Baroness came, tried the sampler platter. Left without any take-home. No takers.

Rosewater snorted at the letter from Pippindril. Not the original. That letter had already crossed the river into Prim territory. She dropped it into the sealed container she kept correspondence in and set about making sure none of her wards had snapped. Any one of the nastier ones could have given her that appetite and more.

Her cupboards full of oils in enchanted jars, exotic goods and components for both spell and fragrance were all untouched. The sleep enchantments still hung about with their scent of magnolia acting as a cloying warning. Magnolia was only the warning, honeysuckle would suffocate the nose to all else and the spell would wrap the mind in layers of it, carrying the offender into a deep, dreamless slumber.

She disarmed them and went on to the door to her personal study, warded with layer upon layer of defenses. Sleep and lust, fear and confusion; all paired trap spells that struck at opposing angles. She left those in place. She wouldn’t need her diaries today. Not to create something so simple as the baroness’s perfume.

Which reminded her, along with the stench of unwashed come and apparently a fair bit of urine. Rosewater curled her lip at the smell and snapped a fragrance filter spell around the whole thing. “Adding this to my final bill, you cretin.”

There wasn’t anything to be done about it then, except to clean it up. She walked back out front to collect a few mane ties from the register where Rosemary kept hers, just in time to see the mare they belonged to turn up the street, veiled as she was supposed to be.

Rosewater pulled out her scope and leaned out of the shop to spy on the place her tail had last been.

Spyglass met spyglass, and she waved a foreleg. The other spyglass lowered. It wasn’t any of her regular tail. It was a pegasus in the purple and blue livery of the Dammeguard. He frowned at her, his ears flicking back before he raised the glass again.

“Where. Is. Prim. Collar?” She mouthed distinctly, hoping he was at least somewhat versed in the art of lipreading.

The stallion’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and shook his head.

She smirked broadly and flirted her tail before laughing, full and throaty, and ducked back into her shop where Rosemary was watching her, brows knitted.

Rosewater paused, pursing her lips, and studied her for a moment. It’d been a few days since she’d seen Rosemary, off as she had been to greet the baroness at the Rosethorn Lighthouse, a day’s journey away. And, of course, the baroness had been late.

Like her mother, Rosemary had had lighter eyes than the usual Rose, that tended towards the darker pink of a fine rosè wine, almost a soft carnation. She still had the distinctive muzzle streaks and heart mark, marking her as one of the main line of the Rosethorn branch of the Rose family, but it was fainter against her rouged coat speckled with flecks of white about her hindquarters and ankles.

Rosemary flicked an ear inquisitively and brushed back a strand of her pale gold mane. “Rosewater?”

“My tail.” Rosewater flicked hers, smirking. “They’re not even trying to be subtle about watching me. They’re toying with me, I think.”

“P-Prim Collar?” Rosemary swallowed and scanned the window, as if he might leap across a thousand or more hooves of open air and crash through into the shop right then. “He’s been tailing you?”

“Not him today. I expect he’s sleeping in. It’s his pattern after spending an afternoon with that delicious pegasus of his.” Rosewater chuckled softly and surveyed the shop. “I think we’ll close the front today. I would like to have you help me in the back as I will be going on a night mission at the end of the week, and I need to make sure I’m prepared.”

“Really?” The younger mare paused in locking up, her ears ticked back in consternation. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“More than sure. I have a future husband to entice.” Rosewater chuckled and drew down the curtains over the window, then drew the silence close, the listeners from her mother and from Damme having heard what she wanted them to hear. “But first… what news from you, Rosemary? I’m sorry about yesterday, but you know how I feel about involving you in…” She flicked her tail. “Lure creation.”

“I, um.” Rosemary flicked her own tail. “I may need your help in that regard. Roseate wants me to train for a mission.”

No. It was automatic. It had been automatic since Carnation Rose had left Rosemary in her care. Rosewater was shaking her head before she opened her mouth to say it.

“Roseate said you would say no,” Rosemary said softly with a sigh. “She told me to say, ‘Remember my one stipulation.’” She cocked her head to the side, ears flicking curiously. “What did she mean?”

