“You like to make things difficult, don’t you?” Rosewater said with a sigh.

Cloudy lay still, breathing shallowly, but still breathing, and her heart beat steadily—quickly, but steadily. She really should have been laying down for the end of Citrus Circus, but it was the only kind Rosewater had brought with her this time. A last resort kind of candy she’d enchanted just that evening.

She had two others with her, the power she’d stored in the candies enough for a teleport apiece, and enough physical energy for a short run. Or a short flight back to the palace.

Why couldn’t you have listened?

A moment later, Did you try telling her why?

Rosewater veiled again and started towards the river, intending to make sure Rosemary got across safely, but stopped as she saw a pegasus contingent of three Merrieguard making their way along the rivers’ edge. A capture squad looking for easy prey, and the reason for the curfew in Damme.

Damn you, Roseate.

If they spotted Cloudy’s unconscious form, they’d take her before any Dammeguard could do anything about it, and then she’d be in Roseate’s hooves. She’d chosen the alleyway because it was away from regular patrols on this side of the river.

Then Roseate would have leverage on Rosemary. Maybe enough to break her away from the path of freedom she and Carnation had opened for her.

She wanted to scream, rage, and curse at Cloudy’s unconscious form… but that would also be counterproductive in the extreme.

Rosemary first.

Crouched at the alleyway entrance, Rosewater watched Rosemary’s progress toward the bridges, and saw her more than once have to duck into an alleyway to avoid being observed by one of the riverwalk guard.

More were there than there had been when she’d started out—likely called by the teleport trace and looking to arrest somepony. That many could even overwhelm Rosewater, bare of her usual arsenal as she was.

That many would certainly catch Rosemary before she made it even to the foot of the bridge, and she was clearly too exhausted to make use of a teleport again. Amateur move, and one she would have to stress later with her. Management of magical stamina was an important part of raiding or spying, and that Minty Mind would only give her so much more, even if she downed a bag full. Not enough for a teleport, at least.

The pegasi roving the skies on the Merrie side of the river were probably at least as much responsible for that as the noise of a teleport had. Perhaps thinking that they were getting ready to pull an exfiltration of an agent.

They had no such orders, Rosewater was certain. They would let Rosemary flounder and be caught. Possession of illegal magics in Merrie was a minor offense, but she might panic and try to use them.

It made too much sense for Roseate to schedule an exercise like this on the same night Rosemary was on her mission just to make things more difficult for her. Or to see what Rosewater did.

Perhaps the goal wasn’t Cloudy, or it was, and this was one of a few different plots Roseate had put into play at the same time.

You could spend all night worrying, daft mare.

Just as it was important that Roseate not know she was there, keeping an eye on Rosemary, it was also important that Rosemary didn’t know she was there. Just like, it seemed, that it was important to Cloudy.

And possibly to Collar.

Why aren’t you with her, Collar? Are you out there somewhere?

Likely, after an incident with Rosewater on the recent books, he’d be waiting in reserve to head out to any trouble spot involving her. Why he’d let Cloudy out was… baffling.

Unless… Rosewater glanced back at the almost still form. You were under orders to stay high and observe only?

An insane plan settled into her mind. Stupid. Brash. Completely outside what anypony would expect from her. Enough so that it might work if she managed a bluff.

The trick was going to be making it look like she wasn’t disobeying orders from Roseate.

Time was also essential. She had to move before Rosemary decided to try and cross. She needed to draw those patrols away from the river.

‘Study the patterns. Wait for an opening.’

Rosemary lay huddled behind a crate in an alley, her cloak covering all of her from nose to tail as she watched the patrol stalk past her, eyeing the opposite side of the river and the pegasi that outpaced them several hundred feet up.

All well and good if there was a pattern, Rosewater. So far, the patrols had been scattered and random, sometimes five minutes passing before one wandered by, and sometimes two passing her hiding place in the span of half a minute.

All because of the pegasi on the other side of the river, she was sure.

‘Wait. Rosemary. Patience is your ally.’

And exhaustion her enemy. At least she’d found a place deep in the shadows, hidden from even the Mare’s sight by the closeness of the two buildings, where she could drop her veiling and recover.

