Verita was locked in deep conversation with the king when Roche returned carrying stacks of books about the war. She sidled up to Verita, who had dark shadows staining the skin beneath her eyes.

"What's happening?" she asked quietly when there was a break in the conversation. Verita shot her an irritated look.

"What else?" the librarian groused, "War plans are being discussed. Of course, we need to wait until morning for the Princess to organize the knights. All this is speculation."

Roche lowered her voice. "And the curse?"

Verita's eyes sharpened. She glanced at the king, who was conversing with a smarmy looking advisor. She turned towards Roche fully, her eyes dark.

"The king will hear nothing of it," Verita murmured, barely loud enough to be heard, "And even if he did, the sources are meagre."

"So it can't be broken?" Roche whispered, her heart falling. Verita bit her lip.

"I don't know." the librarian admitted, "All curses should have a way to be broken, no enchantment is without a way to undo it. If there is a way for this curse, however, I do not know it."

"And you're sure your texts have nothing about it?" Roche pressed, trying to keep the urgency out of her voice. Verita tilted her head.

"All the inkblood related texts need to be reviewed by the king." Verita grumbled, jerking her head towards the royal. A stack of yellowed papers were next to him, pinned down by a metal cup of wine. "He wants to burn them."

"He can't!" Roche blurted out before she could think it through. She coughed awkwardly when Verita raised a brow. "I mean... what if there's a cure in there or something?"

Verita's brows twisted. "It's a complex curse. Even the information about it is obscure. There is no cure in those texts."

"I could review them. Maybe there is something of use." Roche offered. Verita's answering smile was painful.

"As could I," she muttered, "But as I said, the king wants to burn the texts. They are too reminiscent of inkblood. In his eyes, if they do not contain the cure, they are useless."

"They helped us identify the curse. So they're not totally useless." Roche argued. Verita's smile flattened and her gaze drifted back to the red faced monarch.

"Tell that to him." the librarian snorted quietly. Roche stifled a chuckle, glancing back at the stack of papers.

"Was that all you could find about the curse?" she asked, her mirth fading. Verita nodded gravely.

"I shouldn't have brought the texts here. They're going to be destroyed." Verita stared longingly at the stack, "I should have known better. But I trusted... it was a fool's hope."

A fool's hope that the monarch would actually act sensibly. Roche thought sourly. She couldn't let those pages get burned. Offering to take them back to the library alone would cast suspicion. Unless...

Roche closed her eyes a beat too long, rallying her concentration. A new word bubbled on her tongue.

"Skuedo." she whispered, ever so quietly. She opened her eyes and tugged on the inkblood within her. The king turned towards Verita again, and Roche zeroed in on the cup of wine.

The cup fell over and rolled off the table, clattering against the ground. The king stood to avoid the splash of red wine that currently coated the papers around him. Verita let out a strangled sound, like he'd spilled his wine on a precious jewel rather than a text. Roche quickly stepped in to help, scooping up the texts before they could get soaked. A servant scrambled forward with a cloth and soaked up the spill before it could touch any documents in the center of the table.

The king surveyed what remained on the table with an unimpressed tilt to his lips.

"It appears that the important documents are safe," he announced. He beckoned for Roche to approach with a flick of his hands, "You, girl! Show me the damage."

Roche's knees trembled as she stepped forward, holding out the papers she'd gathered. She held her breath, praying that her inkblood wouldn't surface on her arms, even though it never had in the past. She could imagine the roar of the king's voice as he ordered her execution, she could practically hear the crackle of flames-

"Ah, it's only the papers we planned to dispose of." the king said in a relieved voice. He waved Roche away with a flick of his hands. "See to it that they are burned."

Roche didn't trust her voice. She curtsied deeply, tucking the pages under her arm. The wine stuck to her skin, soaking through the sleeves of her gown. Verita looked like she was going to cry. The king stood with a stifled yawn.

"It's late. Perhaps we should reconvene in the morning." the king suggested. The exhausted advisors bowed and raced out of the room. Roche didn't hesitate. She walked out one step behind Verita, sweat rolling down her back.

The old librarian held her tongue until they'd made it back to the library. The moment they'd entered their quarters, Verita slammed the door shut.

"I should have kept those texts in the library!" she shouted so loudly that Roche flinched. Verita paced the room, barrelling past the many benches. "I have taken every possible step to preserve those texts for decades, and the first time they are used, the king would have me burn them! And to ensure their destruction, he splashes his wine on them!"

"I'm sorry, Verita. I know what these texts mean to you. I think it was an accident, truly." Roche offered meekly. To her surprise, the words seemed to soothe the librarian. Verita shook her head miserably.

"It pains me to burn these texts." she muttered bitterly, "So much wasted knowledge."

Roche instantly felt guilty at the distress she'd brought. She looked away before her expression could reveal her plan.

"I could burn them." she suggested quietly. Verita pursed her lips, her eyes raw with devastation.

"No, no. It pains you as well, I presume. Especially with your connection to the words. I do not wish to see your spirit quenched." Verita waved her off. Roche placed the wine soaked pages on the table.

"It's alright. Really, I don't mind." Roche insisted. Verita heaved with a sigh.

"Oh, alright. Thank you, Roche. Your mother raised you well."

It was very hard for Roche not to apologise for the pain she'd caused. She wanted to confess her plans right there, but barely managed to stop herself. Verita would undoubtedly oppose her plan to help the royal children. Roche was hesitant to aid them, even. But for once, the snobbish nobles seemed to have good intentions. If she could help save the lives of hundreds of villagers and guards, she should help. She wouldn't be able to sleep knowing she could have assisted, but didn't.

