It was the most cliched of places to meet for a clandestine deal, a dark alleyway in the middle of the night, but instead of dirty dealings or espionage, Rosewater had to meet in the shadows with a jeweler for the simple and expedient reason that she didn’t want Silver Drop to get in trouble.

The sturdy earth pony mare, cloaked in a Falling Leaves Festival red cape, had been having a grand time participating in the aftermath of the day’s festivities, heralded by the falling of the first leaves of autumn.

At a pre-arranged time, she’d broken off from the party of Garden ponies, her ‘nephew’ and his mate included, with the excuse that she had to find a toilet.

As soon as they were both out of sight, Rosewater snapped a dome of silence over them and cast a complex illusion over top of it, making the once-open alleyway seem blocked off by crates and barrels.

“You have it?” Rosewater asked.

“I do.” Silver Drop’s face in the gloom fell, as if she’d been expecting more, but she fished the pouch from her saddlebags.

Rosewater didn’t dare open it, not in the open, but she knew Silver Drop’s work. “Thank you.”

“You should come back with me, Rosewater.” She jerked her head at the hollow backs of the fake barrels. “Your friends in the Garden miss you.”

“I—”

“Can’t,” Silver finished before she even started saying the word and glowered at her. “You haven’t even seen my son, Rosewater. Raindrop Dancer has only heard stories of you, and you’re half a mythical being among the older members.”

“It’s not safe for you to be seen with me, Silver. Not you, your wife, or your husbands. And not the Garden.”

“That’s minotaur shit,” Silver shot back. “The Garden has enough economic clout and independence to tell Roseate to rut herself, and she can’t touch me or my family. We’re legally bonded, have a child, and I am one of the only silversmiths in Merrie.” She jabbed a hoof at Rosewater’s chest. “We’re safer than you are.”

Rosewater stared at the smaller mare. Rosemary had been pushing her more often lately as well. To get out. To do things. She was, but that they were all espionage-related didn’t make her happy. “I don’t agree with your assessment.”

Silver Drop was silent for a few moments before she sighed. “Petal… doesn’t think you’re wrong. But I miss you, Rosewater. Stars, getting the request from you… I thought you were going to get married. I thought you were finally going to end your isolation.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Rosewater said softly. “I’m not getting married.” She saw, for a brief second, the ‘dates’ she’d gone with Silver on, just two, to see two parts of a play a troupe from Canterlot had put on while her wife and two husbands were busy with their part of the winemaking process on Rosewine Hill. Brief though they’d been, they’d let her see the Canterlotian’s heart, and how it’d changed since she immigrated formally. “But I do miss you, Silver. And Seed, and Petal.”

“Then come with me. Please.”

“If you can protect Roseling,” Rosewater said, touching Silver lightly on the chest, “I’ll consider it. She deserves more than what I can offer her for protection.”

“Roseling? The soaper?”

“Yes. At one point, I thought I saw a path in my heart to marriage with her.” Rosewater shook her head sadly when Silver’s brows raised. “This isn’t a marriage brooch, Silver. We can’t go down that path anymore. But I would still see her safe. Mother holds grudges, you see.”

“I-I can’t promise…”

“I know.” Rosewater relented and patted Silver’s shoulder lightly. “That was unfair of me to demand. But now you know what I feel like. I can’t possibly protect you all. So I have to do this alone, Silver, as much as possible.”

“Idiot,” Silver muttered as she walked away. “You’re taking yourself away from us, too, you know. It’s like you’re Carnation, but you’re doing it willingly.”

You’re not wrong, Silver. “I’m sorry.”

Enchanting jewelry with a spell normally took weeks, but the spray of gems she’d given to Silver Drop for the piece had already been enchanted, and so long as they were put in the right place in the inscribed pattern, they would work properly, providing her with the control, sustainability, and even a bit of telekinetic presence to the mist puppet she had to make for Rosetide, and only for Rosetide.

Silver Drop was one of the best at what she did in either Merrie or Damme, and the inscriptions were line-perfect to the schematic she’d provided, measurements and volumes all marked exactly. She’d understood as soon as Rosewater provided the inscribed and etched gems what the brooch was for.

“You do good work, Silver,” Rosewater murmured as she drifted around the image growing from the pendant floating in the air. It wasn’t a full illusion, but covered the parts of her that needed to be accentuated to look more masculine. Broader chest, deeper barrel, thicker jaw and deeper muzzle. Most importantly, it hid her cutie mark. “Just as if I’d cast it.”

It would last an hour without her needing to recharge the central gem, a deep blue sapphire. It wasn’t the best for holding magical power, but it was better for fine-detail work, letting its reserves drain at a measured pace instead of releasing all at once.

