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  Katalin stepped out of the smithy, the crisp morning air washing over her flushed face after the forge's heat. Beyond the threshold, the keep's outer yard buzzed with purpose—servants darting past, retainers calling instructions, their voices punctuating the steady rhythm of booted feet on ancient stone. The clank of armor and the murmur of conspiratorial conversations mingled with the occasional impatient whinny from the guard’s stables. Even from here, she could sense the urgency in the air—the keep was alive with preparations for the coming feast.

  She made her way toward the Stonehaven family residence, weaving through the familiar courtyards with practiced ease. The rich aroma of fresh bread and spit-roasted meats drifted from open kitchen doors, mingling with the pervasive scent of damp stone and wood smoke.

  As Katalin approached the entrance to the residence, she spotted Garrick and Oswin at their usual posts, their dark gray cloaks marked with the Duke’s azure and silver crest. Garrick, the older of the two, had a grizzled beard and the kind of steady, unshakable presence that came with decades of service. Oswin, by contrast, was young and sharp-eyed, always standing a little straighter whenever someone important walked past.

  Nearby, another man stood alone, slightly apart from the entrance. Obviously a soldier, but his cloak was different—a deep, slate blue trimmed in black. Westguard colors.

  That caught her attention.

  Soldiers from Westguard weren’t common in Stonehaven, but they weren’t strange either. She’d seen them before, mostly when they came with messages or to pick up supplies for the western border. And on occasion, her father had to mend their wagons or reshoe their horses. She didn’t recognize this one, though.

  He was tall—taller than Garrick, even—and carried himself with the same quiet confidence the keep’s seasoned guards had. But there was something different about him. He wasn’t old like Garrick, but he wasn’t young like Oswin either. Somewhere in between. His short, dark brown hair looked a little wind-ruffled, like he had just arrived after a long ride. His face was sharp but not unkind, and his eyes—quick, steady—were watching everything.

  She lingered on him for just a moment longer, wondering who he was. A messenger maybe?

  Garrick’s voice pulled her back, and she turned toward the familiar guards, greeting them with a bright smile.

  “Morning, Lady Katalin,” Garrick greeted, his gruff voice warm. “We’ll be missing you around the keep once you’re off to Butterridge.”

  Oswin, adjusting his grip on his weapon, and smiled. “Not half as much as the Grand Duchess will.”

  Katalin beamed at them. “Morning, Garrick! Morning, Oswin! I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be back for visits.”

  Oswin chuckled, stepping aside to push open the door for her. “Well then, don’t go forgetting us when you’re off in the wilds.”

  “I won’t,” she promised, stepping inside where she was immediately enveloped in the warmth of the keep. The corridors were alive with movement—servants rushing past carrying bolts of fabric, polished silver trays, and armfuls of greenery for decoration. Voices overlapped—cooks calling out orders, chambermaids whispering about last-minute preparations, stewards barking instructions.

  Katalin slipped through the chaos, her path familiar. She moved with confidence, turning down long halls and ascending the winding staircases that led to the Grand Duchess’s private chambers. Here, the rush of activity softened. The air carried the subtle scent of lavender and aged parchment, a familiar comfort.

  As she entered the main parlor, she spotted Lady Mirelle, the Grand Duchess’s head lady-in-waiting, engaged in quiet conversation with another noblewoman. Lady Mirelle was a refined woman in her late fifties, her silver-streaked hair tucked neatly beneath a delicate lace cap. She held herself with the grace of someone who had spent decades at court.

  Katalin paused just inside the doorway, waiting patiently for a lull in their conversation before stepping forward. “Good morning, Lady Mirelle.”

  The woman turned, her expression instantly softening. “Ah, Katalin, dear.” Her smile was warm, familiar. “You’re just in time. Lady Teodora is in good spirits today and very much looking forward to seeing you.”

  Katalin grinned. “Good. I hope we go riding. This will be the last time I see Smokey until we visit.”

  Lady Mirelle’s knowing smile deepened. “Smokey is a smart horse, I am sure he will remember you.” She gestured toward the inner doors. “Go on in. She’s expecting you.”

  With a quick nod of thanks, Katalin slipped past her and entered the Grand Duchess’s chambers.

  Upon entering, she took in the familiar surroundings—morning light filtering through tall windows, candles still flickering despite the day’s arrival. Soft pools of gold played across polished wood and heavy drapes. The air carried the calming scent of lavender, parchment, and aged oak—a scent she had come to associate with these rooms.

