hurt you but you pushed on. The pain against your legs and palm were bearable. The throbbing in your head was not. You were nauseous from your movements.

Your fingers grazed on more jagged edges that were now before you instead of under you. You swiped your entire hand and felt a wall made from the same rocks as those you were kneeling on. You pressed your other palm against it and with all your strength, you pulled yourself until you were standing.

You groaned in pain and clutched the side of your body. It did not bleed but it felt much too tender for your liking, perhaps bruised from how you were dropped. You lost your footing at the pain of a broken ankle and accidentally kicked a piece of stone, sending it somewhere in the darkness. It was only then when you were made aware that your other foot had lost its shoe. The stones felt sharp against your bear sole, in addition to a possible bone fracture. The stone did not make much of an echo when you sent it flying and you realized wherever you were was small and confining, perhaps just enough space for your body.

Your head gave another painful throb and you slowly dropped to the rocky floor, cradling your head in your hands. There was wetness against the side of your head, on the same place where the nobleman’s fist made contact. You gingerly touched it, wincing as you did and brought your wet fingers against your nose. You sniffed and grimaced before tasting it, confirming your suspicion that the Grand Duke drew blood when he bludgeoned you with his fist.

Another drop of wetness came down on your cheek, this time different from the blood that was on your temples. It came from above you and it did not smell nor tasted of blood. Instead, it tasted of nothing. Water.

You turned your head skyward to see a small sliver of light, so high up above you, that you were positive it had been where the droplet of water had come down from. The light was hazy and gray and the water that dripped from it increased in speed and number

Rain, you thought with a panic.

In a matter of hours, wherever you were would be flooded if such heavy rains persisted. You would drown if you did not leave.

“H-h-help…” You rasped weakly. You scrambled painfully to your feet, and in your rush, your head spun. You staggered backward, back bumping against the rough wall, sharp shards puncturing the delicate cloth of your dress. Wherever the Grand Duke had dumped you, he did it with every intention to leave you to die.

"Help!” You tried once again. Your voice was rough and terrible in your throat but it did not matter to you. You would rather you lose your voice begging to be helped than lose your life. You needed to be alive to tell Kit what you had found about the Grand Duke and stop him. You needed to be alive to ensure the Grand Duke did not kill your husband as well.

“HELP! HELP ME PLEASE!”

From above, the storm intensified and drowned all your pleas.

Captain Thibault and Louis were conversing with the physician when Kit arrived in the study.

“I cannot find the book, Kit,” Louis said. “I’ve searched through all of your mother’s books on botany and herbology and plant medicine but the title Y/N mentioned was not there.”

The prince frowned. He had helped you return the book to the shelves a few weeks ago. He may not have remembered the creasing on the spine but he knew the title. His mother had been meaning to read the book before her death.

“Have you looked everywhere?” Kit asked his cousin.

“I was only confined in that section of the library. The Grand Duke was inside as well. He was reading on laws for your upcoming marriage.”

“He could have taken it,” he thought out loud. “I remember Y/N returning that book only to get more of the same subject from my mother’s collection. It couldn’t have been taken by anyone else other than him.”

“That would only be conjecture. We cannot condemn the man for lack of the evidence we were to get against him.” Thibault said.

Kit sighed. “Yes, you’re right. Has Abigail found the canister?”

Thibault produced the jar. “She found it under all of the logs used for kindling in her room.”

Louis donned his gloves and took the jar from the Captain, shaking its contents onto his palm. The purple flower petal was stark against the dull greens of the tea leaves.

“She immediately told the Housekeeper about this when she first found it,” the duke said as he stared at the unassuming petal on his palm. “It was why she had offered to label the tea leaves because she knew this petal did not belong in this jar.”

Kit looked at the culprit for his mother’s death and angered rose from deep within him. He was yet to know why the Grand Duke had killed his mother but whatever reason it was, he was firmly determined on having the man dead for his crimes.

“This is what killed your mother?” Captain Thibault asked.

Kit gave a grim nod.

“And your father was poisoned with the same tea? How would he be poisoned with the tea if this was in Miss Y/N’s room?”

“My father was poisoned with hemlock disguised as parsnip.” Kit said. He frowned at what the captain had speculated. His father had fared well since drinking your blend of tea. Before that, he had been consuming a blend suggested by the Grand Duke and he did indeed look sickly during those times.

Of course, he would be poisoning my father in the same fashion as he had poisoned my mother, he thought dourly.

But his father had been drinking that tea for quite a while and he had not exhibited any delirium like his mother. It couldn’t have been the very tea he drank because the captain was right, you had kept this canister in your chambers.

“Doctor,” Kit called for the physician. “Were you the physician who examined my mother on her deathbed?”

“No, Your Royal Highness. That physician had since retired.” the man replied.

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” The man gave them the address. “I believe he retired because he came upon a great fortune. He would not tell where he had gotten it but he had urged me to take the position as the royal physician.”

