Rosewater checked her vials once more, making sure she had none of her usual lures left in the pockets of her cloak. It would be inconvenient if she, by reflex, sent a pony to sleep or calmed his thoughts for a few minutes while she slunk by unnoticed. Even such harmless things might count for breaking the accord, and she couldn’t risk that.

Not with Rosemary going out tomorrow night with decidedly Damme-illegal scents about her person.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Rosewater called.

“Be safe!” Rosemary came from her work room, mane bound back and a smock hanging from below her chin to her chest. Thick glass spectacles were tucked against her horn and a powder-mask hung under her muzzle; the signature tools of an apothecary.

Rosemary was forever experimenting with different combinations, making the powders and precursors to scents and medicines, and experimenting with different ways of spicing wine, continuing one of Carnation’s favorite past-times.

“I will.” It was tempting to play mother before leaving, just to tease her into a fit, but her nerves were too on edge. Instead, she took a breath and patted her cheek. “Practice your Veiling. You’re still too sloppy. You need to keep it up no matter what when you raid.”

“I know, mother.” Rosemary rolled her eyes and sauntered up to kiss the air beside Rosewater’s cheek, careful to keep any residues free of her pristine coat. “Be safe. I don’t want to have to nurture you back to health. Again.”

“Be safe yourself. I don’t want to come home to the house in flames.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes and went back to her work room. “One time,” she called back just before slamming the door shut. “And I put it out!”

Rosewater chuckled, veiled, sucked in a breath, and stepped out into the dim, moonlit night, the Mare’s eye twinkling in the early autumn air through the mist gathered about her.

Merrie was empty this late at night, with only a few street-lamps kept aglow by the unicorns of the watch to light the streets, and the occasional meandering light from a watchpony not on shadow watch.

The nearest bridge, Primrose Bridge, was well-lit, however, and well-guarded on both sides, but nopony noticed the patch of shadow that slipped from darkness to darkness, adjusting the shade and quality of her veil as she went through long practice to keep even the outline of herself hidden from casual view.

She passed by the guards without needing to do more than use a ventriloquist spell and emulate a cat’s yowling in the shadows of a building to draw their attention for the brief second she needed to slip by on padded hooves.

Normally, she would use a distraction scent to distract them and walk by brazenly without bothering to adjust. They’d remember, later, and report it, making things harder for her sisters in the future, even if it also made it harder for her.

She was pleased to see that they’d finally given up their taboo of scented plants and put some blueberry bushes up. Paltry, but at least the blooms were good enough to use against distraction scents… if they thought to stuff their noses in the midst of the bush.

They were getting more canny, and had changed their tactics in the last four months. At least on this bridge.

She left without being any the wiser, and slipped into the square maze of Damme, almost as devoid of scent as Merrie was fragrant.

And yet… as she made her way through the streets, following a different route than the one the memorized map had suggested, she found more scents were waking and warming even this late at night. Natural scents of spring honeysuckle and magnolia from trees of each that lined the boulevard, heady and uplifting, reminding her of the greenhouses of the Garden of Love.

It wasn’t enough to distract her from the task, nor from the feeling of being watched. She had a tail, but whether it was a pegasus high above that had spotted the faint outline of her shadow and kept track of her or one of her sisters, or one of the more skilled Merrieguard.

In any event, they hadn’t blown that frustrating whistle on her yet.

Then again… they might be interested to find out who her target was to forgo a chase.

From the commercial district that bordered the river, Rosewater made her way into the heart of the city, the oldest part, mixing business and some of the oldest and most established homes and estates the city boasted.

She passed parks and preserved natural areas where ponies came to play, all of them kept ‘wild’ in some way or another, and almost all of them devoid of flowering plants. Some of the smaller ones even had toys that’d been left out by foals looking to pick up their play right where they’d left off when the sun rose again.

It was… sterile.

It was also home to thousands of ponies that lived, played, loved, and worked just like the ponies in Merrie did.

The relative lack of fragrance in the heart of the city also let her pick out a scent from among the myriads. Warmer, fresher than the old scents of the day. A male, and… familiar.

She almost laughed when she placed it, but kept herself silent and continued on. He wasn’t the tail she’d expected, but apparently he was hoping she would break the accord and had been waiting for her. Possibly shielded from sight near the guard station and only now coming closer because, if she continued straight, her path would take her right to the front gate of Prim Palace.

Did you think I would come after you so quickly?

At the next intersection, she side-stepped into a dark alley, hidden even from the Mare’s eye, and deepened the shadows around her, waiting as his masculine odor got stronger, then a shift of light crossed in front of the alley’s mouth, hesitated long enough for her to mark the outline of the distortion against the brighter backdrop of the sky behind it, and crouched low.

