_*]:min-w-0 !gap-3.5">"Again," Natalie instructed, her voice firm but patient. "Draw, extend, acknowledge, return."

  It was well past midnight, and they were in Julian's study, the doors securely locked, practicing the ceremonial dagger presentation that had caused him difficulty during the equinox celebration. A single oil mp cast long shadows across the room as Julian repeated the sequence of movements for what must have been the thirtieth time that evening.

  "The key is to clear your sleeve fully before attempting to draw," Natalie reminded him. "Better to be deliberately measured than quickly fumbling."

  Julian nodded, his young face set with determination as he reset his position and began again. This time, the movement flowed smoothly—the dagger clearing its sheath in one clean motion, his arm extending in the traditional salute, then returning the bde to its pce with dignified precision.

  "Excellent," Natalie approved. "Again, but without looking at your hands this time."

  As Julian complied, she noted with satisfaction how much progress he had made in just two weeks of focused practice. The embarrassment of the equinox celebration had transformed into a quiet, burning motivation that drove him to perfect not only the dagger presentation but also his riding posture, his formal court bows, and various other physical protocols that his brothers had used to undermine him.

  "I think that's enough for tonight, Your Highness," she said after several more successful repetitions. "You need proper rest before tomorrow's audience with the ambassador."

  Julian sheathed the dagger a final time and rolled his shoulders to release the tension of prolonged practice. "Do you think Augustus will try something during the audience?"

  It was a reasonable concern. The visit of the Nordician ambassador represented Julian's first formal court appearance since the equinox celebration, and his brothers would undoubtedly be watching for opportunities to renew their campaign of humiliation.

  "It's unlikely during the audience itself," Natalie assessed. "The Emperor will be present, and Augustus is careful not to dispy his animosity too openly before your father." She began tidying the study, returning books to their proper pces. "But be vigint before and after. That's when you'll be most vulnerable."

  Julian nodded, his expression thoughtful. At nine, nearly ten years old now, he had developed a strategic mind that sometimes startled Natalie with its maturity. "I've been thinking about what you said—about creating my own arena with different rules."

  "Yes?"

  "What if, instead of merely defending against their attacks, I create situations where their usual tactics are ineffective?" Julian proposed. "Or even backfire on them?"

  Natalie paused in her tidying, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

  "The ambassador's son will be accompanying him—Aleksander, I believe his name is. He's twelve, older than me but younger than my brothers." Julian's eyes gleamed with nascent strategy. "From what I've read about Nordician culture, they pce extraordinary value on schorship and historical knowledge. Their nobility are expected to be warrior-poets."

  Natalie began to see where his thinking led. "So if you engage the boy on schorly topics..."

  "Augustus and the others will be inclined to interrupt or dismiss such conversation as they usually do," Julian continued. "But to the Nordicians—"

  "Such behavior would appear uncultured and disrespectful," Natalie finished, impressed. "You're creating a situation where their usual tactics would offend an important diplomatic visitor."

  Julian smiled—a small, measured expression that nevertheless reflected genuine pleasure at her understanding. "Exactly. They can hardly sabotage my horse or trip me in the corridor when I'm simply having a conversation about historical texts with a foreign diplomat's son."

  "It's clever," Natalie acknowledged. "Though not without risk. You must be certain your knowledge of Nordician culture is accurate."

  "I've been studying their customs intensively," Julian assured her. "Master Holloway provided several firsthand accounts from previous diplomatic missions."

  Natalie nodded, her estimation of Julian's developing strategic mind rising further. "Very well. But remember—Augustus is not unintelligent, merely different in his focus. He may recognize your strategy if you appear too eager or deliberate."

  "I'll be careful," Julian promised. "Casual interest, not calcuted engagement."

  When Julian finally retired to bed, Natalie remained awake, considering the implications of his evolving approach. He was no longer merely implementing her guidance but developing his own counter-strategies. It was precisely the growth she had hoped to foster, yet it carried its own dangers. Greater independence meant greater risk-taking, with less opportunity for her to intervene or protect him.

