Collar drifted along in a light haze of alcoholic bliss after spending a little too much time tasting and comparing different vintages before picking the one that reminded him most of a kiss. He ordered two bottles on the spot, but afterwards couldn’t remember if the decision was a good one, and couldn’t recall if it had tasted like a kiss or because Rosewater had kissed him right before.

What does a kiss even taste like?

For Cloudy, sitting across from him and grinning like a cat who’d gotten into the cream despite everypony trying to keep her out, kisses always tasted just slightly on the side of whatever she’d last eaten. After she’d learned that, while brushing their teeth in their shared washroom, she’d occasionally make a point of nibbling something he liked an hour or two before a kiss.

For Rosewater, sitting beside her and looking at him with what could only be called adoring eyes—both a facade and a reality at once that he didn’t like, because it hid the looks she usually gave him, earnest and hinting at a desperate hope that everything would turn out okay—they tasted often like strawberry.

And now he knew why.

“Did I pick the right vintage?” Collar asked, nodding at the trio of bottles sitting on the table between them. Strawberry Kiss.

Rosewater winked. “I think so.” Her right ear ticked as a nearby conversation caught her attention, her smile straining ever-so-slightly. He was learning, both at their first public date at the seaside restaurant, and now here, that she paid almost as much attention to the world around her all the time as he did to their conversation. “I ran out of candies, though, so my kisses might start to taste an awful lot like Cloudy’s.”

That sent his eyebrows raising while Cloudy just laughed and shouldered her lightly.

“Rosewater, you have no idea what my kisses really taste like.”

Heat rushed up Collar’s spine and tried to excite him. The wine dulled its effects enough for him not to think about the kisses Cloudy had told him about, wet with Rosewater’s own orgasmic excitement. Or at least, not to let the image sink so deeply he couldn’t drive it off for a few more hours before the event was over and he and Rosewater would head to Prim Palace publicly.

Everypony would speculate, especially since the winter storm was a known factor and even as much as they protested the weather interrupting an already planned event, there would be rumors closer to the truth than they were trying to get.

He wanted to shout it. He almost did.

A little more wine, and he might. Knowing that what they said in public was the last thing ponies would be talking about, and trying to push ponies in a certain direction would almost certainly push them off in some other tangent, kept his tongue still. There were limits. Ponies would spread their rumors even hotter if he shouted that he’d already had sex with Rosewater and was trying to get her pregnant.

It would almost definitely blow the fact that they were already married…

Stars, I’m married.

The idea jolted through him at the strangest times, shattering his thoughts and making his coat hairs stand on end.

I’m married. And his wife was sitting across from him, her smile slipping from adoring to mischievous as her mask slipped away.

Rosewater shuffled two of the bottles into her day bag and the last into Cloudy’s. “No more wine, I think,” she murmured, grinning. “That dazed look says you’re ready to do something.”

“Somepony,” Cloudy murmured under her breath. Collar only barely caught it, but Rosewater’s lips twitched. Her eyes twinkled, and the urge to throw the masquerade flowed through him again.

He stuffed the urge deep. Stating it now would mean… something. It might forever bar him from Cloudy’s embrace. The fears slid off his armor of drink.

“Mm. Well. Maaaybe I’ve had a little more than I should have, but I’m a big pony,” Collar whined in a faux-childish voice, sticking his tongue out at her. “Seriously, though, I think all the walking around got it to my head faster than I wanted.”

“Mmm, we did do a lot of walking, didn’t we?” Rosewater murmured. “Though that bread we had should have blunted it.”

“Oh, my vision isn’t swimming or anything, but I am definitely feeling heady.” For a moment, his body remembered how heady it felt sliding into her, how she had responded and how she’d felt over him, under him… around him.

Until a cool, almost cold sensation against his sheath snapped him out of the reverie. Seconds only, but the wink Rosewater gave him, her horn sparkling and glowing with magic as the cool feeling persisted, told him she’d more than noticed his recollection.

Little too much wine. His thoughts were getting away from him, and she wasn’t helping much, that smile promising more, but later. He closed his eyes and shook his head lightly, trying to regain control of his arousal.

“Maybe we should walk around a little more and burn it off?” Rosewater murmured, her horn flickering briefly before fading back to white. The coolness lingered for a few more seconds. “That’s a difficult spell to keep going.”

“What is it?”