She stopped the enchantment and refilled the little bit of energy spent maintaining the illusion while she’d cast it, and slipped it over her neck before slipping into the padding and the mindset of Rosetide and set about pushing her luck.

Nopony in Merrie paid him any mind, and they never did. He was a seafarer, and they were a breed apart from most Merriers, or even most Dammers. Away from loved ones, if they had any, for weeks to months at a time. Their families were almost always other seafarers, and oftentimes they made up a significant portion of a crew.

Even the Dockbridge guards only gave his saddlebags a cursory glance as they waved him through, and one even asked where they could get a sampler manewash.

“Cuts and Curios,” Rosetide said with a laugh, flicking his tail and prancing past. “And tell Cut to broaden his selection.”

“Bah.” The mare waved him on and snorted. “Like he’ll change his lineup.”

Rosetide chuckled and went on, adjusting his scarf briefly and started off, mental map in his head, and hidden, unenchanted scents, Damme inspired, nestled in small bottles against his side. He had time to play tourist and liven up the streets of Damme with a little scent that was starting to fade in the waning sunlight.

He didn’t have a schedule to keep this time, and his cutie mark all but gave him a pass to most passerby, even for one of those Merriers. It helped that he was something of a familiar face to the ponies in the business district, even if he only came around every couple of weeks.

He had the sway of the seafaring pony, the look of one, and even the scent of one. He’d been careful about that detail today.

At two corners, he left the bottles nestled in the bushes, covered by a careful veil and opened to let out a faintly stronger scent of the city.

Even as he left each area, the fragrance was starting to work its way out, just enough to liven the steps of the ponies around him, almost as if it were the height of summer again. It would be perfect to draw Collar to the more lively state she wanted him in. Without using magic, without using anything more than the same scents he’d gathered during the night before, attuning himself to the pendant.

She wouldn’t break the accord this way, not making a perfume out of a city.

Once he was done, and back into Rosetide’s mindset, he made his way to the palace, getting more and more suspicious looks from the guards the closer he got, and the prison guards off to the west took his dark rose coat to heart and glowered at him especially fiercely.

But nopony accosted him, no guards intercepted him until he got to the guard station just outside the palace gate.

“Business?” The guard asked sharply, holding out a hoof for papers, and looking for the obviously missing mark of the Treaty office.

“I’m just here to deliver some shampoos on a personal request from Lord Collar,” Rosetide drew out one of the jars, showing the label. “Could you take these and deliver them, please? I should be getting back to my ship.”

“A moment.” The guard, a unicorn stallion who looked rather like Collar, turned and tapped one of his fellow Dammeguards on the flank. “Go fetch Lord Collar.”

“Yes, Lieutenant Coat.”

Rosewater put two and two together in an instant’s surprise, and forced herself to put the mannerisms back on.

“Primeline Coat,” Rosetide said, offering a small, tenuous smile. “Lord Collar’s cousin?”

“Yes,” Coat said, grinning. “Ahh. I’m so glad he asked for a bit more variety. Cloudy’s been going slowly scent-stir-crazy.”

“That’s not a thing,” Rosetide grunted. “She’s bored of nothing but stone and earth smells.”

“And that’s not scent-stir-crazy?” Coat raised a brow and chuckled, then glanced aside as Collar and Cloudy both coming down the stairs, chatting quietly, then both glancing at Rosetide. “Ah, my lord, my lady.”

“I’m not a lady yet,” Cloudy said matter-of-factly, fixing Coat with a level stare, then turning to Rosetide. “And you, fascinating stallion. Just who are you?”

They suspect? “A sailor, my lady.”

“Don’t you start,” Cloudy groaned.

“Today, I am a simple delivery stallion, er…. Cloudy.” Rosetide tipped his head to the side. “Is that right? You’re the Rose Lady everypony is whispering about?”

“Stars and Mare preserve me.” Cloudy snapped her tail and pranced closer, hiding a sniff in the snort. “Do not repeat that if you want to be welcome in Damme again.” She backed off and gave Collar a long, meaningful look, then settled back.

“If you have time, Mr. Rosetide,” Collar said after a moment, “we’d like to invite you in for tea.”

“I’m afraid that I’m on a schedule,” Rosetide said, bowing his head minutely. “I need to decline. My ship leaves with the next tide, and I must be aboard.”

“Ah.” Collar nodded, sighed, and waved his hoof. “Then I’ll accept delivery, Rosetide. Do you have somepony that you would recommend we ask for delivery service?”

“Delivery service? You could ask Roseling herself. Write to her.”

“Or I could just ask you to be our regular delivery service,” Collar mused, tipping his head and smiling.