Louis frowned. “Do you think it could be hush money?” The duke appeared to have the same idea as his cousin.

Kit’s face was set when he looked at him. “We need to visit the physician to confirm our suspicions. But first, we must go to the apothecary to see the ledger.”

“I will have the carriage ready,” Thibault said as he turned to leave.

“No. We will go by horse.” Kit ordered.

Thunder clapped from the outside, as if telling them that the storm was yet to pass.

“By horse? But there’s a storm!” Louis exclaimed.

“Horses are faster. We cannot have a broken wheel to slow us down.” Kit insisted. He nodded at the Captain as if to tell him to go.

Louis returned the tea leaves in the jar and discarded his gloves in the fire. He sighed regretfully as he watched it burn. “What a waste of perfectly good kid gloves. I bought those in Castile.”

Kit ignored his cousin, returning his attention to the physician once more. “My father told me he had been faring well for quite some time now. When have you noticed that change in him?”

“In the recent weeks, Your Royal Highness. His skin is less cool to the touch and his pulse beats at a regular pace, unlike before.”

The prince nodded. “Are these symptoms of foxglove poisoning?”

The man shook his head. “It would need to be accompanied by delirium and he should have told me of halos of the color yellow in his sight. The king never complained to me of those.”

He pulled out your letter again and read through it. “Could he be poisoned with another plant? Perhaps Aconitum napellus? Monkshood, is it?”

The man’s brow raised, then his eyes widened. “I believe so, Your Royal Highness, and we are lucky he is alive. There could be no other explanation for the numbness he felt in his mouth or the other symptoms I had seen in him. Although I did not think much of it because he had gotten better before his symptoms had gotten worse. Forgive me for not recognizing it earlier.”

Kit nodded. “How recent was it?”

The man sifted through his notebook. “Nearly three weeks, Your Royal Highness.”

You had been in the palace for about the same time as his father had been feeling better. Whether it had been you intention or not, you had cured his father from the Grand Duke’s poisoning simply by changing his blend of tea.

Kit thanked the doctor and left him with more instructions before he and Louis headed for the stables. The storm still raged on outside of the palace and it did not look like it would pass soon. The roads would be thick and slick with mud. The travel to the square would take twice longer because of the rains.

A loud clap of thunder sounded from the outside and Kit worried for your safety since you had not been found in the palace. He feared every passing moment you were not with him. The storms always raged on in the kingdom, sometimes going on for days with no stopping. They were notorious for the strength and devastation they wrought, from the flooded paddies to the destroyed houses. It flooded every dip and divot they could fill and washed anything that stood in its way.

He hoped the nobleman kept you inside the palace. If you had been caught in the torrential downpour with no shelter, Kit could not imagine how drenched and cold you would be. One more second not finding you was one second closer to your death.

He shuddered at the idea and shunned it from his mind. No. He would not think you dead. You were alive. You had to be alive. You were to be his princess, his queen.

“Your Royal Highness,” Kit heard the Grand Duke call.

The prince’s stomach sunk in nervousness. He and his cousin had taken extra care in their actions. Was the Grand Duke to stop them from finding more evidence against him? Was he to stop them from finding you? But then, Kit was not at fault and therefore should not have been fearful. It was the Grand Duke and he should be very afraid of what was to come for him once Kit gathered all there was to indict him.

He cleared his throat before turning to the man. He put on an air of royal arrogance as he addressed him. “Grand Duke.”

“There are some issues that require your father’s attention. I had tried going to his chambers but the guards would not allow me entrance.” The man advanced towards him, holding in his hands business papers not unlike the ones Kit had left on his desk.

“My father is resting, Your Grace.”

“Yes, but these papers—”

“Sir, if they do not need immediate attention, I will see to them when I return. Do not disturb my father, even with matters of the state.” Kit said, his tone hardy. “Leave them on my desk if you cannot deal with those matters.”

He bowed. Kit noticed that it was stiff and almost against his will. “Your Royal Highness.”

“Perchance, have you seen Miss Y/N? I haven’t seen her yet.” Louis suddenly asked.

Kit wanted to curse at his cousin for his question. It was a direct way of knowing where you were but he did not appreciate the frank way it was asked, especially since they were looking for you without his knowledge.

Instead of talking, he fisted his hand and hid it from the nobleman’s view. He gave the Grand Duke a long, level look, watching for any signs on the man’s face that would betray his knowing of your whereabouts.

The nobleman only quirked a brow at the duke’s address. He looked apathetic to the question.

“I do not know, Your Grace. I had not seen her since dinner and I have no need to.” He turned to Kit, imploring at him to heed his words. “Her actions towards the king must not go unpunished.” He said rather pompously.

“Her actions?” Kit repeated, voice quiet but angry. “She saved my father’s life.”

“She shoved her hand down his throat. To touch the king without his permission is a sin.”

Kit stepped towards the nobleman and not one more, for Louis held him back. “I believe my father would pardon her action once he awakes.” He hissed between his teeth.

