Quenton smiled nervously. “So.” He began, searching for words. “Are you well?”

Maude looked at him uncomprehendingly. “I am quite well, my lady. Is there anything you require?” The maidservant was stocky and ruddy faced with wispy brown hair and her watery blue eyes had an odd intensity.

“Well, no, not as such.” He admitted. “I just wanted to greet you, I am endeavoring to be better acquainted with house Moray’s servants.” Quenton smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

Maude blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She murmured, flushing.

“I mean, I’d like to know more about you, if you are willing that is.” He offered, a sharp headache indicating he should stop nervously fussing with his petticoat.

“I…I suppose so, my lady.” Maude said, getting to her feet, her hands nervously twisting her apron.

“Excellent.” Quenton said satisfied. “Would you care for a walk in the gardens?”

She blanched. “My…my lady…I can’t…that would be…the impropriety.” She stammered.

Quenton tilted his head. “Why not? It’s you and Leo who tend the garden, is it not? Further I’ve seen you walk there during night.”

She gaped, taking on a slight resemblance to a beached fish. “I was…was not aware you knew of that, my lady, my deepest apologies.” She said hurriedly, bowing low.

Quenton sighed inwardly. For days when not training he had attempted to make inroads with the families’ staff, only to meet barrier after barrier of courtesy and etiquette. His head had been throbbing nonstop and the pain was on the verge of returning as he spoke to Maude but he resolved to ignore it.

He would know the people society had forced beneath him, to ignore them or treat them with the “proper” distance would make it easy to forget that their lives were on the line too, should they fall in disgrace.

“Please.” He pleaded, pain building in his temple. “It’s only a walk, no more than that.”

For a long moment she stared, twisting her apron into knots. “Of course my lady.” She said at last.
Quenton smiled and gestured to the door, she followed him mutely as they walked out to the garden.

He shivered slightly as they stepped outside, the day was bright and cool, the sharp autumn winds biting at his face and hands. Quenton ignored the cold, striding to the stalky tanned figure of Leo, their gardener.

“Good day, Leo.” He greeted, glancing at the patch of marigolds he was weeding. “Maude and I are going for a short stroll, would you care to accompany us?”

He paused at his work, a look of bemusement on his face before he smiled crookedly. “If that's what you wish, my lady.” He stood, taking off his heavy cloth gloves, his eyes going to Maude.

“Are you the new ladies’ maid then?” He asked.

Before Maude could answer Quenton shook his head emphatically. “I could never replace Aliss.” He said firmly. “I am merely trying to get to know those who work for house Moray.” He explained.

Maude and Leo exchanged a look that Quenton couldn’t quite decipher. Quenton sank onto a mossy stone bench, gesturing to the seats next to him.

They both took their seats, with only a little apprehension. Quenton frowned, straining his mind for conversation starters.

“Leo, might I ask what brought you into our service?” Quenton asked, knowing from Aliss and Mrs. Seaver that Leo had been hired a few years ago and had rarely spoken to the ladies of the house.

He tilted his head, eyeing Quenton curiously. “Well, y’know, I’ve got five brothers and sisters back home, home being Faercliffe, that is, and I figured I ought to help out. One less mouth to feed and a bit of money to send back home serves us well.”

Quenton nodded. “Tell me about your siblings.” He asked, imagining a horde of small Leo-like figures.

“I’ve not been home for some time,” he admitted, his tone somber. “Last I was there, my sister had taken up with a chandler’s apprentice, she’s to be wed soon. Lanya’s a sweet girl, a bit headstrong though, pardon my saying.”

Quenton smiled. “You’ll be attending her wedding I presume, you’ll have the time then to see the rest of your family.”
Leo nodded. “The wedding will wait till spring, tis’ bad luck to marry in winter. An’ it gives us time to save some coin for a dowry.”

Quenton struggled to keep his smile. “Yes, such affairs can be costly.” He said, thinking of Viola’s accounting books, the sums that were barely enough to cover upkeep let alone a fitting dowry.

There was a vestigial strangeness to the thought, Quenton mused. Lately the lines between his days as Quenton and his future as Briony had begun to blur. Quenton had nevered worried about making a proper match, but Briony had. Briony had never considered befriending the houses’ staff, but Quenton had.

It was enough some days to make his head ache. Seeking a distraction he pushed on. “Is your family well?” He asked Maude, who seemed to shrink under his gaze.