  Attendants and courtiers moved with quiet purpose, delivering messages, arranging seating charts, reviewing last-minute details for the feast. Yet despite the activity, there was no sense of chaos. Every motion was measured, precise. This was the Grand Duchess’s domain, and even in the midst of preparations, order reigned.

  At the center of it all, Lady Teodora sat in a cushioned chair by the hearth, dressed in a gown of deep sapphire blue. It was elegant but looked comfortable, the rich fabric draped gracefully over her frame. Her silver hair was pinned up, though a few wisps had slipped loose, framing her sharp, regal features.

  She looked up as Katalin entered, and the moment their eyes met, the sharpness in her gaze melted into something warm and knowing. A small, pleased smile curved her lips.

  “Ah, Kata, my little pearl,” she said, holding out her hands.

  Katalin barely hesitated before crossing the room, slipping her hands into the Grand Duchess’s outstretched ones. The older woman pulled her in, embracing her firmly. Katalin pressed her face briefly into the familiar scent of fine fabric and faint perfume, feeling the solid, steady presence of the woman who had been a constant in her life.

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  The hug lingered—longer than usual. As if Lady Teodora were reluctant to let go.

  Finally, she drew back but did not release Katalin’s hand. Instead, she studied her, eyes searching for something only she could name.

  “You look well,” she said at last. “A little taller, I think.”

  Katalin grinned. “Mama says I’m growing like a weed.”

  The Grand Duchess chuckled, her grip on Katalin’s hand tightening for a moment before she glanced toward the high-backed chair positioned near the hearth.

  Seated there, dressed in dark clerical robes, was Father Odran—retired head of the Temple of Aurelian and now Aunt Teo’s personal adviser. His hands rested atop the carved head of his cane, his steady gaze observing the exchange with quiet amusement.

  “Good morning, child,” he greeted, his deep voice like the distant rumble of a storm over the sea.

  Katalin dipped her head respectfully. “Good morning, Father Odran.”

  A quiet sigh escaped the Grand Duchess as she turned her gaze toward the window, her fingers idly tracing the edge of Katalin’s sleeve. “I knew this day would come,” she said, her voice softer now. “I worked hard enough to make it happen, but I find myself quite unhappy about it.”

  Father Odran shifted slightly in his chair, his keen eyes resting on Katalin with quiet contemplation. “I still do not think it is a good idea,” he admitted, his voice measured. “She lends you her youthful energy every time she visits. I worry what her absence will bring.”

  Lady Teodora gave a hum of acknowledgment, but her expression remained unreadable as she turned back to Katalin. For a long moment, she simply studied her, as if weighing something heavy in her thoughts. Then, finally, she asked, “Would you stay if I asked you to?”

  Katalin blinked. The question caught her off guard, settling deep in her chest. Would she?

  She hesitated, truly considering it.

  She loved being here. She loved the keep, the city, these rooms, the warmth of Aunt Teo’s presence.

  But she had spent her whole life watching her father at the forge, dreaming of the day she would stand beside him, hammer in hand.

  “My heart’s desire is to be a blacksmith…” she said at last, her voice quiet but certain. “But if you asked me to stay, I would.”

  Aunt Teo turned away briefly, pressing her lips together before taking a deep breath and facing Katalin again. Her misted eyes met Katalin’s, and she reached for her again, drawing her into another firm embrace.

  “Thank you, Kata,” she whispered against Katalin’s hair. “But I could never deny you your heart’s desire—though I expect others may try.”

  She drew back, smoothing a hand over Katalin’s braids before glancing up at Father Odran with a faint, knowing smile. With a slight shake of her head, she mused, “What a kind soul you are. Having you near warms my bones like a day in a summer garden.”

  Katalin shifted, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. “I’ll come visit all the time,” she promised.

  Lady Teodora patted her hand fondly. “Of course, you will. And you’ll write to me, won’t you?”

  Katalin perked up. “Yes! I've been sending letters to Papa while he was away and Mama says my writing is improving.”

  The Grand Duchess smirked. “I shall be the judge of that.”

  The room seemed to settle then, the attendants subtly giving them space, understanding the moment for what it was. Lady Teodora leaned back slightly, the warmth of her previous smile lingering, though there was still something in her eyes—something wistful.

  “Well then, Kata,” she said, her tone shifting to something lighter, “I do have something I need you to do for me today.”

  Katalin tilted her head. “Aren’t we going riding?”

