Presence of fan language, the meaning will be explained at the end of the chapter as well as in the comments.

If you find some errors do not hesitate to point them out, any help is more than welcomed.

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Wren

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The rest of the night passes in a blur of perfume, alcohol, and powder. The Marchioness is incredible; if the courtiers are wolves, she is a lioness. She casually tears down her enemies with simple words and acts haughty in front of veiled insults. I think of my own weapons and what I did to my opponents. Between the two of us, who possessed the deadliest arms?

"Lady Morland."

I unintentionally frown, hearing Jeanne's singing-like voice.

"Yes, My Lady?"

If I didn't know her, I would have fallen for her fiery persona.

"You must be bored listening to those frivolous matters," she continues, perfectly ignoring the scandalized face of a Comte, belonging to the Enlightened.

Her beautiful face softens.

"You should go and enjoy the ball."

I feel my heartbeat increasing. I hide my growing smile and make my exit. Getting farther away from her relieves the weight crushing my throat. I take my first deep breath since I stepped into the carriage. The memories of my lessons, as well as the structure of her careful plan, flash in my mind.

The sun finally cleared the cloudy sky. The Marchioness is arranging a flower bouquet the size of my arm under the light blue roof of the kiosk.

"Winning the throne is easy," she says, snipping the green leaves of the blooming orchids. "Governing, on the other hand, is impossible without one thing."

"Power?" I guess, charging the hunting gun she landed me.

"Almost. Support. If I cannot convince the majority of the nobility factions to support me, then my head will fall in a casket along with yours."

"Doesn't the court hate you?"

"They despised General Edward before he became LeopoldIt I, his son, LeopoldIt II, wasn't the preferred sibling until he killed his brother, they didn't support my uncle before his father died, and the list goes on and on."

'What a charming family.'

"How did they win their support?"

"They proved the extent of their capabilities, how far they were willing to go to obtain what they wanted."

She inhales the scent of the white flower.

"They won with fear."

I have to search for the factions more willing for a shift, the ones she should tame, and the one I should eradicate. The latter should be powerful enough to inspire fright, but not enough to cause a too great imbalance in the country and cause additional problems for the future Queen.

From what I learnt with the Marchioness and observed at her return, there are three main factions divided into sub-factions.

The first one, dominating the court, is, of course, the Loyalist faction. The name is self-explanatory: they support the current Monarch. But its definition subtly changes for some: they support the current dynasty, the legacy left by their previous Rulers. They are good candidates for Lady Chamberlain, as the opinion of the latter king is an open secret.

The second, much less present but still a strong figure at the court, is the Sovereignist party. Even if they pledge allegiance to the current crown, they advocate for greater liberty from it. Often, the nobles who belong to it possess territories on the outskirts of the Kingdom and lead them with greater autonomy. Without any great surprise, the Marchioness was part of it, leading a sub-faction completely loyal to her. She even took the head of the movement at the death of her uncle.

"Welcome, Lady Moreland. It is a pleasure to finally meet the new companion of the Marchioness."

A middle-aged woman is standing in front of me, her closed lace fan touching her chin.

The faction whose influence is growing every day: the Enlightened. Their leader was no other than the Duchess of Marchmont, the very same woman standing in front of me. I grab my own fan and pass it over my heart, bowing once again.

"The pleasure is mine," I say.

I don't recognize my voice: frail, soft, and resigned.

"You must be a remarkable woman to impress Lady Chamberlain. She does not accept anyone to be her closest aide."

"I can only imagine it is the same for the rest of the upper nobility."

I almost bite my tongue. My response could be interpreted as rude. Fortunately, the Duchess seems to read my face and laugh.

"You are a pure soul. You should run far away before it's too late. The court isn't made for people like you. It destroys them."

"I appreciate your concern, Your Grace, but I belong next to my mistress."

The woman eyes my waist, going up to my chest, bare shoulders, and face.

"Oh, I don't have any doubts. While I found it strange that a fallen noble would assist the one and only Jeanne of Chamberlain, you, without any doubt, belong to her schemes and yes...close to her."

While speaking, she gently pressed her fan to her chest.

I feel my cheeks burning up. I repress the chill running down my spine.