Rosewater froze, tongue cloven to the roof of her mouth, and forced herself to draw the jars out and pass them over to Collar while Cloudy watched intently. “Will that last two weeks? That’s how long my voyages are anymore.”

“It won’t,” Cloudy grumbled. “This jerk keeps using my shampoo now that we share a bathroom.”

“Hey, that’s why I asked for three jars!”

Rosewater chuckled, unable to keep a smile from coming to her lips. Hers. It took her a moment to push back and take the smile into a wry grin. Even through the complaint, she could tell there was love there, the ‘argument’ more comradely ribbing than an actual fight. For show or not, it was hard for them to hide their affection for one-another.

All the more reason she had to keep Cloudy safe. Rosewater couldn’t make her plan work if Collar was worried about Cloudy. She could work around his Tussen Twee mindset, but she couldn’t do that if he was grieving her loss.

You like her, too, silly mare.

Rosewater bowed her head. “Fare well, both of you. I must be off.”

Cloudy glided high overhead, watching the tall stallion wending his way through the crowds of dock workers and sailors, offering greetings to some, nods to others, and generally acting like he belonged there.

And yet… something felt off about him. His voice wasn’t the deep tone that she’d have expected from such a tall fellow, rivaling Collar in height, even if he was on the slighter side, more delicately built. His height was one of the suspicious things about him, almost exact for Rosewater, even if his facial profile, even his scent were that of a male.

She followed his track until he walked up the gangplank for a ship and descended into the hold without a single crewpony stopping him, questioning him, or even turning from their admittedly busy work of getting ready to cast off.

A quick dive and swoop, and she got the name, Salty Rose. A Merrie-owned or affiliated vessel, then.

While it was tempting to question the dockmaster about the papers and taxes, that would draw attention directly to Rosetide and possibly cause an innocent stallion some trouble down the road.

It would be up to Priceless to gather what information they needed and give the stallion a clean bill or not.

For moments, Rosewater feared she’d not set up her arrival point in her basement correctly, the spell to teleport straining to open a locus in the small space she’d spent weeks testing on and off.

Opening a gap in her estate’s defenses was a risk, but she’d mitigated it, hopefully, but putting the only gap in the basement, behind a locked and reinforced door that had once been a safe room from Dammeguard raids. Then a cellar for wine. And now both that and an egress-ingress route for which only she had the key.

It was a tiny space, only large enough for her, and surrounded by anti-teleportation wards.

Then, she was gone, and reappeared in the small cellar, her nose crowded into the space for a wine bottle, her tail prodded by another.

It was so small, in fact, that she’d failed to account for the spacing and positioning of wine bottles, and the inbuilt failsafes of the teleportation spell didn’t let her complete it if she didn’t fit.

Minutes passed while she squirmed and thanked all the stars that the door swung outwards rather than inwards, and finally got the key in the lock, then spilled out into the basement of her estate, laughing.

“Success!”

Now she just needed to give herself a purity wash to get rid of the stallion scent, the dyes, and put on her real face for Collar.

Shadows drifted along with the clouds overhead, a scattering of high cumulus drifting in from the sea to join a storm on the morrow that would drench both cities. It was an additional risk, as well. Pegasi cloudwalking that high wouldn’t smell like anything but the clouds until they left their perches.

Not that Rosewater could have smelled anything that distant. Her nose was nearly as sensitive as that of a hound, but there was nothing she could do about such a distant source, and the wind steadily carried any of their hidden scents away in any case.

That Collar would have probed her trap for weaknesses was a given. Or he wasn’t the stallion she believed he was. She allowed herself a smile as she swayed with the movement of the wind, letting her shadow shift with the tree she was using as cover as the wind blew in as she’d expected.

Primline Park was a place where, during the day, ponies would gather to read and laugh, discuss poetry and quote it to small crowds, have picnics and run with their families. During the night, it was empty save the trio of guards patrolling its perimeter on their way through the parkland district.

Gleaming unicorn lamps shone their steady glow through the faint mist that was gathering around the trees and shrubs and above the grass, lending all of it the eerie beauty of the ghostlands, shrouding everything in diaphanous silk that tore and repaired itself as the chill of the city air and the warm wetness of the ocean met and mingled.

A perfect night for mystery and the plan. For the challenge.

Roseling had been her last in nearly a year, and seeing what her attentions were doing to the mare’s business had broken her heart—almost as much as telling the mare she could no longer see her. Even giving her the reason why hadn’t lessened the hurt for either of them, and Roseling had pleaded with her to not break off their romance.

Nearly, she’d given in. Almost, her resolve had shattered under the relentless assault of her heart. Until Roseling said the words Carnation had said to her, even as the High Roseguard pulled her to a waiting carriage.