It was a risk…

If his shield brushed aside her mist, she’d be unveiled and all but naked to him and within his power, clearly trespassing and no doubt with several arrest orders waiting to be served.

But the distortion stopped, the edge of it barely filling the alley’s mouth, before it backed off and continued on.

Raiding was full of gambles. Tonight, the dice seemed to favor her so far.

She exited the other side of the alley, aware now of a flaw of Collar’s shield. The distortion. It wasn’t something Rosethorn Glory had ever had to worry about. Her sister was capable of true invisibility, not merely bending light or calling shadows from mist.

It was something Rosewater could do in a pinch, but it was far more taxing despite Glory trying to teach her how to do it when they’d been little more than teenage fillies.

As she made her way along a different route, the feeling of being watched didn’t fade. If anything, the feeling got stronger the closer she got to her ultimate target, but even when she stopped and sent out a weave of telekinetic force, the cobweb-soft filaments broke over nothing but walls, trees, and bushes.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been tailed without sign.

She doubted it would be the last, either.

Wary, alert, she approached the residential block with much more caution than she would have before almost running into Lord Collar on patrol, also not the first time she’d done so, though it’d taken running into him again to know that it was him with his scent still fresh in her memory.

The fragrances of her surroundings faded to so much background noise as she strained to filter out the fresh, warm scent of ponies either stallion or mare, even drawing on her heritage to draw in more despite the risk of the faint red glow under her mist veil giving her away.

Strangely, she found Collar’s again as she got closer, and sussed out the location he was waiting, at a corner that had a good view of the broad avenue that the long line of three-story buildings faced onto. It wasn’t even hard to find the lone Rose’s first floor patio, decorated as it was with a flowering bush and hung with a Dammeguard’s doublet to dry.

Thank you for leaving out the welcome mat, Lieutenant Rose.

Rosewater took a deep breath and let go of her heritage gift, letting the sharp scent-images fade along with the strain it put on her mind.

She slunk along the sharp, even line of buildings, mindful of her veil every step of the way, until she was at the edge of the distortion of his sight shield. Another risk, and a gamble, but one she had to take as a part of the plan formed fresh in her mind. It wasn’t planned, but she could see how it would play out, and he would either take it as the warning it was or as something else…

The tiny scroll with the map on it, and the name of her target, she rolled up until it was almost a stick, then veiled it and threw it right into the center of the distortion field, then crossed the street as soon as the field shifted and flowed towards her.

It followed, as she’d intended, and in the surprise moment of her crossing, she caught a first whiff of the other tail. Mare, hidden almost completely by a thorough wash and cleaning before the night began.

Clean, she might have started, but Rose Glory’s scent was familiar enough to Rosewater that she could tell her sister apart from the others without resorting to using her heritage. Her nose was sharp enough on its own to give her individuality from a fresh, seconds-old whiff of sweat.

Watch, Glory, as I confound mother with the most inept ‘capture’ in history.

The front door of the building was locked, but simply with a mechanism that fell to her magic as if it’d been open. Not meant to keep ponies out, likely, but to keep wild animals out. Sensible, if incautious.

Then again, it was an apartment building and not an estate, though it may have been at one point, with the decorations in the entryhall and how delicate the wrought iron stairway was. By itself, it was a work of art, and the tiling under her hooves, black and white, formed the pattern of the Primline arms over and over again in block-art.

A glance outside told her that Collar was watching her, still hidden, but the distortion hadn’t yet moved inside.

For a moment, Rosewater paced the interior, sniffing at the four doors that led to four different apartments, finding two families lived there, with a foal apiece, and another foal’s scent, full of youth and the messiness of being a foal, wended up the stairs.

Regardless of what happened, she would need to be careful here.

Finally, she sniffed at Cloudy’s door, and out of the corner of her eye saw Collar drop his shielding, the edge of the distortion field vanishing though she couldn’t see him yet. She could pretend she hadn’t seen, or she could flee.

Glory would report on the latter and she’d face repercussions.

Her sister was still out there, still hidden, and clearly Collar hadn’t spotted her or he’d not have dropped his shield so soon.

There was a mare there, and… Lord Collar’s scent. Old, faded to the point she could only barely tell it was his. Perhaps Roseate had leaked whom her target was supposed to be, set up a trap for her. It would be just like her.

Rosewater tested the lock with a spell, tested the handle, and pushed lightly against the door.

It didn’t even rattle in the frame, but a faint squeak came from the other side along with a rustle of wings.

Trap.

Before Collar could spring his side of it, Rosewater slipped a tiny scrap of paper under the door and adhered it to the tile on the other side.

She barely had time to back away before Collar loomed in the apartment entryway.

