Stirrings of a mane under her muzzle stirred Rosemary to wakefulness well past noon. She yawned and raised her head to look down on her sleeping partner, Rosewater. Cousin, one of the two mares who’d raised her, and her only mother for the past six years. She stretched out her neck against the long, sleek one underneath her, rolling to her side and waiting for her partner to wake.

She didn’t have to wait long. Rosewater had never been a heavy sleeper, but for some reason she had been last night. She hadn’t even woken when Rosemary woke in the middle of the early morning to ease some of her nervous energy with a short reading of a different book, one guaranteed to put her back to sleep instead of arousing her.

Or maybe she had and chosen not to make her awareness known. Rosewater could be oddly prudish about the oddest things and then not even bat an eye when walking in on her making love to a mist memory.

“Morning, Rosemary,” Rosewater said in a soft whisper. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Mostly. I’m a little nervous about tonight.” Her first raid. That she didn't want to do. That Rosewater had been able to protect her from for a little more than two years past her first majority.

At great cost to herself.

“I noticed. Do you need a little privacy to relax?” Rosewater twisted her neck and slipped her head out from under Rosemary’s

She had noticed. Rosemary laughed softly. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

That made Rosewater frown and flick her ears back. “No. I was already partly awake. If you really want to put yourself to sleep, I’d recommend the Ballad of Frosty Rosewing. The Dammer version.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but… yes. I think I would like to expend a little energy.” She rolled to her barrel, rose, and stepped to the floor, turning to consider the paintings on her wall of some of her lovers. Rosie Night's tongue would be nice, delving and flicking. Or maybe Rosie’s husband, Trestle Night. His cock was always welcome… especially with Rosie suckling her teats and Velvet Night under her muzzle. Already her tail was flicking side-to-side, anticipating. “And you? How did you sleep?”

“Poorly,” Rosewater said, stepping down from the bed and stretching out one leg at a time.

Rosemary watched, admiring the play of muscle under coat and the slim line trailing down her neck. She waited until the older mare came closer to kiss the side of her muzzle. “Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?”

“Be safe tonight.” Rosewater turned her head, letting Rosemary trail light kisses down her neck until she tugged Rosemary up for a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself first. I need to bathe.”

Rosie Night, then.

Rosemary laid back down and raised her hind leg while she manifested Rosie in full behind her as a ghostly white mare, so far removed from the nearly midnight blue coat her long time lover had. She'd have to pay the earth pony a visit later that week to experience the real thing again. She could do things with her tongue that Rosemary just couldn't grasp.

Rosewater watched her for a moment, eyebrow arched, then smiled and sauntered to the bathroom, shaking her head slowly. “You should try the Misty Consort spell. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“One day,” Rosemary said through a pant as the phantom pony's tongue slipped inside her, and her hooves began their slow massage of her belly and teats. There was little passion in it, though. It was all her mind, her magic directing it. She couldn’t surprise herself like a night with one of her lovers for real could.

A raised eyebrow was her only answer for a minute while her cousin faced the wall, her ear twitching and a flush starting in her neck. “You can try it. You’ve almost got the form right. Remember the Heart’s Opening sigil at the end. It will link the construct to your magic and your memory.”

A complicated structure, Heart’s Opening, she’d only managed to correctly make it a few times since Rosewater had started trying to teach her.

“Remember, you have to picture the mare wholly in your mind. Everything you want to feel, before the spell will really take effect, while the sigil is being formed” Rosewater flicked her tail and closed the door. “Maybe it will be cloudy tonight.”

She spent seconds ignoring the mist faerie’s ministrations, focusing her mind on the complex mental overlay needed to activate magic, the mental image of Rosie Night flickering back and forth between her and the last vestiges of her dream. But she finished it, and firmly implanted the image of her lover in the construct.

“Yes!” Rosemary cried out as the spell fully took hold, drawing from her memory, from her body’s needs, and took on a life of its own. She wouldn’t have been able to focus on the spell if she had to maintain control.

The misty chill of the faerie became a flush of heat rushing over her, holding her in a climax of warmth that filled her from head to hoof, the tongue inside her suddenly feeling real and alive, hot and wet as her spells never were. She rode it, her marehood tightening over the sensation of life pulsing and pulling. Even the hooves at her teats became more solid and warm as they pressed as if to meet the tongue.

She screamed as the final wave of fire coursed through her, numbing in its wake and leaving her twitching as her come pooled against her dock, hot and wet and welcome.

The spell kept going for several minutes after Rosemary stopped feeding magical power into it. That was a feature of it. It would draw on the magic drawn out by her orgasm to keep her warm, and it spent minutes cleaning her with a misty tongue. It was as pleasant as the rush had been exciting.

When it was done, the construct climbed atop her and whispered in her ear in Cloudy's voice, “You're lovely. Always so lovely…”

Shock coursed through her as she realized that the mare atop her looked like Rosie… but she had wings, and her eyes were the same as Cloudy’s, darker pink… and her voice…

Husky, feminine, always ready to descend into that easy laugh she remembered so well, even after two years.

“That's cheating,” Rosemary yelled when her senses came back to her. “Did you do that last bit?” Realizing that Rosewater hadn’t seen, she added. “That was Cloudy!”

