Three days after the ambush, Aurélie, Étienne and Oliver were seated in Oliver’s room located on the third floor. It was early in the morning, most of the castle’s inhabitants having gone to bed to rest for the day. Aurélie had grown bored of spending the days in her room, finally mustering the strength to stand up. Étienne had stayed by her side, helping her wherever possible, ignoring her protests and claims of being able to perform her usual routine. He had caught her just before they met with Oliver trying to step out of the bathtub, only to sway and almost collapse on the tiled floor in front of him. Étienne stopped her from hitting her head against the edge of the tub by grabbing her arm and pulling her away, ignoring the fact that she was not wearing anything. Her flustered face was quickly buried in a large bath towel while Étienne averted his gaze, scoffing at the scene she made. His justifications of her being his companion and that he had literally been inside her, and that it really did not matter how she presented herself, was met with a slipper thrown into his face followed by the bath towel. While Aurélie had gotten dressed she managed to throw every single creative insult she had ever read in his face regarding appropriately timed modesty and privacy, before going quiet and asking him if he could tie the laces of her corset because she did not have the strength to do so herself. Étienne’s smirk while he went to work was met with a glare, and the pair was heard bickering all the way to Oliver’s room.

“So what actually happened a few nights ago?” Aurelie asked, thanking Oliver as he handed her a cup of tea. 

“Well,” he began, scratching the back of his head. “Saint-Clair and I decided to look around the place where my family and group was attacked before we arrived here.”

“There was a bit of company that surprised us while we were searching the area,” Étienne finished, watching as Aurélie’s eyes grew wider. 

The companion set down her teacup and turned to both men. “Why on earth did you do that? I thought we would all go?” 

“Linnington here thought it would be improper for you to come along,” Étienne smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Did not want any harm to come to a lady such as yourself.” 

Aurélie shook her head and turned to Oliver. “While I appreciate your concerns, I could have helped. At least maybe tended to the both of you sooner.” 

Oliver sat in his chair looking sheepish, giving Étienne a glare as he looked over to him. Silence weaved between the three of them before Aurélie spoke up once more.

“I suppose what is done is done. All of us are still here, thankfully, but we must figure out what is happening. Did you at least find out anything?”

“Indeed we did,” Oliver stated, standing up from his seat and walking over to a small box that rested on top of a dresser. Unlocking the box with a key his pulled from his trouser, Oliver picked up the green cloth that he had found on the body of one of the men that attacked them, handing it over to Aurélie. Her eyes grew wide as she recognised the colour and crest. 

“So it was Delacroix?”

Étienne nodded. “We presume so. That is his designated green colour and family crest.”

“But why would he use something that can lead back to him so easily?” Aurélie asked, still looking down at the wolf embroidered into the cloth with silver thread. “It makes no sense.”

“In a lot of parts that we travel, only those with such identifications can freely pass through. My father had to show our symbol at almost every tavern, inn and road we stayed at and travelled. I presume it was no different for Duke Saint-Clair to do the same,” Oliver began, watching as Étienne nodded in agreement. “I would not be surprised if a vast majority of his men or even his people would be carrying his crest around to pass through these mountains quicker.”

“So are we even certain that Duke Delacroix sent those men to attack both of your families or could it have only been an act of rebellion?” Aurélie asked, folding the cloth and handing it back to Oliver, who shrugged. 

“I have tried asking a few other families and important individuals that have arrived over these past few days if they were attacked too, but majority of them denied anything happening. Their journey was peaceful and uneventful.”

“Which begs the question,” Étienne began, shifting to the side and leaning against the table, “are both of our families the only ones that have been attacked or has Delacroix had a few run-ins too?” 

“That would be something to ask our fathers. If anyone would know, it would be them,” Oliver said. 

“Or perhaps not,” Aurélie mumbled, her brows knitted together. “Surely if Delacroix was suffering from ambushes and attacks he would have warned your fathers long before the tedious journey here.”

“I have a hard time believing that Delacroix is not behind this all. Tensions are already high enough between our families regarding the throne,” Étienne said, standing up and walking over the window, drawing the curtain back slightly. Oliver’s room was facing the back of the estate, the sun not reaching into his room. It was quiet outside, a few birds perching themselves on the railing of the balcony. 

“Well perhaps then we should speak to our fathers and tell them what happened. With the ball happening in two nights, I would rather them be informed in case things go sideways,” Oliver said, standing up as well and locking away the cloth he had found. “I suggest we do it quickly, though.”

Aurélie nodded in agreement, looking over at Étienne. She caught him staring at her for several seconds, before he nodded as well. Pulling up the sleeves of his shirt he closed the curtains and stepped away from the window, straightening his back. 

“I believe Delacroix may have already retired for the night. Knowing my father he will be up for a little while longer. Should we go to him first?” Étienne asked, walking over to Aurélie and holding out his arm as she stood up. The companion quietly thanked him as she leaned her weight against his arm. Spouts of dizziness still came over here whenever she stood up too quickly. 