“It would not do well for her to be free, Your Royal Highness.” The Grand Duke went on. “She has committed a crime and she must be punished accordingly.”

A barrage of accusations sailed through Kit’s mind but he did not voice any of them. They were still in pursuit of all of the evidence you had written of—still in pursuit of you—and if the Grand Duke were to know of them, it would have made all your efforts futile. So Kit held back the condemnation he wished to hurl at the man but he did not withhold the vitriol that dripped from his tone.

“I assure you, Your Grace, that all crimes committed by any man will not go unpunished.” He gave a stern look at the nobleman.

That seemed to satisfy the man because he bowed again, this time without his prior reluctance. “Very good, Your Royal Highness.”

Kit did not miss the patronizing tone in the man’s words but he did not comment on that. Instead, he went on ahead to the stables. In there, he found Thibault awaiting them with their horses prepared.

Thibault passed them coats bearing the insignia of the kingdom. “These will disguise you from the Grand Duke and any of his accomplices. I had ordered two guards to accompany you on your trip. You do not have to worry of where their loyalties lie; they are loyal to the crown and kingdom. I’ve also tasked Abigail in unmasking any other servant involved, in addition to our own investigation.”

Louis donned the coat and mounted his horse. “Let us hope you will have them in your custody when we return, Captain.”

Kit only gave his friend a stiff nod and kicked his heel against the horse’s flank, sending the horse galloping. He rode in the storm silently but with a determination unlike anything he had experienced before .

His goal for the moment was singular: talk to the apothecary and ask for his ledger. Once it had been procured, he would then go and find the last physician and confirm their suspicion of his involvement with the queen’s death. Surely, no one would just come to be with great fortune. And so sudden a luck.

The Grand Duke had established himself to be a rich man. His apartments were in the palace and since his arrival, he had steadily decorated it with more and more opulence. The gaudy display was at odds with the rest of the palace and was offending to the peasants who were suffering the moment he assumed his position as the king’s advisor. If the man had money to decorate his apartments, then he surely had enough to spare to pay hush money to his accomplices.

The storm grew in intensity as he neared the square. There were no merchants dotting the streets and the other stores had closed their doors. If the apothecary was not open, Kit would not know how to find the man.

He looked at the closed stores, frowning as he recalled where the apothecary had been. You had written that it was situated opposite of the Magistrate and while Kit had been sure he was at the right place, he was yet to see the sign for the chemist. The downpour did not help with the visibility.

Kit rode on down the aisle of shops. There was a light that flickered weakly through the window, illuminating the signage of the apothecary. Kit nodded to his cousin and dismounted, heading in. Bells jingled when Kit opened the door to the apothecary’s small store and he was assaulted with various scents of medicinal herbs upon his entrance.

“It smells like my mother’s perfume,” Louis murmured beside his cousin. “I always thought some of her perfumes smelt noxious. Perhaps she has gotten it from apothecaries and not at a perfumery.”

Kit gave his cousin a small smile in agreement of his father’s sister’s perfume.

“Gentlemen, good day,” called the elderly man behind the table. Before him were concoctions of all sorts, including a glass jar of foxglove petals that looked similar to the ones from his mother’s tea tin. “How may I help you?”

Kit removed his hat and passed it to one of the guards. The chemist immediately bowed in respect at the sight of the prince.

“Your Royal Highness. How may I be of service to you?” the man asked.

“Sir, I have a need of your ledger. There are records we wish to see.” Kit told him.

“Of course, Your Royal Highness.” The chemist moved to the other side of his store, the prince following along. “Is there a particular record you are in search for?”

“May we look for it ourselves, sir?” Louis suggested as he neared the counter. “There are three records we wish to see and we would not want to take up your time in doing so.”

“Of course, Your Grace. How else may I be of assistance to you?” The man pushed the leatherbound book to Louis and looked at the cousins expectantly.

“There is a need for you to keep this a secret, sir. It is a rather delicate issue we are looking at. I would appreciate your permission to allow the guards to take charge of your front and back doors so as to not allow the people to come in or out.” The duke told the man, looking at him pointedly.

There was a panicked look upon the chemist’s face, which Louis promptly assured with: “We are not keeping you hostage, sir,” he stated. “But we insist on your participation on the matter.”

Kit looked over at his cousin, a brow raised and his mouth quirked in amusement. His cousin rarely used a commanding tone when dealing with matters, seeing as he was always charismatic, but when he did use it, people knew he tolerated no insolence from them.

The man nodded at the cousins. “Yes, Your Grace. Of course.”

Kit took out your letter from his pocket. “She told us to look for the May of last year. It should say he purchased some form of service.”

Louis flipped to the year past, looking for the entry you had told them of. True enough, there was the Grand Duke’s name, in the month you had told them when he had a need for the service of the apothecary.

“We have it,” Louis said. He pointed at the entry to Kit, who then looked up from the letter and to the book. “It does say service.”