“Stop, Rosewater,” Prim Collar growled. “I know it’s you.”

The squeak on the other side came again, a muffled whimper.

The Rose Terror strikes again.

“My lord,” Rosewater said with a laugh, dropping her veil to face him, eye to eye, her tail flicking against the door as she stepped away from the door. “Have you a nose, now, to tell which Rosethorn is which? I confess you’re right, but… pray tell, my lord, to what reason do I owe your… interruption?”

He stared at her, ears ticking madly, the anger in his eyes flaring as his eyes darted from the door to her again. “What nonsense are you trying to pull? Surrender, Rosewater, and—”

Rosewater teleported, burning all of her immediate reserves to place herself a mile away without bothering to build up the power first. Just as the spell went off, she felt the wisps of a teleportation interdiction spell solidifying. Yet another spell in his arsenal she had to be wary of.

She landed in a wheat field atop a hill overlooking both cities and immediately fell to her barrel, the emergency casting sapping her energy. Just as immediately, she started pulling in magic again, preparing for another teleport, farther, careful in her drawing and careful in constructing the spell.

Of course, he could follow such a sloppy teleportation and he appeared in a pop and flash right behind her.

“Not even a full day, Rosewater,” Collar hissed, binding her fore and hind legs with spells, but not her muzzle. “You couldn’t even last a full day before you broke our accord.”

“I broke nothing,” Rosewater shot back, dropping her spellweaving. “Did you get my scroll.”

“The little scrap of paper?” he asked, some of the antagonism leaving his voice. “What of it?”

“I gave that to you as a warning, not that you seemed to heed it,” she said, testing the bonds. They weren’t binding her magic, at least. “I’m not the only Veiled Rose stalking the night.”

He walked around in front of her, lifting her chin with a spell to look into her eyes lit by the silver aura spilling off his horn. He had very handsome eyes in that light, even angry as they were. “What do you mean?”

“Are you an idiot or the stallion I chose as my mate?” Rosewater growled. “I told you. I. Am. Not. Alone. And not by choice.”

He turned to stare at the city, the aura around his horn growing in intensity, and the bonds around her legs falling away into silver shards and melting into mist. “Who?”

“I have no idea,” she said with a snort. “I felt her and smelt her, not saw her. If you value Cloudy’s safety, get back to her, my lord, and consider long and hard why I didn’t break the accord. If anything, I helped you tonight.”

“Helped. We shall see.” He cast a look back at her, full of anger and suspicion. “The accord stands unless I find treachery.”

Then he was gone, leaving her to craft her spell more carefully once more.

It might have been a mistake letting Rosewater go free, but there was a chance that she wasn’t lying, and that she hadn’t been alone.

He arrived back in the foyer, using far less magic to re-open the fresh teleport path there, and causing less of a flash when he got back. If she was lying, he could get back to Rosewater much more quickly than she could prepare anything more than a short-range teleport or try to hide in the wheat field.

The door was closed, but not locked, and as he opened it, chaos met him. Scraps and bracken from everything in her apartment lay scattered as though a tornado had rolled through, and if she’d had to defend herself against a scent in close quarters, that might be the long and short of it.

“About time you showed up,” Cloudy grumbled where she laid atop a mare familiar from half a dozen galas. “She tried to get the drop on a pegasus.”

“Rose Glory,” Collar said, clucking his tongue as she looked up at him, her face a mask of pain, fear, and anger. “You really shouldn’t do that to somepony who can drop from a cloud.”

“She also tried to entice me,” Cloudy said, flicking aside Glory’s curled silver and rose pink mane to show an unstoppered, empty, vial of fragrant rose-oil. “Magic and all. That’s two counts towards arrest, Lord Collar.”

Rose Glory still said nothing, her eyes fogged by pain. It was, he surmised, caused by a bruise the table collapsed under her, the short table in front of the lounging couch—a Merrier style of furniture, and one of the pieces that he wished were more in style in Damme.

He spent a moment studying her face, the dapple of light pink rosettes on a darker around her eyes, standing out against her carmine coat. Her Rosethorn pink eyes flashed as she shifted her gaze from Collar to Cloudy and back again.

“You’re not hurt badly, are you, Rose Glory?”

“Prim Poppy,” Rose Glory said, then closed her eyes and relaxed. “I only talk to him.”

“She said that to me, too. She hasn’t said one word otherwise.” Cloudy shook her head. “If I hadn’t been expecting Rosewater, I don’t think I would have been ready for her enticements.”

“She is, but she looks beaten.” Prim Collar waved a hoof, relief flooding through him as he finally let his guard down. Rosewater hadn’t lied about that, at least, and perhaps she hadn’t even lied about breaking the accord. “Let her up. If she was going to try something else, she would have. We need to take her to the prison, anyway, unless you want to let her stay the night?”

