Shadows danced around the medical ward as Neve's oil lamp began to run dry. She hastened her writing, her neat penmanship turning into a messy scrawl. Neve cursed under her breath as ink fell onto the parchment, obscuring some of the words she had just written.
Neve knew that Vale, at the very least, could decipher her letter.
Her plan to protect Reed from persecution depended on decisive action from the duchy. Proving Reed's innocence would come later. Reed's life could very well be at stake. As a foreigner without the status of nobility, Reed had very few legal protections.
Neve had very little time to set her plan into action, and even less room for error. Still, she had faith that she and her family could protect a single boy from death. How great could a ducal house be if they couldn't even accomplish that?
With flourish, Neve signed her name at the bottom of the parchment. Her letter was complete.
She turned to Beavin, who was leaning against the wall parallel to her. He was alert, listening nervously for passers-by on the other side of the door. Sensing Neve's gaze, Beavin glanced in her direction.
"Are you finished, My Lady?" he asked.
"Yes," Neve replied. She stood up, legs unsteady after sitting for so long. "I need this letter delivered to Ironhold by tomorrow."
Beavin knitted his brows and frowned. "Sending a messenger will take at least two days. A carrier pigeon would work, but none of ours are trained to fly to Ironhold."
"What?" Neve balked. "Where can you send it, then?"
"The pigeons are used for emergencies," Beavin responded apologetically, his words tumbling out clumsily. "We only deliver to the nearby lords. And the Marquis."
"The Marquis!" Neve exclaimed. "Of course!"
Neve took a calming breath and composed herself, smoothing her skirt sheepishly. She reached for the parchment on her bedside table, folding it neatly. She wrote a quick message on one of the folds addressed to the Marquis.
"Please send this letter to Marquis Fabeck," Neve requested, passing the parchment to Beavin. "His second son is a knight of the Rosentine duchy. I trust he will deliver this letter to my brother at my behest."
"I understand," Beavin answered, tucking the letter away hurriedly.
Neve watched as Beavin reached for the door handle, soon to disappear into the fortress with Reed's last chance of survival. Belatedly, she wondered if it was wise to trust the young knight.
"Sir Beavin!" Neve called out, causing the knight to pause. She levelled her icy blue gaze on him. "This is not a show of politics or status. This is about saving an innocent boy's life. I hope you will follow your conscience."
"Please trust me, My Lady," Beavin implored, his head hanging low. "I am a coward without any power. But I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to do what is right."
Neve nodded. "Very well."
The knight quickly left the medical ward, closing the door quietly behind him.
For reasons unknown, Neve felt compelled to trust Beavin's words. Perhaps it was because she could empathize with him. She understood the fear of being stationed at Hell's Gate–with the Order of the Black Rose, no less. She knew the utter powerlessness of being a disgraced noble.
The oil lamp finally burnt out, cloaking the room in darkness.
–––
"Lady Neve!" a voice called out. "Lady Neve!"
Neve groggily blinked herself awake, struggling to push her body upright. 'When did I fall asleep?'
"Be careful, My Lady," Kalina fretted, helping Neve sit up. "I just replaced your bandages."
Neve looked around the medical ward. Bright light was flooding through the windows. The room was still empty, except for Neve and Kalina, which she was grateful for.
"What time is it?" Neve asked throatily.
"It's late morning," Kalina replied. "The trial will begin in a few hours."
Neve bit back a string of curses. She had little time to prepare!
The young nurse wiped a cool towel over Neve's forehead. "Don't worry, My Lady. I talked to some of the maids. They happened to hear some...interesting information."
Neve arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Prince Hale will arrive at Hell's Gate tomorrow," Kalina whispered conspiratorially. "The senior knights want to sentence the boy before then. If you can prolong the trial until the Prince returns, his charges will likely be overturned."
"I see," Neve said, a sense of relief washing over her. "Thank you, Kalina. That is excellent news."
"Still, you must be careful," Kalina warned. "The senior knights are quite underhanded. They are members of the Order of the Black Rose to force the Royal Family's will upon Prince Hale."
Neve nodded. Of course, the Royal Family would not allow the bastard Prince to run wild. 'But this has great implications on me,' Neve thought. 'The Royal Family will undoubtedly use this against me.'
"Sir Beavin is working hard," Kalina continued, trying in vain to seem nonchalant. "He and his peers are much more understanding of your situation."
"I only hope that Prince Hale will be just as understanding," Neve admitted. "If I cannot convince him, my family's intervention may come too late."
Kalina smiled kindly at Neve, seeming older than her years. "Just remember that you are not alone in this, My Lady."
Neve allowed a small smile of her own. She breathed in deeply, steeling her nerves for the inevitable battle to come.
"Are you in possession of my cloak–the one I arrived in?" Neve asked. At this, Kalina nodded. "Please fetch it for me before the trial."
In order to protect her friend from further harm, Neve was prepared to deliver the greatest performance of her life. And if she had to play the role of a pompous ducal daughter, then so be it.
'I should at least look the part.'