“It helps me delay… reactions in perfumes by cooling them. Usually when I need to mix more than one scent together. With them warm, they mix too quickly.” Rosewater grinned at him and winked. “It helps with preventing premature mixing of other reactants as well.”

Collar laughed and shook his head. “It’s like a whole language to you, isn’t it?”

“Innuendo? I’ll have you know that I am a native speaker.” Rosewater winked more slowly, her lips pursed in an exaggerated mime of a kiss.

“I think I might want to test my own knowledge of innuendo,” Collar said. At that moment, everything innuendo-related slipped from his mind, and all he could think of was that night and the deck of spell-scribed copper cards she had in her satchel. He latched onto the first thing that came to mind. “You’re pretty.” Definitely too much wine.

Cloudy burst out laughing, and Rosewater joined her, giggling madly and making her look even more beautiful as the genuine mirth made her seem to glow brighter than the early winter sun. He felt his cheeks heating more before he laughed and chased her back across the table to kiss her back.

“Oh, you are so precious,” Rosewater said through a spate of giggles and a smile that loosened her ears and shone in her eyes. “Where shall we go for a walk? I daresay we might find a juicer and see if they have… mmm.”

“I’m quite partial to this drink I think had something called fairy petal extract in it,” Collar said, tipping his head to the side. “I can’t remember what the base is, but the fairy petals…”

Rosewater’s smile grew wider. “I think I can do one better. How about some water for the buzz… and some candied fairy petals.”

“They can be candied?” Collar asked in a low, awed voice, trying to hide the signs of mischief.

“My lord,” Rosewater said in a deliberately grave voice. “Anything can be candied.”

“Even kisses?”

“See?” Cloudy half-stood and waved a hoof at Collar. “I wasn’t sitting around doing nothing, ‘Water. I was teaching him some innuendo.”

“Mmm. I’ll take your word for it, sweet mare,” Rosewater said with a laugh, and she looked for a moment as if she wanted to lean across the table and kiss her as well. “But I wanted to do more than look for candied petals and fortified juice. I wanted to get some of the scents of Damme, Collar. When you come to the Garden, I want you to feel at home.”

Thoughts froze, then started churning again as he processed that. She had mentioned him visiting the garden in passing, but he didn’t think they were ready to talk about it yet in public. Not where the plans would get back to Roseate.

Finally, he chuckled, though it sounded forced even to his ears. “Well. Breads are a good start, and freshly cut wood as well. Those are among the most prominent smells that I recall whenever I walk about the city, though there is a growing passion for smoked goods as well. Especially diced potatoes and a burgeoning interest in various smoked and dried fish.”

“I thought something smelled fishy,” Rosewater said, and winked. “I would love to get some samples.”

“Shall we?” Collar asked, rising and returning the sampler wine glass to the stallion overseeing the tasting with a nod. “I think walking will help settle the wine-tongue I have right now.”

“I think a candied kiss would do more,” Cloudy murmured under her breath, loud enough for Collar to hear. “Kiss her.”

“I’ve been—”

He broke off when Rosewater kissed his cheek lightly as they left the small tasting area and merged into the crowd circulating the festival grounds.

“I’m very much enjoying today,” Rosewater murmured against his ear. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Collar whispered back. “I love you.”

The intricacies of capturing the heart of a city in fragrance form was as much art as science, and tailoring the scent to a particular pony required even more knowledge of them. Questions like ‘What does Collar focus on when he tours the city?’ or ‘Where does he linger when he goes out?’ were key to deciding what parts of the city she would gather scents from.

That had been her first attempt, with as much knowledge as she could glean from Gossip in Granny Galleon’s meandering way with a little help here and there from the everpresent, silent, and shy Rosetide Galleon.

Her second had been spur of the moment, intent but no planning behind it. That Cloudy took out the scarf after the passing of the noon hour and draped it around her neck as the beginnings of a chill wind began to sweep down from the north warmed Rosewater’s heart even more.

This time…

Rosewater let herself be led around, Collar following his interests and Cloudy occasionally pulling them off to the side for another scent she enjoyed or a treat.

They spent a good hour perusing through the books a bookbinder had laid out in a series of bookshelves under an awning, looking for things Rosemary might be interested in and eventually coming away with half a dozen Canterlot-style romance novels full of dashing Knight Captains and both mares and stallions needing rescuing from bandits or monsters or simply from boredom.

