Lord Niyulgen was a slender man with a conspicuous belly protruding from his midsection. He exerted great effort to draw it in, striving to enhance his appearance as he posed for his portrait. I graciously accommodated his efforts by capturing that image on the canvas first, so when he eventually needed a respite or resigned himself to the futility of concealing his abdomen, the portrayal already reflected him at his finest.

  While I was sure the good Baron could stand to have a healthier diet or exercise, the man was still nearing sixty. The tone of the skin and body decreases with age; he was doing what he could. Why, he looked almost regal with his light blue shirt under his waistcoat, his modern breeches, and his white mustache twisted into a mid-spiral. My job was to emphasize his virtues and hide what could be unsightly; I had a performance to keep.

  Fourteen pairs of eyes followed the dance of my brush. I could feel their gaze upon me, the subtle intensity of their scrutiny. They excitedly discussed the motions of my hands, their whispers drifting on the air like the murmur of distant waves. As I overheard them, I came to realize that these unfamiliar faces belonged to those recently arrived, here to pay their respects and mourn the passing of the noble son of perhaps the kingdom’s most powerful Duke. While the ceremony was being arranged, they sought ways to amuse themselves.

  Rascal had not orchestrated this gathering alone. News of my parents’s return had reached her shortly after I departed, prompting Tirrha to cut short her holiday in Bernan. Upon her arrival, she had met with Rascal earlier this morning, and, inevitably, the idea of staging this little event had been born.

  Fortuity had granted us this chance. It was precisely what we needed to happen. Extending Princess’s name beyond Highsummit Manor when all the people coming to pay their respects returned home could be unspeakably valuable. Fermina had expressed her displeasure, but only briefly; she could not outwardly admit that Rascal had not exceeded expectations and done a marvelous job.

  To be the center of such attention, hearing their judgments whispered behind my back, was slightly uncomfortable. It was an unfamiliar experience, and I could sense that Princess shared the same sentiments. I had placed our mirror at the base of the easel, allowing us to converse as I worked.

  “Fermina really let you have it, didn’t she?” Princess celebrated with a suppressed giggle. “I should have told her much sooner; she was right. It would have saved me lots of embarrassment.”

  “How you tried your hardest to describe me as a deviant did not go unnoticed,” I muttered, my words carefully enunciated and spoken with deliberate softness. They were meant for Princess alone, for she could sense her own lips as they formed the syllables.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “I just told her the truth. You don’t have any self-control. Fermina keeping a short leash on you is for the best.”

  “Perhaps we should enlighten her regarding your relationship with Tirrha… or that particular painting she commissioned. It may be that I am not the only one who ought to learn self-control,” I insinuated with subtle menace, not threatening outright, but implying that she too harbored secrets best left unspoken.

  “That is different! And also, those things were your fault,” she defended and accused me.

  “How you got along with lovely Lady Lunatora before I joined you seemed scandalous enough, my dear Lady Aufelia,” I reminded her that their ‘friendship’ was unusual without requiring anyone’s help.

  “That is none of your business,” she snapped, but her tone soon softened. “Dubart. You would not tell, would you? You know Fermina. She would never let me see Tirrha again. Don’t tell her, please,” she tamely bargained, worry now evident.

  “I shall reserve that judgment for another time,” I replied with a dark hint of implication.

  In truth, I had no intention of revealing anything, but Fermina’s opinion of me was already perilously low. There was no need to diminish it further. If I kept that little morsel of information as leverage, perhaps Princess would moderate her tongue and speak of me with greater care.

  “Don’t be like that! Fine, you win. What do you want? I’ll tell Fermina that you can change me in the morning; I really don’t mind anymore, and I think it’s a little too much to have her do it, don’t you? And you can still call me ‘Princess’, whatever Fermina says. Whenever you say ‘Lady Aufelia’, it sounds like you’re making fun of me. I like being Princess, anyway. It’s a cute nickname.”

  I was pleased that she thought so. Calling her Princess had begun as a jest, a way to highlight her haughty, conceited attitude and obsession with her appearance, but it had since become a term of endearment.

  “Setting that aside, what do you believe we should focus on next?” I prompted, seeking her thoughts. “I doubt you agree with Fermina that we should not seize every opportunity available to us. Are you indifferent to the prospect of me remaining in this body for years to come? You shall hear no complaint from me, but I suspect this is not an ideal situation for you.”

  “I’m still thinking about it!” she confessed, her voice edged with distress. “I know you can’t stay that long. I wouldn’t even mind that much if it wasn’t that your control is getting stronger,” she insisted on that premise with no evidence. “It’s just that… stealing or sneaking into the Lord Duke’s office is dangerous, Dubart.”

  “Yes, indeed it is. I also suspect that either of you sisters would make terrible cat burglars. I am not quite so sure about our little Rascal, though.”

  “Dubart!” Princess censured, though cheerfully. It was evident she too believed Rascal had a knack for stealth.

  “There must be more intelligent ways to procure those books without breaking locks under the cover of night. I shall meditate on the possibilities and, if I devise any promising ideas, discuss them with your sister.”

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