“Not I, dear Rosemary. I’ve neither seen her nor heard her voice.” Splashing, shifting, then a groan. “You must be careful of whom you picture,” Rosewater’s voice and laugh came from the bathroom while the construct continued to lick her ear, sending shivers and shudders down her as the hind leg pressed against her clit, warm and firm. “It will draw from your memories and do what you imagine that pony would do.”

The implications sank into her slowly. “But I…” It’d been so long since she’d thought to have Cloudy as her lover… it was still too painful. “I didn’t want that, Rosewater. Not this morning.”

“You may not have, but the spell is drawn from your mind. Remember that, Rosemary. Just because you don’t want to be reminded of a lover doesn’t mean a mist faerie doesn’t listen to your mind. They’re extensions of your will. Not mine.” A pause, the sound of the water running from the cistern again, then stopping. “This one more complex than most, and it will take a life of its own once you let go. Your last thoughts will control its course.” The sounds of bathwater swishing and shushing as Rosewater cleaned herself was all she heard for a few moments. “Understand?”

“I do, and I think I might try this one again later. Just without thinking about her.” She lay still as the mist faerie of her lover dissipated into a fine, sweet-smelling vapor that settled across her. When I’m not dreaming about her.

“A very good idea, Rosemary,” Rosewater said, her tone playful as she laughed. “I’m glad you tried it, but perhaps start it when you’re more awake and not half-asleep.”

“I know.” Rosemary shook her head and sighed. “Did you sleep well?”

“You asked me that already.”

I did, didn’t I? She lay for long minutes, listening to Rosewater bathing, recovering from the bliss and shock of the spell’s working. Her heart was the slowest to recover, beating slow and fast by turns as the heat returned in aftershocks of pleasure that rocked her.

It must have been her telling a sleeping Rosewater all about Cloudy that had done it. She’d woken up dreaming of the mare more than once, her husky, brash voice, hearty laugh, and that devious sense of humor.

And her fiercely protective streak. It was no wonder she’d joined the Dammeguard. It was what she did. Even in Merrie, she’d been one of the Merrieguard from the age of enlistment, relegated to bridge duty because of her family, but taking pride in her work.

What made you leave?

Rosewater came out again, mane and tail wrapped, and bent to brush her lips against Rosemary's forehead. “It’s a very tricky spell to master. Try it again when you’re not half-asleep. And didn’t stay awake half the night tossing and turning.”

“I’ll… do that.”

Rosewater kissed her brow and left the room. “I’ll be in the perfumery if you need anything today, Rosemary.”

Cloudy stopped her cleaning an hour before dawn. She’d managed to right all the furniture and sweep up most of the largest chunks of glass and ceramic from her broken dishes. Most of it had been her fault, using her wings indoors to keep the fumes of Rose Glory’s spell away from her, frantic and thinking the mare was Rosewater in the darkness of her apartment.

She’d forgotten the mare stood out like a torch in the dark in her panic.

But in the dark, in a panic after hearing Rosewater not inches from her head, she hadn’t been thinking, only reacting on adrenaline and fear. And she’d still been coming down from an adrenaline high when she’d made the stupid, venal mistake to hurt Rose Glory for scaring her so badly. The heat of the moment. The kick landing resounding up her hind leg, the sick feeling of hurting somepony else descending like a sack of bricks on her head as she heard Glory cry out.

She’d been trained not to back-kick except in the direst circumstances. It was a pony’s deadliest natural weapon, and it had been used three hundred years ago in battles. Earth pony death squads trained to spin and kick with lethal precision. Pegasi trained to dive and kick.

Her family had been the latter, warlords of the wildest days of the conflict.

Revulsion filled her again. Her temper, slipping free at the worst moments with the risk of capture moments away, being taken away from everything she loved and had come to love, being taken away from the chance to bring some kind of justice to Roseate and see it done.

Worst… Glory had forgiven her.

That wasn’t going to save her from a dressing-down from Captain Pink nor, likely, a demotion and reassignment from patrol to something more desk related. Maybe even the prison.

Wouldn’t that just be an ironic punishment.

She was going to get a dressing down, too, for not returning to Collar to report what she’d found, instead remaining behind, alone against orders, to clean up and think about the note.

‘If you ever loved her, leave the city.’

She didn’t have to guess who ‘her’ was.

Rosemary.

A lover who’d started going through the complicated web of pre-bonding rituals, some of which were bound into law. Checking the genealogy library. Meeting with the parents on both sides—impossible in Rosemary’s case, and something Cloudy had kept putting off and off and off…

She hadn’t wanted to meet the Rose Terror. Not after watching her duel with her own mother.

Cloudy hadn’t understood Rosewater’s reason for dueling at the time, hadn’t even met Rosemary yet, but that had been the most brutal, one-sided duel she’d ever seen, and not because Rosewater was stronger than Roseate. Because she was more ruthless.

The screams of magically induced terror had haunted her for days.

They still haunted her.

But Rosewater hadn’t been after her. She’d been warning her.

Why?