“We could request to meet up with both our fathers, rather than having to tell the same story twice? If you both want to wait here, I am more than happy to bring both here,” Oliver suggested, noting how pale Aurélie had gotten. He watched as Étienne looked down at his companion, noticing the same thing. 

“That might be for the best, Linnington,” Étienne said, gently guiding Aurélie back into her seat on the couch. “We will wait here for you.”

Oliver nodded and spun at his heels, gently closing the doors of his quarters behind him. Étienne sat back down next to Aurélie, watching as his companion closed her eyes. He leaned back against the couch and rested one foot on the other knee, glancing around Oliver’s room. Similar to his, there were several armchairs and a couch around a cozy fireplace. Two doors were present at opposite ends of the room, one for the bedroom and one for the bathroom. A large green rug sat in the centre of the room, a writing desk and bookshelf resting in one corner of the room. Oliver was a lot neater than Étienne was, the stack of papers neatly arranged to one side and the ink-pen carefully resting in an ornate wooden case. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Aurélie’s soft voice pulled Étienne from his thoughts, and the young vampire looked over to her. She had opened her eyes once more, the soft blue colour that clouded his mind whenever he was not with her, boring into him. 

“A lot better. Are you alright?”

Aurélie thought for a while, before nodding. While the walk to Oliver’s room had exhausted her and she could not imagine having to walk wherever both Duke Saint-Clair and Linnington were situated, she felt a lot better than the previous nights. 

“I am alright,” she answered. She gently took Étienne’s outstretched hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. Both sat next to each other, shoulders brushing against the other’s, cold flesh meeting warm. As they sat in silence watching the fire crackling, exhaustion washed over Étienne. He wanted nothing more than to lean his head against Aurélie’s shoulder and go to sleep, the events of the previous days catching up to him. As his eyes gently began to close, the door to Oliver’s quarters opened up once more.

“I have brought them both,” Oliver announced, stepping into the room and holding open the door for both his father and Duke Saint-Clair. He bowed his head as both men entered the room. Duke Saint-Clair watched as his son opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet, bowing, while Aurélie slowly stood up and bowed her head, her hand quickly finding Étienne’s shoulder to balance herself. He noticed that the young companion seemed thinner and paler since they had arrived at the castle, her makeup doing little to hide the dark circles underneath her eyes. 

“Oliver, what is the meaning of this?” Duke Linnington asked. “Why the sudden audience?” 

“Please, sit,” Oliver said, stretching out his hand towards the couch and the armchairs. “There is something we must tell you before the ball.” 

Both Dukes sat down, both showing expressions of confusion and concern. They declined Oliver’s offer for tea, urging him to speak. 

“As you know, both our families were attacked on the way here,” Oliver began, watching as both Dukes nodded in confirmation. “Well, we believe that Duke Delacroix may have been behind these attacks.”

Silence filled the room before Duke Saint-Clair shifted in his seat. “What makes you believe that?”

Oliver stood up once more, unlocking the box above the dresser next to the bedroom door. He pulled out the green cloth with the silver embroidered wolf head, handing it to Étienne’s father. 

“Étienne and I decided to explore a little and were ambushed. This was in the pockets of the men that attacked us.”

Both Dukes immediately turned to their sons, arguments filling the room. Aurélie watched and listened as both young men were scolded by their fathers, both men looking sheepish and enduring the yelling that they were receiving. It was Duke Saint-Clair that stopped first, ordering Étienne and Oliver to explain what exactly had happened. Both men began their story in more detail. Aurélie did not realise how strongly she was gripping Étienne’s hand as he recalled the vampire that was on top of him, until Étienne softly shook his hand underneath her grip. She let go, watching in horror as he continued to speak. She did not know about the poison that coated the blades that they were attacked with, feeling guilty that she had not looked after Oliver as well as she had looked after Étienne, once she found both men. 

After both Étienne and Oliver finished their story, carefully avoiding what happened with Aurélie, the dukes fell silent and stared into the fire. Duke Linnington turned to Oliver, stretching out for the piece of cloth still in his hands. He examined it for a couple of minutes, before leaning back in the chair. 

“Many that travel on the roads here carry the Duke’s symbol.”

“We know.”

“That does not necessarily mean that it was the Duke who ordered the attack.”

“That is something we have considered.”

“So why are you blaming our host for the attacks on our families?”

Oliver clicked his tongue and ran a hand through his blonde hair, swallowing his frustration. Before he could answer his father, Duke Saint-Clair stood up and held his hands behind his back. 

“Because our families were the only ones who were attacked,” he said softly, turning around to Duke Linnington. “I see why they suspect Gustave in this. There are several people that have come from all over Europe, yet none of them were attacked. French families or British families, it does not matter. We were the only ones.” 