Kit turned to the chemist, who now leaned over to see the entry for himself. “Sir, do you remember the kind of service the Grand Duke had purchased?”

The man frowned as the thought, drawing the book to him and ran his hand on the entry. “It has been more than a year since this entry. I cannot recall correctly what kind they were but he had asked me to dry herbs for him.”

“Could it be foxglove?” The duke asked. “What is it, cousin? Di—Digi—?”

“Digitalis purpurea?” Kit supplied.

The man raised a whitened brow in recollection. “Why, yes. I believe it is that and monkshood as well. I found it unusual that he asked me to dry monkshood but I did not question my customers. Their business is theirs alone.”

“Does it take long for you to do this kind of service?” Louis asked as his eyes drifted on the letter in Kit’s hands.

“There were a number of storms and rains that had passed by the kingdom when the Grand Duke had asked of that. It had taken me nearly a month to accomplish the task because of it. The humidity affects the drying process.”

The prince’s brow was raised as he looked at his cousin. “The Grand Duke asked for service at the end of May. If it took a month, it would have been ready by the first week of July, with enough time for him to plan my mother’s death.” He told his cousin in a hushed voice.

Louis nodded. “The man gave your mother those to plant in the gardens, did he not? Perhaps he had taken some and brought them here for the apothecary to dry.”

It was a plausible idea that Kit wanted to greatly believe.

“Forgive me, but did you say Y/N?” the man asked them cautiously.

Kit looked at the chemist sharply. “Yes. Have you seen her?” he asked.

His heart gave a start in his chest. The apothecary’s simple inquiry gave hope in the prince. You were missing because of this investigation. Perhaps the man had seen you pass by the shop. Kit would have accepted anything at all the man would have said of where you were.

But unfortunately, and much to Kit’s disappointment, the man replied that he had only seen you before. “I remember her only because she had asked of antidotes for various kinds of poisoning. I even commented that she had been around too many people who were poisoned.”

Louis gave a small sarcastic snort at the coincidence of the man’s words. “I suppose you’re not wrong,” he murmured.

“What did she ask of?” Kit questioned.

“She wanted to know how to counteract the effects of Digitalis on the body. She bought a vial of belladonna since that is what is used by physicians for patients poisoned by foxglove.”

“Was that all?”

“I also told her there is no cure for monkshood so there was nothing for me to sell her for that. I believe she bought an emetic of zinc for hemlock poisoning.”

Kit nodded. “Yes, she did.”

“She also asked of the services I offer. I told her that I not only prepare antidotes but I also dry plants and herbs. She seemed particularly interested in the poisonous herbs and their antidotes.”

Louis nodded. “You were helpful in that regard, sir. Your answers to her questions have helped us greatly.”

The prince returned to your letter and read on the second date you had told them. “June of this year, if you please, cousin.”

The duke flipped forward to the current year and looked for the month of June. When he had, he looked for the name and, like before, he found the entry you had written of. Beside the Grand Duke’s name was a record of his purchase for Digitalis.

“Digitalis, like she had said.” Louis said albeit no surprise in his tone.

Kit told him of the last of the Grand Duke’s purchases. “You would find hers as well, for the emetics.”

And sure enough, Louis found both records. He looked at his cousin and sighed. “The pieces of evidence are conclusive, cousin. Even without the herbology book, this would be enough to accuse the Grand Duke of his crimes. The hemlock alone would convince the Magistrate that what had happened to your father was because of his doing.”

Kit exhaled loudly, keeping your letter in his pocket. “I am not satisfied, cousin. I think we would need more. We need the former royal physician to give a testimony.”

“Against the man who gave him his riches?” Louis asked, skeptical. “That doctor was loyal to the Grand Duke. I doubt he would even say anything now.”

“He would start talking if it would reduce his sentence. He is, after all, an accomplice to my mother’s murder. His penalty is already death. But if he gives a testimony against the Grand Duke, then he can haggle for imprisonment, albeit a long one.”

The duke still looked unsure. “Would that convince him?”

“If he knows what is moral and just, it should.”

Louis gave him a wry look, still unconvinced. “I doubt the man would suddenly develop a conscience after receiving his ill-gotten wealth.”

“Well, we have to try, don’t we?” Kit snarled. He immediately apologized, sighing as he did. “Forgive me. I am trying to be optimistic even if everything seems bleak to me.”

The duke patted his cousin on the shoulder. “Forgive me too, cousin. I am just preparing you for the worst, even though it pains me to think of its possibility.”

Kit nodded at his cousin before turning to the chemist. The man had been helpful but he had also sold to the Grand Duke the materials he needed to commit his crime. While he did not look dangerous, Kit knew better than to let the man go free. After all, he was vital to the investigation.

“Sir, there are questions I need to ask you and you must answer them as truthful as you can.” Kit commanded in a tone that brook no argument from the man.

The apothecary nodded readily. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

“Have you any idea of where the Grand Duke used his purchases?”