“Of course not.” Cloudy pushed herself up, wincing as Glory let out an involuntary wheeze and whimper as the table shifted underneath her. “Gah. Do you know how much I paid to have that smuggled into Damme? And you… ” Cloudy swatted the back of the prisoner’s head.

“Cloudy, don’t antagonize her.” Collar rolled his eyes at her.

“Well, sorry if I’m a little upset that she broke into my house!” Cloudy snapped her teeth at him, flicking her wings at the overturned coffee table and couch, the broken glasses and dishes. “Look at this place!”

“I take it she fought back?” Collar asked.

“It wasn’t much of a fight,” Cloudy said with a snort. “She tried to lock me up with fragrances, I swept them away and kicked her in the shoulder. She gave up after that.”

“Rough,” he said with a sigh, “but understandable enough. Why the mess?”

“She tried to flee after I kicked her, and I had to trip her, too. That’s when the table broke. She’s not very accomplished at this.” Cloudy smirked at the captured Rosethorn. “Are you?”

That got her a glower, but Rose Glory didn’t respond or rise to it, only closing her eyes and laying her cheek back on the shattered table.

“She’s beaten, Cloudy. Stop trying to provoke her.” Collar rubbed his jaw. “It’s already complicated enough. We have to report her injury to the treaty office, and… Cloudy, I’m sorry, but a hind-leg kick is only a life and death move. You could have killed her.”

“I know.” Cloudy deflated, ears flat to her skull. “I know, but I couldn’t help it. She broke into my house. I was afraid for my life, Collar.”

“Tackling her would have done the same thing. You’re a citizen of Damme. They can’t exile you, Cloudy.” Collar shifted closer to Glory, wary still of her and the subterfuge of the Rosethorn family.

Cloudy closed her eyes and nodded. “It was Rosewater, I thought.”

Collar glanced at her once more, then gently probed the bruise he could see spreading “She didn’t break anything, did she?”

Glory’s eyes opened, the pain in them telling him he would need to call for a medic as soon as possible. She shook her head and moved her foreleg back and forth briefly, then curled it up against her chest and closed her eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Glory. You know the rules of engagement.” That was going to sting their relationship. A reason why it wasn’t a good idea for superior officers to date their subordinates. A regulation overlooked only because he hadn’t been the one to initiate. “Captain Pink is going to have some words for you tomorrow. I have to report this to her and to the treaty office.”

“Aye. Sir.” She huffed again and more gently prodded Rose Glory’s back with a wingtip. “Up.”

She glowered at Collar moving her leg and wincing exaggeratedly, but saying nothing.

“Fine.” With his help, she was able to settle in on her three good legs, holding her left leg off the ground as soon as she was able to, her eyes unfocused as she looked between them. The swelling was showing even under her coat, darkening into a solid bruise.

“I’m sorry, Glory,” Cloudy murmured, unable to meet her eyes. “I… thought you were Rosewater.”

“Glory, can you walk?” Collar asked.

Rose Glory tested the leg gingerly, then lifted it again and nodded, ears folded back.

“Lieutenant Rose, go get Prim Poppy. Shake him out of bed if you have to. Drag him to the prison by his ears if he objects. I need answers.” He waved a hoof, dismissing her.

She saluted and left.

“Do not teleport. Do not cast any spells except to support yourself. Do not attempt to run,” he said, reciting the short list of orders he gave whenever he arrested a Rose.

Rose Glory glared at him over the last one and waggled her injured leg, but she started hobbling ahead. Already a darker purple bruise was appearing under the coat.

It was turning into a piss poor night. What had been meant as a night of fun turned into a night of terror and fear.

The walk to Prim Prison, an imposing, low-slung edifice of stone, took the better part of twenty minutes, and Collar had to stop twice to apply the minor bruise-cure that was about the limit of his field medical spell knowledge. It didn’t do much but reduce the swelling.

One more thing for Prim Poppy to look at. Maybe he could pass off his appearance at the prison that way instead of… apparently whatever was going on between them.

“I apologize for her,” he said at one point, coughing. “She’s high-strung. And you did surprise her.”

Rose Glory eyed him, then nodded, and kept walking.

“Really? Not going to say anything to me?”

She shook her head, giving him a faint smirk in return with an arched brow, and he was forced to make the journey from the northwest of the city all the way back almost to the palace grounds with a silent, limping prisoner and an increasingly ragtag group of guards he picked up along the way, then sent off when they passed into another patrol sector.

By the time he made it to the prison grounds, at least five different patrols had seen Glory in his custody, limping and beaten, and the prison guards as well, a mare and a stallion who exchanged a look before letting him in.