Étienne nodded in agreement. “Both Oliver and I have asked the other guests and there was no-one else who faced an ambush along their journey. We are aware that there are rebellious groups everywhere but it is rather odd that it is only happening here.”

“Gustave said that there were no rebel groups in his country,” Duke Linnington said, leaning back in his chair. “Do you think he lied, Noel?”

Duke Saint-Clair shrugged his shoulders. “Hungary is so far away from both our countries and we rarely get correspondence from Gustave. Perhaps he could be lying. Or he is trying to ignore the possible threats that he had to endure from his own people.”

Étienne stood up, his expression cold. “Do you really think that Delacroix, the one who does not care about anyone other than himself and the throne, is innocent?” 

“Étienne, that is not—,” Duke Saint-Clair began, his eyes narrowing. Before he could say anything further, Étienne continued. 

“That man has been nothing but horrible since we have got here. I do not know what happened or what was discussed after the ambush, but from my perspective there was nothing done to increase our safety. The staff is rude, Aurélie has been practically treated like scum, Celine has been on my back the minute I stepped foot into here and now none of you are concerned about Oliver or I having been almost killed after an ambush on Delacroix’s land? From his own people, nonetheless?” 

“Sit back down, Étienne. There are better ways to voice your complaints,” Duke Saint-Clair snapped at his son, who slowly sat back down and glared at him. “I am not dismissing your theories or whatever it is that you found on those men. The situation here is delicate and we cannot unbalance things even further.” 

Duke Linnington nodded in agreement. “I know it is frustrating and I thank you for raising your concerns with us. We cannot, however, act on it immediately. Tensions are already high enough as is, and I do not want to anger Duke Delacroix. We are close to determining who will take the throne but we must be careful so that we do not come across as mistrusting towards the Duke.”

“I am sure both Trevor and I will be able to voice the concerns regarding the ambush in a manner that does not accuse Gustave. He angers easily and like Trevor said, tensions are already high. For the safety of all of you and for the best future, I implore you all to keep this amongst yourself. Let us get over this ball first. After that, I am more than happy to discuss everything that has happened here,” Duke Saint-Clair said, watching the expressions of disappointment on all three faces before him. “I know it is not what you wanted to happen but we must be careful.” 

Étienne crossed his arms and looked to the side, scoffing. “Best hope that nothing happens at the ball then. Such a large event is sure to miss a few stragglers slipping in.”

“We are aware of that, Étienne. We did not bring our own men for no reason,” his father said softly. “Aurélie, I have organised someone to help you get ready. I know you dismissed your maid after moving rooms, so I made sure that there was someone there more to your liking.”

Aurélie sat up straight, surprised at Duke Saint-Clair’s sudden address to her. “Thank you, your grace. I have been able to look after myself so I would only need her help for that evening.”

Duke Saint-Clair nodded, before turning to both his son and Oliver. “We will get back to you on what you have found. For now rest easy and prepare yourselves for the ball. There will be important individuals attending and you both will be presented as future royals. Your titles are not just for show.”

Oliver immediately nodded and bowed his head, while Étienne took a moment before he also nodded.  

“Is there anything else that you wish to tell us?” Duke Linnington asked, standing up from his seat and turning towards the two younger men. Oliver and Étienne both shook their heads, standing up to escort both Dukes outside of the room. Aurélie kept a firm grip on Étienne’s arm as they made their way over to the doors, Duke Saint-Clair watching them from afar. He caught the eyes of Étienne, who raised his eyebrow at his father’s interest. When Étienne did not say anything, Duke Saint-Clair excused himself and bade everyone a good rest, eager to meet them all at the ball. 

After the door was closed, both boys let out a long sigh. 

“That went about as well as I expected,” Étienne muttered, the disappointment and anger in his voice hard to miss. 

“What do we do know?” Aurélie asked, looking between him and Oliver, who had begun sitting back down and staring into the fire. 

“No idea. I thought our findings would have gotten more of a reaction out of them,” he mumbled, shaking his head. 

Étienne clicked his tongue and leaned against the back of the couch, folding his arms across his chest. He thought for a minute, before standing up straight. 

“Surely there would be something in Delacroix’s office. Letters, perhaps?” 

Aurelie looked at him with wide eyes. “Surely you are not thinking of breaking into his study?”

Étienne gave her a wink and nodded at Oliver, who had also sat up. “That is exactly what I am planning on doing.”

“You are insane, Saint-Clair!”

“If you get caught who knows what will happen to you!”

Étienne let both Aurélie and Oliver flood him with protests and reasons why his idea was bad, closing his eyes and waiting for them to finish. He kept his arms crossed as the chorus of objections continued, both his companion and Oliver not stopping for several minutes. 

“How would you even get in?” 

Étienne opened his eyes once more after Aurélie’s question, turning to her. “I would not be the one going in. Now if both of you are done with your lectures, here is what I had in mind.”