The smell of freshly bound books was another memory she captured in a patch of her scarf, the glue almost fully cured but exuding that faint fragrance of salt and the sea that kelp glue always gave off.

She could have purified the scent, but that wasn’t the point. The impurity, the warmth of everything else she captured and was layered into the soft wool was the point. A more complete olfactory record of the day that she would take with her to her first dinner with Collar’s family, her first night as a married mare spending the night with her husband.

Not for the first time, as she focused her magic on sealing the scent into her scarf, she felt a wash of anger and want for it all to be over.

“Where to next?” Rosewater asked, forcing herself out of the vortex of self-pity.

“I’d like to buy something for Rosemary as well,” Collar said in a low voice. “A… thank you gift, if you will, for being so understanding.” A flush in his cheeks hinted at more he hadn’t been able to share yet. Or hadn’t wanted to share.

Perhaps tonight would be a good time for a sharing circle.

“Well…” Rosewater leaned forward and glanced across Collar at Cloudy, currently grinning like a buttered lily. “For a good friend, something that will last a little longer than a glass of wine. Perhaps you could order a custom-engraved wine glass to enjoy many more glasses?”

Collar pursed his lips, ears twitching before he shook his head. “I think not. That’s too… impersonal. I’ve become very close to her, Rosewater. Largely through Cloudy, but I’m—” He shook his head again and smiled brightly. “She’s been so good to Cloudy, Rosewater, how can I thank her with only a wineglass?”

Rosewater closed her eyes briefly, thinking as they waited in the eddy of ponies milling about formed by a clump of ponies browsing at a nearby stall.

“A companion,” Rosewater said after a long moment.

“A pet?” Cloudy asked from Collar’s other side.

“Perhaps.” The suggestion sparked an idea and a memory. “A cat, perhaps. Rosemary spent a good six weeks pretending she was a cat when she was only five. I don’t think she’s ever lost her love of them, either, but…”

“But they tend to have a smell, and as a perfumier…” Cloudy flicked her ears back and nodded. “She never lamented to me when we were together in Merrie.”

“All of the cats she ever loved were at the Villa. Mousers and the occasional true pet, collar and all. We were never in the house for long, and I wouldn’t want to subject a cat to the… dangers my mother represented.” But now she’s freer to love even a helpless animal without danger.

“Stars.” Collar’s voice sounded ashen. “Even cats?”

“The danger was always there. And, as a perfumier, I often worked with compounds that would be poisonous to cats. The Rosewine cats are all descended from cats that learned where to step safe, but not so any I brought home. Even without my mother’s interference, or especially because of the danger of it being an easy accident to engineer, it would be cruel to keep a cat that couldn’t go where they wished.”

“Mom had a dog when she was younger,” Collar mused, tipping his head to the side. “A big hound, almost to her mid-cannon. He passed before I was born, but she has a portrait of him in her chambers.”

“One problem,” Cloudy hissed over Collar’s neck at Rosewater. “I don’t think there’s a menagerie here.”

“That would be a hurdle,” Collar barked. “Very well. Perhaps… is there anyplace you would like to go, Rosewater? We’ve been leading you around the entire afternoon to places Cloudy and I find interesting.”

Rosewater pursed her lips and ran through a mental checklist of the things she’d wanted to accomplish. Most of it related to being seen being friends with Cloudy and showing that there was no jealousy or antagonism between the three of them. She had her bag of scent-less strawberry candies and a promise to deliver another bag every other week via Rosie Night.

All she was missing was… family drama.

Through the crowd, she saw a head, followed by a tail, that was entirely too familiar to her.

Rosewater held back a sigh at the predictability of her mother’s motivations and actions. Roseate, thankfully, wasn’t there in the flesh, but Rosetail was still here. And her eyes were focused on a certain pegasus whom was all-too-familiar to her.

I thought I made my warning clear enough earlier. It hadn’t been a big moment earlier in the day. Rosetail had tried to make herself a little too available to Stride Primfeather while the stallion had been clearly uncomfortable.

A passing shake of Rosewater’s head when Rosetail spotted her had been enough warning for her sister to break off her misguided attempt at flirtation with Stride even after several negations.

Who was just a few paces away from a distracted Petal and Seed, both talking to a burly stallion with Damme colors and laughing. The younger stallion’s cheeks were flushed, and he didn’t even seem aware of the circling wolf watching for an opening.