The effect of the Minty Mind had worn off almost ten minutes ago by the length of the shadows from the moon, and her mind was edging towards sleep.

“Hurry up,” Rosemary whispered, laying her head down on her outstretched forelegs, listening as the hooves of another patrol started marching past. Several had peered down the alleyway already, but her cloak was a shade and texture not unlike the stone, and a casual glance wouldn’t have given anything away, hidden where she was.

They’d have to actually walk the alleyway to find her, and maybe not find her even then.

It was, perhaps, the safest place to hide right then, with most of their attention focused on the other side of the river.

All she needed to do was recover a little and then she should be able to create a veiling deep enough to cross the Rosewine just a hundred feet away, and another hundred to the midsection where she’d be safely in Merrie territory.

Patience.

The courtyard of Prim Palace was a sprawling open section of gardened gravel paths, bounded on one side by one of the former watchtowers of the outer bailey wall—two hundred years gone now—which was now the barracks for most of the palace guard, and another tower that served as an aerie for the guard pegasi.

That night, only a token guard force was present at either, though the courtyard grounds themselves were much more heavily patrolled and watched than the city itself.

And more well lit.

Rosewater checked her bait for the trap, and made sure she was still sleeping soundly, and actually sleeping and not merely unconscious. The deep sleep of the truly exhausted.

Going well past the limits of one’s natural stamina, boosted by a magical reservoir, had its costs. She’d done that herself more than once out of necessity, and both regretted and accepted it as a part of the fight against her mother.

A part of this plan working depended on Rosewater’s reputation, and the fact that, as a lieutenant, Cloudy wasn’t likely to spend her nights sleeping in the aerie, as she might if she were a lower ranking Dammeguard.

Here goes.

In the shadows, Rosewater finished empowering the Heart’s Opening sigil and sent it zipping off, gathering mist as it went, and focused on what she needed the autonomous construct to do. It was a risk, if she thought the wrong thought at the wrong time, but it was better than putting herself directly at risk.

That part came in just a few minutes.

As soon as it gathered enough mist, Rosewater’s image sprang into being with a pop and a flash, as if she’d teleported in.

Immediate cries of alarm came from every patrol in the area, and the alarm redoubled as the other part of her illusion of mist and magic, a substantial portion of her reserves, became apparent on her back as the veiling slipped away, revealing an unconscious Cloudy Rose on Rosewater’s back.

Just the same way Rosewater had transported the mare to the deep shadows of an alleyway from where she could watch… and give the signal to Collar when the moment was right. If the moment ever became right.

The Misty Consort spell stopped in the middle of the courtyard as a ring of soldiers gathered around her, led by an earth pony with a captain’s circlet.

“Give it up! You’re surrounded!” the mare bellowed, her voice loud enough to wake the dead from that close.

The Misty Consort couldn’t cast any spells, couldn’t even alter its own substance substantially. But it could speak.

“I will only surrender to Lord Collar himself!”

Really? Rosewater grimaced and resisted the urge to rub at her muzzle and settled in to watch the play unfold. It was entirely too late to give the construct new instructions, and she could only wonder at the thought that had sprung that particular line into being.

“You don’t have much of a choice, Terror,” the captain growled, her voice coming to Rosewater through an aural spell, distorted but audible. She wasn’t Crown, who could listen to a conversation half a mile away in perfect clarity… but she managed with her own crude version of her younger sister’s finely tuned spell. “Put down the pegasus and step away.”

“I will only surrender to Lord Collar himself!” the image cried again, with the exact same intonation and inflection.

“Send someone to fetch him,” the captain muttered. “I don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, but…”

Not even ten seconds later, before the guard sent to fetch him could make it halfway to the palace, Collar appeared in a flash and pop right in front of the construct.

“Put. Her. Down.”

“I will only surrender to Lord Collar himself!”

By the stars, that’s… Rosewater had to stifle a laugh as she watched fear and fury turn to confusion. Unexpectedly hilarious.

Collar edged forward, ears flat, and touched the construct on the chest with a hoof. It didn’t react at all except to shift away from the touch. His tail snapped and he slammed a hoof into the construct’s chest. It sank in… and the construct fell apart into mist and vapor, sinking into a fog that quickly dissipated.