‘Everything will turn out for the best.’

She couldn’t let Roseling be another Carnation, dragged out of her home, chained, and sent to Celestia only knew where.

It had hurt, and hurt more every day until it stopped. It was still painful thinking of that night, but it wasn’t so much an agony of the heart, and more the ache of loss as it faded again into a dull throb every now and again. Just as it had with Carnation.

At least she could see Roseling and know she was safe and well, and could help her, even if she couldn’t let the mare know who was helping her sell across the river.

Collar was different.

A different sort of challenge, and a different sort of chase, where the quarry only thought they knew the rules, and couldn’t know that she was playing by a different set entirely, a set of rules almost five hundred years old, uncorrupted by time or war.

This quarry, Roseate could not touch, could not break, would not break, though she had no doubt Roseate would try.

He would take the first bait, she knew. An alliance, even a distant and amicable one, was her hoof in the door. She might even be able to leverage Rosetide into a friendship with one or both of them.

“Spies typically don’t laugh and give away their positions,” Collar said from her right, invisible behind a sight shield, the mist making the edges even more invisible than usual until she knew what to look for and saw the swirling mist vanish across the edge and reappear differently on the other side.

Her veiling, by contrast, was nearly perfect in the same environs and gave away nothing of the shape of her, or the size of her—his shield was only large enough for him and maybe one other pony. Perfect.

“You came,” Rosewater said, pushing surprise into her voice. “But…” She lifted her nose and sniffed. “Alone. Bold of you.”

“What do you have to say?” His hooves clicked on the pavers as he moved closer. “And how can you tell? I’ve bathed recently.”

“You have. Blueberry scrub and an astringent shampoo for your mane. It reeks.” She considered, then cocked her head. “Though I suppose Rosetide didn’t arrive in time for you to get a proper bath.”

“Did you just come here to insult my bathing habits?” He snorted, and the scent of him came closer, carried by a gentle wind.

“Of course I did.” She unveiled the tip of her tail and flicked it, veiling again in an instant and dancing to the side.

With a sigh, Collar edged closer, his shield expanding enough for her to fit into the space, and she slipped inside, finding Collar there with a faint aura about his nose and mouth, his horn bright with silver light. Enough to light the space, but little else.

“Cautious, still, though I mean you no harm,” Rosewater said, raising a diaphanous pink dome inside his, cutting off sound. “There. We are secret, though I am trusting to our accord, my lord. Our games between us.”

“And Cloudy and Rosemary, apparently,” Collar said gruffly.

“My mother conspired to insert my cousin where she will only make a mess of things. Not by her fault, or by her intent, but because I believe my mother is starting to suspect my designs for you.” Rosewater sniffed and tipped her head to the side, starting off at a slow walk.

“You could give up any designs you fancy you have about me, my lady,” Collar said, pacing himself to keep up with her, his voice genial, though not nearly so genial as he had been to Rosetide. “I assure you, they will come to naught and misery. More for yourself than I.”

“I am already locked in misery, something you already know unless your spies are blind, deaf, and quite possibly dumb.” Rosewater snorted. “Did you miss the tiff I had with dear Cargo? Or the delightful company of the Baroness? Month-by-month, she tests my resolve.”

“I have not been blind to it, but much of it you seem to have brought upon yourself.” Before Rosewater could offer more than a glower, he went on, “You’ve left a bit of red behind your ear, my lady Rosetide.”

Rosewater ticked her ears and laughed. She’d left no such thing. “You are accusing my distant cousin of being me, now, my lord? Honestly, do you truly think I could pass as a stallion?”

Collar eyed her for a long moment, his hoofsteps even and steady. “You have a familiarity with him.”

“I do. And he is gone from my mother’s notice for weeks, if not months at a time. In return for his services, I pay him enough to hire a pony to look after his grandmother while he’s away.” Rosewater sniffed and tossed her head. “I’ll thank you not to mention that to your spymaster, or she’ll be out of home in a week.”

That seemed to relax him somewhat, and his ears settled down. “Then I apologize for the accusation. He seems a nice enough pony, even if he makes his friends in strange places.” Collar nodded ahead, indicating the street, straight and only slightly slanted toward the sea. “What terms do you propose for our alliance?”

“As I wrote. A sharing of information. I lack the means to effectively keep watch on Rosemary and her friends, but I am also certain that my mother’s patience with me is wearing thin.”

“For that, I would ask that you cease these games you’re playing,” Collar said, tossing his head. “I have a mate, and I am not inclined towards polyamory.”

“Have you even tried to be inclined? I assure you it’s quite a natural state of being, once you wrap your mind around the core tennets of the Principes.” Rosewater tipped her head to the side. “It would be a union of heirs, my lord. The end of the war.”