  The following morning dawned clear and cool, with a brisk wind that set the pace banners snapping above the ceremonial courtyard. Natalie helped Julian dress in formal attire appropriate for a diplomatic reception—simpler than what he had worn for the equinox celebration but still reflecting his royal status. The ceremonial dagger hung at his side, its weight now familiar after weeks of practice.

  "Remember," she said as she made a final adjustment to his colr, "the Nordician delegation will expect direct eye contact during introductions but consider it impolite during extended conversation."

  Julian nodded, mentally reviewing the protocol they had discussed. "And their traditional greeting includes two bows—the first to acknowledge rank, the second to honor personal worth."

  "Correct." Natalie stepped back, surveying him with approval. "Most imperial officials forget the second bow, which the Nordicians tolerate but note as a cultural insensitivity."

  "Then I shall be sure to remember both," Julian replied with the ghost of a smile.

  As he departed for the diplomatic reception, Natalie felt the familiar mixture of pride and anxiety that accompanied these moments when Julian ventured beyond her immediate protection. She had done everything possible to prepare him, yet the pace remained full of unpredictable dangers and malicious intent.

  Unlike the major seasonal celebrations, this diplomatic reception wouldn't allow her to observe through the servants' viewing panels—it was being held in the Emperor's private audience chamber, where no such accommodations existed. She would have to wait for Julian's return to learn how his strategy had fared.

  The hours passed slowly as Natalie attended to her regur duties—ensuring Julian's chambers were immacute, organizing his study materials for afternoon lessons, and coordinating with kitchen staff regarding his preferences for the evening meal. She had just finished arranging a selection of texts on Nordician poetry when a sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

  "Enter," she called, expecting perhaps a pace messenger with an update on the reception's duration.

  Instead, the door opened to reveal Madame Bckwood, her severe expression even more pronounced than usual. "Miss Foster," she said crisply. "A word, if you please."

  Natalie curtseyed automatically, her mind racing to identify what might have prompted this unexpected visit. "Of course, ma'am."

  Madame Bckwood closed the door firmly behind her and surveyed the chamber with her customary thoroughness before speaking again. "You've been Prince Julian's attendant for nearly seven months now."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "And would you say his circumstances have improved during that time?"

  The question carried yers of potential danger. Natalie chose her words with extreme care. "His Highness continues to apply himself diligently to his studies and court responsibilities, ma'am."

  "That's not what I asked," Madame Bckwood replied, her tone sharpening slightly. "I asked about his circumstances—his position within the imperial family and court."

  Natalie hesitated. To cim improvement might suggest intentional influence beyond her station; to deny it would be an obvious falsehood. "There have been... changes in how His Highness conducts himself, ma'am. The results of those changes have varied."

  Madame Bckwood's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Indeed. Changes noticeable enough to draw attention from various quarters." She moved toward the window, positioning herself so that her back was to the door. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped to little more than a whisper. "Including from Prince Augustus and his particur allies."

  A chill ran through Natalie. "I serve Prince Julian to the best of my ability, ma'am. I cannot control how others perceive his development."

  "Cannot? Or choose not to?" Madame Bckwood's gaze was penetrating. "There are whispers, Miss Foster. Whispers that Prince Julian's transformation coincides rather precisely with your appointment. Whispers that question what influence a mere library maid might exert over an imperial prince."

  Natalie fought to keep her expression neutral despite the arm bells ringing in her mind. "I simply assist His Highness as directed, ma'am."

  "Do you?" Madame Bckwood moved closer, lowering her voice further. "Then perhaps you can expin why the stable master reports seeing Prince Julian practicing riding posture in the early morning hours—hours when he should be at his lessons. Or why Master Holloway notes that certain military histories have been repeatedly requested—texts far beyond the prince's assigned studies."

  The implications were clear: someone was watching Julian's activities closely enough to note these deviations from routine. And they had connected them to Natalie's influence.

  "His Highness is... highly motivated to improve himself, ma'am," Natalie replied carefully. "I merely facilitate his requests."

  "Facilitate." Madame Bckwood repeated the word with clear skepticism. "An interesting choice of terms." She sighed, some of her stern demeanor softening slightly. "Your loyalty to Prince Julian is commendable, Miss Foster. But you must understand the dangerous currents you're navigating."