“A trick,” Collar growled. “Everypony, scour the grounds, and check the barracks thoroughly. It would be just like her to do this as a distraction. Alert the other patrols. I want a cordon five blocks deep five minutes ago!”

“She can’t be far,” the captain murmured, looking around. “That kind of spell takes power.”

“She has that. She also has me on range,” Collar replied, his eyes sweeping the surrounding area as he turned a slow circle. “Fetch my mother. We might need her.”

You won’t, and I won’t face her. Primline Lace was one of the few ponies in either city that gave Rosewater pause, and the reason she’d worked on her range. Lace’s talents were best employed at short-range, but they were absolutely devastating to anything that used magic.

Rosewater crushed up one of the two remaining candies and extracted some of the fragrance from them, dispelling the magic in it, and sent it off to Collar in a faint pink cloud that got dimmer the farther from her it travelled.

A second later, he startled and whirled around, his eyes scanning the streets and alleys, his mouth opened to shout an order when Rosewater dropped her veil for a fraction of a second when he was looking right at her, then ducked back into the shadows, trading her veil for true invisibility.

The strain began to tell immediately, burning away her remaining reserves with a frightening speed.

It could be another trick. Or a trap. Or both.

The misty illusion had been… real enough looking to fool him on a quick inspection, even Cloudy herself had looked real. Rosewater’s chest had even been warm when he’d pushed against it the first time, and firm. Firmer than a mist faerie ought to be.

It spoke of an investment of magic that had to have drained her, or nearly so.

But it might also not be a trick, and she’d only wanted to get his attention.

Mission rutting accomplished, Rosewater.

By the time he reached where he’d seen her face, she was already gone, of course, if she’d even been there at all, and just as he was about to turn back when another spike of citrus touched his nose, stronger in one direction.

Further into the alleyway.

“Truce.”

The whisper, a touch of air against his ear, pulled him farther along, and down between two buildings into a dead-end. At the end of the alleyway, Rosewater stood, only partly veiled, and Cloudy lay at her feet.

“Truce?” he growled, stamping forward, rage blurring his vision as he built up the shields and bindings that would keep her in place, even if she had some trick for teleporting. “You—”

“She sleeps,” Rosewater hissed, and threw up a dim dome of pink around them. “Stay your anger, my lord. This was not my doing. At least, not only my doing. I did not break our accord.”

“That little show out there,” Collar ground out, then stopped and shook his head, pulling Cloudy up gently and towards him. She was sleeping. Her heart beat with the slow steadiness of rest, and her chest rose and fell evenly. “She’s not waking up.”

“She wore herself out,” Rosewater said with a faint smile, “then blackmailed me for one of these.” She pulled out a small object wrapped in black fabric and unrolled it to show him a glowing orange candy. “Do tell her not to accept candy from strangers. Or demand it.”

“Why are you here?”

“Mmm.” Rosewater rocked her head side-to-side. “Making sure you held up your end of our accord, Lord Collar. Shadowing Rosemary. I was surprised not to see you out and about.”

Collar watched her for a moment as she rewrapped the candy and tucked it into her mane. No doubt she kept a small satchel there, since she was otherwise without a place to stow the usual cache of vials the scent mages of Merrie kept about them.

“I’ll be leaving now,” Rosewater said at last. “Your lover is returned to you, and I must make sure Rosemary gets home safely.”

“Why?”

“Because I love her,” Rosewater said, ticking her ear and facing him from a few paces away. “Oh, don’t give me that look, Lord Collar. At least grant me the courtesy of believing that I can care for at least one pony unreservedly.”

“What evidence do I have of that?” But Collar released the hold on his teleportation interdiction, though, and replaced her shimmering sound shield with his own dual-layer invisibility and sound barrier. “You took a risk.”

“Not for your sake, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Rosewater stepped back from him and considered the black-wrapped candy. “Rosemary loves her still. Even after she ran off to your side without telling her. I won’t have her used as a weapon against her.” She paused, brow arching. “Is that reason enough for me to warn you?”

“You told her to leave the city.”