“No, Your Royal Highness. I was suspicious of him but I did not ask questions. It did not go well for me when I had done it to my other customers.”

“Has he confided in you of any of his plans?”

“No, Your Royal Highness.”

“And he has paid you money for your silence about his purchases?”

“No, Your Royal Highness.”

Kit nodded when he saw that the man spoke the truth and saw his cousin nod in agreement at him.

“Good. Come with us. There is one more place we are to go before we return to the palace.” Kit said.

Kit rode ahead with his cousin to the address the current royal physician had given, the ledger safely kept in his horse’s satchel. The storm had started once more, this time more violently than before. Thunder clapped and lightning flashed across the sky, lighting it as though it was a clear summer day. He hoped against hope his cousin’s men had found you, or that at least you were away from the devastating storm.

They arrived at the place, finding the house looking inconspicuous for someone who seemed to have been paid quite a boon for their treacherous act. Kit dismounted his horse and banged heavily against the door. Louis stayed behind his cousin, hand on the hilt of the sword on his side in the instance that the man was violent.

The door swung open, revealing a pudgy man who somehow resembled the Grand Duke. “Yes? What do you want?” He spat, eyeing the prince with disdain.

“Were you the former royal physician?” Kit asked. He was yet to remove his hat and coat, finding it better not to reveal himself as the prince lest the man run at the sight of him.

“Who asked?”

“I did,” Kit said.

“Listen here, boy, I did not call for Royal Guards. I have no need of you nor will I answer you. You best be on your way before you catch a cold in the rain.” He moved to close the door.

Kit held out a hand against it, effectively stopping the wooden door. He knew he would be met with resistance but he did not expect the man to behave the same way as the Grand Duke would. Of course, people with the same morals would band together, Kit thought to himself wryly.

He pushed on the door, opening it some more until he entered the threshold of the man’s place. While it had looked unassuming on the outside, the inside was far grander than it was out. New-looking furnishings, shiny fixtures, and a bearskin rug adorned the place. It looked too opulent for a man who had been a mere royal physician.

“While I appreciate your concern,” Kit said in a hard tone as he barged in the man’s house. “I would much appreciate it if you had answered my question.”

He gave a short mocking chuckle, the sound akin to someone choking and laughing at the same time. “I will not answer a question I don’t want to answer!”

“I do not need you to want it. I am commanding you to.” Kit said in his most princely of tones.

The man laughed once more. “You?” He said with a chortle. “Commanding me? Who are you, the prince? Remember your station, boy.” The man shook his head in disbelief, laughing as he did so.

Kit took off his hat, revealing himself to the former physician. It effectively shut the man, who then bowed promptly.

“Y-Your Royal Highness!” He exclaimed in surprise, maintaining his half-body bow. “F-Forgive me! I did not know it was you under the Royal Guard’s uniform!”

Kit chose to ignore the man’s unmeant apologies, asking him his previous question instead. “Are you the former royal physician?”

He rose on shaking knees. His face had turned into an unsightly shade of red and he did not look into the prince’s eyes as he answered: “Yes, Your Royal Highness. I was before the Grand Duke discharged—”

“Discharged? Or were you paid a hefty sum by the man to cover his murder of the queen?” Louis asked as he stood beside his cousin.

The man bristled. “I-I do not know what—” Sweat trickled down the side of his forehead. His eyes moved from left to right, flighty, looking anywhere but the prince and the duke.

“Take care of your next words, sir, or they may be your last.” Kit threatened. “Now, you will cooperate and answer our questions with as much honesty as you can.”

“Your Royal Highness—”

“I did not give you permission to question my demands!” Kit boomed at the man.

The former physician swallowed and nodded tightly. “Y-Yes, Your Royal Highness,” he stammered in fear.

“Did the Grand Duke pay you to prevent you from speaking of what you had found in the queen?” Kit asked.

The man trembled as he looked at the prince. Then, he shook his head a little too wildly.

The gall of him! Kit thought with anger. The truth was already clear to them, clear as the facts that you had presented in your letter. It was more than serendipitous for him to come to great fortune after the event of the queen’s death. He was paid for it and Kit would resort to anything just to prove his intuition correct.

And so, he lied. All for the sake of finding out the truth.

“Deny it all you want, sir, but the Grand Duke has spoken,” Kit spat through his teeth.

He saw his cousin turn to him sharply. Kit only hardened his jaw and the duke nodded, affirming his involvement in Kit’s lies.

“He has told us he had paid you to keep silent of his actions towards the queen.” Kit continued, walking to the man. “He has told us of your involvement in deliberately not treating my mother’s being poisoned with foxglove.”

The former physician looked at Kit with fear in his eyes. “Your Royal Highness—” The man started to sweat profusely.

“You cannot deny it anymore. The Grand Duke named you his co-conspirator.” Louis said. “Why did you do it?”

“Was the money he paid you worth the pain you brought to my father and I and the kingdom?” Kit asked, crowding over the man as he advanced towards him. “Was it worth the silverware on your table or the fur on your shoulders? Was it worth the life you had taken from us? Is it going to be worth yours?”