'I know I should be glad she suspects the wrong thing."

But damn, this is very embarrassing. I hide my face behind my fan for a short second.

"Forget my words, I am merely teasing you," she smiles. "You really do look like your mother."

A wave of panic hits me.

"You knew her?"

"I happened to attend the same Academy as her," she responds.

Her vague answer doesn't relieve the pressure tightening my chest. I can only keep an innocent and happy face. She slowly closes her fan.

"As much as I would like to further our discussion, I am afraid your mistress wants you back. It would be a shame to anger her on the day of return."

The Marchioness has been angered multiple times during the past hours, but I keep it to myself. Looking behind me, I can see that Jeanne is, in fact, looking at me over her glass of wine. Surrounded by the members of the Sovereignist faction, she looks like a Royal Princess.

"If you would excuse me."

The Duchess of Marchmont dismisses me with a quick gesture. The image overlaps with the one of Jeanne. Both are as haughty as each other.

"Nobles," I mutter silently.

I think really hard about my future life in Valenmare. The nice cottage in an oak forest. Watching Marianne pursue anything she wants.

'For her, if not for me.'

I try to walk graciously, avoiding the flock of courtiers moving around me.

"Ah, I can see the Duchess couldn't wait to meet your protegée. She didn't even ask you for an introduction," jokes one of the men.

Jeanne laughs with him, her jaw subtly clenched.

"Lord Pembroke, everyone knows the danger of old age. You forget your place."

The man's smile froze. He looks away.

"Well, Lady Moreland, I hope you left unscattered. She has the art to make the youngest fly away."

'I knew it.'

The Duchess was provoking me. Whatever she said had the sole purpose of testing me. She might even have lied about her link with the Moreland House.

"Under her hard shell, she has a soft heart for promising pure youth," adds the Marchioness. "She used to like me before."

"Before what?" I ask, purposely following her flow.

Her dark red lips stretch into a conspiring smile.

"Before I stopped listening to her."

The assembly and I laugh. The intensity behind her eyes leaves no doubt: it was more than a joke. It was an advice.

Gain her trust by betraying me.

'That shouldn't cause me any problems.'

The problem is to find a plausible explanation for why and how I will execute the plan. I stop thinking when I watch her malicious gleam. She has a plan. Why didn't she decide to talk to me about it earlier? She certainly has a reason. It's not my problem. My head is already hurting. Since I stepped here, it seems like I can't lower my guard. I have to be attentive to everything. My environment poses no problems. I already planned the quickest and safest way to escape. Which guard to kill, which noble to use as a shield, and the best exit route. My posture, either during a heist, I am always on guard. But reading every emotion, every innuendo, every smile, and expression, remembering the lessons of the Marchioness, planning my words and adapting the right attitude... All of this, at once, makes me feel like I'm drowning.

"May I ask Lady Moreland for a dance?" asks the Marquess Belanger.

She pretends to think, and without even throwing a glance at me, she says:

"Only if you bring her back before dawn."

'That cursed woman.'

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Jeanne

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Even after throwing me out without any trial, believing my prospective fiancé, with whom she had an affair, my cousin still had the decency to assign me to my old quarters. I watch the clear blue sky humming as I turn the silver spoon in my hot chocolate. The party only finished four hours ago, barely before the first hue of dawn. My silky night gown is softly brushing my cold skin.

A loud screech breaks the tranquil atmosphere. A throw a glare at Wren, sharpening her dagger. Her beautiful court dress, several layers of yellow sunflower chiffon, clash with her actions. Like promised, she returned to me before the end of the festivities,

"How long did he try to coax information out of you?" I ask, blowing the steam off my cup.

"Some trap questions, once every half-hour," she mutters back.

I look at her bare foot covered in red marks. She had to bandage them before going to sleep. Seeing her wounds annoys me. She will have to wear boots until they heal. This will entirely change the outfits I picked out for her.

"How long do you think we will have to wait before the Enlightened makes their first move?" asks Wren.

"In a few hours, I will be invited to a luncheon by the Queen. Only her noblest entourage is invited, meaning you won't come with me. And before you ask, yes, the Duchess will be present."