So Roche tilted her head with an acknowledging nod and bid the devastated librarian goodnight. She gathered the pages and entered her chambers quietly. She waited until she heard Verita shuffle to her cot before she risked lighting her candle. She climbed onto her bed and peered at the page. The wine had soaked onto the surface, but the ink and page were still preserved. If the king had bothered to touch the pages, he would have felt a thin film surrounding the texts from her incantation. Roche breathed a sigh of relief as she peeled off the damp, plasticky shield she'd made that had protected the ancient papers.

Roche pored over the pages until her candle was nearly a stub and her eyes were drooping shut. She'd gotten a lot of information about the Wailer's Curse, but Verita had been right. The documents were so old that the language used was flowery and confusing. All she could tell was that the curse would start at a certain location and make a beeline for the intended target, outlined by the caster. It would jump from victim to victim, plowing through lands.

"The most ultimate punishment, to destroy all that one loves and then thyself." the text read. The candle flickered out as Roche began to drift off. Her fingers brushed over the paper, inkblood and stories whirling through her mind as she sank into unconsciousness.

-------

There were several deliveries Roche had to make. She awoke before the sun had risen, stolen pages tucked into the bottom of her wagon. Verita raised her brows as Roche emerged from her room. She stood over the stove, stirring a steaming pot of what looked like mush.

"You're up early." Verita noted. Roche forced herself to smile.

"I figured that today would be more busy with all the war preparations, so I want to get the deliveries out of the way."

"Good," Verita praised her, ladling some grits into a bowl. Her eyes softened as she met Roche's eyes. "I hope yesterday didn't disturb you too terribly."

Roche shook her head. "Really. I'm fine."

Verita held her gaze for a moment, and again, Roche was compelled to tell her everything. Verita slid the bowl over the table towards her.

"You've done very well, Roche. You're learning restraint and discipline, two qualities that will only help you with your control." Verita replied, "And you've taken to court behaviour very well. Your mother will be very proud of you."

Roche's stomach flipped. "Thanks," she muttered, reaching for the bowl. Verita nodded.

"The Irulian ambassador brought some seasonings, and the king certainly didn't want them. I think they might be more to your liking." Roche's eyes watered as she took a bite of the grits. It wasn't pleasant, but she could single out some of the flavours her mother used to have. As disgusting as the flavour combination was, she was touched that Verita had thought to give her something that tasted like home. Roche nodded appreciatively, choking it down.

"Thanks, this is delicious!" she lied baldly, some of her guilt absolving as Verita's lips twisted triumphantly, like she'd cracked the code to cooking. She nodded at Roche, turning back to the stove.

"Best get moving then." she advised. Roche had never been so happy to leave their private chambers.

-------

Her wagon squealed as she walked down the halls. Guards milled every hallway, their eyes hawkishly watching her pass. Several times, the guards made towards her like they wanted to search her, but they caught a glimpse of the royal sigil she bore on her wagon.

It was absolutely nerve wracking. As she neared the Prince's room at sunrise, there were so many guards near her that she couldn't get by. Roche trembled under their accusing gazes.

"I h-have a book delivery for Prince Finn?" she declared, her voice quavering. Sweat rolled down her back as two guards pulled her away from the wagon roughly. Another two bent over the wagon, roughly rifling through the books. Roche winced.

"Please be careful, those are old texts!" she squeaked, "Verita will be most displeased if they are torn."

One of the guards sneered at her. "Do not try commanding us, girl." he spat the last word like it could be interchanged with Irulian. Her blood boiled. Roche stiffened, her nervousness forgotten. She opened her mouth to fire back a retort when another figure cleaved through the guards.

"At ease, gentlemen." Aodh barked as they scrambled to bow. His eyes narrowed at Roche with suspicion, and for a moment Roche thought she was going to be thrown out of the hall. But Aodh simply jerked his chin at the guards holding her. "She's with me."

The hands fell away from Roche like a snake shedding skin. She immediately pressed away from the guards, her face undoubtedly showing her displeasure. The prince raised one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows.

"Do you have the war books we discussed?" he asked curtly. Roche nodded. Aodh searched her gaze for a moment. "Very well," he sighed, sounding bored. "Come with me. You know Finn likes to be shown his book deliveries."

Roche curtsied deeply before grabbing the handle of her wagon and following the prince. He shouldered open the doors to Finn's chambers. Roche gaped at the size of the room. It was huge. The ceilings stretched up to a point where a large chandelier dangled over a long, burgundy table. There were only a few chairs around it, all of which were piled with books and scrolls and pens. Most surfaces in the room were in a similar state, save for a washing basin and a dresser tucked in the corner of the room. The tall windows that oversaw the beaches were drawn with heavy drapes, thick rope lying coiled on the ground beside them. Beside the perfectly polished windows was a large bed that was larger than Roche's chambers. Atop it, Finn was sprawled, surrounded by books.

His mousy brown hair stood up in a variety of angles. His wiry glasses were pinched between his pale fingers, dangling off the side of the bed like he'd been trying to put them away when he fell asleep. His white nightclothes were bunched awkwardly beneath him, hard to distinguish from his pale skin and the white sheets. His mouth was wide open, adorable snores echoing off the walls. Aodh groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Where's the princess?" Roche asked with uncertainty, unsure if she should even be allowed to see a member of royalty in this state. Aodh didn't seem to have these qualms. He marched over to the bed menacingly.

"Hopefully awake." he grumbled. He towered over Finn for a moment. Then he leaned close. "Finn! Get up!"

"Nnnnngh." the prince groaned. Roche hid her smile behind her hand. Aodh did not seem amused.