“My lord,” they said as one.

The inside of Prim Prison was as clean as the city, as neatly kept and organized… and also empty. The desk at the front had nopony there to guard it. Not that they had any prisoners at the moment, but the fact they were engaged in active hostilities still with the Roses, even if they’d entered a stalemate for a time with Rosewater out of the picture for the last four months…

“Ahem!” Collar grunted loudly and tapped a hoof on the desk. Then louder before the night’s inside guard darted out of a side room, his glasses askew.

“Prim Quill, I really do expect that you keep to your post during the hours you are assigned there.” He stood aside and waved Rose Glory forward, noticing the amused glint to her eye and the grin she wasn’t even trying to hide. “Please open the Rose Cage. Rose Glory here will need to be shown our best while she’s under our care.”

“Aye, sir.”

When Quill ran off to do his job, Prim Collar guided Rose Glory to a settee. “Please, lay down and rest. You haven’t been walking on it, but you’ll have been straining your good leg.”

She shot him an annoyed glare that said ‘I know that, idiot’ as loudly as if she’d screamed it in his ear.

“I know you do,” he said, flicking an ear at the imaginary yell. “I’m being polite. And while you have broken laws, and you are a prisoner, you are also nobility. There are standards that we must follow to keep our little spat from growing back to the old ways.”

The glare softened somewhat as she settled gingerly on the cushions, her injured leg dangling over the edge.

“You know, it’s much, much easier to be polite when a guest talks. I’m not going to interrogate you right now. But I sure as Tartarus am going to interrogate Prim Poppy.” He stomped a hoof and started pacing. “Look, I know there are Roses and Prims that cross the bridges at night for innocent reasons. Stars above, the bridges are there because we need to talk to each other. We need each other, Glory.”

She tipped her head to the side, blinking slowly, which did interesting things to the dappling across her cheeks.

“I’m already dealing with Rosewater’s insanity. Is there one sane Rose over there, or did Roseate just breed insanity?” He stopped pacing to glare at her for effect. What effect, he wasn’t sure, because it sure wasn’t to get her talking. “Or did she exile the only sane one?”

That got a flicked ear reaction, at least.

“Carnation Rose. I know she’s Rosemary’s mother. I know she as much as raised Rosewater.” He flicked his ears, stared at her, and snapped his tail. “Stars above, I have one of the only Roses who could tell me what in the name of the Moon is going on, and she’s not saying anything.”

The floor gave more reaction to his pacing.

A few minutes later, Quill came back down and guided them up to the Gilded Cage. He stayed quiet, his cheeks flushed to the point Collar almost apologized for startling him out of what he now realized was the bathroom.

Piss poor night, he thought, dismissing Quill with another wave of his hoof and helping Glory settle in on a more comfortable lounging couch, applying the bruise-cure again to only a minute sigh of relief from Glory and a tenuous, thankful smile.

And still no words. Not even a thank you.

“This cell is permanently warded against sound and teleportation,” he said as he settled on one of the other chairs

“He was sleeping,” Cloudy said.

“I see that. Were you gentle?”

“No. I was quite loud when I woke him up.”

“Good.” Prim Collar raised his head and straightened himself despite being more exhausted than he’d been in months. “Poppy, I presume you already know Rose Glory.”

“Er…” Poppy coughed, his cheeks flushed and his ears flat as he stared at the mare, then jerked his eyes to him. “How so?”

“Lover,” Rose Glory said at last. “Poppy, come here. I've kept my word. I've only said that I would only speak to you. I've said nothing of our arrangement to them.”

“Glory…” Poppy's eyes rolled from Collar to her and back, widening until he could see whites all around. ”What are you doing?”

“You never said I couldn't talk around them when first you caught me.” Rose Glory's voice was a sultry purr bordering on laughter.

Cloudy Rose broke into giggles that descended into laughter.

“Are all Roses this frustrating?” Collar asked of nopony in particular, and Cloudy only helpfully laughed harder.

Poppy walked stiffly to Glory, appearing more apprehensive by the second. “Glory, please cooperate.”

“Why?”

It seemed an honest question, though Collar thought even a single word had room for subterfuge where a Rose was concerned. “Why shouldn't you?” he asked.

Glory shifted her injured leg, still only looking and speaking to Poppy. “Why should I trust them? I’m a commodity. And she back-kicked me in the shoulder!”

“You were trying to enthrall me!” Cloudy shouted. “And I thought you were… Rosewater.”

“I was trying to put you to sleep so I could get away!” Glory shot back, trembling, huffing, clearly distraught and in pain. Then she settled, relaxing, and opened her eyes. “Not that a pegasus could tell the difference between sleep and enthrallment.” Her lips pursed, and she glanced at her again. “And, given her reputation… I don’t blame you, Cloudy Rosewing. I might have done the same if I thought my sister was out to get me.”