“She would be safer. Roseate isn’t going to stop coming after her. And she’s not going to send me after her again, not after the hash I made of her neat little pile of potatoes.” Rosewater snorted and released a small veil she’d been holding over the candy and popped it into her mouth crunching down before Collar could stop her, or even think to.

You should have taken it from her. He grimaced and shook his head. And forced a fight. He couldn’t risk that, not with Cloudy needing care.

“Go. You won’t have Cloudy to use as a shield next time, Rosewater.”

“Shield?” Her breath glowed like sunlight for a scant few seconds as she laughed. “My lord, she makes a paltry shield. Nay… next time, you’ll come willingly. I still haven’t given up hope, Lord Collar.” She winked, gathered power to her horn in a haze of pink and orange, and vanished with a citrus-scented flash and pop.

Belatedly, he realized that he’d drawn forces away from the river to cordon off a now Rosewater-free section of the city. All because he’d thought she’d used enough magic that night to keep her from teleporting with that little display.

He’d given her exactly what she wanted: a way for Rosemary to get home.

Idiot. You walked right into her hooves, and she played you like a mandolin.

Cloudy murmured as the scent of citrus faded from the air, coughing and rubbing her cheek against his neck.

But what if she was being honest?

Rosewater staggered as soon as she landed on her front stoop and began the laborious task of undoing the wards on the door. She had to be quick, or the Citrus Circus would run out on her before she could finish.

Seconds crawled by as she drained herself of every last erg of reserves to get the last wards undone, slipped inside and kicked the door closed behind her, letting the spring loaded spells reassert themselves immediately.

She was done. She had done what she’d needed to do and made an opening for Rosemary, as well as kept the fulcrum of her heart away from Roseate. It was up to Rosemary to get back across.

I’m sorry…

She slumped against the wall just a few feet from her bedroom, her legs buckling, and slid to the floor in an unceremonious heap as the last vitality she’d borrowed from the past fled.

Holding onto wakefulness was an effort, but she steeled herself against the building fatigue and, most importantly, she didn’t try to get up or do anything else that would tax the skin-of-her-teeth hold she had on consciousness.

Tomorrow was going to be awful.

Captain Pink met Collar halfway back across the courtyard, her hooves crunching on gravel and her jaw as tight as if she were ready to make more. “My lord.”

“Captain,” Collar said wearily, aware of how it looked to her that he’d wandered off for a few minutes and came back with Cloudy. “Is my mother roused?”

“Roused and armored,” Pink said stiffly. “My lord, may I inquire as to where you found Cloudy, and what happened to her?” A polite dressing down, from former drill instructor to former trainee.

“It’s complicated,” Collar replied, wanting nothing more right then to drop into bed and fall into a deep sleep with Cloudy finally at side in his bed… and to wake up next to her. If Rosewater wasn’t lying about what had happened. If she woke up. “I need Poppy here as soon as possible.”

“Is she—”

“She’s unconscious. Or asleep. Deeply asleep,” he added, since the talking and distant shouting didn’t wake her, nor did the slight jostle as they made their way across the grass and gravel, not bothering with the artistic pathways. “She was shadowing a suspect.”

“Rosewater?”

“Stars no. If I thought she’d be dumb enough to get anywhere near the mare, I’d have locked her in the dungeon.” A small voice told him that he couldn’t make that judgement. He sighed and shook his head. “But… I also trust her judgement in the field. I can’t doubt that judgement, Captain.”

Pink gave him a serious side-eyed look, her ears drooping. “Pardon me for saying so, my lord, but I think you’re too close to her to make that call. You can’t be her commanding officer and her lover at the same time. Tonight proves that even more.”

“I’m not her commanding officer.”

“You are her lord, my lord. There’s little practical difference.” Captain Pink adjusted her circlet. “It would be no different if you and I were lovers. You might not be able to give me the necessary orders, or hesitate when ordering me. She wanted to see her former lover. You let her go. I would have sent Stride or Streak, or both.”

Collar grunted, turning his head to glance at Cloudy’s closed eyes. Her features were peaceful in sleep, absent the usual range of emotion she displayed, and beautiful to him. She’d always been that. The vivaciousness of life adding to her what nature could not.