"Hello?" he shouted in his brother's ear, "We have a war to plan! Wake up! Finnegan Emerson Silvia!"

Finn rolled over in the bed with a soft whine, covering his ears with his pillows. Aodh frowned and yanked the fluffy pillow from his brother's ears.

"UP!" Aodh ordered, tearing away the blankets. Roche tilted her head.

"Why don't you try opening the curtains instead of... that." she suggested. Aodh's eyes narrowed.

"Finn's never reacted to that before." he muttered, "Only one thing has worked."

Aodh stalked off towards the bathroom. Roche heard the sound of water running. Suddenly Aodh returned with a large bucket. Roche's eyes widened as she realised what he was going to do.

SPLASH!

"AGH!" Finn screeched as he jolted upright, his curly brown hair now drenched and pressed flat against his scalp. He slammed his spectacles onto his nose, blinking his green eyes blearily. His eyes sharpened as they locked on his brother.

"Aodh!" he cried, "Whyyy?"

"In case you've forgotten, we have a war to stop. So get up!" Aodh snapped. Husky female laughter drifted from the doorway and Roche spun on her heel, seeing Tigris watching the spectacle with a bemused expression. She smirked as her eyes met Roche's gaze.

"Enjoying the show?" she asked, pushing off the wall. Roche worked her throat. The princess looked fierce, dressed in her knight get up. She wore a protective leather vest over a thin black top paired with khaki coloured trousers. Her light hair was braided back into a crown style, only a few pieces framing her high cheekbones. Her green eyes glittered, the same hue as Finn's. They probably got their eyes from their mother, Roche realised. Tigris' bored gaze slid towards her youngest brother, and her lips flickered with a smile.

"Is this how Kai wakes you up?" she teased her brother. Finn shook water out of his hair, glaring daggers at his siblings.

"Kai is nice and actually wakes me up by asking." he grumbled, wiping his glasses off on the edge of his shirt. His irritation faded as he noticed Roche, and suddenly his cheeks reddened. "Roche?"

"Uh, hi." she greeted before realising who she was talking to. She dipped into a curtsy, "My lord."

"Rise." Finn's voice sounded strained. He glanced at the wagon, his embarrassment fading. "Did you get the documents?"

"Yep!" Roche pried open a few of the books, carefully sliding out the texts she'd hidden from the guards. "Everything we know is right here."

"Impressive." Tigris noticed. Roche jumped. She hadn't noticed the princess come behind her until she'd spoken. Tigris frowned at the documents.

"It's long." she noted unhappily, "We don't have much time to go through all this."

"You didn't think it would be a manual on how to stop the Wailer's Curse, did you?" Finn grouched, tumbling out of his bed with a wet squish. His clothes stuck to his arms and legs and he waded closer to the gathered royals. Roche held up a hand.

"Uh, these are really sensitive documents. Maybe dry off first?" she suggested. Finn's cheeks reddened again and he mumbled something before loping off to his washroom. Aodh cleared the books off one of the tables and Roche carefully laid out all the pages she had. The three of them were still staring at the texts uncomprehendingly when Finn sauntered out of his washroom, toweling off his hair. He took one look at their faces and sighed.

"What happened?"

"It's going to take ages to go through all this." Aodh complained. Tigris shuffled some of the pages into stacks.

"There's four of us here. Finn, you're taking these. Aodh, you're taking that clump of pages on the left. Roche, you're helping me with the papers in the middle."

"Woah, woah, woah." Roche interrupted, jolting back, "I can't stay here."

"Why not?" Aodh asked, his eyes narrowing, "Do you have something to hide?"

Roche scowled at him. "I have something called a job. I have other books to deliver."

"Surely this takes precedence." Tigris argued, "You're the only other person who can help." Aodh didn't look happy about that, which made Roche very tempted to stay, but she couldn't.

"Won't the guards think it's weird we're all just staying in the prince's chambers? Before breakfast?" she pointed out. The royals glanced at each other dumbfoundedly and she rolled her eyes. Did she have to think of everything? "Besides, they didn't look too happy about letting an Irulian into these chambers."

The royals looked away guiltily.

"You're welcome here." Finn said quietly. The words were kind, but Roche's temper still simmered.

"Tell that to your guards." she grumbled, pulling away. "Good luck with your mission."

"Wait," Tigris said suddenly, "What if we came to the library?"

"Can't handle some reading?" Roche mocked. The princess' jaw clenched but to Roche's surprise, the royal didn't take the bait.

"We need help," Tigris said simply, "Our citizens' lives are at stake. I'll tell Verita that we need your help finding some books or something. That'll get her off your back about further deliveries."

That... was a good idea, even if she didn't want to admit it. Roche pursed her lips together.

"Fine." she said finally, picking up her wagon's handle. "Meet me in the library in an hour. I assume, based on the king's orders, that you have other things to do until then?"

She waited for the royals to nod. She curtsied again, hating every second of it, before she exited into the hallways again. The castle was beginning to bustle with activity now that the sun had peeked over the horizon. There was a tension in the air as Roche carted her wagon around. Those she made deliveries to took one look at her and would slam the doors to their chambers shut again once their books were accepted. Even those who'd previously been welcoming to her now talked to her frostily.

It stung more than Roche wanted to admit. She'd thought she'd escaped these behaviours when she'd left her village.

She should have known better. She crossed off another name on her list before she was down to the last book. She made her way to the last recipient in a daze and knocked on the door. It swung open almost immediately. The noble blinked at her sleepily, his cerulean blue eyes bleary. He yawned as he looked at Roche, sweeping his pitch black hair out of his eyes.