She shifted her leg, moved it, and extended it. “Nothing’s broken, I think. But… Poppy, do be a dear and settle the swelling.”

Are you trying to help her, Glory?

The bruising was hard to see under her coat, but when pointed out, Poppy gasped and began a more complex casting. Warm purple light surrounded her shoulder, and Glory relaxed in ways Collar hadn't realized she'd been tense.

When he was done, he sagged to his barrel beside her.

She lifted his chin with a spell and kissed him. It wasn't the fierce, passionate kiss he'd expected a Rose to give their lover. Not a Rosethorn. It was soft, tender, and the look in her eyes as she met his, then raised them to Collar’s briefly told him enough about the nature of the relationship.

It seemed he was going to have to do a dive on Glory’s file soon as well.

“Thank you,” Glory murmured when she let it go.

“You can talk to them,” Poppy said softly, leaning against her the settee and letting her rest her leg on his shoulder. “There's not much point in hiding from them now.”

She was silent, but didn’t say anything in the negative, only watched them.

“Why were you at Cloudy’s apartment?”

“The same reason she was. I was sent to keep an eye on her and make sure she did her duty to Merrie.” Glory quirked a brow and kissed Poppy’s ear. “And perhaps to sneak a night with my beloved.”

“But…” Collar shook his head slowly, bewildered at how open she was being. He hadn’t expected such a straight answer. Not from her. “Why tell us?”

“You asked, and my dear Poppy asked me to cooperate. Now. If you wish me to answer more, I want some concessions.” Glory smiled, and it was the predatory smile he’d expected all along.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing onerous. And one, at least, that I think you’ll like. Don’t punish Cloudy Rose for kicking me. That was my own damn fool fault for not checking whether the apartment was empty. I won’t press the injury, but I understand you need to report it.”

“Why didn’t you check?” Collar asked, curious.

“Rosewater seemed to think the apartment was empty.”

“She knew I was there,” Cloudy grunted. “She just didn’t have a chance to break in before—”

“My dear. Rosewater would have had you opening the door on your own, begging to be taken from across the street.” Glory laughed at the sick look on Cloudy's face, and she wasn’t wasn't wrong; especially not after witnessing an enticing from more than a thousand paces. “I was merely curious what she'd slipped under your door.”

“Cloudy, go find what she's talking about.” He paused briefly as Prim Quill came back down the stairwell from the Rose Cage. “And pick up backup along the way.”

“Of course.” Cloudy saluted and turned to leave, but she caught his eye before she left, and he saw in her the genuine anguish at what she’d done in a fit of fear and rage.

“Cloudy,” he called after her, “I love you. Be careful.”

She froze at the gate, her ears going flat. “I love you too, Collar. I’m sorry.” Her eyes flicked to Glory briefly before she left, the sound of talking downstairs rising briefly before the gate closed and the sound wards re-engaged, the gemstone anchors flickering to life again.

“I’d not heard a peep or a sight of you,” he said. He’d only just caught sight of Rosewater, and that only because of a shift in the clouds overhead had changed the light quicker than she’d been able to react before she faded into a chameleon outline against the storefront once more.

Once he’d lost her, he’d gone ahead to warn Cloudy, entreating her to stay put and not make a sound while he chased her off.

“Nor did she, I suspect. Though she would be an idiot to think mother wouldn’t send somepony to make sure she actually did as she was told.” Glory laughed softly. “She was playing with you, Collar. I doubt she ever intended to capture your dish of a lover.”

I doubt she knew Cloudy is my lover. At least, not by her name or scent. Unless she had access to Rose Palace intelligence, which he doubted Roseate would give her, the only thing she could possibly find was rumor… and considering how cloistered she was, he doubted that possibility.

“Your other concessions?” Collar asked at last.

“I’d like to see my Poppy at least twice a week. It’s how often we manage to ‘run into’ each other. I would also like reading materials. Mother doesn’t reward failure in her children, and here I am, clearly failed.” Glory chuckled and licked Poppy’s ear. “I’ve fallen in love with a Prim…”

“Both granted.” Collar took a breath and met Poppy’s eyes, pleading silently not to be angry with him. “Poppy, stay with her for the night. Make sure that shoulder gets the best treatment you can give. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Ah. You wish him to pump me for information?” Glory laughed languidly and flirted her tail as she shifted on the couch, exposing herself more. “I’m afraid I’ll come away with more from him than he from me.”

He didn’t come back for her.

She finished pulling in the magic she needed, reserving her power, and then enough to open her wards at home before she finished her teleport.