It means she’s a manipulative, scheming wretch who doesn’t understand you.

Rosewater stared at the mare she’d helped Carnation raise, whom she had raised alone for the past six years. The only mare she loved without reservation or demand. The only mare who loved her as only family could.

She saw all of Rosemary’s life as a tiny gem, all of her joys, her first time with a stallion, with a mare, learning her first magical enticements, how she didn't need help with the non-magical. She had the open mind necessary to learn what Rosewater had to teach. She had the pure joy of enjoying sex for its own rewards that Rosewater hadn't enjoyed in years, and she showed no signs of letting that enjoyment go.

“It means she’s going to be pushing me to get you ready for missions. Or else,” Rosewater said through gritted teeth. “She means to keep me from pursuing Prim Collar.” Her coat bristled as she brushed past Rosemary into the laboratory. “Come. Baroness Pisswater can wait another day enjoying the pleasures of the city. There are things I must teach you. And there is one thing you must promise me.”

“What?” Rosemary sidled up close to her, cheek rubbing against Rosewater’s neck. “I’ll promise anything.”

“Promise me you won’t change, Rosemary. I loved your mother. I love you.” Irritatingly, tears began forming in her eyes. An application of will stoppered the churn of emotion. “Promise me you won’t become like me.”

“Why?” She paused to check the silence spell, smiled more brightly, and continued, “I love you too, and I could think of worse ponies to emulate.” Rosemary chuckled at her joke, but her grin faltered when she looked up into Rosewater’s eyes. “What?”

“Thank you, Rosemary.”

She would not let Roseate corrupt this gem.

A white face, beautiful, a smile that promised pleasure and pink eyes that drew him in.

“You will be mine, Lord Collar.”

He snapped awake, shaking his head free of the husky alto that still purred in his ears.

“Collar?” Cloudy licked his cheeks and between his eyes. “Collar, what is it?”

“Her. Her voice and face,” he groaned, shaking his head free of those wine-dark eyes. “Is it like that when a Rose gets a lure in you?”

Her breathing hitched for just a second. “No. Lures… only last a few days at most.” Cloudy’s eyes darted between his, then bent to sniff at his neck. “It’s not a lure. She’s got her hooves in you.”

“She’s frightening, Cloudy,” Collar admitted. “Even months later, I can’t get her out of my head.” He groaned and shook his head slowly. “I won’t let her have me. I have you, Cloudy. I want you.”

“A part of you wants her.” Cloudy Rose opened her eyes, those beautiful pink eyes, the signature of the Rose family, so like Rosewater’s, but without the golden flashes in the iris. He could still remember that detail, even from across the field. Striking. Beautiful. Dangerous. “She is frightening, Collar.”

“I can see why the Roses fear her, too,” he said, pushing himself up from her bed and smiling down at her. “But I still have you.”

Cloudy searched his eyes for a long moment, then smiled as she caught on to his desire to change the subject. “You do, and you always will, Collar.” Cloudy chuckled and nibbled at his cheek. “Stars, I never thought I’d spend this much time with a stallion before I met you.”

“I love you,” Collar whispered, smiling. “Even if you spend your off-time corrupting the mares in my guard.”

She laughed and rolled onto her back. “Oh, they’re fun, but you, my lord, are my greatest conquest. Or I’m yours. The lone Rose in the Guard, the lord of Damme’s lover. What a coup.”

“You are such a Rose, Cloudy,” he said with a laugh.

“And you are such a Prim, Collar.” She chuckled softly.

“Haha. So hilarious.” He nipped her cheek and backed up to nose aside her tail.

An hour later, after a second round in the bathtub with Cloudy riding him in a slow, heavy stroking, Prim Collar forced about him the calm and chill professionalism he adopted when in the city proper. It was right for a Prim to be as steady and firm as their name suggested. It was the hallmark of the city’s mien.