“I neither love you nor trust you. I’m not even certain I like you, my lady.”

“My heart aches, Collar. Honestly.” She smiled a touch weakly to him. “I understand our past encounters have been tense, but they were also under the aspect of war, not this amicable meeting.”

He was quiet for a time, his ears twitching, before he let out a sigh. “I’ll not marry without all three conditions. And I already have a mate. That’s the fourth.”

“As you said.” Rosewater sighed and pushed back the disappointment. This was her first real talk with him, pony to pony. As much as she knew about him, and as much as she felt like she knew him, he could only know her as she presented herself. “How is my sister fairing?”

Collar stumbled, caught his pace again, and coughed. “Glory is doing well. We’re treating her fairly, though we’ve yet to receive an offer of terms from your mother for her return.”

“And you may not for some time yet. Glory failed in her task, and mother is not one to grant leniency to failures.” Rosewater only had to look to her youngest sister, still enamoured of her mother’s love, believing that such a fantasy existed, to know that. “Continue to treat her kindly, my lord. Please.”

“That was never going to be in question. Since it seems that you will not give up your games—”

“And you won’t even consider my offer.”

Collar tipped his head, acknowledging the fact. “I will at least assume you not to be hostile, however, I will ask that you not use scented lures or mind magics against me or mine.”

“In return for?”

“Walking free tonight.” Collar smiled thinly and plucked at her mane, his magic spreading through hairs, then spread to check her fore and hind fetlocks. “You came without scents?”

“I am never without scents, my lord. Even in your city, there are so many fragrances I can twist to use as I wish.” Rosewater took a deep breath, drawing on her heritage deeply, letting the myriad of scents unfurl in her mind as a tapestry of artful chaos. “The smell of baking bread for the morn, I could use to enliven your senses, or freshly cut sawdust to dull them, the fading scent of poppies and magnolias to enchant with dreams. Or the stink of the harbor’s rotting seaweed to knock you out.”

“You give me little reason to let you go free, if you are as dangerous as you claim.”

“I am telling you because I choose tonight to put my trust in you. You could counter before I could do anything more serious than making the street stink.”

“Why?” Collar stopped her with a tug against her foreleg, stopping her in the middle of an intersection. “Why do you trust me tonight?”

“Because I am serious, and I want you to see how serious I am about pursuing you, my lord. I will end this war. I will see it ended.” She stared into his eyes, wanting to say more, but needing not to challenge his view of her too quickly, otherwise he might get the wrong idea, and might lead him to the wrong conclusion. “Together, Collar, as bonded mates, we could end the war. Peacefully.”

“Or you could find yourself a stallion not already attached,” Collar said with a grunt, turning away and starting back up the street. “And have as many foals as you wished with him.”

You knew this might take time. Rosewater let out a breath and followed him, a pace behind until he slowed to match her pace. They’d already passed one of the vials she’d planted as Rosetide that afternoon, but he was keeping that damnable filter over his muzzle.

“I’m not interested in mating only for politics,” Rosewater growled, catching up to him and snapping her tail against his flank. “Just like you.”

“And yet, here you are, presenting a political alliance,” Collar said, brows raised.

“I’m asking you to at least not close yourself to the idea,” Rosewater shot back. “Collar, we barely know each other. We’ve not had the chance to get to know each other. I’m asking for that chance.” She snorted and smiled. “I might find you’re an absolutely incorrigible, donkey-headed prig and not enjoy my time with you. In which case…” She had no backup plan yet. This one was still in its infancy.

Collar snorted a half-laugh. “A chance. Rosewater? There’s no chance. I’m in love with Cloudy.”

“And she’s in love with Rosemary and you,” Rosewater said, raising a brow. “The law in Merrie allows for up to a four way marriage.”

“With your own cousin?” His voice conveyed his dismay and disgust enough that she could see it without looking.

“We wouldn’t be romantically involved, my lord. We wouldn’t be the first, nor would we be the only currently married first cousins with a third partner between us.” Rosewater focused ahead, her ears flat to her skull. “I’m asking you to consider, my lord.”

“And your crimes? The hostage taking? The use of scent magic in our borders? The pitched battle?” Collar glanced aside at her. “I’m still not decided on whether or not I’ll simply arrest you at the end of this talk.”

“I don’t deny them. I abhor that I had to do them, but had I not, I would have doomed Rosemary to at least her mother’s fate,” Rosewater said softly, keeping her eyes focused ahead. “As you would if you took me tonight.”

Collar grimaced and looked away. “Why would arresting you doom her?”

“I… have been lax in teaching her as my mother would wish. Without me to protect her, Roseate would… I don’t know what she would do.” She did. But she pushed the thought out of her mind before it could chill her heart.