She sighed and slipped the brush from her hoof. It would be better if she were early than if she showed up exactly on time, showing she was willing to take her licks. It would fall less harshly on Collar, too, if she was cooperative.

And she owed him that much for taking her in when few other Prims would trust the rogue Rose in their midst, and giving her a chance to prove herself.

She closed the door behind her, but didn’t bother locking it. Rose Glory had made the pointlessness of that readily apparent. It had taken her less than a second to finesse the ‘Best lock Damme has to offer.’

As exhausted as she was, launching into the air was still exhilarating after a lifetime of flight and pushed back some of the fatigue gnawing at her. The air rushing past her ears woke her enough to push out an envelope of calmer air until she could see where she was going, and banked left to follow the river west for a mile at a slow glide, barely trying to stay aloft.

This early, both cities were sleeping.

Even the hearty night life of Merrie had tapered off into a few ponies wandering drunkenly through the winding, silk-shrouded streets, rivers of fluttering cloth that glowed in the still brightly lit lamps that lined them. During the day those rivers would flow like rapids with ponies going about their businesses and pleasures.

It called to her heart, memories of those nights she’d spent with mares, and with Rosemary, enjoying the lively days of chasing her through the streets, laughing as they played their game of veil and hunt.

Cloudy usually won those games, and delighted in picking the day’s activities after. A play one day, running wild in one of the city’s many open plains parks. Some days she would win, and would choose a book to read, especially during the long winter nights.

And she was there somewhere still, hopefully still playing her games and finding her joys in the City of Delight.

On the north side, Damme’s straight streets began to darken as the enchantments were dimmed on street lights, turning the city from a ghostly jigsaw puzzle into a mass of darkened stone and dark greenery, a place of greater mystery than when it had been ghost-lit from within.

They were both beautiful cities on their own merits, but the hearts of them were as different as two cities could be, and she’d made her choice. It had hurt, and it had hurt more that Rosemary hadn’t seemed to get her letter. She’d waited hours at the secret place, but all that had come was a capture squad for daring to disobey an order so flagrantly.

An order to betray her lover’s trust.

She shook her head and banked away from the river and towards the sprawling stone edifice of the prim palace, and the far smaller tower barracks.

The courtyard was clear except for Captain Prim Pink, her tightly bound mane barely shifting under her captain’s circlet. She’d been waiting there, as if she’d known Cloudy would come early.

Not much passed by the captain unnoticed, and her eyes tracked Cloudy as she landed and trotted up to the regulation two places distance from her commanding officer.

“Lieutenant Rose, attention!”

Cloudy snapped to attention and saluted. “Reporting for discipline, ma’am!”

“You know what kind of manure you’re in, I take it,” Captain Pink said as she strode back and forth in deliberate, carefully measured strides, never taking her eyes off Cloudy.

“Aye, ma’am!” Despite the distraction, Cloudy kept her eyes snapped forward at an imaginary point just past her nose. Drills in the Dammeguard were harsh, precise, orderly, and expected to be adhered to exactly. The Merrieguard, her former home, was far more lax on parade ground discipline, but expected the same commitment to duty.

“Then I only have one question. Why?” Captain Pink stopped in front of her, nose inches from Cloudy’s own. “It better be good.”

Cloudy swallowed. “Because I was stupid, ma’am. And angry. And riding an adrenaline high.”

“Excuses,” Captain Pink barked. “I didn’t ask for your whining. I asked you why?”

Cloudy closed her eyes. The wrong thing to do.

“Look at me, Lieutenant!” The captain’s voice was a roar that echoed off the palace walls. She snapped her eyes open. “Or would you prefer to be a corporal again? Or a private? But before you tell me which rank you think you ought to be busted to, answer why.”

“Because they were going to take me back. Because I was going to be exiled. Because they sent Rosewater after me.” She swallowed back her terror.

“A better answer.” Captain Pink shook her head. “But not a good reason why. You both surprised each other. A little bruising is expected from a tackle or any one of dozens of take down moves I taught you myself!” The captain shook her head slowly, lip curled. “I did not teach you to back-kick, and you’d better be grateful you’re so stars-damned sloppy at it that you missed anything vital. Aimed wrong, it might have hit her neck, her head, or her ribs. You’re lucky nothing was broken.”

Just as the tirade was about to continue, Captain Pink froze and stared past her, for a second only, then fixed her with a parade-perfect drill stare. “My office, on the double. I’ll be up shortly.”

“Aye, ma’am!” Without a look back at Prim Collar, unable to face him even if she hadn’t been given an order, she rushed inside.

Faces peered out at her, some lovers offering sympathetic looks before ducking back into their bunks and ignoring her. Word had already spread through the grapevine, faster than a teleporting unicorn.

The captain’s office was as austere as the mare herself, only a desk, a padded bench behind, and two uncomfortable chairs in front. Sitting on the floor was a privilege in her office. Cloudy stood at rigid attention to the side of the door, eyes fixed on the wall between Captain Prim Pink’s portrait next to Prim Lace’s.

It didn’t take long before the heavy, steady tread of the earth pony captain made itself known, coupled with the lighter tread she knew so well. She kept her eyes fixed on the wall and swallowed, trying not to remember the hurt she’d seen in Rose Glory’s eyes. And the pain she’d seen in Prim Poppy’s.