The clean streets had not a hint of scent not there naturally from the myriad of flower beds and flowering, fruiting trees that lined the flat stone boulevards and rose from the center to form shady arches that channeled the smell of the sea during the day and the sweet smell of the oat fields on the other side of Damme as the wind retreated during the evening and night.

Cloudy trotted at his side, garbed in her finest Dammeguard doublet with the colors of House Prim stitched around the neck. The silver pin in her doublet’s collar marked her as a lieutenant, one of the highest ranking Dammeguard.

She’d worn that pin with pride ever since Captain Pink had pinned it to her lapel. Her face was impassive, the control that the Roses also taught their soldiers evident in the steady set of her ears, and the calm, almost relaxed trot. Her eyes, though, darted everywhere.

On duty, she was as dedicated as any other guard, and more so than any when she was acting as his guard.

Ahead, the Prim Palace stood in its stark glory. The arches of the front portico were perfectly angular, the front of the palace an edifice of dark stone and narrow windows. It was a remnant of a time when the Rose-Prim War had been more openly fought, before Celestia had set her hoof down and forced the war to become a trade rivalry, fought with ships and goods instead of arrows and spears.

It was a reminder that, as hard as life could be with the Roses’ nighttime visits and threat of enthrallment to a prison sentence of pleasure and silk, it had been far, far worse. By contrast, the uninvited Roses coming to entice and seduce were civil, gentle affairs.

Not that they didn’t have reason to be resentful. Damme had the better port facilities thanks to geography. Merrie was left to suckle at the leavings that couldn’t find berthing in the extensive dockside piers that lined the inside of the bay’s northern edge. The southern half of the bay was rocky and hard to navigate, but the Rose navigators were some of the best in the world to compensate. It was the cost of hiring them that added to the incentive to trade in Damme instead.

Prim Collar sighed and shook his head as he passed the outer ring of guards standing watch. None of them reacted, and remained stoic statues in blue and purple livery.

They were finally stopped at the palace bridgeway, what used to be a portcullis and drawbridge, but had been permanently welded to the stone a century prior as a sign of their devotion to the Merrie-Damme Treaty.

“Your lordship,” the captain said, a mare named Prim Pink, a stern middle-aged mare with a pink mane and darker rose coat. “Your lady mother is waiting. She asked me to send you to her immediately.”

Collar started off, but stopped when the captain held a hoof up to block Cloudy Rose.

“Lieutenant Rose.” Captain Pink patted her peytral. “Her ladyship asked me to hold you behind.”

“She cannot order her when she’s acting as my personal guard,” Collar said, smoothly. “Lieutenant, with me. This is merely a misunderstanding.”

Pink snorted. “The court talks, young Collar. Be wary of what you let go in her earshot.”

That wasn’t unexpected. He allowed himself a thin smile. “The fruits of gossip grow more slowly than I remembered if that’s only now reached her ears. According to rumor, Cloudy Rose and I have been lovers for months.”

“As you say, your lordship. I wouldn’t believe it, of course.” A quirk of Pink’s lips said that was a lie. “Be wary of repeating that in front of Prim Lace, however.”

Cloudy remained impassive throughout the exchange, the only sign of her consternation a slight quiver of her ears. She waited until Captain Pink was far behind and the open courtyard gave a hint of privacy that she sidled closer.

“Don’t do it. Please. I want to stay with you.” Her tail snapped as she said the last. “She’ll find some way to send me away.”

“She will not,” Prim Collar said gently, looking up to the window where his mother’s office was, smiled at it, and stopped to draw Cloudy into a brief kiss. “She dotes on me, and she’s not as bad as that. She married a Merrie stallion. An offshoot Rosewing.”

Cloudy’s lips quivered, wanting to accept it, but he saw the doubt, the worry. He didn’t blame her. Baronesses had only caused her trouble when they’d gotten involved in her life. He kissed her again, and raised his eyes to the window his mother usually lurked at.

“Don’t,” Cloudy said as she drew away, ruffling her wings. “Not where she can see. I’m still not comfortable around her.” Her cheeks were flushed as they didn’t in private. “I’m trying to be a good Prim.”