"My lord," Roche greeted with a curtsy that made her knees crack, "I'm here with the books you ordered."

"So early?" he whined. Roche laughed self-deprecatingly to ease the mood.

"Apologies, my lord. But the war preparations have increased the library's demand." Roche said, grabbing the book from the wagon. She nearly tripped over the hem of her dress as she straightened, and the lord flinched, his door swinging open. A flash of something blue caught Roche's eye.

She froze. It was a cloak, hanging on a coat hook. On its own, it seemed innocent. But Roche recognized that perfect navy hue with intricate hemming.

"The book?" the lord repeated. Roche swallowed her surprise.

"I just need to confirm your name." she managed to reply, grateful that her voice held steady. The lord's brows furrowed.

"I've never had to do that before when I ordered a book," he complained. Roche smiled tightly. His voice was familiar now, clicking into place. She'd heard it in the dwindling light of the evening, highlighted by the glow of an enchanted golden flower.

"New protocol. Name?"

"Lord Luctus Ashton." he responded, looking unimpressed. He held out his arms. Roche trembled as she held out the book, her hands brushing his. She could feel the inkblood coating his skin, making them appear bare. She knew the twisted dark marks that lay beneath the enchantment. Luctus' brows came together. He gazed at her with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Roche swallowed, flinching back.

"Just fine." she squeaked, "Enjoy your book!" She dipped into a hasty curtsy before scrambling away, empty wagon bouncing behind her. Roche careened into an adjoining hall, blindly making her way back to the library.

Luctus. It was the man she'd overheard that night. He had the datura flower.

He was going to poison the king.

She was my sister. Roche remembered him hissing. His sister. He'd lost someone. The same someone as the Council, presumably. Roche sucked in a breath. The Councilman's daughter, one of the cloaked trespassers had whispered. Did that mean Luctus' father was on the council?

Her mind raced with thoughts. Luctus was probably hiding the datura flower in his room. He'd attack the king. Normally, Roche wouldn't care. But if the kingdom was going to war, then it would leave the Faultless Kingdom defenseless.

People would die. The kingdom would be overrun. Irulia's problems wouldn't be fixed and would be passed on to the Faultless Kingdom.

Roche burst into the library, out of breath. She blew out a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the space. She needed to find Verita, to discuss this. What Luctus did next depended purely on the enchantment of the datura flower. What was he going to use the potent flower for?

"Roche?"

She spun around with a yelp. Tigris stood behind her, arms crossed. The princess scowled fearsomely.

"Where do you think you're going? The tables are that way." Tigris said, pointing to the left. Roche couldn't think about that right now. She pulled away.

"Where's Verita?" she demanded. Tigris raised a brow.

"She's with my father. Listen, we have a last ditch meeting with the ambassador in another two hours. We need to find something to present about this curse before then. Come on!" Tigris grabbed Roche's arm and dragged her towards the wide chestnut tables in a section of the library Roche hadn't frequented much. There were large cushy chairs that had been pressed against the long tables overlooking floor to ceiling windows. The stone framing the gold-paned windows were artfully decorated with carvings.

Roche forced herself to take a deep breath as she scanned the flurry of papers. Tigris shoved Roche into one of the chairs.

"You're doing that pile." she ordered, plunking down the tallest stack in front of Roche. Roche scowled at her.

"Why do I get the biggest pile?" she whined. Tigris smirked.

"Because we're nobles. We get the least work." she countered. Roche groaned. Finn placed a soothing hand on her forearm.

"I'll help." he offered kindly. Roche flashed him an appreciative glance, but waved him off.

"Don't bother. I read half of these last night." Roche pointed to Aodh's stack, "Look at the last ten of those, the rest just describe the symptoms of the illness and failed attempts at cures. That and a bunch of battles that occurred at the time."

"You read some?" Tigris gaped at Roche, "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

Roche shrugged. "I forgot to mention it."

"You-" Tigris sucked in an infuriated breath. She steepled her fingers. "What have you gone through?"

"Hmm, out of your pile? Just the last three pages. Finn's pile I finished, but it needs to be skimmed. And this pile," she gestured to her own, "I haven't started."

The royals stared at her for a moment. A mischievous grin split Tigris' face.

"I think you read faster than Finn."

"She definitely does." Finn said faintly. Roche's mind was still buzzing with thoughts. She shrugged, redistributing the papers.

The process was slow. The flowery language made the texts a bore to go through. Roche nodded off nine times and was rudely awakened by Tigris swatting her face. On the tenth time, Roche's eyes fluttered open and actually found something.

"Wait," she gasped, "Look at this."

She slapped the paper down onto the middle of the table. "The enchantment is bound to three things: the soul of the inkblood wielder, the inkblood itself, and if the wielder is too weak to maintain the curse, an object of power."

She dropped the page, filled with various diagrams of the ways to bind the enchantment. She looked up gleefully, her smile flickering as she noticed the blank stares the royals were giving her.

"What?" she asked innocently. Aodh groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"That doesn't tell us anything!"

"Yes it does!" Roche insisted. She pointed at Aodh's pile. "What does that say about the curse?"

He rolled his eyes. "What else? O' lovely reader, the Wailer's curse is a terrible one. It will reach the victim and suck the life out of them. Sincerely, the most irksome writers in the land." he replied, lifting his voice to a mocking pitch. Tigris sniggered as Finn elbowed his brother harshly.

"No!" Roche hissed, "The general page on curses! What does it say!"

Aodh frowned, his eyes scanning the page. "The curse doesn't stop until the goal has been reached or the enchantment has been broken. Oh, and the curse is accelerated if the inkblood wielder is closer to the victim." he summarised, setting the sheet down, "I don't see how that helps."