“Excuse me,” Rosewater murmured. “I need to make sure my sister isn’t doing what I fear she’s doing.”

“Not alone,” Collar said with a snort. “I need to make sure Stride isn’t going to hangover himself in the morning.”

Rosewater laughed. “Thank you.”

Jasmine steam caressed Silk’s nose before she took a sip of the sweet tea, savoring the honeyed bite and the touch of cream she’d stirred into her one and only cup. She’d promised herself a relaxing day alone in the home she shared with Vine. A time to relax and finish the romance she’d been picking at in paragraphs and pages for the last month.

A simple romance between two ponies not related to each other. A dream she could sink into for a time, and perhaps more fully today.

Junebug and Lord Hammer were finally looking past the masks each had put up, the first of a common mare trying her best to fit into the society her mistress had pushed her into, haughtiness a false front against the terror that she would be found out, and Lord Hammer’s infatuation with a mare he’d seen without it in one panicked moment in the back of a coatroom.

Maybe they’ll finally tell the truth.

She almost screamed when a light tapping came at her front door.

For two glorious seconds, Silk considered pretending like she wasn’t home before a crackle and pop in the fireplace reminded her she’d set the fire earlier, and the smoke from the chimney was as good as a flag pinned to her flanks.

She took a moment to arrange her sitting room so it was clear she was expecting her visitor to leave quickly. Single cup of still steaming tea, book with marker prominently on display on the cushion at the head of her lounging couch, and her blanket piled up messily on one arm.

It took only a few seconds to make sure it looked right before she called out, “Coming,” in an exasperated tone.

“Dear sister,” Rosary said, her tone cultured and smooth, unfazed by the glare Silk gave her when she opened the door. When Silk didn’t invite her in right away, she shrugged. “I have business to discuss with you regarding Moon’s apprenticeship this winter.”

“And it couldn’t wait a day?” Silk grumbled before reluctantly stepping back and glancing past her shorter sibling, looking for Moon’s adorable smile. Or her trepidatious one, given Silk’s tone. “Where is she?”

“With her fathers,” Rosary said with a sniff. “Today’s business is not for her to partake in.” She glanced around the sitting room after scuffing her hooves to near perfection and gave Silk a softer smile at her incredulous look. “I remember the last time I walked in without cleaning my hooves, Silk. I wish to cause our little cleaner no heart palpitations.”

Silk huffed and settled in on her couch for a moment before cursing herself and getting up again. “The water’s still hot, if you’d like some tea.”

“Jasmine and blueberry?” Rosary’s question wasn’t a suggestion, her Rosethorn marks glowing briefly. “Yes, if you don’t mind. Another dollop more tea than you take it, if you please.”

While Silk set about making the tea, she called out from the kitchen, “I thought our agreement was settled for the winter. Moon seems to be happy, and her skills are progressing nicely.”

“I have no qualms about your tutelage, Silky,” Rosary called back, using her foalish name in a lighter tone than usual. “This isn’t to suddenly tear her away from you. It would hurt her more than I wish to take her favorite aunt away from her.”

Silk pursed her lips, pausing while the tea steeped and she swirled the infuser around in a slow circle, then reversed before adding three dollops. “You still take cream?”

“I don’t wish to impose more.”

Yes, then.

“What is it you want to change?” Silk asked as she set the saucer and cup down in front of her sister, trying not to wince when she saw the book was in a different position and the marker set deeper.

“A good book,” Rosary replied, dipping her eyes briefly and shifting it back to its original place. “Have you read it before?”

Before she responded, Silk took a moment to consider the comment, glancing from the book to Rosary and back again. “I have not. I’ve just arrived at the scene with Junebug finally buying her ball gown for the Summer Solstice dance.”

“Then I shan’t spoil it.” Rosary met her eyes as she sipped the tea, an uncommon crinkle creasing her brow as she swallowed. “That is a richer cream than I am used to.”

“Goat cream.”

“Mmm. I shall—”

“Please, Rosary, you know I have little patience for the pleasantries.”

Her sister closed her eyes and took a larger sip. “Very well. May I silence the room? I’ve no wish to share the details of Moon’s apprenticeship with your rival seamsponies.”

“Fine. Go ahead.” Silk added a touch of her magic to the weaving, lacing the threads of her spell in between the larger and more blunt edges of her elder sister’s.

“Mother is in an upset over your behavior, Silk.”