“Ah, and the Rose is a corrupting influence?” He chuckled and drew back, gesturing forward before starting off again. He could almost feel his mother’s eyes on him.

“She thinks so. And she’s not wrong.” Her wings unfurled briefly as she stretched her back. “How many mares have you lain with before me?”

“Two. Brief little affairs.” He shook his head slowly. “They weren’t you.”

“Exactly. You’ve had more sex with me than you have with either of them. In months.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I love you, Collar. Love, and not just making love.”

“I love you, too.” In the view of the windows, he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“I know.” Her smile was more tender than fierce, but impish still. “You talk in your sleep.”

His heart skipped a beat, but she winked at him, and then they were out of the entry hall, and Cloudy closed her mouth, drawing about her the professionalism of her position.

The main hall of Prim Palace was well lit with magic-fueled sconces that spread a steady clear light throughout corridors filled with tapestries and carpets, and even the high-arched dark stone ceilings were obscured by billowing blue silks that stirred in the slow breeze allowed to sweep through the palace.

It was as much a contrast to the outside as the warm heart of the Prim line was to their outward appearance. It was the cost of fighting against the Roses. The will and resolve to resist the pleasures of the flesh, and yet also to succumb to it with a loved one.

Rosewater closed her eyes, opening herself to the fragrance and magic that Rosemary drifted towards her. It wasn’t perfect, but the Slumbering Scintilla perfume and spell would put almost any pony to sleep. She shook her head and cast a bubble of clean air around her. Too much of it would send her to a slumber. Had she been a lesser mage, it would have put her to sleep immediately.

Rosemary pursed her lips. “It didn’t work, did it?” She stoppered the vial of fragrance.

“It did. Be careful using that scent. If you’re not careful, it can put you to sleep as well.” Rosewater chuckled. “Especially don’t use it when bound in a shield. You won’t be able to escape it.”

“Noted.” Rosemary made a note in her journal, lips pursed. “But about the lure. I’ll need it to pass the mission, won’t I?”

“No. You won’t need it to pass.” Rosewater couldn’t bring herself to entice her daughter, to take in that scent of her daughter’s desire. For her. She shivered. “You don’t need it,” she repeated. “It’s not the only way to lure a pony.”

“Then teach me how.”

“I could ask you,” Rosewater said with a chuckle. “It’s being you, darling Rosemary. The way you are. The way you charm everypony just by being happy with life, with your loves.”

“But…” Rosemary chewed her lip for a moment. “What if she expects me to have something? A lure. Even if it’s a poor one.”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that. It would be like Roseate to put hidden hooks in her orders. Some phrase that she included in her orders that could be interpreted in a dozen ways. It was how Roseate worked.

Can I do that for her? To her? Rosewater shivered and closed her eyes.

“Don’t, mother,” Rosemary whispered. “I’ve read all of your notes. I can make a lure.”

Not all of them. There were some things that were too dangerous to put to paper. Things that she could only do with her talent. But Rosemary had her own talent at mixing and bringing out the properties of herbs.

The look in Rosemary’s eyes pushed at her, and she let out a sigh with a shake of her head. “I’ll give you the use of my perfumery for the afternoon.”

Rosewater looked up to watch the same hiding place. Her tail was gone, which was odd, but not unheard of. Today was scheduled to be a boring day at the shop.

Why, Carnation? Why couldn’t you just do it? She shook her head and turned towards the Rose Palace. All around her, the city was bustling with trade and scents ranging from fragrant to foul in a careful tapestry of scents meant to draw the tourist and the trader to and from this shop or that shop, to entice and encourage the purchasing of knick knacks and souvenirs.

Baffles for wind kept the strong sea breeze from flowing unchecked through the streets, lest they muss the careful tapestry of vapors, smokes, and odors. Everywhere silks hung to direct that breeze and clear out the scent slowly into dead alleys that swept the scent up into the air, making way for fresher, stronger scents and carrying away the stale odors.