  The Grand Duchess sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Kata. I don’t have time today. There is too much to do.”

  For the briefest moment, Katalin’s jaw tensed, her brows pulling together. The heat of disappointment flared in her chest—too fast, too strong—but just as quickly, she caught herself. She took a breath, forcing her expression smooth, but the tension lingered in her shoulders.

  Lady Teodora watched her with knowing amusement, a touch of fondness in her eyes. “Oh, I see. You were more excited to see Smokey than you were to see me,” she teased.

  Katalin looked as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her mouth opened, then closed, then she finally muttered, “No… I just wanted to see him one more time.”

  The Grand Duchess’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Don’t worry, Kata. Smokey will be there at the smithy in the morning. You can give him all your affection then—and maybe even get a chance to ride him.”

  Katalin’s face lit up. “Thank you, Aunt Teo. You’re my favorite friend, but Smokey is definitely number two.”

  Lady Teodora grinned and turned toward Father Odran. “You see? You worry about my health for nothing. Even at my age, I can still beat out a horse.”

  Father Odran chuckled, his eyes crinkling with quiet amusement. He gave a small, seated bow. “Of course, Your Ladyship. Consider me properly chastised.”

  The Grand Duchess settled more comfortably into her chair, fixing Katalin with a measured look. “Now, Kata, as I was saying. I do have something I need you to do for me today.”

  “Of course, Aunt Teo. What do you need me to do?”

  Lady Teodora gestured toward the fireplace, where a boy pushed himself up from where he’d been sitting on the hearthstone.

  Surprised she hadn’t noticed him earlier, Katalin took a moment to study the boy. He was a little taller and a least a year older than her, with dark hair neatly combed into place and sharp, serious eyes. He stood with a quiet confidence, dressed in fine but practical clothes—nothing overly elaborate, but well-fitted and clearly expensive.

  “This is my great-nephew, Laszlo,” Lady Teodora said. “He arrived last night with his father for the feast. It’s been many years since he was last in Stonehaven, and I am sure he hardly remembers it. I’d like you to show him around—both the keep and the city—so he can reacquaint himself.”

  Katalin nodded to Lady Teodora before stepping forward and dipping her head politely. “Welcome to Stonehaven, my lord.”

  Laszlo gave a small nod in return. “Thank you. It’s good to be here. If you’re going to be my guide, please just call me Laszlo.”

  Katalin then paused, unsure what to do next. She did not have very much experience dealing with someone her own age.

  Lady Teodora smiled at Katalin’s hesitation. “Don’t worry, Kata. You’ll have fun, I promise. Just take him around, let him see the keep and the city. If you get hungry, stop by the kitchen for something small—but don’t spoil your appetites. And make sure you’re both at the feast on time.”

  The feast! For a moment Katalin forgot the boy as her thoughts shifted at the mention of the feast. “Oh! Will there be music?”

  The Grand Duchess chuckled. “Of course, there will. You think I would host a feast without music?”

  That was a relief. “What about tumblers and a magic show?”

  “That depends on whether the performers arrive on time,” Lady Teodora replied.

  Katalin grinned, already excited.

  With a gesture Lady Teodora turned Katalin’s attention back to Laszlo. “Now, off you go. Show him around the keep and the city, and make sure he’s not late for the feast.”

  Katalin gave a small curtsy. “As you command, my lady.”

  Lady Teodora shook her head with a fond smile.

  Katalin hesitated. “Will you send word to Mama?”

  “Yes, Kata, don’t worry. I will have a page bring her a message.”

  Laszlo stepped up beside Katlin then turned to face Father Odran who had been quietly watching the exchange. “It was nice to meet you, Father Odran.”

  Reminded by his example, Katalin turned back also, “Yes—have a good day, Father.”

  Father Odran nodded to each in turn and added, “It was a pleasure to meet you also Laszlo. And thank you Katalin, but please try not to lead young Laszlo into too much trouble.”

  Katalin smiled. “No promises.”

  With a final hug from Lady Teodora and a nod from Father Odran, she turned toward the door, Laszlo falling into step beside her.

  As they stepped into the hall, she glanced sidelong at him.

  “So,” she said, “do you remember Stonehaven at all?”

  Laszlo shook his head. “Not really. My father told me about it, but I was too young to remember.”

  Katalin’s grin widened. “Then we’ve got a lot to do.”

  And with that, she led him toward the keep’s grand halls, ready to show him her world.

  The best way out will be posted Friday, March 28.