Captain Pink was also right. She’d pleaded, and he’d extracted a promise from her not to get too close or let herself be seen. He also hadn’t thought Rosewater would be brazen enough to sneak in two nights in a row. She never had before—though usually because she only needed one trip to accomplish her mission.

What is her mission?

“You’re right,” he said at last. “But not Streak. He’s got too much Primfeather in him still. He’d not see a mare we hope won’t cross the same line the rest of her family has. He’d only see the Rosethorn marks on her cheeks and breast and take her in for that alone.”

“Or force her to defend herself,” Pink said with a sigh. “Alright. Stride, then. I’ll reassign him to your duty roster starting tomorrow.” She eyed him again. “I trust just because you trained him you won’t have reservations?”

“No.” It was hypocritical… but he couldn’t stop his heart from yearning for more with Cloudy, and to keep her safe. And happy. Two warring needs he couldn’t have as a commanding officer. “I’ll… see what I can do with Cloudy. After mother finishes chewing my ears off.”

He nodded to the figure in silver-chased steel plate making her awkward way down the steps to the courtyard, his father dogging her and making snide comments she was unlikely to let slide later.

“By your leave,” Captain Pink said, saluting.

“Dismissed,” Collar said, and picked up his pace to meet his parents.

Lace stopped at the base of the stairs up to the palace entrance, ears splayed as much as they could under her helmet, still well-fitting despite the rest of the armor visibly tight in uncomfortable ways around her breast and barrel, and even more so against her hindquarters. Her days of being a front-line defender were long-gone, but the mentality was hard to get rid of.

“Mother,” Collar said as cordially as he could manage. “That armor is older than I am. Did you think you could fit into it at the drop of a hat?”

“Boy,” she growled, a small smile replacing the frown. “Dapper has been at me since Captain Pink woke me up. Don’t you start on me, too.”

“She’s safe, mother,” Collar went on, touching her lightly on an armored ankle. “And Rosewater is already gone. I’m taking Cloudy to bed and making sure she stays safe.”

“Which is what I want to talk to you about,” Lace grumbled, stumbling up the steps in the unfamiliar weight. “And slow down, Collar.”

He did, sighed, and tested the straps holding the armor together. “You did it too tightly.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Lace growled, making her halting way up the steps. “This is about Cloudy and her future with you, Collar.”

“I won’t leave her behind.”

“As has become increasingly clear to me,” Lace said with a sigh and glanced behind at Primline Dapper. “I… wished to have you avoid the rocky political landscape your father and I faced, Collar.”

“Bah.” Dapper shook his head. “Rocky? My dear, that was just the romance!”

Lace barked a laugh and snapped her tail at him. “Roses have odd senses of romance.”

Some days, he forgot his father had been born as Rosedown Dapper, a minor branch family of the Rosewings now extinct except in Collar’s blood. “Is it any wonder I was drawn to a Rose, mother? All my life, you’ve pushed the Lace Reformation, taught me that not all Roses are as evil as grandpa said they were.”

“Because they’re not. Cloudy there is a fine example, and so are so many of the citizens of Merrie, if not most or all of the common ponies.” Lace glanced at Dapper again. “And many of the minor nobility.”

“Is it any wonder then, that I fell in love with one?” Collar asked softly.

“No.” Lace closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. “But… she is a Rosewing, Collar. You need to be certain of your devotion to her, because it will be tested. And not by me.”

“I know.” Collar sighed and glanced aside at Cloudy again. Still asleep, still peaceful. Calm, and unaware of the future that awaited her as his mate. “I wish you hadn’t pushed me at first, mother.”

“I wish you hadn’t tried to hide it from me for so long,” Lace growled back. “I had no idea you were so close to her, or I would have pushed Captain Pink to detach her from anywhere near your command chain long before.”

Collar sighed. “Tomorrow, mother.”

“Tomorrow, Lace,” Dapper echoed, grinning. “Let the boy take her to bed and rest.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Patience paid off, and it almost got her caught.

Sometime past actual midnight, with the moon bright overhead in the cloudless sky, whistles started going off behind her, frantic and from more than a dozen sources.

