Every empire looks polished from a distance. Gleaming gold. White marble. Silk banners that catch the wind like the wings of gods.
But get closer—closer than you're allowed—and the smell hits you first.
Rot. Mold. Fear.
Mariejois is no different.
Beneath the surface, behind the courtyards and banquets, lies the rot that keeps it all standing. Corrupt deals. Dead men's favors. Entire villages erased from the map because someone insulted the wrong noble's fashion sense.
I didn't pretend to hate it.
I just planned to outlive it.
It started with a ledger.
Not mine. My father's.
He'd been a careful man—at least on paper. But even the most cautious aristocrat leaves trails, especially when they believe they'll never be questioned.
Winter brought it to me without a word. She'd broken into his sealed study using a key I didn't know existed. Hidden behind a false drawer, beneath his desk, was the book.
Thin. Black. Bound in whale leather.
Inside: names, ports, shipments, bribes. And one entry that made my breath pause for just a second:
"Reverse Mountain – Cipher Pol liaison, monthly transfer. Seven digits. Condition: silence."
I snapped the book shut.
Well, well.
Winter sat on the floor of my study, sharpening her daggers by candlelight. Her hair was longer now. I liked it that way. She kept it in a tight braid, always ready to move.
"What do you think it means?" she asked, not looking up.
"It means my father wasn't just paying for silence."
"Blackmail?"
"More than that." I turned the book over in my hand. "He was part of something. Or at least... paying to not be part of it."
She set down her blade. "Do we expose it?"
I smiled. "Absolutely not. We hold it. And wait."
The next few weeks were quiet.
Too quiet.
I wasn't paranoid. I was attentive. There's a difference.
The estate cook was replaced. A new Cipher Pol agent appeared in the outer perimeter posing as a servant. A noble I barely knew invited me to a "private celebration"—and canceled the moment I accepted.
They were testing me.
Someone had seen the smoke.
Not yet the fire.
Good.
Let them keep guessing.
Winter continued her training, but we added something new: theater.
She practiced crying. Laughing. Blushing. Feigning innocence.
At first, she hated it. But she learned quickly.
In Mariejois, weakness is a weapon.
A crying girl is invisible.
A blushing one is harmless.
I made her memorize noble genealogies, favored foods, childhood traumas of minor royals. Then I had her serve at banquets.
Not as a slave.
As decor.
They didn't recognize her.
They stared at her legs.
They laughed when she spilled wine.
And she laughed too.
Perfect.
Meanwhile, I began to cultivate another tool: gossip.
A lie, carefully placed, is better than a blade.
I hinted that Saint Bloom had a bastard child with a fishwoman.
I let slip that Saint Corneille's last shipment of wine was poisoned.
I had Winter forge a note in Saint Yvraine's hand implying she was negotiating with pirates.
None of it was true.
Didn't matter.
They began turning on each other, sniffing for treachery, wasting time, panicking.
Mariejois thrives on stability.
So I fed it instability.
Quietly.
One night, Winter came to me in her robe, silent, pale.
She carried a sealed letter.
No name.
No wax seal.
Inside: a single line, handwritten in dark ink:
"You are not the only snake in this garden."
No threat.
No demand.
Just acknowledgment.
I sat back in my chair, fingers steepled.
Then laughed.
Finally. A game.
I burned the note.
Winter watched it curl into black ash.
"Do we strike first?" she asked.
"No. Let them think they've frightened us. Fear makes people loud. They'll reveal themselves."
She nodded.
Then paused.
"Do you trust me?"
It was the first time she'd ever asked.
I didn't answer immediately. I rose, crossed the room, and cupped her chin in one hand. Her eyes never wavered.
"You are the only thing I trust."
She bowed her head.
"Then I'll make them bleed for you."
Good girl.
I began wearing robes stitched with thunderclouds.
Not because I feared the storm.
But because I owned it.
Winter was almost ready.
The world wasn't.
But it would be soon.