“I will, at the very least, offer her asylum, Rosewater. She’s a good mare. I can tell that much.”

“And the war goes on.”

Collar offered no rebuttal to that, instead continuing on with her, his eyes darting to the left and right at intersections, watching for his own ponies patrolling, or for signs of another infiltrator like her. They were slowly climbing out of the mist, becoming both more and less visible to passers by as his dome distorted the light ever-so-slightly.

“If the war goes on,” Collar said softly, then trailed off with a sigh, looking aside at her. “You’re not what I expected from our prior interactions, Rosewater. How do I know this isn't a ploy to get my defenses down? What changed?”

“The amount of time I thought I had to enact another plan has changed,” Rosewater said, then smiled and winked. “Not that I didn’t enjoy sparring with you. But I’m running out of time.”

“Why?”

“Because Roseate isn’t going to let Rosemary sit idle. She’ll make her do something that’s against her nature.” Rosewater tipped her head to the side. “That’s a bit of information for free.”

“That’s a bit of information I’d already figured out,” Collar grumbled. “Stars, are you going to offer anything concrete, Rosewater?”

“What would it get me? Information for a favor, Collar.” Rosewater leaned closer. “Roseate’s talent. Not the flashy things she claims for her talent. Her actual talent.”

He considered for a moment, then nodded. “One favor. Minor. My discretion on whether you can call it in.” Collar stopped and held up a hoof, cup up. “Take it or leave it.”

Rosewater tapped his hoof. “Her real talent is a glamour. A visual lure. She can inspire lust with a look as long as the ponies watching her can see her clearly.”

“How do you know?”

“She tried to use it on me in our duel.”

“It doesn’t work on family, then?” Collar mused, ticking his ears.

“It does. My talent countered it.” A tidbit, a little teasing bit of information. “It’s not only a sexual lure, my lord. It’s a suggestion. It’s a direct mental effect. ‘You want to do as I say.’”

Collar’s tail twitched, and he glanced aside at her. “And your talent? What would I have to give up to know that?”

“A date. Maybe two.” Rosewater laughed at his incredulous look. “I am not going to give up, my dear Lord collar. I have my goal, and I will see this war ended, and my Rosemary sane and healthy at the end of it.”

Collar raised a brow. “Your Rosemary.”

Rosewater twitched and flicked her ears. “My dear Rosemary.”

Collar continued on for a few more paces, studying her out of the corner of his eye, then relaxed minutely. “I’ll let your talent remain a mystery for now. Your price is too steep, Rosewater.”

“A pity then. For now.” Rosewater sighed and pranced ahead into the open field, or tried to. She ran headfirst into a physical shield, grunted as it gave against her horn and flexed. She stumbled and sat hard on her rump, massaging her neck with a spell and glowering at him. “I thought you were going to trust me for this night.”

“I never said that. You chose to trust me.” Collar came up to her and set a hoof against her shoulder. “I trust you only as far as I can see you.” He nodded to the field beyond the silver dome. “You leave here and—”

Rosewater folded the light around her and ducked out from under his hoof, sending her voice to his other side as she said, “And yet I can disappear from under your nose, Collar.”

He jerked away from where she was to spread a dome of silver force around nothing as Rosewater dropped her invisibility and coughed on his other side.

“Point proven,” Collar said, letting out a sigh and flicking his tail. “Fine. But why do you wish to prance about in this field? This is the old dueling ground.”

“What better place to spar, Collar, than here?” She joined him again in the center of the dome. “Now, as we’re nearly done for tonight, as I’d rather not make Rosemary suspicious about where I’ve gone, one last offer of trade for information. What would it cost me to get a single kiss from you? On the cheek,” she added quickly. “Just a kiss.”

“Your talent has to do with your lips, doesn’t it?” Collar growled.

“No. That much I’ll give for free.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Rose Kiss is the one with the magic lips,” Rosewater said, rolling her eyes. “A kiss, Collar, what is it worth to you?”

“To stop playing your games. One kiss to have you stop this nonsense with chasing me for a mate.”

“And that, dear Collar, is a price too high for me.”

“Why? Why are you so dead set on me for a mate? I’ve seen your file, Rosewater. You haven’t lacked for male companionship.” Collar backed away from her, glaring at her.

“Did that file also include what happened to my male love interests?” Rosewater shot back, lashing her tail. “Did your file include what happened to any of my love interests? Or were your spies only interested in me and not whom I found alluring and interesting enough to be my mate?”

“Well—”

“Did my file also tell you why I’ve had barely any lovers since Carnation was exiled? Did it?”