"We have two ways of getting the curse to end. We need to either achieve the goal or break the enchantment." Roche explained slowly, trying to find the right words to explain. Tigris' eyes flashed.

"If you are suggesting bringing the inkblood wielder closer to the castle to finish us off, then you have another night in the dungeons coming." she seethed. Roche shook her head furiously.

"No! The second option!" she snapped, "We need to break the enchantment!"

"Duh!" Aodh retorted, "We want to know how."

"The inkblood wielder had to bind the enchantment to three things." Roche described, stabbing at the paper with her finger, "Their strength keeps the enchantment flowing. There's no way that the enchantment has been maintained this long without an object of power."

Tigris sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "You ramble worse than Finn."

Roche fumed. "You need to either find the inkblood wielder and kill them or find their object of power! Destroy it, and you'll probably destroy the curse!" she insisted.

"Probably?" Finn repeated gently, "Roche, we can't stake the kingdom on a probably!"

Roche blinked at him incredulously. "Well what else do you have? We've gone through all the records we have!"

The royals stared at the mess on the table. The doors to the library swung open and Kai bustled in, sweat glistening on his brow.

"Finn!" he gasped, tailed by guards, "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Roche scrambled to gather the loose pages into a stack. Finn clambered to his feet.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to get you ready for the meeting with the ambassador!" Kai explained breathlessly. His eyes skimmed over Roche to the other royals. "You two need to get ready. The ambassador plans to return to Irulia afterwards."

They stared at each other wordlessly. This was their last chance to negotiate the war unless Irulia managed to miraculously stop the curse. Roche stacked all the pages neatly, schooling her expression before the guards could wonder what had left her so flustered.

"Ask the ambassador where the curse originated from. Find the inkblood wielders in that area. Perhaps you can find who started this curse and find them or their object of power." Roche advised, her voice a low murmur.

"But-" Aodh began to protest. Kai had grabbed Finn.

"I'm sorry, my lord, but we really must go!" Kai insisted, tugging the bookish prince out of the library. The guards left with them, leaving Aodh, Tigris, and Roche in the silent library. Roche stuffed the pages back into the wagon.

"I'll take these somewhere safe." Roche promised, pinning the nobles with a gaze. "This meeting will probably be your last chance to get any information from the Irulian ambassador, won't it?"

Aodh's throat bobbed as he nodded. Roche's heart sank. Tigris marched towards the door, her hand resting on the pommel of her jewel encrusted sword.

"Well then, we better make this meeting count. We need to find whoever cursed us and get rid of them." she said into the silence. She spun around, her hand resting on the door handles. Her green eyes gleamed like a cat's, her gaze flicking between Aodh and Roche. "We can't fail."

The words were heavy and surprisingly raw. Roche curtsied.

"Princess," she whispered the farewell, "Prince."

For once, she didn't mean it as a mockery.

-------

Roche had managed to stash the texts beneath her mattress when the doors to Verita's chambers unlocked. Roche raced out of her room, her breath catching in her throat as she caught Verita's haggard expression. The librarian held a stack of tomes and texts that she held out to Roche expectantly.

"Come," Verita said tiredly, "The meeting is about to begin."

Roche wasn't sure what she was expecting the room to look like, but it definitely wasn't a festive buffet. Servants flitted around like butterflies, dressed in formal clothes. Nobles milled the room, nabbing the small appetizers that had been laid out on the giant table that spanned the length of the room. Garlands of pale flowers had been strung up along the walls, and artful flagons of various drinks were interspersed across the space.

"I take it this isn't what you were expecting?" Verita murmured with amusement. Roche unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

"Aren't we going to war?"

"Of course. But the Faultless Kingdom needs to put on the appearance that we were good hosts who tried for peace. Hence the festivity as an attempt to 'change the Irulian's mind'." Verita's voice dripped with derision. The librarian's eyes were heavily shadowed. Roche swallowed.

"Is there truly no way out of this war?" she whispered. Verita looked pained as she shook her head.

"The king has outlined his terms. Irulia has no choice but to try and follow them." Verita answered tiredly. Roche pursed her lips. She really hoped the royals managed to wheedle some information out of the ambassador. She scanned the room, finding the willowy man staring at the assortment of delicacies with a distracted frown on his face. Roche looked away, noticing Aodh at his father's side. Tigris locked eyes with Roche. Roche tilted her head towards the ambassador.

Tigris followed her gaze and took a grand total of one step before an advisor walked in front of her and began to converse. Tigris tried side stepping, but the advisor seemed insistent. The brown haired man gestured emphatically, and Tigris briefly met Roche's gaze again to shake her head. She was stuck. She couldn't speak to the ambassador.

Frustration billowed within Roche's chest. Okay, so that left Finn. Where was the prince? Roche scanned the room, panic rising within her. She didn't see him anywhere.

"Are you alright?" Verita asked, pulling Roche out of her reverie.

"Uh huh." she mumbled distractedly. A flicker of movement at the edge of her vision caught her eye. The ambassador was slipping out the door. Roche glanced at the royals again. Both of them were preoccupied.

"I think I forgot one of the texts you requested." she told Roche. Verita clicked her tongue.

"You have a few moments. Quickly, go get it!" Verita hissed with displeasure. Roche raced towards the door. She saw a flash of movement rounding the bend. Roche sucked in a steadying breath before marching towards the corner. If the royals couldn't get the information they needed... she would have to.

She followed the ambassador's trail, the wiry man surprisingly quick. He drew further and further away from the council room. Roche felt unease trickle down her throat. The meeting was going to start soon. Where was the ambassador going?