Then she had to wait the minute to cycle through the wards embedded in her door to release and cycle before they would let her in.

It was a beautiful night, at least. The stars above were skirted only by a few cirrus and a passing cumulus. The Mare in the Moon stared down in her dark majesty, a high halo of frozen cirrus making her wink as the wind high above tossed and tore at the diaphanous veil. The Married Mare, it was called when that happened. A common enough sight in winter, but rare in the early autumn.

It promised a cold winter ahead.

She finished opening her wards before a Merrieguard contingent could see her and wonder. Reporting her failure to mother would be hard enough. If Rose Glory made it out, it would make her story more believable, but if she’d been captured—as seemed likely considering Collar hadn’t come back to finish her—then the only one telling the story would be her.

There’s still the dueling grounds if necessary.

A last chance. The last resort.

She cast one last glance up at the Mare in the Moon, entreating her to watch over her secret endeavors and not look unfavorably on her goal.

Once inside, making sure the curtains were drawn and the door locked and warded once more, Rosewater let herself relax, let herself smile. Success.

Of a sort.

Whether or not Glory had also escaped, she would have to find out in the morning.

She found Rosemary in her room with the door open, on her belly on the ground, hind legs splayed and tucked close, her hind-legs held steady by the phantom hooves bracing her.

Behind her, muzzle planted firmly into her nethers, was a head, neck, and half-torso of an earth pony mare, her form made of colorless, odorless mists drawn from the moisture in the air and the mist from a warm, steaming bowl of freshly steeped rose-petal water.

It was the simplest of mist faeries, little more than a suggestion of form drawn from memory, and Rosemary’s cries were quiet, pleasant, and not urgent. Just masturbating to a friend, one of the dozen and a half postcard portraits on her wall. Mares and stallions of all colors and types of pony, all of them done in the same style of realism that Carnation had favored.

At least she had some fun tonight.

Rosewater almost passed by, then paused to watch for a moment, wondering if Rosemary would notice her.

A minute, then two rolled by, and Rosewater picked up on other details. She wasn’t just masturbating, but reading as well, turning the page and letting the faerie slow, then pick up again.

She rolled her eyes and coughed. “You could at least close the door if you’re going to masturbate yourself to sleep.”

With a squeak of fright and a pop, the faerie disappeared and Rosemary fell to her side, flanks heaving. “Rosewater! You!”

“I,” Rosewater agreed with a laugh and stepped further into the room. “You are well? No unexpected visitors tonight, I take it?”

“Just you, sneak.” Rosemary said with a laugh, pulling a decanter of rosewater, bowl, and sponge over to begin cleaning herself.

Rosewater nodded, then closed the door and set her horn to it. A whisper of magic bled into the room’s walls, damping sound from within. It was all she had left. She sagged against the door and slid to her barrel.

“Thank the stars and Celestia.” Roseate hadn’t come. Rosemary was still safe. Not that Roseate could enter without Rosewater’s permission. The walls were warded long since against teleportation, and the windows and doors would put to sleep any that tried to open them without the watch-ward spells to unlock them.

How long will that continue, though? She might have to send Rosemary away. Perhaps to Canterlot. She was talented enough to make her way there if she had to, and Canterlot, under Celestia’s watchful eye, was a haven for ponies trying to make a better life for themselves.

There was even a fledgling nobility that she could make her way into, if she needed to.

And then I won’t see her again for a long time. I can’t leave here. Not yet.

“Is it safe?” Rosemary asked. Drip-drip-drip went the sponge as it hovered over the bowl, her cousin’s eyes wide and fearful, darting from the door to her window to Rosewater and starting the cycle over again.

“I don’t know.” She heaved herself up, stumbled to the window and tested the wards with a quick spell before she sat heavily on one of the pillows scattered about the room. “It’s safe enough here. I’m more worried about you, tomorrow night. I may have stirred up a hornet’s nest unintentionally.”

A brief flicker of fear crossed those beautiful pink eyes, then her jaw firmed and she tossed back her head, blond mane falling loosely against her neck.

“I won’t fail. I won’t give her a reason to exile me.” So earnest, that smile, so certain and uncertain at once.

She could send her away. Seek asylum in Canterlot, away from this mess, and maybe even where her mother was. It wasn’t certain, as any pony that was exiled from Damme or Merrie was protected by the treaty.

Asylum seekers had more choice, but not much. It wouldn’t be a happy or a very free life compared to her home, but it would be a safe life.

“My friends are here,” Rosemary murmured, then straightened and squeezed out the sponge and resumed cleaning herself. “You’re here. My home is here. I won’t let her take that away from me.”

