The attendants had been dismissed, the ornaments had been discarded, and her hair had been undone as Artemesia sat on her bed, lost in thought.
Her vanity was overflowing with scrolls and books related to Montclair history, and documents regarding the recent succession.
But buried underneath those scrolls were Tia's secret strategies, ones that she dared not breathe a word to, except one person.
And she was visiting that one person tonight.
Once everything had been taken care of, of course.
The moon hung low over the horizon as nightingales sang their songs near Artemesia's window. The room was illuminated by a single candle on a chamberstick, the flame flickering as it cast ghastly shadows everywhere.
Tia was stuffing papers and scrolls inside a bag. A dark green, almost black, cloak rested on her dresser, accompanied by a mask and gloves.
The preparations had been made. Now, she needed to run a final check.
She grabbed the chamberstick, and softly opened the door.
The Estate itself seemed to be holding its breath as Artemesia walked down the halls for one last patrol.
After walking around a bit, she realized the coast was clear, and decided to head back to her room.
But just as she turned a corner, she heard the click of a door.
She whipped around, and was met with the familiar, light gray eyes she saw every day.
"Tia?" Jonathan raised a brow. His eyes were slightly swollen, his voice raspy from sleep, "What are you doing up at this hour?"
Tia lowered her voice by a note as she spoke, "Water."
"Oh," he nodded. "Go back to bed, it's late."
She slowly nodded as well, and made her way back to her room.
Shutting the door with a soft clack, she put a hand on her mouth as she slid down the door, breathing hard.
"That was close," she gasped.
She took a moment, and got up again. "It's now or never."
She slung the bag on her shoulder, threw on her cloak and didn't forget her mask and gloves.
Tia took a deep breath, and glanced at the bed. She propped pillows beneath the blanket, a convincing enough shape to send any would-be intruder quietly away.
She opened the glass doors to her balcony, and leaned over the railing.
A ladder awaited her, stretching from her balcony to the ground safely.
She closed the balcony doors, and carefully climbed down the ladder.
Thank you, Leah.
Her feet hit the ground with a soft thump as she landed. Before she went on, she made sure to lay the ladder horizontally among some bushes, so it didn't arouse suspicion for passers-by.
She quietly walked across the Estate courtyard making her way to the back of the building.
There, she had dug out a hole in the maze garden which acted as a secret getaway for her.
She was finally off the Estate grounds. That was where the real challenge began.
. . .
The Crown Prince's chambers were quiet, the windows and doors all shut.
One servant was assigned to regularly open the balcony doors to allow ventilation, and close them again after dark.
That day, however, the servant had been fast asleep in the annex ever since he had his meal and a little too much wine at supper.
And the balcony to the Crown Prince's room was open.
In the quietude of the night, something was squirming on the balcony outside.
Something like a person.
Two hands gripped the railing, but the body was nowhere in sight.
Whoever it was couldn't seem to pull themselves up, legs dangling uselessly below the railing.
Suddenly, they froze. The door had opened.
Someone came in.
With all the strength they had in their dainty fingers, they hung on for dear life, stranded and terrified.
Soft footsteps echoed throughout the room, but abruptly stopped.
"Why are the balcony doors open?" Sabrina Crispin muttered to herself.
She walked forward to close the doors, making a mental note to scold the servant in charge later, but froze then she saw two dark things sitting on the railing, trembling from the pressure.
Hands.
Immediately, the shing of a blade was heard as she cautiously walked into the balcony, cold air hitting her face.
"Who's there?" she demanded, "Things will not get very pretty if you continue to keep hanging from there."
She stalked forward, and carefully looked over the railing.
Dark green cloak, black gloved hands and concealed face.
She scoffed at the silence. "Hmph, alright. If that's how it is-" her hand rose, ready to strike the dagger.
"WAIT!" they cried.
Sabrina froze. That voice sounded all too familiar.
"Who are you?" She kept the blade at a dangerous distance from the gloved hand.
"I-It's me! I can't say my name… so I hope you'll recog-"
Ah. I get why the voice is familiar.
The one voice she had never heard raised or cocky. Always polite. Always practical.
"Artemesia?!"
The Countess covered her mouth in shock. "What are you doing?"
"Could you… help me up first?" she smiled sheepishly, her face red under the mask.
Without wasting a second, Crispin helped Tia up and onto the balcony.
She breathed heavily, leaning against the railing and rubbing her hands, "Thank God."
Sabrina let her catch her breath, before raising an accusatory eyebrow.
Artemesia stripped off her mask, and waved, "Hello again."
"I would like to know what you are doing at the Imperial Palace in the dead of the night."
She cleared her throat, "I'm here… for His Highness."
Sabrina's eyes widened, "Leander?"
Tia nodded, "I know, it's honestly quite… shameless of me. But… I have no other option."
"Is everything…alright?"
The brunette smiled weakly, "It is, but it won't be."
"Can… I know?"
She shook her head firmly, "I'm sorry, but I have sworn not to tell anyone until His Highness himself does not allow it."
A moment passed in silence, when Sabrina spoke again, "You do realize… Leander isn't here, right?"
Artemesia's eyes widened, "...What? Why?"
Sabrina hesitated. "I'm… not supposed to tell anyone why, or how."
She paused, "But… I can tell you where."
She smirked. Tia froze, and she grinned too.
"I knew I could count on you, Nanny."
. . .
Thunder rumbled in the sky, clouds casting an ominous shadow over the Villa's courtyard.
Leander sat at his desk, looking over some documents.
Mining profits.
The information leaked was far from accurate to Ashthorne's actual mining profits, yet it worked against them all the same.
Merchants they had traded with for years refused to lower their prices, insisting Rowan Ashthorne had deliberately concealed his wealth to deceive them.
The Upper Court erupted, demanding increased taxes from Ashthorne. Others went further, speculating that the House's finances were mismanaged; whispering of embezzlement, of resources deliberately obscured from the Imperial Family.
Montclair was not responsible. No matter how cunning Jonathan, Thedosia, or even Artemesia could be, they would not stoop so low. Besides, what motive would they have to leak information at all?
Unless there was something between the two Houses that Leander was unaware of, Montclair had no reason to do this. And even if they did, they would have threatened Ashthorne first.
The investigation conducted thus far revealed no trace of blackmail.
Leander sighed, pulling at his hair.
Cold air drifted into his office, making a nearby candle's flame flutter.
He noticed, and decided to get up and close the window.
As he approached, he noticed how much harder the pouring had gotten from when he came back to the Villa.
And he noticed something else as well.
An unfamiliar person being restrained by guards in the carriage court.
He raised a brow, suspicious.
The trespasser seemed slightly shorter than the guards, and didn't seem to have half the strength as the soldiers restraining them.
A woman, or a civil man.
They seemed to be struggling, but insistent nonetheless.
"Weird," he muttered, about to close the curtain. But then he paused.
Wait, are they here to see Leander?
He stared for a minute, trying to gauge their intentions. Small and fragile. They really didn't look like some kind of robber-
He froze.
The intruder's head snapped up, and met Leander's eyes.
Dark gray. The calm before the storm.