She felt sick.

The door opened. “After you, my lord.”

Prim Collar stepped into her peripheral vision, his eyes trying to meet hers.

She kept her eyes rigidly locked in place.

Captain Pink strode in, past him, and shoved aside her bench, standing in behind her desk while she rummaged through the files and pulled out the thin folder for her. She knew it was hers. She’d seen it once before when she’d been caught ‘fraternizing’ with a superior. A mare by the name of Golden Prim, her first lieutenant at the time.

There’d been no such hearing when she’d started sleeping with Collar. Unless she counted the awkward talk with Primline Lace the other day.

“Lieutenant Rose,” the captain said, sitting on the floor and nosing open the folder. “His lordship has asked me not to be lenient, but neither to be too harsh. A part of that leniency is based on Rose Glory’s formal offer of forgiveness. We still reported her capture and injury, but since the captured is deciding not to press for restitution, only a demerit will be placed in your record for reckless endangerment.”

Collar again tried to meet her eyes, leaning forward slightly and opening his mouth as if to speak before closing it and sitting back.

“Do you understand?”

“Understood, ma’am,” Cloudy said evenly.

“Regardless of other considerations, your use of potentially life-threatening force mandates a punishment strictly defined by the Dammeguard charter under the Treaty. First, you will be broken one rank to Second Lieutenant. Second, you will no longer have command privileges and your squad will be reassigned to First Lieutenant Golden. Third, you will be barred from sleeping at your home. A bunk will be assigned to you in the barracks and your lease put on hold by order of Prim Lace. Fourth, you will be reassigned to the Palace Guard.”

The first two were expected, though lighter than she’d been anticipating. The second to last and last were odd enough to finally break her from her rigid disciplinary posture, and she flicked a look at Captain Pink. “Ma’am?”

“Certain intelligence gathered by Lord Prim Collar last night indicates that you are on Roseate’s personal shitlist, lieutenant. That encourages us to place you in confined quarters during curfew hours to keep you safe from further attempts on your freedom. Further, you ignored a direct order from your lord and did not return after investigating your apartment for clues.” Captain Pink’s eyebrow rose. “Did you find anything?”

“Y-yes.” Cloudy’s ears flicked back at the look from the captain. “Aye, ma’am. A note in block script.” Cloudy bent her neck about and pulled the scrap of paper from her her under-wing purse.

Collar took it from her, read it, and laid it on the desk. “If you ever loved her, leave the city.”

Captain Pink shook her head. “I hate mysteries. One of you tell me what that means.”

“Rosemary,” Cloudy blurted. “She means Rosemary.”

Collar bobbed his head once. “She’s right. That’s the only pony it can be. It means Rosewater gave us a warning. Or a threat.”

“As I said, I hate mysteries,” Captain Pink growled. “Explain why the Rose Terror would do anything nice for us.”

“She hates her mother, with a passion. That should be reason enough,” Collar said, shaking his head. “She was cryptic last night. I had her captured, but she let me know there was another Rose stalking Cloudy. I had to let her go to come to you.”

“What?”

“Lieutenant!” Captain Pink roared. “Control yourself.” Then focused on Collar again, every line of her screaming that she hated she couldn’t bark orders at him. “If you wouldn’t mind, my lord… please enlighten us.”

Cloudy snapped back to attention, but her ears wouldn’t follow the rest of her body’s example and stayed flat to her skull. He’d captured Rosewater, or she’d allowed herself to be captured, and then offered up just the right enticement to force him to let her go. And he’d had to bite.

She’s more dangerous than I thought.

“She’s playing a deeper game than I thought,” Collar said with a sigh, nearly echoing her thoughts save the sentiment. “She’s always been unpredictable, but this is…” He froze, snapping his head around to stare at Cloudy. “You were Rosemary’s lover. How exclusive were you?”

“Sir, we were together probably four days out of ten. Sometimes with others of her friends or mine. Sometimes alone.” She didn’t look away from that spot on the wall. Reporting their days in the sun, their nights entwined so coldly hurt. The talks they’d had, before and after, and with friends. The plans they’d started to make. “I loved her. I tried to get her to leave with me. But either she didn’t want to leave, or she never got my message.”

“Close, then. And if Roseate had you as a thrall…” Collar shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to think why she’d want to coerce or entice Rosemary. Or why she’d have to. She should be bound under the Way of the Rose to follow her orders.”

Cloudy hated the Way of the Rose. The binding that put all nobility in the city automatically in the military. She’d been bound by it, but it hadn’t been so bad. Rosewater was supposed to be bound by it, but if she’d been there, and hadn’t followed through… hadn’t taken Cloudy like she had only the day before demonstrated she could…

“She’s disobeying orders,” Cloudy said. “What makes you think Rosemary won’t as well? Roseate exiled her mother. She’s hardly a reliable soldier. Roseate will know that, too.”

Captain Pink’s face reddened until Collar waved a hoof at her.

“Candid discussion, please. Cloudy knows the Roses like we don’t.”