The man dropped on his knees, head to Kit’s feet as he groveled. “Your Royal Highness, forgive me! Forgive me! The Grand Duke promised me riches and I was blinded by them!”

Kit’s jaw hardened and he refused to look at the man who had just confessed his involvement in his mother’s death.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness! I should have spoken when I had learned what had happened to the queen!” The man cried piteously.

But Kit did not take pity. Instead, he hauled the man to his feet and passed him to the guards who had arrived. The man did not fight his arrest; he only kept his head down, embarrassed and scared of what the prince might do to him.

“We will bring him with us.” Kit said. “Do not let him out of your sight.”

Kit rode back to the palace, more determined now that he had hefty evidence against the nobleman. With the man’s presence, the Grand Duke would be properly convicted of his crimes. If Thibault had found the footman and the kitchen staff involved in adding the hemlock to his father’s meal, the nobleman would be sure to pay for his crimes.

He and his cousin entered the king’s chambers, finding the princess talking with the Captain of the guards. His father was still asleep but the doctor had told him that he had awoke while Kit was away and had asked for water to drink, before returning to sleep. There were no remaining symptoms of hemlock poisoning in him, the physician said, which made Kit heave out a sigh of relief.

“We have the ledger and the apothecary with us,” Kit said to Thibault. “As well as the former royal physician who had looked at my mother before she died.”

Louis looked up from his missive. “My men are still searching for her, cousin. They had just finished in the nearby villages. I’ve instructed them to go farther.”

Kit nodded his thanks at his cousin. “Had there been any progress?” he asked of the princess.

“My uncle denies any knowledge on where she is. I fear he is becoming suspicious of my questions so I stopped my inquiries.” Chelina said as her eyes swept to the duke beside him. She gave a small gasp at his state. “You will catch your death in your drenched clothes, Louis. Sit by the fire and I will have my maid bring you soup to warm you.”

Kit saw the soft smile on his cousin’s face and a pang of heartache and jealousy speared through him. While he found every single, strong evidence against the Grand Duke, he was yet to find you.

“I have the footman in my custody and the Cook as well. Abigail has unearthed one of the maids to be the Grand Duke’s paramour and we have detained her. We are unsure of her involvement but we will find out.”

“Good. You can include the former royal physician. He had confessed that the Grand Duke had paid him a large sum for his silence.” The prince said. “Keep the other accomplices away from one another. I do not want them interacting should they plot against us.”

Thibault bowed. “All that is left is the Grand Duke.”

He nodded grimly. “Yes. I will deal with him.”

“I will have guards come with you when you confront the Grand Duke—”

“No. Have them look for Y/N. My cousin’s men may be capable but they are few in numbers. Send them posthaste.”

“Of course.” Thibault bowed once again before he left to deliver his orders.

“Your Royal Highness,” he heard Chelina call for him. He turned to the princess, watched as she smiled tentatively at the sight of him.

“You may call me Kit, Princess,” he told her.

“Then you may call me Chelina.” She gestured to his cousin, who now sat by the warmth of the fire, cradling a bowl of soup. “You must get out of your drenched clothes as well. There is soup and bread to fill your stomach.”

“I cannot waste time—”

“You are not wasting your time if you are to rest. You cannot confront my uncle if you are sickly and hungry. I suggest you heed my advice and eat with your cousin by the fireplace. I shall have your valet fetch your dry clothes.”

She looked very determined in her quest for him to take rest. He nodded singularly and sat opposite his cousin. Louis heartily slurped at his soup, having already changed out of his wet clothes.

“Trust that we will find her, cousin.” Louis said consolingly.

“I know we will,” Kit said fiercely. “I just want to find her alive. I do not think I can bear to survive without her."

The duke patted his cousin’s knee. “And she will be. Trust, Kit. Trust in her.”

He nodded. Chelina passed him a bowl of soup and a piece of bread before taking her place on the seat beside his cousin. Kit could only watch the beautiful picture they made. The tragedy brought them together, however ironic it was. He knew his cousin to be a devoted sort of man; a complete contrast to his reputation of being a sort of a lecher, and he saw that in the way he regarded the Princess Chelina. Like Kit, he knew his cousin would give up his life for the one he loved.

“Have some soup, cousin. It will warm your bones.” Louis urged.

Kit brought the spoon to his lips absently, not at all hungry for anything. His mind was still busy with thoughts of the whole kingdom. While you were his priority, he had a duty as the prince—and now de facto king while his father was recuperating—of the kingdom. He had businesses to oversee, new relationships to forge with every trade, and villages and communities to have repaired after the devastation the storm had wrought. His father and his mother had been more than efficient in their duties, despite the staggering amount they were faced with daily. While he had shared his father’s load since the death of his mother, he was still amazed at the number of issues they dealt with.