“It’s truly just my mother and I. My father died when I was quite you, y’see and I haven’t any brothers or sisters neither.”

Quenton felt a sympathetic pang. In his old life he too had been an only child with a single mother though in starkly different circumstances.

“How is your mother?” He asked, her mother was the houses’ cook; Mrs. Levison. He hadn’t yet managed to acquaint himself with her, put off by her reputation for sternness.

“She’s well.” She said, a bit too quickly.
Quenton hummed, meeting her eyes and projecting what he hoped was an air of confidence. “If there is something amiss, I may be able to help.”

Leo looked surprised and curious as Maude further shrank. “I…well…She’s had a cough, y’see, an awful rattling sound. I think she ought to see a doctor but she’s set against it.” Her words tumbled out in a rush.

Quenton nodded, mind whirring. “Perhaps I could call doctor Silver, pretend I had some ailment and then mention your mother’s predicament. Surely then she wouldn’t refuse.”
Maude’s eyes were wide as saucers. “I think…I think she’d allow it but…” She halted, seemingly gathering her strength before continuing. “But…why? To do such a thing is…well, it isn’t your duty, Lady Briony. I don’t understand.” She murmured, her words fading into silence.

Quenton sighed. “I know that such an act is improper, I know that what we are doing now is unseemly. But I wish to know those who work for me and to help them if I can, however unladylike that is, I’m not going to stop.” He finished firmly.

The two servants blinked at him. “I am…I…” She stammered for a few long moments.

“Are you taking after Lady Viola? Charity, I mean.” Leo asked, taking pity on her.
Quenton gave a small smile, a bit depressed that the servants couldn’t grasp the idea that someone of his station would give a damn. “Something of that sort.” He said, getting to his feet.

“I ought to return to my studies, Mrs. Seaver will be furious if I’m gone for any longer.”

As she walked back in, Leo returned to his flower bed and Maude trailing after her, Maude paused at the paned glass door that opened to the foyer.
A small bouquet lay there, that had gone unnoticed when they’d first stepped out. Quenton gingerly lifted it, before letting it fall with a hiss. Unease tensing his stomach.

“My lady, what’s wrong?” Maude asked, concerned.

“Belladonna, wolfsbane, and bloodroot. A threat, an imminent threat.” On pure instinct he dragged himself and Maude to the ground.

He heard a faint thrum and then a thunk as something hard and painful entered his arm. He shrieked his hand going to the thing stuck in his upper shoulder, the throbbing burning pain spreading through his arm as he did so.

Maude screamed and scrabbled at the door as Quenton pulled at the arrow in his arm, agony burst through his shoulder like it was aflame and he whimpered, his vision going gray.

He huddled on the ground, waiting for the followup thrum, the next bolt that would take his life, instead he felt a strong grip grasp him by the shoulder and pull him inside.

Quenton lay back on the floor, Maude’s harried face and panicked cries the last thing he heard as the pain took him under.

He awoke, groggy with a terrible itching in his shoulder. He went to scratch it only for a steady hand to catch his wrist.

“Leave it Briony, it’s still fresh.” A soft voice he recognized after a moment as Viola’s urged.

He blinked at the light. He was in his bed, in his room, the fading sunset visible through the window

“What…” He croaked, his mind fuzzy and mouth dust dry. The last thing he remembered was the sunlit garden and the cool wind. What had happened to his arm? Which had as he grew more aware, begun pulsing painfully, as consistent and piercing as a fire alarm.

“An assassin,” Viola answered quietly, raising a cool cup of water to Quenton’s lips. He drank gratefully.

His eyes widened as he stared at Viola. “You were struck with a crossbow bolt, it was…it was poisoned.” She murmured. “We called Doctor Silver, but…well, without arcane healing your arm may be in quite a bad way for a long while.”

He looked down, hearing a quiet scratching sound below and smiled as Hop clambered onto the bed. Hop nuzzled his left hand, avoiding the bandaged right arm.

Fuck. He thought dizzily. “I have the contest tomorrow.” He said, trying to prop himself up.

Viola shook her head. “You nearly died Briony, you shouldn’t be out of bed for the next few days let alone going to a tournament.”

Quenton grit his teeth, propping himself up by his left elbow. “You said yourself we have to act normally, Viola. Ducking out of the quarrels would make us look weak. We can’t afford that.”

I have to do this, for Hop and for my family. He thought, determinedly. “I’ll rest tonight, but tomorrow I’m going to win that tournament.”