She heard the ambassador's footsteps come to a stop. The place seemed familiar, but Roche couldn't remember when she'd been here before. Roche tried to soothe the apprehension rolling over her. Perhaps the ambassador wanted a moment away from all the guards and chaos of the meeting.

Roche stiffened. The guards. The ambassador was supposed to have at least two guards on him at all times. Where were they?

That doesn't matter now! Roche thought firmly, shaking away her concern. She rolled her shoulders and was about to step into the domed room to confront the man when another baritone voice pierced the silence.

"I see you've accepted my invitation."

Roche's blood went cold. She peered around the edge of the archway. The first thing she registered was the maze of pillars in front of her, then the yellowed walls. Suddenly, Roche remembered when she'd last visited these ancient halls.

"You dispatched my guards and left a cryptic note threatening my life and kingdom. Did you think I wouldn't come?" the ambassador asked coldly, no hint of the simpering act he'd shown with the king. His slate grey eyes regarded the cloaked figure in front of him. "I have a good mind to report you to the king."

"The king would regard the word of a trusted lord more than an enemy's." boasted the cloaked man. His fingers wrapped around the thick fabric of his blue cloak, tugging down the hood. Lord Luctus shook his midnight hair out of his piercing blue eyes with an arrogant, oily smile. The ambassador didn't look impressed.

"Even in Irulia, we heard of your sister's condemnation." the ambassador sniffed, flicking away the words easily, "The king hates inkblood more than Irulia. He will not trust the word of the brother of a convicted, burned inkblood wielder."

Lord Luctus' smile dropped. Something frigid and feral gleamed in his eyes.

"Then I suppose it is a good thing that we are both in disfavour of the king. It means me and mine can help you." Luctus said, snapping his cloak. The ambassador frowned deeply, looking away.

"What could a disgraced lord offer Irulia?" he asked curiously. Lord Luctus' canines glinted as he smiled.

"The Council of Seven has a solution to your kingdom's trifles. We can ensure that the plague does not touch your citizens, only the Faultless Kingdom. We can ensure that the Faultless Kingdom will fall in the war." Lord Luctus crooned. The ambassador blinked in surprise.

"It has been a long time since I've heard of the Council," he said in a dangerously soft voice. Luctus' lips tilted up with a too casual smile.

"Irulia once shielded us from King Romulus' purge, so I am not surprised. I doubt the king would like to reminisce on Irulia's acceptance of the Council, however, so I trust you will keep my membership private."

"Perhaps," the Irulian ambassador mused, tucking locks of silvery hair behind his ear, "Perhaps not. You are asking me and my elders to hide your existence and the fact that you offered your treasonous services, possibly implicating my country further in this senseless war? All for some far fetched claims for aid?" The ambassador's wrinkles deepened on his honeyed skin with each accusation. To Roche's surprise, Lord Luctus merely offered a tight lipped smile.

"They are not claims, ambassador." Luctus leaned in with a tantalizing grin, "They are promises."

"Promises," the silver haired Irulian repeated dubiously, "You and your inkbloods can turn the tide of a war? You can remove the plague from our lands?"

Roche's throat was too dry. Her legs trembled. She lowered herself to the ground, keeping her eyes on the wily men. Lord Luctus nodded smoothly.

"Of course. But it requires a price."

The ambassador stiffened, shaking his head. "I will not go against my elder's wills. Inkblood-"

"The Council has already convened with your elders. They agreed to support the Council's plan, provided you can follow through."

Roche's jaw dropped.

The ambassador stilled. "Nonsense!" he snapped, "The elders would never-"

"This is their writing and sigil of approval, is it not?" There was a shift in the shadows. Luctus pulled out a thin, crisp sheet out of the folds of his cloak and held it out to the Irulian. The ambassador snatched the sheet with hands that Roche could see were trembling. His jaw dropped slowly as he scanned the contents of the page.

"Impossible," the old man breathed. Luctus nodded with a smug look.

"Is it really so unthinkable?" he asked, "The Faultless Kingdom has treated you unjustly. If a war is to come, your lands will surely fall. Unless, that is, you have help. Your elders are willing to accept this plan if you can do as we ask."

The ambassador was silent. Roche felt like screaming. The wiry old man scanned the page again with those hard grey eyes. His jaw worked.

The smugness faded from Luctus' eyes. He tilted his head towards the ambassador sympathetically.

"Your elders were wise to accept our aid," he murmured reassuringly to the frozen old man, "The Council can help you."

The Irulian was silent for a long time. Roche recalled the wrongness of the datura flower. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene.

Don't do it. She found herself begging silently, Please.

But the Irulian ambassador dragged his gaze away from the sheet of paper. His face was blank.

"If I agree," he replied slowly, his voice carefully neutral, "If I do what is on this page, will you ensure that the plague is removed from Irulia?"

"Yes, ambassador," Luctus agreed with a simple tilt of his head, "And you will ensure that the Faultless Kingdom will lose the war. It is all in your hands. The Council is simply giving you the means to do so."

The ambassador stared at the lord for a long moment. Grey eyes held blue. The ambassador released a shuddering breath.

"My elders are wise. I will not go against their judgement." he said quietly. Roche's heart sank as Luctus beamed brightly at the old man. Again, he drew his hands out of the folds of his cloak. A wave of something familiarly foul battered Roche. She staggered back, her vision going fuzzy. Through bleary eyes, she glimpsed a golden glow exchanging from pale hands to tan.

"In that case, you know what to do."

The two men stared at each other, understanding passing between them. The Irulian ambassador bowed first, drawing a smile from Lord Luctus.

