Rose shot Katherine an indignant look, clearly ready to protest. Before she could say a word, however, a maid opened the door from within and beckoned them inside. Katherine followed Rose into the lavish boudoir without a sound. While Rose settled onto one of the gilded chairs, Katherine stepped to the back of the chamber, joining two other maids who stood waiting for their mistress's arrival.

From her station, Katherine found herself studying Rose's posture, her friend's back turned toward her. Never had she been more keenly aware of the social gulf between them. They had known each other since childhood, sharing sunlit afternoons and lessons under Venetian and Florentine tutors—learning music, dance, philosophy, politics, and languages. But those idyllic memories had long since dimmed, eclipsed by the grim recollection of her father's execution. Her hand slipped into the folds of her dress, fingers curling around his ring—his final gift, and her only inheritance. Soon, she told herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open again. Maria swept in like a storm front, her mother following close behind.

"I know he fancies me," Maria declared, voice bright with excitement. "I'm sure he'll speak to Father before he leaves—and I'll be joining him on the bear hunt tomorrow!"

Rose and Katherine exchanged a brief, knowing look before stepping forward to assist her. Katherine knelt, loosening the silk ribbons of Maria's slippers with painstaking care, while Rose moved to unclasp the Baron's daughter's heavy, jewel-encrusted necklace.

"Well, Lady Rose," Maria asked, handing over the necklace, "did I do well tonight?"

Rose plastered on a polite smile. "You did splendidly, my lady. I'm certain His Majesty was quite charmed."

"He was, wasn't he?" Maria turned toward the mirror, glowing with satisfaction while Rose plucked ornate pins from her elaborate braids.

"You did beautifully, my dove," her mother added, laying a gold-embroidered gown over the back of a nearby chair. "But you must remember—friendly conversation alone isn't enough. You have to make him want you."

Maria curled a lock of blond hair around one finger, her reflection smug. "Don't worry, Mother. He'll be eating from my hand before the hunt is over."

As Rose set the jeweled pins in a silver bowl offered by another maid, she shot Katherine a quick, exasperated eye-roll.

"And he will," Lady Beatrice agreed, tracing a fingertip along the dress's embroidery. She turned abruptly toward the servants, her expression shifting to cold disdain. "Leave us," she snapped. Then, in a friendlier tone, she added, "You, too, may retire for the evening, Lady Rose."

Rose gave a shallow curtsey and led the other maids out into the corridor. As soon as the door closed behind them, she grabbed Katherine's arm, stifling a laugh. Without waiting for the other maids to drift out of earshot, she leaned in conspiratorially.

"This is going to be a spectacle," Rose whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained mirth. "I almost hope the Prince devours her the moment she slips into his chambers."

Katherine shook her head. "Oh, Rose. The Baroness won't send Maria to his bed like a common harlot."

Rose quirked an eyebrow. "Haven't you seen that gold gown? They commissioned it from Florence—apparently sold some family heirlooms to pay for it. I hear it's in the exact style favored by Florentine courtesans, complete with a daring front slit."

"How do you even know that?" Katherine asked, though she couldn't hide a small smile.

"Because my father handled the transaction. He deals in luxury fabrics, and the Baroness asked for something to 'dazzle' His Grace." Rose raised her hand, miming the split style with a dramatic sweep. "A couple of ribbons and—poof—she's wearing next to nothing."

"Well, the Baron is nearly bankrupt," Katherine muttered, hefting a bundle of soiled garments. "They're gambling everything on these few days of the Prince's visit. If she doesn't win his favor, there won't be a second chance. But if His Grace doesn't haul Maria off to his castle in triumph, I need to get these laundered so she'll have something decent tomorrow."

"You're no fun," Rose complained, releasing a comb from her hair and letting her long, blonde curls fall free. Then she twirled one around her finger, affecting Maria's flirtatious pose. "How do I look?"

"Like a Florentine courtesan on the prowl for her next victim," Katherine teased.

Rose laughed, unabashed. "Not a victim—he's a count, actually. Sat beside me at the feast, quite dashing. I'm meeting him tonight."

"Then you'd best hurry. One should never keep a noble admirer waiting." Katherine offered her a playful wink. "I'll see that the kitchen door is left unlatched so you can sneak back in."

"You're a saint." Rose's grin faltered, replaced by sudden concern. Taking Katherine's hands, she spoke quietly. "I know you need answers about your father—but please, don't confront him. There are too many stories about what he does to those who cross him. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

Katherine squeezed her fingers gently. "I promise I'll be careful. Don't worry."

With a soft sigh, Rose nodded. "All right. Good luck, then." She brushed a swift kiss against Katherine's cheek. "I'll tell you everything in the morning."

With that, Rose set off down the corridor, her skirts fluttering around her ankles. Katherine watched her vanish around a bend, then drew a long breath. She slipped through a narrow door leading to a servant's passage—the route that would take her straight to the north wing and the Prince's quarters.