But his father was asleep and the man the king considered to be his adviser was useless. Kit only had himself to trust with the job of running the kingdom. He had been taught how to be a king since he had been a child. Everything, all that he had learned and was still learning, all of it came down to the very moment he was now at. This was his future as the king. This was who he was born to be.

“Will you detain my uncle?” Chelina asked after a while.

Kit looked from his still-full bowl and nodded. “I must. I cannot have him wreaking havoc in the palace.”

She nodded in understanding. “There is very little I can help you with him but I shall do what I can to assist you.”

“Chelina—” His cousin started to protest.

She only touched his cheek, smiling tenderly at him. “Louis, mi corazon, I refuse to sit down and watch when I know I can help. He is my uncle. I am one of the people who he would think twice to hurt.”

“He will still think twice and hurt.” Louis replied rather petulantly. “I do not think it beyond him to do so.”

“And that will be his mistake because you would be there to fight him before he does something to me.” She let go of his face and returned her attention to Kit. “He will not think me suspicious if I do not ask about Miss Y/N’s whereabouts.”

“It will be dangerous for you,” Kit said, to which his cousin readily agreed. “I would not want to put you in harm’s way.”

“He trusts me enough not to question my involvement with you. He thinks me stupid for not knowing his motive for our marriage.” Chelina said. “I will not be in any harm if I do not show him that I have knowledge of what he has done.”

“Louis,” the prince implored. He would not want his cousin to lose the love of his life as well.

“I do not think she will back down however we ask her to,” Louis replied. “We will not let you near him but we shall ask for your help when we need it.”

“Agreed.” Kit nodded.

The princess quirked a brow at the cousins. “You do not think me capable—”

“We know you are but I would not want my cousin to suffer what I am suffering now.” The prince told her. “I cannot fathom the despair he would feel if the Grand Duke did something to you.”

He watched the fire quietly, noting of the way they looked at him after his words. He spoke the truth. Louis, however jolly he was, felt deeply and the despair he would feel at the loss of the Princess Chelina was incomprehensible. He only worried for his cousin, in the same way that his cousin worried for him.

He could not find it in himself to finish his soup and so he set it aside. He stood, heading for the door when his cousin called for his attention.

“Cousin. You did not finish your soup.” Louis called. “Where are you going?”

“To the Grand Duke.” He went out of his father’s chambers, ignoring the protests from his cousin and his betrothed.

He walked purposefully to the study, thoughts only on the satisfaction it would bring him to have the man in the dungeons for his sins. The man ought to rot in jail if he would deny his sins. He ought to not see the light of day for all that he has done. Kit swore to himself and to everyone the man had wronged that he would do anything in his power to make the Grand Duke suffer.

He barged in the Great Study, barreling towards the nobleman with the intent of scaring him. Louis was not present to school him on propriety. He could do as he pleased with the man who had put him through this great suffering.

The Grand Duke was surprised at his entrance and Kit took that moment to haul the man to his feet by the lapels of his coat. He had never stood this close to the man before and now that he had, he saw all the evil and malice in his eyes. The nobleman was momentarily startled but his face transformed into that of bored anticipation. This was a man who feared and regretted nothing. He was evil personified.

Kit thought he had never been so repulsed by someone so despicable.

“Ah,” he breathed with an arrogant smirk. “When my niece asked me for that commoner’s whereabouts, I had my suspicions of you finding out the truth. I did not realize it would take you a while to do so.”

Kit’s knuckles whitened at how hard he fisted the man’s coat. The anger that erupted from him was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

“Why did you kill my mother!” he asked the man, shouting as much as he can so the palace could hear of what he had done. “Why did you do it!”

The Grand Duke took one look at the prince’s face before he let out a loud, offending laugh.

He’s deluded! Kit thought angrily and shook him hard, enough for the man’s head to loll side to side. Still, he did not quell his maniacal laughter.

“Why did you do it!” he asked once again. “Answer me, damn you!”

“Because I can, boy! Because she was standing in my way!” The Grand Duke spat at the prince’s face. There was a crazed gleam in his eyes as he looked at the young man before him. “She stood in the riches that I wanted to for myself!”

“Riches? All you wanted were riches and you killed my mother for it?” Kit asked in disbelief. He had expected this motive from man but to hear him admit it only hurt him.

“What else could I want from your small, pathetic kingdom?” He sneered. “You thought yourself glorious but you are anything but. You are only a small kingdom amongst great states. You have riches you do not deserve—”

“And you do?” The prince spat. “You think yourself entitled to the riches of a country you do not belong in? I thought you ambitious before but now, I think you stupid.”

That offended the man. Kit saw the change in the gleam in the Grand Duke’s eyes at his words, at the way his hands almost found purchase on the prince’s neck if he had not been thrown back to his seat. He drew his sword out and against the nobleman’s neck, effectively stopping him from any further attacks.

“Move and I will plunge this through you without a second thought,” Kit threatened.

“You do not have it in you, boy,” he said with a scoff.