"My lord,"

"I'll see you in the meeting." Luctus replied, with a quick bow. Roche felt the datura's power roll over, sending her to her knees. Roche barely managed to scuttle back into the shadows of the nearest pillar before the ambassador strolled through the door. Roche watched as he glanced around furtively, tucking the datura flower in his pocket. Roche swallowed a mouthful of bile. She peeked back into the room again and the blood drained from her face.

Lord Luctus was gone.

Roche jumped to her feet, nearly hyperventilating. Whatever the ambassador was going to do with that flower... it wasn't good.

"Roche!"

She turned and Tigris was racing down the hall. Her green eyes glowed.

"Where's the ambassador?" she asked hopefully, her multicolored hair artfully arranged around her face. Roche swallowed several times before her voice could work.

"I-I lost him."

Tigris' hope faded into irritation. She gave Roche a light whack on the back of your head.

"You're an idiot," she grumbled, "He's an old man, how did you lose him?"

"He... walks fast?"

"Unbelievable. You're in worse shape than Finn." Tigris muttered, shaking her head. Her hand clamped on Roche's wrist, yanking her back to the council room. "Come on, then. Maybe there's still time to ask."

By the time they returned to the council room, the appetizers had been cleared away from the table and had been replaced with an assortment of gilded plates, crystalline glasses as well as enough cutlery for an army. Tigris shot Roche a venomous look as she made her way to the head of the table, slipping into the seat beside her father. The ambassador sat on the other side of the king, his face placid.

Roche's stomach churned as she neared him. She could feel the flower's enchantment wafting through the air vaguely. It was so powerful that she could feel it clouding over the entire table. She blinked, trying to steady herself. Verita rose and grabbed her arm.

"Have you been drinking?" she hissed, tugging Roche into one of the seats. Roche clasped her guardian's arm, leaning close enough to whisper.

"The datura flower. Lord Luctus gave it to the ambassador. They're going to do something." she said quickly, her words blending together. Verita's eyes turned wide. Her grip on Roche's wrist became crushing.

"Does he plan to poison the king? Did he mention the enchantment's goal?" Verita asked, her eyes darting around the room quickly. Roche bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

"He didn't say anything outright. Only that it would make the Faultless City lose the war."

Verita released her and sank back in her seat, looking dazed. Roche's heart was beating faster than a racing horse.

"If the ambassador does something to the king, then there will be no waiting. The grounds for war will be set immediately." Verita muttered. Roche looked down at her plate to hide the way the blood drained from her face.

Bloodshed would ensue, plain and simple. And every spilled drop, every life lost, that would be her fault. Roche didn't care about the snobby nobles or the king for that matter. But condemning hundreds to die because of her inability to act was unfathomable.

But she couldn't just stand up and start throwing around accusations. Even if the flower was discovered, it didn't appear to have inkblood on it. Her head would be on a pike long before the inkblood was identified.

The Irulian ambassador stood suddenly. There was a hard, resigned glint in his eyes. Roche held her breath. The ambassador waited until the murmuring around the large table had stopped. He held up his cup.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal, King Romulus." the ambassador announced, shaking his grey hair out of his face. "I am pleased to share Irulian wine, made with our dwindling stores of supplies. I hope it is to your liking."

The words were carefully picked. Diplomatic enough to not need a challenge, but harsh enough that the king's eyes flattened with displeasure. The king's eyes flashed.

"Hopefully your wine's quality will be better than what the Faultless Kingdom has recently received."

Muffled chuckles echoed in the hall. The ambassador's cheeks reddened and something in his gaze hardened. Still, he bowed his head and clapped his hands. One of his servants rushed up to his side holding a flagon of a sloshing red wine. It didn't look suspicious. But Roche felt the datura flower exchange from the ambassador's hands to the boy's.

The servant boy was young. His hands trembled as he first lifted his hands to fill the ambassador's cup. Roche watched carefully. The boy looked nervous, but not suspiciously so. His grip didn't waver, staying far from the open part of the flagron. He moved towards the king next, pouring more wine. Roche watched the stream of scarlet liquid.

It looked... normal. Like normal red wine. She could still feel the datura's unaltered choking presence. Was he not going to poison the king here? The serving boy made his way towards the royal children. He flashed Tigris a small, shy smile as he poured her drink. His grin flickered as he met Aodh's stony expression. He'd made it to Finn's cup when the ambassador cleared his throat expectantly.

"Ganymede, you've only filled mine halfway!" the ambassador complained, with a simpering smile. The boy bowed respectfully and circled back. Roche felt it then. The datura's choking aura suddenly cut off. Then it exploded so strongly that Roche nearly folded forward.

"Fill the king's cup too." the ambassador instructed. Ganymede obediently poured and Roche felt like she couldn't breathe. The flower. The flower had been placed into the wine and allowed to steep, its enchantment released. The king nodded, his eyes cold.

"That's better." he said with relish, swirling his cup. He held it up in the air.

"A toast," the king announced, his icy blue eyes sweeping the room, "To better days ahead."

The crowd echoed the sentiment. Roche steeled herself as the king brought the cup to his lips. She reached for her inkblood, the incantation whispered in her mind. She lowered her gaze so no one would see her lips move.

A surprised sound emanated from the king's side of the table. Roche looked up discreetly, hiding her smile behind her cup as she saw the wine spilled down the king's front, the cup rolling across the table. She'd tipped it forward just before it could meet his lips. The king's eyes flickered with surprise. He blinked quickly.

"My hand must have slipped." he muttered with embarrassment as servants descended around them, mopping up the spilled wine before it could stain the tablecloths or the king's clothes. Roche stole a glance at the Irulian ambassador. His face was flushed and tinged red, his chest heaving.