The way to the Rose Palace from her perfumery was deliberately long. The harder it was for her mother to bother her during the day, the better.

The Rose Palace was an open palace, massive pillars leading into an open courtyard bordering a tower that was the main Rose compound. The compound itself was a testament to the high pegasus population of the early city of Merrie. Eiries and balconies jutted out from the higher floors, and the top of the tower was an open dome with a myriad of platforms ready for flights of pegasi to land or take off from.

The outside of the tower was the same dark gray stone of the Prim Palace, but decorated with enchanted silks that fluttered about the tower and dome like a rose in bloom.

They did little to hide the one window she didn't ever want to see again. If she'd thought that Roseate had any inkling about how much that one room had shaped her, she would have thought her mother was drawing attention to it.

But Roseate understood feelings only well enough to manipulate her daughters and their children. The ones that had children.

Out front waited her sister Rosary, possessed of her mother’s diminutive height, temper, and ruddy pink coat. Rosary made her dislike of Rosewater apparent at every opportunity. Second eldest, second best. Rosary took coming in second with all the grace of a minotaur in a bramble patch.

“Roseate wants to see you,” she said, flaring her nose as Rosewater strode past, only flicking her ears in acknowledgement. “She wants to see Rosemary, too. Where is she?”

“Busy.” Rosewater didn’t stop, forcing Rosary to quick-trot to keep up. “If Rosemary wants to talk to her, she can. She’s still Carnation’s daughter, not mine or hers. She has no right to order her.”

“But,” Rosary said, keeping her pace quick to keep up and trying not to look like she was trotting to match Rosewaters stride, “she is your protege, and at an age she can be called upon for the militia. Roseate can command her to undertake raids.”

“She treads perilously close to a dueling insult,” Rosewater snarled. “Remind her of that, would you? She doesn't seem to listen to my warnings anymore.”

“You’ve gotten soft. That's why she doesn't listen. I take it Rosemary isn’t as good a lover as Carnation—”

Rosewater spun and snapped a foreleg across Rosary’s path, pulling the blow just enough to not crush, even in the snap of rage.

As her sister stopped, eyes wide, coughing, Rosewater pushed her horn against Rosary’s, spilling power into both horns to lock her into place even as she tried to fall. The feeble resistance her sister put up fell away under Rosewater's talent. Cold fury settled over her as she watched her sister’s eyes widen from shock and pain to horror as she found she couldn’t even twitch her tail to let the answering fury find release.

She let the chill fill her voice as she spoke, “If you ever speak that lie again, I will meet you on the dueling grounds and I will give you a taste of what I gave dear mother. I promise I will not be as gentle next time.” She let go of the fury and the magic and spun away to continue her long-striding rush to get the business with her mother done with. The less time she had to watch that cold fear in her eyes, the better.

“Bitch,” Rosary croaked behind her.

The less time she spent so close to where…

She forced the resurgent memories back and made herself look forward to the rage that would cauterize the grief again.

Her mother’s office was a mess. As usual. Pillows sat in every corner, their enchanted covers hiding the marks of stains from all manner of sex acts performed on each one. Papers and scrolls covered every flat surface and were stuffed into every cubby.

And her mother, once a beauty spoken of in song and story, she had been surpassed by her daughter in looks and stature. She still had the distinctive heart mark on her breast that marked the true lineage of the Rose, but it was indistinct against her mother’s dark pink coat and she worked hard to bring it out with makeups and dyes. The thinner lines from muzzle down to her cheeks were even harder to see.

“Mother.” It was the barest decency she could afford. She kept the chill out of her voice as much as she could. “I’ve come at your behest.”

The fear was there in Roseate’s eyes. Echoes of a fear in Rosewater’s heart; borne of love, fanned by this mare, her mother. She tried to take Rosemary away. She pushed away the fear and pain that threatened to strangle her every time she sat across from Roseate.

The cold fury, she embraced.

“Rosewater,” Roseate said in a sultry purr that did nothing to hide the glint of anger that was always there. “That look. So chilly towards your mother.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You forced my hoof. You could have let me have her. Rosewater shook her head. “What do you want?”