  "Ma'am?"

  "Prince Augustus has been making inquiries about your background," Madame Bckwood stated bluntly. "Detailed inquiries, through channels that bypass my authority."

  Natalie felt as though the floor had dropped away beneath her feet. Her carefully constructed identity as Eleanor Foster's daughter had withstood casual scrutiny thus far, but a targeted investigation would inevitably reveal inconsistencies.

  "I have nothing to hide, ma'am," she said, the lie bitter on her tongue.

  "Everyone has something to hide," Madame Bckwood countered. "The question is whether yours poses a threat to the prince you serve." She paused, studying Natalie's face. "Your mother asked me to protect you. I have done so, without asking questions I perhaps should have. But that protection has limits, particurly against a determined imperial prince."

  The reference to Eleanor—her true mother in spirit if not by birth—nearly broke Natalie's composure. "What would you have me do, ma'am?"

  "Be less... noticeable," Madame Bckwood advised. "Whatever guidance you're providing to Prince Julian, whatever... lessons beyond your stated duties, exercise greater discretion. The prince's brothers are watching for any opportunity to undermine him—and by extension, you."

  "I understand, ma'am."

  Madame Bckwood moved toward the door but paused before opening it. "I've temporarily reassigned Garrett to the eastern kitchens," she added. "His... colboration with Prince Augustus was becoming too overt for comfort."

  Natalie blinked, surprised by this unexpected assistance. "Thank you, ma'am."

  "Don't thank me yet," Madame Bckwood replied grimly. "Prince Augustus has many allies, and I've merely removed the most obvious. Be vigint, Miss Foster. And remember—in this pace, discretion is not merely a virtue but a necessity for survival."

  After Madame Bckwood's departure, Natalie sank into a chair, her mind racing with implications. Augustus was actively investigating her background—a development that threatened not only her position as Julian's attendant but potentially her life if her true identity were discovered.

  The question was: how much did he already know? And what precisely had prompted this escation from general hostility to targeted inquiry?

  She was still considering these questions when Julian returned from the diplomatic reception, his expression animated in a way she hadn't seen since before the equinox celebration.

  "It worked," he announced as soon as the door closed behind him. "Exactly as we pnned."

  Natalie pushed her concerns temporarily aside, focusing on Julian's evident success. "Tell me what happened, Your Highness."

  "The ambassador's son, Aleksander, was standing apart from the main reception—looking rather bored, actually," Julian began, removing his formal jacket with unusual energy. "I approached and greeted him with the traditional double bow. You should have seen his face light up!"

  "He recognized the cultural acknowledgment," Natalie nodded, helping him hang the jacket properly.

  "Yes! And when I mentioned having read Nordician poet Vaskin's 'Winter Sagas,' he became quite enthusiastic." Julian's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "We were deep in discussion about the mythic symbolism of the ice dragon when Augustus and Edmond approached."

  "And?" Natalie prompted.

  "Augustus did exactly what I anticipated—made some dismissive comment about 'schorly prattle' and suggested Aleksander might prefer to discuss hunting or swordpy instead." Julian's smile widened. "But the ambassador himself overheard and commented that his son had finally found 'a proper intellectual companion' in the imperial court. He actually thanked my father for raising a prince who appreciated Nordician cultural traditions!"

  "And Augustus's reaction?"

  "He couldn't say anything with the ambassador right there," Julian replied, clearly savoring the memory. "He just stood there looking like he'd bitten into something sour while Father cpped me on the shoulder and said he'd always valued schorship alongside martial skills."

  It was, undoubtedly, a significant victory—Julian had successfully created circumstances where his strengths were valued and his brothers' usual tactics rendered ineffective. Under normal circumstances, Natalie would have shared his satisfaction unreservedly.

  But Madame Bckwood's warning cast a shadow over this success. If Augustus was already suspicious enough to investigate her background, how would he respond to this test reversal?

  "You seem troubled," Julian observed, his perceptiveness once again surprising her. "Aren't you pleased with how it unfolded?"