"I'm sorry, sire. That was the last of the wine. It was... one of a kind." he seethed. Tigris stood quickly.

"Here, Father. I've had enough to drink today." the Princess said, sliding her cup across. The king nodded gratefully, his cheeks still sporting red spots of humiliation. Roche sank back in her seat, feeling the datura's aura thin ever so slightly. Verita leaned close, spearing a piece of bland chicken on her blade.

"Am I correct in assuming that you were responsible for that?" she murmured. Roche blinked at her innocently.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You need to be careful. You know how dangerous that was." Verita said, but she also added, "But it was also very brave. I didn't know you cared much for the king's life."

"Believe me, neither did I." Roche mumbled, watching the Irulian ambassador fume beside the king. The old man looked weary and resigned as he watched the king sip the unpoisoned wine with relish and dive into the meal.

"This wine is wonderfully flavoured." the king admitted. Roche nearly choked with laughter as the ambassador's jaw clenched.

"As I'd hoped." the man muttered. The king's mirth faded.

"If it weren't for what Irulia has done, I would have looked forward to many more years of partnership." the king admitted, and the boisterous conversations around the table seemed to dim as the seated nobles tuned in to the conversation.

The ambassador's face shuttered. "As I've told you, my lord, Irulia has no control over the plague."

The king sighed, shaking his head. "I've heard that excuse before. I hope your elders manage to stop it, truly. This wine is delectable."

The ambassador looked like he was going to explode. Roche expected an outburst of some kind, but the ambassador tilted his head submissively and picked at the unseasoned chicken on her plate.

"So," Tigris interjected smoothly as a servant spooned some mush that was considered a vegetable onto her plate, "Tell us about this terrible plague that Irulia faces."

She shaped the last words into a drawl that bordered on teasing, and the king seemed to relax at the tone. Roche couldn't help but admire the princess' tact. The ambassador straightened.

"I've told you all that I know about the plague, princess." the ambassador insisted. Aodh locked eyes with Roche across the table, as if she should intervene. But Tigris didn't need any help.

"Ah yes," Tigris sighed with a roll of her eyes, "The symptoms and all. But have the seamstresses in the Karkta region been infected? I've enjoyed their wares in the past."

Tigris kept her eyes wide and innocent. The ambassador didn't seem to notice the cunning glint in them as he shook his head.

"No, Princess Tigris, not yet." the ambassador answered, taking a delicate sip of his wine, "Though, Karkta is close to the border, so it should be impacted any day now."

"Pity," Tigris noted with a haughty inflection, "I would have liked to order more gowns, before any infections took over."

The ambassador nodded and Tigris leaned forward ever so slightly, her carefully curled hair falling over her shoulder. Roche nearly laughed. She looked the part of a wide eyed innocent princess grappling for information.

"Well then, what regions did this ailment stem from? Is there anywhere that fabric trade remains?" Tigris asked artfully. The ambassador blinked.

"The plague began in the southern tip of Irulia near the border with the Tselts," the ambassador blinked mournfully, "It has carved a way up to the northeast where the border with the Faultless Kingdom is."

"The southern tip," Aodh repeated, ignoring the warning look Tigris shot him, "As in the City of Circa?"

The ambassador stiffened as if he didn't want to answer, but the king was peering at him with curiosity as well.

"Yes," he admitted with a small sniff, "That's the one."

"Interesting," Finn noted. He looked slightly pale, his eyes red. Clearly subterfuge wasn't the youngest royal's strength. "That's quite a populated city. The plague's effects must be disastrous and far reaching if it began there.."

"Indeed," Tigris interrupted with a playful but sharp grin that warned her brother to shut up, "I've seen the best jewels mined from there as well. Are the mines still operational?"

And so the lunch stretched on with Tigris entertaining the ambassador with a myriad of shallow questions that dug up more and more information about the plague's path. The king watched, unperturbed, with an amused glint to his eyes. Clearly, he'd seen Tigris use this flimsy, whimsical facade before. Clearly, the king was under the impression that Tigris was trying to muster more information for his sake. In reality, his other two children were taking careful note of the information the ambassador revealed in his disgruntled, wine-addled state.

After what felt like an eternity, the king rose from his seat, the ambassador quick to follow. They clasped hands, grinning at each other in a way that looked painful.

"I hope you enjoyed the banquet," the king told the ambassador suavely, "And I hope Irulia will prevail over their... issues."

The ambassador gritted his teeth and nodded. "I will make for Irulia at once to convene with my elders."

The king nodded, and just like that the banquet was over. The nobles lingered for a few moments, murmuring to each other in tipsy slurs as they made their way out. Despite all the wine he'd drunk, the ambassador's eyes were clear and flustered as he quickly exited, flanked his servants and the assigned guards. Roche hadn't ever seen the man so disheveled. Roche chugged her water, but that didn't erase the taste of triumph that had slicked her throat. Once they got to their chambers, Verita clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"You did very well today, Roche." she praised, and warmth bloomed in Roche's chest. Verita grinned. "You've used your inkblood to save a life. And even if it isn't the life you enjoy... that is an excellent first use."

"Thank you." Roche said, wondering if it was humanly possible to smile this much.

Nothing could bring down her mood. She'd foiled the poisoning. The thought straggled in her mind as she made her way to her chambers that night, preparing to get in contact with the royals soon. She went to bed elated, settled in her victory.

A/N: Oh Roche. You know that I can never let main characters stay happy.

Whew, this is probably one of the longest chapters in the book so far, and it's a juicy one! How did you all like it? Sorry for the delay posting the chapter today!