“Rosemary’s told you she’s going out raiding, yes? You can’t keep her from that duty any longer.”

“I am aware. I’ve been training her.” Rosewater gritted her teeth. You didn’t bring me here to confirm that. “Promise me she’ll have support.”

“She will have the same support you have.” Roseate chuckled softly. “If you’ve trained her well, she should be fine.”

Rosewater ignored the implication. This wasn’t Rosary, who spread insults like squirrels did nuts. “When is she going?”

“Night after you, my dear.” Roseate pulled a tiny scroll. “Your night raid.” She floated a scrap of paper across to her. “Is tomorrow night. Here’s your target.”

That was an oddity. The raids thus far were usually only to capture whomever they could, not to take a particular target. It would be an escalation. And the name wasn’t one she recognized. Cloudy Rosewing.

“A traitor?” Rosewater flipped the scroll to peer at the tiny map, the little red dot noting the address. On the far side of Damme. A small district full of small houses as far from the docks as a pony could get. Nopony important would live there.

“Aye. She left the creche some two years ago. She needs to come back.” Roseate chuckled softly, languidly rolling one shoulder. “You will do this, Rosewater.”

I hope you aren’t home. She nodded slowly. Her plans shifted. From there, to the perfumery, then back to the palace after enough time passed to change the guard. A few hours.

Then, the odious moment, when she bowed her head and spoke the words her mother demanded when giving orders. “By your order, Mother, your command is heard, and will be obeyed.” When the Mare in the Moon returns.

She waited until she left the office, left the compound, and was well on her way back to the perfumery before she let herself shiver.

In his spyglass, Rosewater sat outside her perfumery, staring up at the sky. Her ear flicked towards him occasionally, acknowledging that she knew he was there.

“Do we know where she was just before this?”

Cloudy peered at the intelligence report. “She visited the Rose Palace for a half hour two hours ago. One of our spies there reported in. Apparently Rosary was taken away for a bruised throat after a confrontation with her.”

“Another fight with her family?” Collar arched a brow, but continued watching that distinctive profile. He hadn’t seen her up close often. But that dark pink streak down her muzzle and neck drew the eye to her chest and the heart outline tracing the plush swell of her breast. Enticing, even from a distance. But behind that heart was fear and chill. A dangerous mare in a pretty package.

“Maybe. Rosary hates Rosewater. She’s second-oldest. Shorter. Not as pretty. Not as skilled. And Rosary probably earned it.” Cloudy snorted. “She’s a piece of her mother.”

“What’s she thinking about?” The look on her face was hard to decipher. Her ears ticked erratically, emblematic of chaotic thoughts. If he didn’t know better, he thought she might be worried about something.

“You could go ask her,” Cloudy said with a chuckle.

Below, the door to the shop opened, and Rosewater turned her head, eyes crossing over Collar’s line of sight, and continuing without pausing to watch the Veiled mare stepping out.

Rosewater spoke silently, her lips barely moving. The other mare held up a vial of clear liquid. A lure. The other mare replied, Veil fuzzed ears ticking. She pushed the vial closer to Rosewater, then seemed to sigh, shook her head, and ducked back in, letting the veil fall before stepping back. She had a coat of a rosy pink darker than Rosewater’s, and a cutie mark that looked like two sprigs of rosemary crossed behind a rose.

“Sloppy.” Collar clucked his tongue. “Did you catch that cutie mark?”

Cloudy shook her head. “I was trying to read the label on the lure. It didn’t look like one of the Rosewater lures we’ve captured.”

“Odd.” He spent a moment sketching the cutie mark on the scroll. It was black and white, but not many cutie marks shared a shape. “This was the mark.”

Cloudy glanced at him, her ears canted back, a look of sick horror creeping into her eyes. “That’s Rosemary.”

“Your lover?”

“Yes.” Cloudy rolled up the scroll, swallowing and put it back in her pack. “If she’s making perfumes with Rosewater, it means she’s getting ready to go on raids.”