“There were rumors about you and her having—”

Rosewater snapped a band of force about his muzzle, her ears flat, her tail lashing. “I have never lain with Carnation, nor with Rosemary. I would never.”

Collar’s eyes met hers steadily as she kept his head still, her horn glowing near magenta with the thickness of power gathered in it. He flicked his ears back once and closed his eyes.

She let him go, let the anger go along with the frustration built up over the night. “I hear it from my sisters, from Rosejoy and her goons.” She sank to the ground and brushed at her cheeks, not surprised to find tears there, fascinated by them and why they’d sprung so quickly to her eyes. “I loved both of them dearly, Collar. I still do. But I was never romantically in love with them. I won’t hear you repeat them, too.”

“I never believed them,” Collar said after a moment, his voice calm. “And no. Your file doesn’t include what happened to your lovers.”

“I won’t let anypony else be taken from me like Carnation, Collar.” She took both parents from me. The thought hit squarely in her heart, and she staggered to her hooves. “I need to go. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

“She threatened you with that?”

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Rosewater gave him a look and tried to teleport away. His dome blocked her, and she couldn’t get the spell to even form properly. “Please drop your teleportation block.”

“I’m not blocking you. That spell takes a lot more energy.” Collar hesitated and stepped forward. “Is that why you’re pursuing me? Because she can’t do that to me?”

“Yes.” She tried again, aiming for a place south of town, out of view of the city’s regular guard patrol, formed the spell more carefully, and held it for a moment before releasing it. “Don’t let her take you, Collar.”

She appeared in a glade of the Deerkin just outside of town, one of the more regularly used ones, and one of the few that had been welcoming to her and Carnation when they’d made their first attempts to reach out to the nomadic folk. They were gone for now, still in the north wandering the trackless northern forests and pursuing their simple lives free from politics and intrigues.

Their only worries were where they would get their next meal, which glades to return to, and which cities and camps of ponies to prank or avoid.

I wish, sometimes, that I had been born a deerkin.

But she had not been, and she cloaked herself in mist and shadow and made her way home.

Collar stared at the space she’d been, considering what had just happened and all he had learned from her, or what she had let slip or made up. All of what had happened could be an elaborate acting trick, something to draw him out and draw in his sympathy, but there were too many things that tracked too well with what he already knew about her.

Finally, he dropped the shield and sent a flare up into the air, calling for Cloudy and her picked squad to come down, and sat staring across the river while he waited. From there, he could make out the chimneys of her estate, and it should have been easy for her to make her escape. True, there were a good number of buildings between, but even at a steady trot, she wasn’t more than a ten minute journey from home.

Wings cutting through the air in long sweeps of multiple pegasi coming in for a landing in a circle around him, Cloudy leading and trotting around in a circle, her nose to the air, then lower, and finally flicked her tail and saluted. “Grounds clear, my lord.”

“Good.” Collar glanced at Cloudy, then around at the other ponies. “Thank you. Our plan failed, unfortunately, and I was unable to lure the mare here. She was out there, but…” He sighed. “I apologize that our mission failed tonight, but I think we’ve put them all on warning.”

“That’s the point, right sir?” One of the Primfeathers, Streak, asked. “To let them know we’re not to be trifled with?”

“That’s exactly it. Dismissed from further duties for tonight. Get some rest.” Collar snapped a salute of his own, and glanced at Cloudy. “Lieutenant, walk with me back to the palace.”

“Stride,” Cloudy added, pointing a hoof at the corporal. “Get some extra rest, you’re not used to night duty, and it shows.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The rest of them snapped return salutes and took off almost in formation, demonstrating the level of their training.

As soon as they were out of sight, Collar snapped both a sight dome and a sound dome around them, and grimaced. That slow walk with Rosewater had done a number on his reserves, already flagging from a long day.

“I’m not used to late nights, either,” Collar grumbled, giving Cloudy a sidelong look. “How do you manage to look so chipper?”

“Practice.” Cloudy walked around him slowly, ears flat back and sniffed at his shoulder, neck, and flank. “I can smell her on you. So she did meet up with you?” She frowned as she paced around him again, her tail snapping. “And… you smell too much like the city.”

“I had a scent filter on the whole time,” Collar said, reforming the filtered bubble of clean air around his muzzle. “She did tell me she could use the city against me.”

“Of course she can. She’s a master scent-mage. She needs nothing but herself, Collar.” Cloudy sat back. “Was it a trap?”

“If it was, it was the worst trap ever.” Collar snorted and glanced at her. “What did you mean by too much like the city?”

“Well, it’s the city, but Collar, I’ve been through the streets more lately. It has never smelled so strong as when it did on you just now.” Cloudy shook her head slowly, lips pursed. “I can’t even imagine what she was trying to accomplish with that.”

