LOGIN*Belinda*"And what of the other matter," Bratha said slowly with more care as if each word could make a cut. "What about her?"Belinda did not need to ask who she meant.There was only one she who could be meant. Only one arrival in the whole of this snowbound week that required asking after a person's fortitude beforehand.Her. Empress Anastasia.Gods, merely thinking of her name made the images come. Each arriving whole and unwelcome, the way it always did. So much like the both of them could be. The damned silver hair. That particular scarlet in the eyes. And a face Belinda spent two decades trying not thinking about but could nonetheless reconstruct down to the shape of the mouth. With or without Alexander’s cursed painting. Something turned over low in her stomach."My scouts sent word this morning," Bratha continued, oblivious or else choosing to be. "The carriage crossed into Dawny two days past. They will be through the last of the passes by now." She turned her cup on its
*Belinda*Rethink the arrangement? Belinda was rendered dumb and useless. Her mouth stood slightly open. Her grey eyes had gone wide and blinking, fixed on Bratha as though looking hard enough at her oldest friend's face might somehow bridge the gap. Pull back the distance now drawn between what she had just heard and what could possibly be made from it. What Bratha had meant in saying such a thing. A thing Belinda would never, in a million moons, have imagined leaving that mouth.Rethink the arrangement! That was…it was–It was absurd. ABSURD! Yes, it was, quite plainly, absurd — and the absurdity of it was precisely what kept her, for several long seconds, without a single word to offer. She could not locate the correct response, not because none existed, but because too many arrived at once, colliding in her throat before any single one could take proper shape.How can she even suggest this? Now?! Here. After everything.As though nine years could be folded up and set aside lik
*Belinda*"Nicoli is not going anywhere."The words came out with such a force that it surprised even Belinda herself. The very sound of her own voice, usually so polished and gentle towards her dearest friend, now cut clean through whatever Bratha had been about to say next, leaving them both, in its wake, oddly listless. Stranded.But she did not retreat from it. Would not.Not with my Nicoli in question. Instead of retracting back into her old mask, Belinda found, to her own surprise, she did not entirely regret being seen. Rather, an old and fiercely maternal woman had risen up beneath the practiced grey calm of her, stripping away, in a single stroke, decades of careful, crafted, well-tended friendship. She was to bury her husband this week. She had spent the handful of days since quietly, privately rehearsing the shape of a future in which her son remained the last whole thing she still had to hold — the last piece of her family not yet claimed by death, or distance, or some si
*Belinda*Bratha lowered herself into the waiting chair with the slow, deliberate care of someone long accustomed to furniture fearing her. The reinforced frame held firm beneath her weight — not even the faintest groan escaping the hidden iron braces. Belinda allowed herself a small, private measure of satisfaction to that. Every measurement had been her own. Every joint checked twice.She wouldn’t have to replace the head of carpentry any time soon."Forgive me, my dear friend." Bratha settled back against the deep green velvet, the fabric absorbing her bulk without complaint. "I did not mean to keep you waiting."Belinda returned to her own seat, carefully sliding the bulk of her dress to one armrest in a fluid motion that matched her voice. "You hardly did." Bratha did not answer immediately after. Rather, she settled fully into the chair — the rest of her weight easing into the reinforced frame, as though testing that the promise held before trusting it entirely — and for a mom
*Belinda*Belinda had pulled out all the stops for their tea. The table gleamed beneath the tall windows, each piece placed meticulously, enough so, that even the servants seemed reluctant to dare even breathe near it. White porcelain edged in gold caught the fleeting afternoon light, thin and gold-shot where it fell through the glass. Three pots waited over their silver warmers — black tea, a softer pear blend, and the bitter mountain infusion Bratha had once declared the only thing in all of Dawny with any courage in it. Belinda had made a particular point of bringing out that one.She could already picture the smile it would draw — the widening of those blunt white teeth, the peridot eyes lighting with pleasant surprise that Belinda had bothered to remember so small a thing.But it was exactly why Belinda remembered. It was exactly how two women such as themselves had remained friends across so many years.Anything for my dearest friend, after all.The thought settled warm and eas
*Hildenberg*Hidi choked on her own tongue.It suddenly sat too thick between her teeth. Like swallowing honey gone stiff with wax. It clung to every crevice of that warm cavern, filling the space where words should form. All the more making it a struggle of the simplest things. To speak. Think. Even utter a single clean syllable.She staggered to blink a moment, as if slow to restart, as though the very suggestion had knocked something loose in the machinery of her. Her mother. Mama. Would she really—No. No, she would never. That certainty alone restored her confidence enough to melt the waxy blockades from her mouth. Revive her comatose tongue. And suck in enough air to revive her from the shadows of doubt. Leaving her only with firm conviction. “You wouldn’t dare.” Her voice found its footing and began to build, momentum gathering behind it like a great boulder loosed on a snowy slope. "You have no right—"“I have every right to refuse work that is no longer mine.” Hidi’s fa
*Aunt Funda* Aunt Funda could feel all the blood drain from her cheeks as the initial shock transmitted to outright dread. What is the meaning of this? Her mind raced as her eyes again read over the envelope. Somewhere, she hoped that it was her mistake. A trick of the light or her eyes had tur
“Your Majesty,” Johan warned. But King Alexander shooed him off.“I know what you are going to say, but I don’t care.” King Alexander had every right to be happy. And with that, he gave another skip around the room. “Your majesty,” Johan could shake his head, but it was a lost cause. The king wasn
“Have you ever considered taking a pen pal, Ana?” Maddie uses the nickname. It’s a habit of hers when we are alone. “Pen pal?” I repeat. What is she going on about this time? It’s been a month since Maddie started. But it doesn’t feel like much time has passed. Maybe because she makes everything
"You do know the Empress is mixed? ” Lady Funda cut straight to the point. It had not been a good round of interviews, and by the last interview, high noon was almost upon them.So, needlessly to say, Funda wasn't in the mood to sugarcoat things. “She’s half and half.” Funda tapped her fingers. “Hu