Like a summer storm come and gone, Captain Pink’s face returned to its normal complexion. It was a skill former drill instructors never lost. Rage in an instant, gone in a flash. “Aye, my lord. Frank discussion. Speak freely, Cloudy.” As if to demonstrate, Prim Pink plucked the circlet from her head and set it on the desk with a clink. “We’re just ponies.”

“Rosewater and Carnation Rose,” Cloudy said softly, ducking her head and flattening her ears. “They were… they were close.” That had to be the reason why Rosewater had dueled her mother, to get her to rescind an exile order already served. Except Rosewater had won. No. Not Carnation. Rosemary.“I think… Roseate is using Rosemary against Rosewater. If she can make Rosemary disobey an order, she can exile her. Guardianship or no.”

“But why? That would just make Rosewater…” Collar tipped his head. “No. She wants Rosewater to challenge her to another duel. She thinks she can win, perhaps.” He glanced at Cloudy. “You mentioned, in your intake debriefing, that you’d seen their duel.”

Screaming. Terror. The Rose Terror. “Yes.” If Roseate thought she could win…

“You said it was a nasty one.”

“The nastiest I’ve ever seen or heard of,” Cloudy said in a clipped tone, fighting to keep the images from her mind. “Roses don’t fight with fear, Collar. They fight with Lust. It’s what Roseate tried to use.”

Captain Pink shuddered and grimaced. “On her own daughter?”

“Roseate is ruthless, but Rosewater didn’t even blink,” Cloudy said, nodding and feeling not a little queasy herself. “But she wasn’t prepared for fear. I don’t know… how. Perfumed fear, perhaps?”

Collar shivered. “Dangerous mare. If she can do that, no wonder Roseate has been trying to gain leverage over her.”

“So.” Captain Pink crossed her forelegs on the desk and sat up straighter. “Roseate is walking on tenterhooks around Rosewater, knows that she’s the best to do what she wants, would probably enjoy the irony of Rosewater giving her the tools she needed to control a pony close to her, but Rosewater found out, guessed, or is generally obstinate to anything her mother wants.”

“The last of which could be a trap. Roseate is afraid to try exiling Rosewater, I’m sure, because she’s the only pony who’s a match for me on their side,” Collar said, flicking his ears. “Skill-wise, and one-on-one.”

“I think we’re missing something,” Cloudy said softly. “Carnation Rose, Roseate’s sister. How close were they?”

“Obviously not very if Roseate exiled her,” Captain Pink said with a snorted laugh.

“Not that. Rosewater was living with Carnation from age six. Four years before Rosemary was born. Why? Why would Rosewater live with her aunt instead of her mother?” Cloudy shook her head slowly, tapping a hoof on the floor. “The file said it was right after her father died. Is there anything to that?”

“Doubtful.” Captain Pink studied the desk, rolling her circlet up and letting it fall flat. “As far as I know, nothing happened there. One week, Rosewater was living in the Rose Palace, and the next, she was living in Carnation’s estate.” Captain Pink tapped the back of a hoof on the desk. “Roseate, dealing with grief and… what? Five other brooding children? So Carnation offered to take a six year old off her hooves in exchange for some favor, perhaps. I’ve got a six year old niece. Her mother wishes she could pass her off to somepony else every now and then. And she’s only got two foals.”

Cloudy shrugged. It made as much sense as anything else, and didn’t directly contradict Rose customs. “Children are often raised by a whole extended family.”

“We could ask Rose Glory,” Collar said. “She’s, er, taken a Prim as a lover.”

“I don’t like that, Lord Collar,” Captain Pink growled, picking up her circlet and placing it back on her head. “But you’re right. Assuming he didn’t spend all night cock deep in her glorious depths, I’d like to talk to him.” She patted the desk in front of Cloudy. “Or, rather, I want you to talk to them. Three times a week. You understand both sides of the river, Cloudy. But do try and not let your temper go.”

Cloudy stared at the symbol of the captain’s rank, the silver circlet with the triplet of amethysts above her brow, swallowed her immediate retort, and said, “Aye, ma’am. How long will this assignment last?”

“Until I’m satisfied.” Pink waved a hoof. “Dismissed.

“Aye, ma’am.”

Collar tugged at her chin gently as she relaxed from attention. “And, Cloudy, I would like for you to apologize to her. Sincerely.” He released her chin, his eyes softening. “It will help you, too.”

The list of things Rosewater had given her to collect in addition to all the items she needed to make on her own for the raid was a very esoteric collection, and most of it was perishable. Freshly baked biscuits for dogs that didn’t respond to other scents. Strips of dried fish for the cats. All of it sealed in scent-lock enchanted cloth bags until she might need it.

It was a beginners basic kit. Foals First Raid level of specificity.

Sometimes, she thought Rosewater just liked to annoy her. Carnation had been almost as protective, as smug in her execution of her role as mother. And just as playful.

Rosewater’s calm voice as she wrote out each item the day before came back to her.

“Just for your first raid. Once you get more comfortable with walking unseen, you’ll learn to watch ahead for these obstacles.”

She stepped from the shop, blinked, and quickly cast her veil before slipping into the crowd again. She kept the veil light, only hiding her cutie mark and shifting her coat and mane a few shades lighter than normal. A quick look over the river at the rooftops rising above the hedge confirmed her need. A glint of glass flickered briefly, then disappeared.