“Calming me,” Collar said musingly, tipping his head to the side. “The city calms me. Would she know that?”

“If she were Rosetide, she would.”

“If she is, she’s a good actor,” Collar said, shaking his head. “I confronted her about it. She didn’t react except to scoff. Which is what she’d do if she was. She did say she paid him a stipend to take care of his Gran while he was gone.”

“Inconclusive, then. Also plausible.” Cloudy sighed and sniffed at his flank again. “How heavily burdened was she? I can’t smell any perfumes on you.”

“None. She didn’t even bring any of those candies. I could have overpowered her and taken her in before she could object.” Collar sighed and looked to the sky, then turned and started back toward the palace.

“Why didn’t you? And what did she want?”

“She wanted a chance, Cloudy. She said she’s running out of time.” Briefly, he relayed the rest, the courtship offer, her determination not to give up, and the reason why she was pursuing him: to end the war. “But… that’s almost too perfect of a story, Cloudy. It fits everything we know about her, and makes her sympathetic. She even claimed remorse for her crimes.”

Cloudy didn’t immediately answer, her eyes on the road. “Damme would never accept both of us courting you, Collar. Just like they wouldn’t accept me courting both you and Rosemary at the same time.” She looked up, but not at him, and asked, “Would you accept that?”

As much as he wanted to say yes, he hesitated. ‘Your devotion to her will be tested.’ He hadn’t thought it would be tested by Cloudy. She slept with mares, even after they’d started dating. For her, sex was both more and less important than it was to him, and was often a part of friendship without a declaration of love, and fidelity was only a word to her that Dammers put too much emphasis on.

She was loyal, and her heart steady, but sex was a step below romance in the hierarchy of relationship statuses for her.

She did take care not to do it too often, or spread herself too thin, and he knew each of her three intermittent lovers, trusted them. They weren’t in love. He understood that much from his reading of the Merrie Principes, and he trusted that she told him everything important.

Rosemary was a different case, and he didn’t know how that would change their relationship. Cloudy was still deeply in love with the mare. If they’d been born in Damme, they’d have already been betrothed if not actually married.

“What would it change between us?”

“For me? Nothing. I still love you, Collar. For you? Can you bring yourself to love another mare? Can you accept that I would have a lover that I’m in love with?”

“I was brought up to respect the Principes, Cloudy.” It wasn’t a yes, and it wasn’t a no, but it was the best he could offer her.

“I haven’t been with my other lovers since we made it public, Collar,” Cloudy murmured. “I’ve been trying to respect the Tussen Twee.”

“I appreciate that,” Collar replied, nipping her ear lightly and kissing her cheek. “It’s made things easier with mother, I’m sure.”

Cloudy frowned, then shrugged. “Perhaps a little. It’s all lessons on etiquette, trade, diplomacy, and politics. Nothing about courtship.” Another glance aside at him, a small smile, and she added, “Maybe she thinks I have that covered already.”

“Or,” Collar said, ticking his ears back as he considered his mother, her marriage, and what he’d been brought up to believe about Merriers and the Principes, his father’s culture.

“Or?”

“Or she’s waiting for you to bring it up.”

Silence accompanied them for a portion of the walk, the only sound their hooves on the street as they passed back down the street Rosewater had led him down, for no other reason than he wanted to find how how she’d managed to amplify the scents of the city without him noticing her cast a spell.

Halfway down, Cloudy slowed to a stop, sniffing at the air, then led him off to the side, nosing around in a patch of poppies before drawing out a mostly empty quarter-ounce vial of perfume with only a little golden liquid clinging to the bottom.

“Perfume.” Collar plucked the bottle from Cloudy’s lips and examined it. “What kind?”

“Alcohol base to diffuse faster… but it’s just flowers and a touch of baking bread.” Cloudy shook her head. “It’s not magical. Or at least, not magically activated. It’s an enlivening scent, not a calming one.”

“And it’s just been sitting here?” Collar asked.

“It seems so. It evaporated over the day and would have made anyone around it a little more energetic, a little happier.”

Rosewater, what did you do? “Is it dangerous?”

“Stars, no. At least… I can’t think of how it could be used to entrap somepony. At the worst, it might make a pony more open-minded.” Cloudy flicked her ears and shot him a look. “Vendors in Merrie use it to make customers more open to suggestions, but it’s hardly a strong suggestion.”

Collar swirled the bottle around and sniffed at it gingerly. Flowers and bread. Innocuous, frivolous even. Just like the scent of cookies on a slip of paper. What are you trying to tell me, Rosewater?

Author's Notes:

The second half of the Rosetide introduction/espionage chapter. Both chapters were heavily rewritten, but still follow the original flow.