Rosemary huddled even tighter to the ground, trying to keep her ears from twitching to focus on each individual whistle blast.

From overhead, too.

She tensed, ready to bolt and take her chances with a flat out gallop across the Rosewine when the whistles abruptly turned back and started retreating, taking quite a few of the Dammeguard patrols that had thickened the border defenses with them.

What in the name of the Mare caused that?

Rosemary waited for another minute after the patrols had left before she popped a second Minty Mind, crunched, and breathed out the initial effect.

Veiled again, nopony who was left on the watch paid much attention to a lone shadow creeping away from the city. Their attention was all on the interior, talking amongst themselves in small clumps. The rumor mill’s wheels were already starting to churn away.

They still paid attention to everything going on around them, but were less focused on it than they might have been, giving her the opportunity to create a few distractions. A mouse illusion set in front of a cat and sent scurrying between the legs of one of the guards. Complete with authentic mouse smell—dry and a little musty with the just a hint of catnip extract to give it that extra manic boost and startle the guards.

In this case, one just started laughing uproariously as the cat frantically chased the illusory mouse around his hooves, desperate not to step on it, but equally desperate to keep from being used as a climbing post.

Rosemary slipped by and sent the mouse to bother the other guard for a moment, just to make things even, before she sent it off into the bushes, leaving both of them with a story to tell later, and her lips curled into a smile.

It felt good to make them laugh. Much better than using any one of the half-dozen scents she had on her to just daze them into letting her pass.

She stayed veiled until she was across the bridge, then dropped it, startling the two Merrieguard stationed there.

“Roselight,” Rosemary said, nodding to the one she knew. “Bit of excitement on the other side, huh?”

Roselight, a handsome mare with a delightful laugh when she was amused, eyed her. “Think your ‘escape’ plan needs a little work. Haven’t heard anything like that since… well, the last time your cousin took somepony.”

It couldn’t be that. Rosemary shook her head slightly. “She’s home tonight.” That was half a lie. She hadn’t started out at home.

“Liar,” Roselight purred and glanced at her fellow guard. “But we’ll keep that to ourselves.”

“Thanks…” Rosemary turned away from the guards, tail twitching nervously. What if she did go out? “Have a good watch.”

“Boring, maybe. You have a good night yourself, little mare,” the other guard said with a chuckle. “Nothing ever happens anymore.”

She could actually relax in the night in Merrie, and drew her hood down as she made her way back home. No doubt some spy on the other side would catch her at it, but it didn’t really matter. She was too tired to veil, and nopony was going to snatch her up while she was on this side.

“Home late, little mare,” a voice said from the shadows as Rosemary passed a cartwright’s stable, startling her into a crouch and drawing out Bluebell’s Bliss, a calming and distracting scent. “Hey now, careful there.”

Rosemary hadn’t even unstoppered the vial yet when the voice linked up to a name and a face. “Rosejoy,” she growled.

“Joy to you,” the mare chuckled, and out of the shadows wobbled a mare and two stallions, the former holding a bottle of wine, and the latter two smelling of sex and wine together. Hedonists. “Your cousin sure came back in quite the state. Surprised you look just as pretty as when you left.”

On guard now, Rosemary shook her head and picked up her pace down the river walk to the estate house, one ear on the trio. “I’m not interested,” she muttered in advance of the offer hedonists like Rosejoy and her current fellows always gave. ‘Join us, it’ll be more fun than you can imagine.’ And it would be, for one night through the use of stimulating magical scents, wines, and even direct magical stimulation.

She’d seen those mares and stallions, though. Those in less fortunate places than Rosejoy had as one of Roseate’s ‘top’ enforcers, the less official muscle that she employed to do less than savory things to other ponies that earned her disfavor.

They were the side of Merrie that nopony liked to talk about. The side that had failed to constrain their lusts and desires and dove into anything that could.

There were programs to help the willing, but Roseate just tempted them right back out with promises and gifts if only they would help her with a few tasks.

Not all of them were Roseate’s puppets… but Rosejoy was.