She flattened her ears at that much of a slip and frowned at herself.

“Remember the veil. It will save you.” Rosewater’s voice, repeating a mantra for the umpteen-thousandth time in the past two days.

Rosewater had been more her teacher in the art of spycraft than Carnation, the latter being more inclined to what Roseate called ‘indolence’ than that of a ‘proper’ Merrie noblemare. It had suited Carnation, though, and her paintings decorated their house. They were in her own style, a realistic modern aesthetic that eschewed the more impressionistic style popular in Canterlot.

That, too, was Carnation. She went her own way. Often, Rosewater had followed or tried to.

There was another part Rosewater wasn’t saying, but she’d never seen the look she’d expected in cousin’s eyes. Or in her mother’s. They weren’t mother and daughter. But they weren’t lovers, either. What they were, Rosemary had always had a hard time defining.

Rosewater was a confusing mare, and she always had been. She hadn’t always been cold to the rest of the family, and had actually found a second mother in Budding Rose when they’d been more of a whole family, and had lived together with her, and babysat her and Rose Seed both. She had imagined that there could be no happier life, and no warmer soul. They were both… more. Sometimes it was indefinable.

But then things had changed. Carnation had been exiled, hauled out of their home before they’d even had a chance to properly say farewell.

Something had broken in Rosewater then, shattered, and rage had replaced it. Anger and hate and not a little bit of fear. She’d disappeared into her perfumery for a week, and been tense and terse at dinner, the only time Rosemary saw her during the day during that frightening time.

Then the duel that Rosemary had been forbidden from seeing. Then she had become Rosewater’s charge in fact and name, and had murmured in her sleep, holding Rosemary close, that she ‘hadn’t had to use your gift.’

What that gift was, Rosewater had never said. That it had come from Carnation, and had been a private gifting between them… she’d never questioned that.

Things had changed, both in public and in private. Things Rosemary had been used to saying, she couldn’t say anymore, even in private for fear that they would be overheard and used against them. In public, Rosewater cut herself off from her old friends aside from an occasional and extremely clandestine meeting, as if she were raiding in Merrie itself just to sneak a night away from home.

In private, she was warmer than ever as if to make up for the cool aloofness she showed in public.

For six years so far, she’d kept it up. Each year wearing her down a little more, and each anniversary of Carnation’s exile taking more of a toll on her despite her outward confidence.

This latest development seemed to have shocked her out of that habit of staying aloof, and at each shop she stopped at, she got some little tidbit that her cousin had been there to place an order for her.

Hoof-holding, but… at least she was getting out.

More shops she stopped at to pick up a tidbit here and there took her coin and gave her a smile. Some of the keepers had been occasional lovers, others friends for a day of watching a play or having a picnic on the shore, sharing poems, and debating philosophy.

All things that Rosewater insisted she learn, both before and after Carnation had been exiled.

She’d also insisted that Rosemary make friends with as many shopkeepers as she could. They would be more careful with their goods if they liked her, and only sell her the best.

Of course, some of them were too delicious to pass up offering a night or a day of fun and not only friendship. Like her friend Rosie Night, a perennially bouncy earth pony with a pink coat so dark it was almost purple and a mane like the last rays of sunlight, burnt gold, red, and magenta, and a kiss that could be as soft flower petals or fierce as a tiger, and a tongue that always tasted of the sweets she made.

Her shop was filled them, jars upon jars marked with dozens of different flavor labels resting on shelves that were available for browsing and sniffing. The scent filling the small space was a cacophony to her nose, but warm and inviting all the same. She could spend, and had spent, hours sniffing each and every jar and letting Rosie tell her what they were and how she made each one.

The owner was a pleasantly plump mare, tender in bed, and knew a few things that Rosemary had yet to master.

She laughed softly as she leaned across the counter to catch Rosie in a kiss she let linger long enough to get the taste of the latest batch of rose candy.

“Mm.” Rosie licked Rosemary’s upper lip as she drew away. “Like the taste?”

“Always. What’s the secret ingredient this time?” She leaned in again for another, shorter taste. “Is that cinnamon?”

“Ooh, good. Yes. It’s a fireball for the senses.” Rosie swept a hoof down the rows of jars of candies. “Sharp, not too sweet, just enough of the bite of raw cinnamon to burn away fatigue. Good for when you need a boost. Do not use it just before going down on me.”

“Got it! No fireball clits.”

Rosie shuddered. “Never, got me? Trestle did that, and I still haven’t forgiven him.” She turned about, bustling with a cloth sack as she started measuring in some faintly reddish balls that smelled hot even above the lingering fragrance in her nose. “Say, I saw your cousin yesterday. Rosewater.” Rosie’s ear flicked nervously, not looking back. “She placed an order for you.”

“Oh?” Rosemary flicked a look over her shoulder, as if Rosewater might be watching her. But she wouldn’t be. She’d said she was going to spend the day making the perfume for Lady Baroness Highwater and send her packing on the morrow.

There was no tall mare, or shadow waiting outside, and the building opposite blocked the view of the river. No spies would be able to see what she was buying, even with her veil down, unless they happened to wander in.