Kit pierced the nobleman’s skin, letting a droplet of blood trickle from where he punctured. “Do not take my threats lightly, sir. You forget I had been in war for years.”

He only looked impressed. There was no fear in the man at all. “Then I am mistaken.”

Kit did not withdraw his sword.

“Tell me,” the Grand Duke said nonchalantly, as if they were conversing over tea. “How did you find out about your mother’s murder? Surely you could not have done it on your own. It had been a year and it is only now that you are threatening me.”

“Y/N investigated on you when she found foxglove in my mother’s tea leaves.” Kit told him and pushed the sword deeper into the man’s neck.

“Ah. She told me she had no idea of it.” He watched the prince closely, a smirk appearing on his face. “She is smart, is she not? Would have made a worthy queen to this pitiful, little kingdom of yours, if only I hadn’t brought her away.” He goaded the prince.

A muscle jumped in Kit’s jaw at the man’s admission of knowing about your disappearance.

More blood trickled from the man’s neck at the pressure Kit exerted with his sword. “Where is she? Where is my wife?” he demanded.

“You think I would make it easy for you to find her?” The Grand Duke asked and chuckled evilly. “Oh, Your Royal Highness, it is like you do not know me at all.” He grinned maniacally.

Kit would have slashed his sword across the Grand Duke’s neck if it weren’t for his cousin, who stopped him before he brought the sword down.

“Stop—Stop! Kit!” Louis said as he embraced his cousin to prevent him from mutilating the Grand Duke. Kit did not fight him but he seethed as he watched the nobleman regard him with a challenging look upon his face.

Guards grabbed at the nobleman and hoisted him from his seat. They kept his hands in cuffs before they pulled him away from the prince.

“You must make haste, Your Royal Highness. She has been gone for nearly a day,” the Grand Duke called out. Even as he was captured, his tone held no regret. He enjoyed this, the bastard.

“In this storm, she would not survive.” He looked over his shoulder with wicked grin. “That is, if she’s not dead already.”

The rains were unrelenting above you.

The little hole where the Grand Duke had left you in had grown colder from the winds that swirled with the storm. You shivered to keep yourself warm. The small sliver of light had vanished, in its place was the bleakness of the day—or was it night? You could not tell what time it was, or how long you had been left there. All you were aware of was how cold you had become and that the waters were rising.

The sliver had become a waterspout and from it flowed the rainwater into your hole. It filled the entirety of the floor, the water nearly halfway to your calves now. With the way the rain above you continued to pour, you knew you needed to escape the hole before the waters engulf you.

You groped around you blindly, swiping your hands before you as you made sense of the place. You had deduced it was cylindrical in shape, with enough space for you to move at least five paces from one jagged wall to another. It was tall enough, considering the light you had seen earlier came from a very small hole. It seemed to you that it was nearly as tall as the mast in one of the ships you had travelled in. You hoped it was shorter.

You heard a loud crack of thunder from above. In your frenzied state of mind, you rushed to the other side and slammed your body against more jagged stones. You cried out in pain and collapsed on the rocky floor, hitting your knees against them and splashing water around you. You let out another loud howl as you clutched your knee that you were sure was bleeding from the impact. The pain from your whole left leg was like fire, from your thighs where it collided against the stone wall to your knee which had slammed against the jagged floor down to your ankle, which had grown twice it size since you had awoken. You had started to become feverish as well from being drenched in the rain.

It was useless to call out for help. The winds were too strong and the rain too loud for anyone to hear any of your cries. You had to help yourself. The only way for you to escape was up, through the small hole where the water flowed.

With determination, you rose to your feet and felt around the wall for any jutting rock you could clutch on to. You did the same with your other hand and your better foot and when you found stones that could handle your weight, you hoisted yourself up, mindful of the aches in your body. You needed all the strength you could gather. You managed slowly in your weakened state—having only had soup for dinner and nothing else—taking only one step at a time. You never had reason to scale a wall, as it was improper for ladies to do so. But you needed to survive. You could dash impropriety for all you care. What mattered was returning to Kit and stopping the Grand Duke from terrorizing the kingdom.

It was difficult for you to scale the wall with your broken ankle and in your drenched dress, but you were somehow able to rise from the ground. The storm raged on above you and another cracking sound echoed in your hole. You shut your eyes tight, breathing deeply so your fear and pain would ebb away. You shivered from the cold and the terror but you held strong. You had to get out. You needed to get out.

You took slow steps upward, trying every stone your hand touched to see if it would carry your weight. Your body protested at the added weight of the water. Your limbs shook with every effort.

You looked up to where the water had poured and with every power you had about you, you pushed yourself upwards. You had no idea how far up you had come but you trudged on with all of your strength.

The sky broke and light filled your little hole. The strike of lightning blinded you, forcing you to take your hands off of the rocks to cover your eyes. You felt yourself fall backwards to the floor beneath you.

A dull but sickening thud, along with a splash, sounded upon your impact to the ground.

Adorable!!!

"If I fits, I sits"