Rosemary hurried past and up the stairs, working impatiently through the complex weaving of spells for each lock and ward, preternaturally aware of the trio watching her from the corner.

“You can’t stay away forever, little mare,” one of the stallions called out. “You’re just like us, and you love the best things in life. Just like us.”

Don’t respond. Just get inside.

The last lock released, and Rosemary rushed inside, slamming the door behind her on the jeering calls of all three together.

“I’m nothing like you,” Rosemary muttered.

A moment later, as she took stock of herself and slipped Bluebell’s Bliss back into its slot, she saw Rosewater laying on the floor of the hallway, her tail and hind legs twitching as she tried to push herself up.

“What did you do this time,” Rosemary said through a sigh, drawing free one of the Minty Minds as she settled down beside her cousin.

“‘Mary?” Rosewater’s voice sounded hoarse, and her eyes were barely open when Rosemary sank to her barrel at her cousin’s side. “Thank the stars.”

Her breath smelled citrusy, far too citrusy. She put the mint away and nipped Rosewater’s ear, chastising her. “How many did you take, you daft mare?”

The half-smile on her cousin’s lips and the twinkle in her eye shone with pride, “Just one.” Her chuckle dropped into a sigh as Rosewater slumped further, her head resting on the floor. “Was desperate.”

“I see.” Rosemary shook her head slowly and laid down beside her. “Tell me tomorrow?”

“Tightrope,” Rosewater murmured, laying her head down.

“That’s not an answer.” But it was probably the only one she was going to get. Rosewater rarely talked about her capture missions or their aftermath. For her, it was an onerous part of being an unmarried noblemare, the legally recognized heir of Merrie, and the firstborn of the current baroness.

Expectations and duties sat on her shoulders that she didn’t want, and the tenuous protection the Treaty Office provided in the form of Royal Guard interdiction was less than flimsy at times.

“It’s the only one I have right now.” Her voice was dipping down into sleep, her eyes already closed, her ears drooping. “Forgive me.”

“It wasn’t for Cloudy again, was it?” Rosemary whispered.

Rosewater was silent for so long she thought the older mare had gone to sleep before she drew in a deep breath and said, “No.”

Not directly. Rosemary let out a sigh and laid her cheek against Rosewater’s shoulder, closing her own eyes. She’d hate herself tomorrow for sleeping on the floor, but she didn’t have the energy to coax Rosewater up and into a bed. “Thank you.”

Sleep wasn’t long in coming.

Cloudy woke to the pounding of the damned souls of Tartarus’s forges beating out a new nightmare to share with the world. In her head. Right behind her eyes.

She didn’t want to wake up just yet, and buried her head deeper into the soft, warm embrace of her… lover’s forelegs. Collar’s holding me? It was his scent in her nose, strong and scented with his favorite bath soaps—that is, barely at all aside from the leftover bit of floral essence that no amount of refinement could get rid of.

Olives. It was one of his olive-oil base soaps. He hadn’t bathed last night.

What happened last night? She hadn’t gone out drinking. She’d still remember it in that case, unless she’d… Cloudy shook her head slowly, feeling the headache seeming to slosh around between her eyes as she moved.

“Ugh…”

Her ‘pillow’ shifted then, and light streamed in as Collar’s movements shifted her forelock away from her eyes. “Hey.”

“Let me die,” Cloudy moaned, pushing away from him and enduring the sloshing ache to bury her head under one of the pillows.

He nibbled her ear instead, leading down to her neck and a light kiss. “I’ll fetch some water. Poppy said you might need some when you woke.”

Cloudy groaned and shifted to curl up as much into a ball as she could after Collar’s weight shifted and moved off the bed.

That was a cause for concern. Her bed was a feather down filled mattress with a solid base-board. She couldn’t ever feel it when Collar shifted to disguise himself or use that invisibility shield of his to leave and ‘finish’ his patrol or sneak back off to the palace and pretend he hadn’t gone anywhere.

Not… whatever this floaty cloud-like bed was made of or filled with. It cupped her body like a cloud would.

Where am I?

Not in Rosewater’s lair, wherever that was, that she usually kept her captured ponies. It wasn’t a nondescript warehouse. Collar wouldn’t bring her there… unless he was also captured. Or in cahoots.