“Making her own lure?” Collar chuckled. “I wouldn’t think Rosewater would trust anypony with her perfumery.”

“She might not have a choice. Roseate can issue orders.” Cloudy clucked her tongue. “I wish she wouldn’t. She was so sweet and kind. But… Rosethorns corrupt, Collar.”

“They do.” Collar watched as Rosewater turned her attention to him, but didn’t do anything other than watch. Then she smirked, raised her chin, and her horn lit with a pink light along its length. She licked her lips. “What—”

Cloudy stiffened beside him, and a moment later he smelled it as well, a magical calm flowing over him briefly then fading into the smell of vanilla, honey, and something distinctly fruity dispersed into the wind, just a whiff, less than a suggestion, but enough to capture Cloudy’s attention a moment. He pushed it off more easily, and brushed the air away from Cloudy.

When she came back, she snarled. “I told you she was scary. She shouldn’t be able to reach that far.”

“And she shouldn’t have. Are you okay?” He turned her head left and right gently with a spell, looking into her eyes. Eyes normal, responding normally to light. Unlured. He relaxed. She was terrifying, but not that terrifying.

“Yeah. Not even horny. Just angry. It wasn't a lure. It was… calm.” Cloudy shook her head. “She didn’t intend to.”

He lowered the shield, but kept power flowing through his horn.

Rosewater smirked up at him, then spoke slowly. “I can reach you from anywhere. From any angle.”

“Go home, Cloudy,” Collar growled. “No questions, please.” He collapsed his scope, pulling more power into his horn. “She wanted to get my attention. She has it.”

“Collar?” Cloudy stood, her ears slicked back. “Don’t. It’s what she wants.”

“Now, Lieutenant.” He didn’t look at her, he couldn’t look at her. He needed restraint. Rosewater hadn't used a lure on purpose. He had to keep that in mind. “That is an order.”

“Sir.” She snapped a crisp salute to her peytral.

He would pay for that later. But he needed to do this alone. He could stand against Rosewater. Cloudy couldn't. Even that simple demonstration of a calming fragrance and her succumbing to it, or welcoming it, was a sign of that.

Cloudy leapt from the building and snapped her wings in a launch, leaving him alone to stare at the mare below, no longer smirking. Calculating, devious. Dangerous. That had been a calculated move on her part.

Power built in his horn until he felt the pressure beginning to tear away at spacetime in the pattern he needed. With a pop and a flash, he appeared in front of her, glared at her, and ducked into the perfumery and out of sight from the street, holding the door open for her. “We need to talk.”

Fury rolled off him in waves as he blocked the door farther back and spread a silencing shell around the rest of the room. He wouldn’t let her have access to whatever she had back there, and didn’t want Rosemary to hear what he had to say. She might still be the innocent that Cloudy remembered.

She followed him in, ears perked and horn glowing as she closed the door behind her, covering the entrance with a veil. “Talk under truce?”

“Under truce,” he agreed stiffly, his ears flat to his skull.

She laughed softly, lighting her horn to draw a long pillow to her. “Under truce or not, it’s still so nice of you to come visiting so unexpectedly, Prim Collar.”

“What are you playing at, Rosewater?” This close to her, her voice a dusky alto, matching her tall, slender frame, simmered in his ears near as much as the fury that had brought him here. It was a voice he'd only heard in passing at the Merrie-Damme Treaty Galas held quarterly. Up close, it was almost as enchanting as her spells. “What game was that out there?”

“Playing, Prim Collar?” Rosewater backed away from him slowly, her tail flicking against a display case. “I don’t play with my future mate.”

“You presume much. I will not be yours.” Collar snapped his tail and forced himself back to the purpose. She was dangerous, and he needed to limit the damage she could do in whatever way he could. He fixed her with a glower. “If you want to play your games, include no-one else. Do this, and I will propose an accord between us.”

“An accord. A binding, you mean?” Rosewater’s eyes left his to stray to the door back into the laboratory. “What do you propose?”

“Just what I said. Only you and I, Rosewater. Don’t include anypony in Damme.”

