Lora of Two Worlds

Aprille didn't go back to House Odenheim. Felix installed her in an empty room at the back of the Grand Princess's mansion.

All over Lohenheim, people were talking: the Lohenheim garrison had pulled a man and a woman, two bodies, from a dry well behind the healing chapel in the north ward.

Felix and Leon had just finished questioning Aprille and were heading back to Leon's quarters at Yewholm when they heard voices over the wall:

"Higher, a little higher "

"My lady, be careful!"

"My lady, should I fetch a ladder? Or, perhaps you could use the front door?"

"No, no, didn't you hear Father? I'm not allowed to go over and cause trouble. But I'm not going to cause trouble, I just want to ask Aprille a thing or two and come right back... Norton, stand up straight, I just need to... reach that branch... grab it..."

"My lady, should I... carry you over?" a male voice offered, helpless.

Both Leon and Felix understood: the little Odenheim cousin was climbing the wall.

They stared at each other.

Quite a crowd back there, several voices, and one mute person being stepped on.

How was his bodyguard planning to "carry" anyone? Awkward.

"I don't need carrying, I tickle. All right, I'm climbing up! Norton, you're ama zing hey! Cousins! Fancy meeting you here."

Lora's upper half had cleared the wall. Through the sparse green leaves of the old apple tree, she found herself face to face with two open-mouthed men.

This woman made the most original entrances.

"You stay right there. I'll have someone bring a ladder."

Felix, not knowing whether to laugh or scold, turned to call a servant, but one came running already:

"My lord, Lord Dunbar and Lady Dunbar have arrived with young Lord Warwick. Her Highness the Grand Princess asks you to come receive them."

"It's not a feast day, what are they here for? I'm busy. I'm not going." Felix was in a foul mood. His little cousin was dangling from a tree on one side, and on the other, people he couldn't care less about wanted him to play host.

Leon's mind clicked. He advised:

"Someone can bring a ladder here. Go see what they want, Lady Dunbar's daughter gave your cousin a hard time on that barge. And if... they're here to propose a betrothal to Dorothy, and you're not there to object in person, you may not be able to refuse later, unless you truly care for her."

Leon remembered Felix's marriage from his past life. He didn't know which side had proposed first, but he was determined not to let Felix walk the same road again, used as a pawn by Prince Ambrose's faction, and dead for it.

Like hell he cared for her.

Felix shot a glance at the figure in the apple tree and, thoroughly disgruntled, trudged off to the front hall.

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Watching his hangdog retreating back, Lora, now perched on the wall, thought of Dorothy on the barge, her love-hate glare fixed on Felix, and couldn't hold back her giggles, both hands pressed to her mouth.

Was it that funny? Had she drunk a mug of pure giggles?

Always smiling, I.

Leon didn't look at her. He didn't leave, either. And he didn't notice that, somewhere inside him, a ray of spring sun had slipped through, parting the roses.

A servant came running with a wooden ladder. Lyle steadied it with a grin and watched Lora climb down, rung by careful rung.

"Linn, take the young lady over. Lyle, we're going back."

Linn led Lora away. Lyle pushed the wheelchair and asked, sotto voce:

"My lord, why aren't we going over to listen? That Odenheim girl's full of mischief, today in the carriage she said 'sorry' to you, and I still can't figure out what 'sorry' means. Is it 'can't connect', like his leg can't connect? That doesn't make sense, though "

"How many bowls of beef broth did you eat tonight?"

"Three, no, four, I think."

"Then go run twenty laps around the garden."

"What? Then I won't ask. With Linn gone, it's just Greene in there, I don't trust him."

Lyle was a talker. Give him an inch and he'd take a mile. Leon let the thread drop.

There was more important work tonight. First priority: get back and put Greene to sleep. As for Aprille, even if his little cousin went and asked her, she only knew what she'd already told them.

But now that they'd confirmed the Venns of the Yorvik Liaison Office were behind it, he didn't need more evidence.

They'd agreed on the plan: the Lohenheim garrison would handle the Crown Granary. He and Felix would handle the Yorvik Liaison Office, one in the dark, one in the open.

Strike at the vitals. One blow to kill them all.

What he didn't know was that Felix, sitting in the great hall right now, wanted nothing more than to beat every Dunbar in the room to death with a single stick.

The Grand Princess's great hall was spacious and grand. Felix and Hugo sat on one side; Lord Dunbar, Lady Dunbar, and Warwick sat on the other; the Grand Princess Adelaide and her husband, the Prince Consort, sat in the middle.

After a round of pleasantries and gratitude, Lord Dunbar launched into his woes, face heavy with concern:

"My daughter, you both watched her grow up. She's good at everything, except she's stubborn, set in her ways. Since she was small, she loved coming to the Princess's house. And now this farce has blown up, she won't go to the convent school anymore. Three days now, she's locked herself in her chambers."

"Yes, I wrote to the Dowager Lady Elena at court weeks ago, told her of Dorothy's feelings. She wrote back: what's the difficulty? You're all kin of the crown, the Grand Princess is the soul of kindness. Dorothy grew up with Felix and Hugo, after all..."

Lady Dunbar didn't miss the chance to name-drop her elder sister, the Dowager Lady Elena, who was Prince Ambrose's new legal mother. Felix couldn't take it anymore:

"Aunt, Lohenheim isn't that big. Every noble house has some tie or other. Children who grow up together are a dime a dozen. By that logic, boys and girls ought to be separated at birth, so they wouldn't be burdened with the terrible stigma of 'growing up together.'"

The three Dunbar sisters: the eldest had gone into the royal household as a consort; the second had married the Chancellor's son; the third, Lady Dunbar, had married Lord Dunbar. What Prince Ambrose was really angling for was the Dunbar women's court connections.

Lady Dunbar had never expected the usually courteous Felix to push back so bluntly.

The Prince Consort had been in poor health for years, retired from office, holding only an honorary title. Her own husband, Lord Dunbar, was the Royal Commissioner of Transport. Was this nephew really getting above himself just because he'd made Sheriff?

She fumed inwardly, but kept the smile on:

"That's not quite fair. Our Dorothy is special, the Dowager Lady has said so many times, she wants to take Dorothy into her household and raise her alongside the Princess Rowena. We just couldn't bear to part with her. A girl with Dorothy's qualifications, you'd be hard pressed to find her equal in Lohenheim."

That didn't sit well with the Grand Princess. So my son chooses a bride, and he can only pick from your house, to bask in the Dowager Lady's reflected glory?

She looked at her elder son. He clearly had no interest in the Dunbar girl. A mother backs her son. She cleared her throat, about to make a diplomatic refusal, when Hugo, seated below Felix, spoke up:

"Aunt is quite right. In my opinion, Dorothy is the pick of the young ladies in Lohenheim, pretty as a picture, and that blunt, no-nonsense nature of hers puts all the simpering ones to shame."

What?

Everyone had forgotten, here was a young man a full head shorter than Felix, with a pudgy face that only echoed his brother's features if you looked carefully. Pleasant, sweet-tongued, unambitious, unobtrusive: the second Fairfax son, Hugo.

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