That’s patently out of the question…

Cautiously, Cloudy pulled her head out from under the pillows and looked around, wincing at the bleary, blurry scenery and blinking rapidly as yet more agony pulsed, and the forge-masters of Tartarus beat on her eardrums.

She was in Prim Palace… in Collar’s bedroom.

It was a place she’d only been to once, and that time in the dark of night… and they’d hardly had time to make use of the bed before she had to run off again. In the light of day, it was still recognizable, but there was so much more to his room than the bed, the thankfully thick rug under the window, and the door she had to be mindful of listening for steps.

He had a painting on the wall of his mother and father, and a curious and probably treasonous—to Primfeathers at least—collection of memorabilia from Merrie; largely postcard paintings of famous historical figures from Rosethorn himself to Frosty Rosewing, a very distant ancestor of the Primfeathers and source of their animosity towards all Rosewings.

Collar came back, and Corporal Stride peeked around the corner just before the door closed again. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” she murmured, accepting the glass and downing it in a few swallows. Her throat was dryer than she’d thought, and the water tasted and smelled… lemony. “Tincture of lemon?”

“Poppy’s orders. Concentrated lemon juice drops.” Collar reached out a hoof to stroke her throat. “To ease the dryness. We couldn’t get anything in you last night.”

Cloudy winced. “Wh-what happened?”

“You… passed out. I was hoping you could tell me what happened.” Collar met her eyes briefly, then looked away. “I need to know.”

“Can it wait?” Cloudy grumbled, careful not to shake her head as she reached out to touch his chest. “And why am I in your room?”

“No, and because it was the safest place to put you.” Collar opened the door briefly. “Stride, more water, please.”

“Yes sir.”

Collar closed the door again and settled in more heavily. “It can’t wait because…” He sighed, sinking further onto the bed. “Rosewater is the one who returned you. In the most spectacular, antagonistic way possible and still not get caught.”

“And… you want to know if she told me anything?”

“Yes. I don’t care if you disobeyed orders, Cloudy, I—”

“I didn’t disobey orders! I kept the damn orders, even though she was right there, Collar.” Cloudy pushed off the bed, faltered, her vision swimming, and lurched for the door. The floor kept her from going any further, sliding out from under her hooves and turning ninety degrees sideways.

But she didn’t hit the ground.

“Crazy mare,” Collar grunted as he floated her back to the bed in silvery light. “I know you love her, Cloudy. I didn’t order you not to contact her because of that.”

“Then why?” She tried to glare at him, but it was difficult when he kept swimming in her vision and the stupid headache kept roving around in her head.

“Because…” Collar sighed and looked away again. “Remember how I said my mother used to keep things from me by saying she needed to walk a tightrope?”

“Yeah. It pissed you off.” Cloudy raised a brow at one of the images of him, trying to get the point across. If she was even looking at him.

“Regardless. I can’t tell you.” Collar smiled faintly at her. “If all goes well, once things have calmed down, I can.”

“So… never,” Cloudy groused, sliding under the pillows again where at least the cool weight seemed to do something to alleviate the pain, even if the darkness didn’t.

Collar stroked her hindquarters slowly with a hoof until the door opened again, “Thank you, Stride. Bring the whole pitcher this time. I feel like she’s going to need a lot of water.”

“Yes sir.”

The door closed again.

“Rosewater said she told you to go home several times,” Collar whispered. “Why would she do that? She has an order to capture you, doesn’t she?”

Cloudy buried her head deeper.

“She also said you pushed her to give you some candy? Like those… contraceptive ones?”

“Citrus Circus,” Cloudy grumbled. “Enchanted.”

Collar stroked her flank lightly. “She’s probably in no better a state than you right now, then. She took one and left, leaving you with me.”

“She could have left me.”

Collar’s stroking stopped, and he leaned over to kiss her on the shoulder, resting behind her back and holding her with one hoof, as if he were afraid to hug her.

“She said… Rosemary still loves you. That’s why she didn’t leave you behind.”

The pain in her heart briefly rivaled the pain in her head, until her first sob made both flare.

I love you, too, Rosemary.