The Letter Written in Reverse

A bird caught in a serpent's coils was bound to vanish, leaving only a feather or two behind.

"What is this? Why isn't she coming out?"

As far as Mayli knew, this was the first time the Crown Prince had privately summoned a maid who was not Roina and kept her for so long. A long, unknowable stretch of time passed. Only then did Veronica emerge, gone pale.

She moved with an elegant step that never quite broke etiquette, and yet she swayed as if something were hunting her. Mayli hurried after her at once. Veronica left the Crown Prince's Palace, her pace quickening as she put the place behind her, and stopped at last by the lake. Believing herself alone, she collapsed where she stood, raked at her throat like a madwoman, and retched—heaving, gagging—until she emptied her stomach.

Worry seized Mayli before she could think. She ran to Veronica and caught the hands clawing hard enough to draw blood, and only then saw the face beneath, beaded with tears.

"Let go of me!"

"Calm down! Stop scratching!"

A sick familiarity made Mayli look down at her feet. What Veronica had brought up was a clot of blood, much like what Mayli had once seen in Roina's room.

"What on earth... happened in there?"

Veronica struck her hand away with a sharp smack.

The Crown Prince had, quite literally, fastened a collar around her neck—a necklace bound with what could only be black magic. The instant it closed, a hideous sensation had swept through Veronica, as if her life itself, the very root of it, were being scraped away.

It revolted her that the girl she had looked down on was watching her with worried eyes, poised to offer some clumsy help. She was not a pitiable thing. She was chosen. She was special. This binding was nothing more than a light test meant for her. She was fine. Had the Crown Prince not shown her a side of himself he showed to no one else? He, too, must already think of her as his crown princess.

For a moment his face rose in her mind—the way he had looked at her as if she were a convenient chess piece—but Veronica stubbornly wiped the image away. That Amasto girl, raised in a house lucky enough to let her do as she pleased, would never understand it, not even in her dreams. Veronica did not merely want to become crown princess. She had to.

"You presume too much, Lady Amasto."

"I... what did you say?"

As if she had never retched or thrashed at all, Veronica straightened and looked Mayli dead in the eye. The pallor would not leave her, but a hard resolve showed through: she would accept no one's interference.

"You just vomited blood. Shouldn't you at least see a physician?"

"I said you presume too much."

With a cold face, Veronica flicked away Mayli's remaining hand. Mayli had no choice but to let it fall, limp.

"Then I'll be going."

Mayli stared after her in blank dismay for a long while. She meant to go looking at once, but the Veronica who had vanished like that did not reappear for some time. Only later did word reach her: the young woman was unwell, and would be resting at the ducal residence for a while to recuperate.

Worn out, Mayli sank into a crouch. She could not begin to understand what had happened.

"Aaugh—!"

Her head was a tangle, and once again she mussed her hair in a way no lady ought to. It was an old habit she had tried hard not to let show. She was sitting in the back courtyard where that foolish slave always ate, hunched in the gloom—the place she had come, having lost Veronica, on the chance she might learn anything at all.

It lay close to the refuse pit, so a faint stink of garbage always hung in the air, and no one ever cared to come. This was the only place where Roina could stretch out her legs and rest. Mayli's nose stung for no good reason.

Then something that had no business being there caught her eye. The basket she had given Roina sat in plain sight, exactly where she had crouched. Mayli's eyes went round.

Rustle, rustle.

She reached into the brush and drew the basket out. Inside lay nothing but a single small sheet of paper, badly creased.

Mayli startled and spun a look around her. She felt no one's presence at all. She pressed a hand hard over her pounding heart, then unfolded the paper properly—too shabby to be called a letter, too long to be called a note—and read every line.

Mayli's lips trembled as she composed her face. In one motion she crumpled the paper and shoved it into her bodice. From beginning to end it was packed with greetings and something like regret at a parting, and yet, considering who had written it and what she was to Mayli, the contents were glaringly artificial.

Thanks for a gift that had never been given. Things that had actually happened, told as if on purpose the wrong way round. She wished it were nothing but an ordinary note of regards. But when everything was written in reverse to this degree, what it meant to say showed itself all too plainly. Roina was in danger, and this was a plea to Mayli for rescue—desperate enough that she had reached for a method that might not even work.

Mayli quietly brushed herself off, rose, and headed toward the reception room with a set face.

A conversation from a few days past came back to her: the Archmage and the Crown Prince. That mage had suspected the prince of hiding Roina. The Crown Prince had claimed to know nothing of it... but what if he had lied? If she were only a maid born a slave, there would be no need. If, as the Archmage had said, she was one who bore the Star of Talent, that was another matter. To conceal even a single Archmage and make her the property of the imperial house would be a gain.

Mayli bit her lip hard and hurried out of the Imperial Palace.

Roberto returned with suspicious speed for a Crown Prince who was supposed to be so busy. The door that had opened for a moment shut again, and cruel satisfaction settled once more over that kindly face.

At the look in his eyes, Roina clenched her right hand before she knew it—the hand that, for a brief while that day, had been joined to that man. She wanted to run back at once, set her palm to the pillar again, and shout that she was here. She could not. Ethan, the Crown Prince's loyal personal knight, stood watch. She forced a smile.

"I greet the little sun of the Empire."

"No."

He said it flatly, and a cruel smile curved his mouth. Roina bit the inside of her lip where it would not show, then spoke again, alluring.

"Welcome back, Master. I was lonely without you... Please grant me the honor of taking you inside me."

She went to her knees and slowly undid the front of his clothes.

Roberto watched her with eyes bright with rapture. She would not know it. Even as she pretended to submit, the fire still burning in her gaze and the rebellious line of her mouth excited him beyond measure. She made a man unable to bear it. She was sweet nectar, a jar of honey that butterflies and bees fell into helplessly and could never climb free of.

A jewel found in the mud itself. A star fallen from heaven and corrupted in human hands. He had found her before that arrogant Archmage. He had been the first to collar her. Whatever anyone said, she was his. He would sink the whole of her life into the mire until she could not even think of escaping from beneath him. At the thrill of it, Roberto felt his penis already swelling as if it might burst.

Roina slowly drew him out and ran her hand along his length. No matter how many times she did it, the act was humiliating. A flicker of disgust crossed her face. How long would she have to endure this shame? She was truly at her limit.

Her hands did not follow the thought. She took hold of his shaft in earnest, took the head into her mouth, and worked her tongue in a slow stroke. The manhood that was already large began to swell in an instant. The Crown Prince let out a satisfied groan, seized a handful of her hair, and rocked her. His length drove hard against the back of her throat, and for a moment the urge to gag rose—but Roina forced it down.

This much, she could bear. She could not stop the tears that gathered from the body's own reflex.

"Ha... ah... Roina..."

Roberto breathed out a rapturous sigh. His beautiful blue eyes clouded, turning dreamlike. With that deep exhalation, he glanced at Ethan.

Ethan was silent for several seconds. Then he came to Roina and began to strip her clothes away, layer by layer. She flinched and trembled for an instant, but the moment she knew it was Ethan, she went still.