"She will instruct her friends to approach me in your absence."

"Exactly," I confirm. "Now listen to me, the role you will play will be...delicate. I will explain it piece by piece depending on your progress."

"Can't you just blackmail them all?"

Her voice is cynical, and her fingers are running down her blade.

'Don't tell me she is going to lash out like a stray dog,' I think, keeping a neutral smile.

For a moment, I imagine her chasing my opponents down the hallway with an axe. It would be a good sight.

"My capabilities are now limited. I need someone on the inside."

"They are going to know I am your spy."

"Of course they will, you will pretend not to know, they know you are my spy."

"I am sorry, what now?"

I softly sigh.

"Oh, Lady Moreland, you will be their perfect prey, young, influenceable, possessed by the uncontrollable urge of justice and righteousness."

"I am nothing like that," she snaps.

I almost snort. Never have I met a soul who cares more about morality and injustice, even while being a thief.

'Maybe this is what makes her perfect.'

Her duality is what makes her more susceptible to turn toward the 'good side', the side of change and abolition. I don't worry about her turning on me. She still needs Marianne's contract and her vengeance.

"My Lady."

Talk about the devil. My ex-lady-in-waiting is standing next to the door, holding a silver tray with a letter. I call her by putting down my spoon. She approaches, her pace slower than usual, her eyes avoiding mine. When she puts it down, I brush her hand deliberately. She jumps away.

"Why so shy?" I simper. "You don't even step in my bedroom anymore."

Arianne presses her lips and throws me her usual stern look.

"Worry not, my Lady, I will never cross your boundaries."

'She should add 'again',' I think. 

A metallic clink interrupts us.

"Marianne, please go and search for bandages," asks Wren.

She waves her hand; her palm is bloody, crossed by a straight cut.

"Of course," bows her sister.

"Leave her alone," she warns as soon as the door closes.

"Oh, it looks like the invitation for the luncheon has arrived," I say.

I negligently throw the letter into the burning embers. My hands cup my face as I face the thief.

"Now that you sent my maid away," I smile, "You will help me dress up."

The look of horror on her face makes me burst into laughter.

°°°

An hour later, I am ready and out. Strolling under a lace parasol paired with my ivory dress, I let my attention focus on the surrounding discussions.

'How interesting, and...unsurprising.'

With the upcoming wedding, the new leads are naturally the hottest topic of the court. But the way they are talking about one of them specifically could raise some eyebrows.

"Lady Chamberlain."

The smooth voice of Richard echoes through the flower bushes. I let my face form a disgusted expression before turning it back to its charming mask.

"Your Grace," I purr, twirling back to face him.

I subtly tighten my lips and dive into an elegant curtsy. I can already hear the hushed gasps and feel the thick anticipation.

"I did not have the chance to talk to you yesterday. Please let us fix this mistake."

Yesterday, I saw all of his numerous attempts to approach me fail miserably; A failure I successfully planned.

"Your concerns are unfounded; everybody knows the love you share with our Queen. It was only natural for you to stay by her side on the night of my return."

Richard chuckles awkwardly, surprised that I address the subject first. Like the day we met in my cousin's dressing room, his attire is pure white, but his handkerchief is dyed in a soft shade of gold.

"You know very well it was not in that intention."

I lower my face and smile fondly.

"Oh, Richard, I know you believe in me. I was only teasing you. Do you remember when you came to the Chamberlain estate eight years ago? You used to play tricks on me. I thought you despised me. It took me some time to realize it was because you saw me as your sister.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he takes a step back. Around me, I can hear loud whispers.

"Sister?"

"Well, our relationship began when we were small children; it was only natural for me to consider you as my blood."

I let my hand drop on my skirt.

"I was so blinded by the fear we would grow apart that I failed to see your true feelings and my cousin's. After all, you two fell in love during our engagement talk."

"Jeanne," he whispers tenderly, "we don't blame you for this."

My lips curl up under the shade of the parasol.

"Of course, I've never doubted for a second the true motives of my departure. The court is still lurking with some rats."

For a flash of a second, his sweet angelic face turns hateful. His upper lip twitches and his eyes narrow.

'He fell into that trap more easily than I thought.'