  "I am," Natalie assured him. "You executed your strategy perfectly. I'm merely concerned about potential... repercussions."

  Julian's expression sobered. "You think Augustus will retaliate."

  "I think success often invites response," she replied carefully. "And today's success was particurly visible."

  She debated whether to share Madame Bckwood's warning but decided against it. Julian had enough concerns without adding her precarious position to his burden. Besides, the very fact that Madame Bckwood had warned her suggested the head of household staff was, to some extent, their ally. Better to use that alliance than risk it by revealing its existence to Julian.

  "What should we do?" Julian asked, his brief moment of triumph giving way to renewed caution.

  Natalie considered the question carefully. "We adapt again. Your strategy today was effective precisely because it was unexpected and indirect. Your brothers will be watching for simir approaches now."

  "So we need something new," Julian concluded thoughtfully. "Something they won't anticipate."

  "Yes. But we also need to be more... discreet in our preparations." Natalie chose her words with care. "The early morning riding practice, for instance—such deviations from your regur schedule are being noticed."

  Julian's eyes widened slightly. "By whom?"

  "Various pace staff," Natalie replied, not specifying Madame Bckwood as her source. "Information flows in many directions here. Some of it eventually reaches your brothers."

  Julian nodded slowly, understanding the implications. "So we need to work within my established routines, or at least create pusible expnations for any variations."

  "Exactly."

  They spent the remainder of the evening developing a modified approach—one that would allow Julian to continue building his skills and confidence while attracting less obvious attention. Formal riding lessons would repce the early morning practice sessions. His additional studies in military history would be framed as preparation for an academic presentation requested by one of his tutors.

  Every change in routine would have documented justification; every departure from expectation would appear motivated by external requirements rather than personal initiative.

  "It's almost like creating a second disguise," Julian observed as they finalized their pns. "Not of appearance but of intention."

  Natalie smiled faintly at how close his comment came to her own reality. "Sometimes the most effective concealment is hiding in pin sight, Your Highness. People see what they expect to see—we merely need to ensure their expectations align with our purposes."

  Later that night, after Julian had retired, Natalie returned to her small chamber and faced the reality she had been avoiding throughout the evening's pnning. Augustus's investigation into her background represented a threat she couldn't simply strategize around or deflect with clever misdirection.

  Sooner or ter, discrepancies would emerge—the gaps in Natalie Foster's documented history, the curious absence of witnesses to her childhood beyond her now-deceased parents, perhaps even physical evidence that contradicted her feminine appearance.

  What then? Fleeing the pace was technically possible but practically disastrous. Where would Nathaniel go, with no resources and Lord Keller's men still presumably seeking him? And what would happen to Julian without her protection and guidance?

  No—flight wasn't an option, at least not yet. She would have to reinforce her disguise, anticipate potential investigations, and perhaps even create false evidence to support Natalie Foster's existence if necessary.

  As she prepared for bed, Natalie caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror she kept hidden beneath her mattress. The face looking back was changing—subtly but inevitably—as childhood gave way to adolescence. The soft roundness of her cheeks was beginning to define itself into a more angur shape, though still delicate enough to pass as feminine with proper presentation.

  Time was not on her side. Augustus's investigation posed an immediate threat to the careful story she had constructed, and she would need all her wits to stay ahead of his suspicions.

  Yet there was no point dwelling on what couldn't be changed. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to protect Julian, and new requirements for maintaining her own precarious disguise.

  One day at a time. One careful step after another. It had kept her alive and hidden thus far—it would have to suffice for now.

  What she needed was leverage—something that would make Augustus hesitate to move against her even if he discovered her secret. Information, perhaps, or evidence of his own misdeeds that would create mutual assured destruction if revealed.

  The thought was still forming as she drifted into uneasy sleep. Her st conscious impression was of Julian's words echoing in her mind: "Creating a second disguise... of intention."

  Perhaps there was wisdom there—not just for Julian's strategy but for her own survival as well. A disguise within a disguise, a secret pn behind the obvious one.

  She would need to think on it carefully. Because unlike Julian's diplomatic triumph today, her next move couldn't afford even a moment's failure.