“I’m a bit jealous, you know,” Rosie said as she disappeared halfway into the back and came out with a small pouch of candies she set and let spill out, bright green and striated with white stress marks.

“Jealous how?”

“How she seems to always be on your mind, dear.” Rosie rolled one of the balls forward with a breath. “I wish I was on your mind as much as she was.”

“I mean, you are, but it’s been hectic the last couple days.” It was likely to get more hectic in the next few weeks if Roseate really wanted her to start raiding. “What’s this?”

“These are Minty Minds,”

It melted on her tongue immediately and a wash of minty fresh feeling spread through her as she breathed out a stream of green sparkles. The troubling thoughts plaguing her since waking up seemed to wash away, and it felt like anything she focused on, she could do.

“Oh… wow.” She laughed and raised an eyebrow, focusing on Rosie. “Kissable safe?”

“Everything I make is kissable safe. Just not lickable safe. These are also not lickable safe.” Rosie winked and pursed her lips. “Sure you can’t stay for a little while longer? I can close the shop for a quick fifteen.”

“I’m sure. I don’t do very well at quick.”

Rosie laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Part of what I love about you, dear. Don’t keep me, or Vel and Trestle waiting too long, hear? They’ve been asking about you since they got back from Canterlot.”

“I won’t!” She stepped out, cursed, and veiled. Stars help me. At least she wasn’t on an east-running street, and no clouds in the sky to hide a pegasus spy. Though there were a fair number of pegasi in the air, and with Minty Mind rolling through her, she could see clearly enough to pick out features even so high, though the effect started to wane even as she focused on one in particular, a grass-green pony… who turned out to be a stallion.

Not Cloudy. She wouldn’t risk a flyover.

The last item on her list was… packing everything. Making sure it was all tucked away into the proper pouches, easily accessible within the cloak she would have to wear to keep all the little accoutrements an amateur raider needed.

Later, she wouldn’t need such a gimmick to hold her things. She would only need her enticement scents and her lure and her magic. The less encumbered a raider was, the easier it was to move without sound.

Rosewater went naked of all but her cloak lately, and that more to hide her white coat than anything else. Her lure was herself, her enticement a whisper of magic and whatever scents happened to be nearby.

She was nearly home when the bag of candies slipped from the top of her saddlebag. She managed to catch it before it fell, but her veil slipped for an instant. She glanced quickly along the line of buildings over the river, but saw no glint or telltale movement.

It wasn’t a secret that she lived with Rosewater, but the fact that she’d let her veil slip at all simply from a minor distraction…

That tendency towards distraction might be something they could use against her if they knew it was her going on a raid.

“Lieutenant Rose,” the guards at the jail’s entrance said, uncrossing their cudgels. The one on the right opened the door for her. “Captain Pink left orders last night that you would be expected.”

That…“Of course she did.” It’d all been a show for her benefit. She’d always been going to be Rose Glory’s interrogator. “Thank you, Corporal.”

Prim Poppy was just inside, chatting with the day warden, a scroll hovering between them as he pointed out specific lines of whatever had been written on it.

“…prohibited. Nothing more strenuous than a slow walk around the yard.”

“Understood. And I’m to understand you’re her attending?” The warden asked, taking the scroll from Poppy’s grasp and setting it on the desk.

“I am. If there are any complications, please send for me day or night. It’s in the scroll.” He pointed at it with a hoof, his ears starting to twitch.

Done with his medical duty, Poppy reverted to his usual self, nervous, more than a little anxious around other ponies.

How did you do it, Glory? Cloudy mused, studying him while she waited to get the warden’s attention. He was good at his job as their division medic, but he’d never really been very social, always preferring smaller gatherings to the usual bluster at a place like the Bridgewater Bilge, one of the only taverns in Damme that didn’t look down on her because she had pink eyes.

“Anything else, Corporal Poppy?” the day warden asked, reviewing the scroll with a wary eye. “Anything that would require an in person visit?”

“N-no. Just, make sure she does her exercises and gets chances to walk in the yard at least twice a day to keep her muscle tone, Warden Wheat.” Poppy’s confidence took a hit again as he jerked a look at the broad stairs leading up to the second level. “She’s a-an invaluable asset.”

Cloudy managed, just, to keep a smirk off her face. “She doing okay?”

Poppy glanced at her, startled, and nodded. “Y-yeah. Sh-she’s doing fine.” He swallowed, every line of him pleading with her not to tell anypony, especially not the warden, that he was Glory’s lover.

For all she knew, he was her exclusive lover. “Great. I’m here to talk to her. Not interrogate,” she added when a touch of that fiercely protective side of him came back, firming his jaw. She really did capture you, didn’t she? “How are you doing, Pop? Got enough sleep last night?”

Right back on his hind legs. “Y-yeah. She did, too. After she got settled in.”

Probably good that cell is soundproofed. “Glad to hear it. Get some rest, Poppy, you still look like you barely slept.”

Poppy laughed nervously. “Well, you know… one of the Rosethorn sisters.” He yawned and waved as he headed to the gate. “Be gentle, Cloudy.”