"Since we are both heading to the luncheon, why don't you let me escort you?" he proposes, extending his arm.

We smile fondly at each other as I take his hand. Immediately, the atmosphere shifts, the hostile glares seem to have softened, as if the courtiers were rethinking their stance.

As expected, every time the Royal couple is mentioned, the one who was constantly praised and admired isn't Leonia. It is Richard.

The Queen's lack of authority only adds to his popularity. The future King became, in two years, the only safe key for the prosperity of the kingdom after my exile.

As much as it pains me to admit it, I'm the only one who can match him.

'I wonder how he is going to try to get rid of me this time,' I think, glancing at him.

We exchange empty pleasantries until we arrive. The lunch is taking place in a colorful rose garden. A long table with an ivory embroidered cloth is placed at the center. Elegant chairs made of soft wood surround it. Most of the guests have already arrived and are chatting under the leafy arch. As soon as they see us together, they exchange knowing looks before conversing with me. Their tone is noticeably warmer than last night. A valet announces the Queen's arrival.

We all bow. Glancing at Richard, I see he is already looking at me. When I raise, the face she makes tells me she already knows that Richard escorted me.

'Did she catch gossip? Or is she that insecure?"

I would prefer the first.

'That would help my image.'

We all sit down. It feels weird to be facing the royal seat and be beside it. I ignore the smug smile of the Duchess and bite into the cold duck meat. The flesh is sweetened with honeyed melon pickles.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," she greets us, lightly tapping the corner of her mouth. "I wanted to share a meal to celebrate the arrival of our guests who traveled far from their lands to attend my wedding."

About half of the guests–including me–match her description, we all smile, thank her, and congratulate her.

When I finish speaking, the Duchess turns toward the couple and says:

"Your union will be the start of a reign marked by evolution, peace, and forgiveness."

No one misses how her eyes stop on me when she says the last word.

"Your Majesty, are you really going to forgive Lady Chamberlain?" presses an aristocrat, sitting next to the Duchess. "She may be your kin, but she did scheme against you."

I wish I had brought Wren. She could've shot him in the mouth.

"You are all mistaken," I smile after taking a sip of icy tea. "How about you learn the differences between jealous rumors and facts?"

"And what do you mean by that?" he snaps back.

"Your Grace."

The guests turn their heads toward the Duke of Hereward in the same movement. The Queen's hand grabs his. Richard's eyes swiftly go back and forth between his fiancée and his ex-prospective one. Which side will he defend?

My breath stops. My own audacity makes me slightly afraid.

'Make this work.'

The Duke kisses the back of her hand. Leonia's tense shoulders subtly loosen.

"My dear, I see there is no point in hiding it anymore," he says.

His angel eyes meet mine.

"I trust Jeanne."

It's too beautiful to be true. It makes no sense. It will cause indecent rumors. But I don't care. Richard fell into my trap; willingly or not, he decided to play along with me.

This small victory tastes as sweet as the honey in my mouth.

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Fan language:

1. Fan touching her chin.

Duchess of Marchmont is expressing her doubt/Skepticism

2. Fan passed over the heart.

Wren pretends to be hurt, her gesture is like a promise of truth coming from the heart. She implies that the Marchioness' story is true.

3. Fan pressed over the chest.

The Duchess is saying that Jeanne and Wren entertain a romantic relation. Basically she implies that Wren is Jeanne's secret lover.

4. Fan hiding the face.

It can have a double meaning: Either Wren is concealing her emotions, hinting there is truth in the Duchess words. Either she is displeased/offended by her words. Wren plays with the double meaning leaving the Duchess choosing the one she prefers.

5. Gently closing a fan.

The Duchess is closing the discussion.

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Story Note:

I hope you like that chapter that was totally not written in the middle of my empty flat sitting on the floor.

I hate moving away.

Either way Jeanne's POV was tricky. I didn't want the readers to get bored so I added Richard for the drama and to accelerate the pace. I tried to balance dialogue and lore info the best I could with two meowing cats running around me.

Did you like fan language or was it unnecessary? What do you think of the Duchess?

POV: Jeanne and Richard after pretending to be in good terms:

https://youtu.be/ZYhTaVt4K3w