“What incentive do I have, Lord Collar?” Rosewater sniffed and flirted her tail. “Here you are, in my own shop, alone, at my mercy for all intents and purposes.”

“You think so?” Collar snorted and glanced at the door, taking a chance and throwing the dice. “And if I made an especial effort to capture a certain somepony.” He turned his head to look at the door, flicking an ear at it. “She’s soon to start raiding, is she not?”

He might as well have said he was going to capture a banana and eat it for all the effect it had on her.

“My lord, I would agree to it simply for the chance to have you to myself a few nights.” Rosewater’s smile told him nothing, her rose and gold eyes not moving from his even to look at the door. This close, it was hard to look away himself. “But perhaps you can offer more? The name of that delightful mare you were with, perhaps?”

“No.”

For a moment she feigned disinterest, ticking her ears and stepping back, the smile fading into a thoughtful frown. “My lord, I can hardly accept an accord with only favors on your side.”

“Fine.” Collar flicked his ears. “I’ll make sure your cousin gets a blind eye so long as she doesn’t break any laws.” It didn’t cost him anything to offer it… Rosemary was the rare Rosethorn who didn’t have a record.

“Accorded.” Rosewater drew out a slip of paper from a drawer behind the counter. It was already signed and stamped by the Rose magnate. All it would require was the Prim magnate’s stamp and signature.

“Nay. I will not put this on the official record.” He laughed. “This is between us, not the Treaty Office, and not for public record. I want you to swear it to me, Rosewater. On your cousin’s freedom.”

Rosewater’s eyes stayed on his but for the briefest flicker towards the shielded door. “You would trust my word?”

“I trust you to remember that I can order your cousin captured at any time.” He raised a brow, a small smile on his lips. “She’s going to start raiding soon. She’s also terrible at veiling. Isn’t she?”

That got more of a reaction: a flinch, barely discernible, and a chuckle. “Or she’s tricking your spies into thinking she is. It wouldn’t be the first time feigned incompetence set you all on your back hooves.”

“I will come after her myself should you break it, Rosewater.” He shoved his hoof at her. “Not one other pony involved.”

“Why not simply capture me here?” Rosewater offered, crossing her forelegs in front of her and sitting back on her haunches. “Bind me. Take me. It would be simpler.”

“You know I cannot.”

“Ah… yes. By the rules, aren’t you?” Rosewater tsked and dropped back to sit, forelegs still crossed. “No raiding. And this would be a raid if you abducted me here and now, would it not? No fun at all.”

“Walk across the bridge with me and we can make it official.”

“Walk across the bridge to me… and we can make it official,” she purred right back, grinning.

Collar glared at her, headache starting up. It was like talking to a spring. Everything he said, she threw right back at him. “Will you swear?”

Before she could answer, the backroom door handle turned and the door pressed against his ward.

A crack finally showed in the facade, her eyes widening only momentarily, then snapping to his face. “I swear. By her safety, Lord Collar. Not one hair, even should she break a law, or I will come after you.”

“You are already coming after me,” he reminded her, feeling the shift in the game and smiling himself. A sore point. Whatever it was. She didn’t want Rosemary to be involved at all in their game, if that’s what she was up to. “What difference would it make?”

“You will swear to her safety, Lord Collar,” Rosewater hissed as the door thumped against his barrier, carmine threads of magic sneaking out to probe at his barrier and start to press against it. “Or I will not swear to your terms.”

“You realize I could simply not. And nothing changes.”

“Please!” The look in her eyes changed without seeming to change at all, shifting at once from anger to… something else. “Do not force me to beg you, Lord Collar. She is not a part of this.”

The force against his shield was starting to drain, and he felt shouting against the aural barrier. He could simply drop both barriers and have it out then, but then it would be two against one, and he in enemy territory.

“By my word. Not one hair, Lady Rosewater.”

“Then I swear, not one more pony beyond us.” She slammed open the door behind her. “Now go!”

Author's Notes:

Cleaned this one up ahead of schedule. Enjoy!