“I know.” How can I think of taking that away from her? Rosewater would be no better than Roseate. “Be cautious tomorrow night. Don’t strike. Watch. Wait. Your first mission shouldn’t be a required capture, Rosemary. Study the city. Let it become your nighttime friend and it won’t let you down.”

“I know.” Rosemary didn’t quite roll her eyes. “I won’t strike this time. I’ll focus everything on my veiling. Promise.”

“Good.” It was an effort, but Rosewater got to her feet and stumbled towards the door. Rosemary was safe. That’s what mattered. She could sleep soundly for another night.

“’Water?” Rosemary paused in cleaning her marehood and tail, then resumed, her ears set determinedly. “What happened tonight?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with yet. Focus on your veiling all day tomorrow. That’s all you need to worry about.” Let me take care of the rest. “I’m sorry for interrupting your fun tonight.”

“Who was your target?”

Rosewater flinched. Everything she’d dug up, had recalled, had surmised in the genealogy library came back to her. Rosemary’s lover. Close. Prospects. They wouldn’t have written that unless there’d been talk of bonding after their second majorities. Cloudy was already past hers, and Rosemary’s in early spring.

“I can’t…” Rosewater’s throat caught. She could tell Rosemary a lie. She wouldn’t. Not unless it was to keep her safe. Will this keep her safe?

“It was Cloudy Rose, wasn’t it?” Rosemary asked.

Rosewater startled and turned, staring at her cousin. “How—” Scenarios of Rosemary finding the note, the map, learning it from some rumor Roseate had let spread to reach Collar’s ears. She still had no idea how he’d caught onto her so easily. It was as likely Roseate trying to betray her as it was Collar’s own patrol schedule.

“Roseate asked me about her. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.” The sound of sponge and water continued more slowly. Cleaning couldn’t be ignored. “When you said you had a mission… I suspected then.”

Rosewater closed the door and rested her horn against it again. “It was.”

“And?”

“She wasn’t home,” Rosewater lied, her shoulder tensing and waiting for Rosemary to catch the lie and call her on it. “Lord Collar almost caught me trying to break in.”

Rosemary was silent for a long moment, toweling herself off and dropping the rag into the wash-basket before she turned her attention away from herself.

“I… was hoping I would see her during my raid. She’s a Dammeguard lieutenant now, I hear,” Rosemary said, a touch of pride in her voice. “She’s… doing well.”

“How close was she to you?”

“Close.” Rosemary looked away, but not before the pain flared in her eyes again. “But she defected. And she hasn’t even tried to contact me in two years, ‘Water.”

“She’d put you in danger if she tried to contact you,” Rosewater murmured, surprising herself. “I’m grateful she didn’t, even as much as it hurt you.”

“I know.” Rosemary’s eyes fell again. “I… wish you’d met her before, Rosewater. You would like her, I think.”

Rosewater flinched. “I wish I could have, too.” And put her in as much danger as her other lovers over the past six years. Roseling. Gray Rose. River Petal. “Goodnight, Rosemary.”

A cough sounded behind her, stopping her again, then the sloshing of water Rosemary resettled herself on the bed, covered modestly enough to please a Dammer.

“Stay, Rosewater. I… I can tell you about her.” Rosemary’s eyes pleaded with her not to leave. She was hoping for some snippet of news she might have from her raid. Anything about her lost lover.

“I’m tired, Rosemary. I don’t know how attentive a listener I would be.”

The bedspread smoothed out under a spell, and the air cleared as Rosemary pulled out her own version of a scent neutralizer, filling the room with the sweet fragrance of rosemary mixed with the headier scent of thyme.

“Stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Still hesitant, and heart still aching from Rosary’s accusation… the mare had no idea how close, how many times, Rosewater’s own confused upbringing had almost made that falsity a reality, and neither did Rosemary.

The shame. The ache. The loneliness.

Rosemary’s bed creaked as she settled in, head turned away, hind and forelegs curled close. It was how Carnation had rested with her on so many nights, offering to be a rock for Rosewater to cling to when the rising tides of despair and loss threatened to sweep her away.

“I met her at a bridge party,” Rosemary said in a hushed voice, edging closer and resting her head across Rosewater’s shoulders, the thrum of her voice in her throat soothing against her forequarters. “Four years ago.”

Rosewater closed her eyes and let Rosemary’s voice wash over her and into sleep.

Author's Notes:

Ah! This chapter was a delight and a challenge to clean up. This was one of the first chapters I wrote for the story (at least in part) and it's gone through five or six complete revisions before this final set of two or three minor revisions and cleanups.

Sweet stars, these early chapters were a pain to get right, but I learned a lot about plotting from rewriting them later on, and I've been applying that to other stories I've been working on. Enjoy!