Warden Wheat pursed his lips as he stared after the stallion after he’d left. “He didn’t come down last night at all, the logs said.”

“She’s a high profile prisoner,” Cloudy said, tapping the logbook. “Sign me in, will you?”

Wheat raised a brow at her, but nodded. “Sure thing, Lieutenant.”

The stairs up were solid stone, broad, and carpeted with the purple and blue of House Prim, bordered with gold to indicate nobility. Her hoofsteps barely registered, and any echo she made was quickly swallowed up by the carpet.

The Golden Cage was little more than a wall of bars and a gate that closed off the rest of the prison from a suite of three rooms including a bedroom, a sitting room, and a bathroom. It was better appointed than her own apartment, almost as richly as Collar’s chambers in the palace.

While there was no privacy, or right to it for the prisoners, Roses who stayed tended not to care about such things. Rose Glory was lying on a settee in the sitting room, a book hovering before her. Aristallion’s Analytics. Her left shoulder was wrapped with white cloth, the point of impact thickly padded and stained dark with ointment.

She deigned to notice Cloudy when she set a hoof to the gate, and her rank insignia glowed, disarming the charms and breaking the silence as she stepped through and into the room still smelling faintly of sex. She didn’t have to be a Rosethorn to recognize that scent, though a Prim might mistake it.

Glory waited until the door closed again and the wards reset before put the book down. “My captor,” she said in a distant tone, eying her warily. “Why have you come?”

“To talk.” Cloudy swallowed, looking away from the binding around her shoulder. “And… to apologize.”

Glory raised a brow and glanced at her shoulder. “I’ve already forgiven you. What is there to apologize for? We both made mistakes, Cloudy Rosewing.”

“Why are you being so cordial?” Cloudy swept a wing at the cage behind her. “This has to be… frustrating, right?”

“My dear. Imagine, for a moment, if you’d completed that mission that had gotten you all but exiled.” Glory tipped her chin up as Cloudy’s ears flattened. “Imagine, for a moment, if you had used the love of that precious mare to sneak into the most well-guarded building in all of Merrie. Imagine her hurt when she found out.”

“How—”

“Now. Imagine that you have to do that every day. You have to use ponies to get secrets, even if you don’t want to, because the few ponies you care about are at risk if you don’t.” Glory’s voice got sharper with every word, her ears flattening into her mane. “Imagine if you had a reason to let it go through no fault of your own. If you didn’t have to make the same decision you did to outright disobey a direct order from your own mother.”

Cloudy stared at the mare and felt a shiver crawling down her neck to her tail.

“The analogy breaks down at the end, but I see you have quite the idea.” Glory flicked her tail against the lounging couch. “This, Cloudy Rosewing, is the lap of rutting luxury.” She blinked, grinned, and cocked her head. “I mean, it is, but not being required to run another errand because my particular talent makes me oh-so-very useful as a spy… just to protect one pony. It’s a vacation.”

“How did you know what my mission was?”

“I do more than spy on you. I spy on mother, too. And my sisters. And everyone.” Glory flicked her ears. “The secrets I hear help me keep the ponies I actually care about safe.”

There was a gap in that logic. “And now? What will you do to keep them safe now?”

“Why, by being a model prisoner, of course. I do so love Poppy, and I would marry him outright, and rut mother with a rusty tent-pole, but there are certain other ponies in Merrie that I am quite inclined to keep safe by not defecting openly.” Glory huffed a breath and glanced pointedly at her. “Nor reveal secrets that could only have come from me.”

“She rules by fear. We already know that.” Cloudy rubbed at her cheek, thinking. She needed something from Glory. Something that would help.

“Oh, and isn’t she so grand at it? Why, she…” Glory’s tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, grinned, and cocked her head. “Oh, but that’s a secret. I’m afraid you’ll have to pay dearly for that one.”

Cloudy growled, gritting her teeth. “What about Rosemary. I know she’s going raiding soon. Rosewater’s all but confirmed it by her actions. When is she going out?”

“Mmm. And what will I get if I tell you?” Glory’s tail flirted over her flank as she cocked her head to the side. “You’ll catch her, and you’ll take her, and then someone will know, or at least suspect, that I told you.”

“If she breaks no laws, then we don’t have a reason to arrest her. She’s not on any warrant list.” Cloudy chewed her lip for a moment, thinking, trying to think how much Rosewater might have corrupted her to the Rosethorn Way. How much of the mare I loved is still there?

“Ah, so she isn’t. She could pop over for a visit any time, couldn’t she?” Glory mused, tapping a hind hoof against the couch’s opposite rest. “Why hasn’t she, I wonder.”

Cloudy closed her eyes and started counting silently, her ears flat to her skull.

“I’m right, but I’m also wrong, and so are you, Cloudy,” Glory said halfway to ten. “Whatever reason you think she hasn’t come to visit is likely not the correct one. Give it some thought and let me know what you think tomorrow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Glory flicked an ear and picked up the book again. “It means: can you think, or can you only react?”

Author's Notes:

Argh. Cascading continuity issues! Cleanup, I love you, but you're such a pain sometimes.

I forgot how many continuity issues there were with later chapters in these first few. Bleh. But is cleaned up now.