“Mother is always in an upset these days,” Silk shot back, feeling her guts quaver. Not yet. I’m not ready. “And it’s nothing to do with me. I did exactly as she asked.”

“And not a whit more?” Rosary’s perfectly groomed brow rose briefly. “I had my own little listener at the gala, my dear. Unless mother asked you to make nice with Lord Collar…” She rolled a shoulder and took another sip, eyes fixed on Silk’s.

She met the gaze unwaveringly. “I did see Lady Petal Broom there. I doubt she was in any state to witness anything, as deep as she was into her wife’s neckline the entire night.”

“Ah, you mistake my source.”

“What did you tell mother?”

“Nothing. Yet.” Rosary sipped her tea again and swirled the cup slowly in the air, her eyes falling from Silk’s long enough to shake her head. “And I shan’t tell her anything unless you blab about what I want you to do for Moon.”

Silk relaxed minutely. “Your word?”

“My word and my life on it, Silk. Moon is my life.” She swallowed and looked away. “I’ve kept her out of mother’s clutches thus far. I know what she did to you and Vine, and that she let it get so far on purpose.”

A humming filled Silk’s ears as the revelation sunk past layers and years of self-recrimination. “What?”

“I only found out recently. She was ranting at me about—”

“She knew!” She knew! And she hadn’t acted. She hadn’t tried to protect her own children. A more dangerous thought occurred to her, a troubling, monstrous possibility and her blood ran cold. “Did… stars above, did she push us?”

Rosary’s mute, pained look told her everything. “She holds something over all of us, Silk. I don’t know why. I don’t know if she initially planned it, but I suspect she did not. She did what she does. She took advantage of a perceived weakness. For you, your sister.”

“Proof,” Silk gasped, her mouth dry as ash, her tongue feeling swollen in her mouth. “Do you have proof?” The words came out thickly, the implications of what Rosary so casually dropped on her battering their way in from the back of her mind.

“No. Only my words and what I can claim I heard.”

Tear her down. Destroy her. Silk’s thoughts bubbled with fury for long moments before her sister’s image in her mind came to her. Fourteen years old, sobbing in the wake of Roseate’s dismissal.

“Why tell me?” Silk’s voice sounded like a grinding wheel to hear ears, rough and too high pitched, too close to the edge of panic.

“An offering to show my sincerity.” Rosary set her tea cup down and met her eyes. “Take a sip of tea, Silk. I need you in control.”

“I am in rutting control,” Silk growled. “I’ve spent the last five years living with the mare I’m attracted to, that I can’t be attracted to. I’ve learned more about self control than you can possibly rutting imagine.” She knew about delayed revenge, too. She’d once had a plan to visit it on Rosewater for abandoning Crown to enemy imprisonment so many months ago, only for those plans to fall apart at Crown’s own urging. “Why tell—”

Silk shook her head sharply and took a deep breath, pushing back down the fury. She could deal with that later. With Vine. They would deal with it together.

“Tell me what you want for Moon.”

“How much do you trust Prim Pleat?”

“I can’t bring an expectant mother into this, Rosary.”

“I’m not asking you to scheme with her. I’m asking how much you trust her. I want my daughter to learn more traditions of sewing and stitching than Merrie’s.” Rosary settled down more deeply into the facing couch, finishing off her tea and setting cup and saucer down with a ringing clink. “I want you to arrange a dual apprenticeship, and I would like you to find a way to accompany her to her second.”

“You’re assuming she would accept. She already has a child of her own and another on the way.” Her mind circled back around to Vine, but she pushed it back again and took a sip from her tea, keeping the cup steady with a more focused spell than she needed just to keep her thoughts busy for another moment. “I will write her, but understand she won’t readily accept. She likely has half a dozen apprentices already.”

“And you have but the one?”

“I’ll miss her, Rosary. Do you have a reason for wanting to split the apprenticeship?”

“She’s going to her first Gala this winter, Silk. I’d like her to be more comfortable with Dammers from the start than any of us were. It’s clear, to me, that this is the end of the war. Lace beat us, and she didn’t even have to raise a cudgel to do it.”

“But mother—”

“Mother is insane. Her rant, what she did to you, what she’s done to all of us…” Rosary’s eyes went distant for long, ragged breaths before she closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not enough. But it’s all I can do. My children are my life, Silk. I would—”

Silk was silent as Rosary’s jaw worked, her eyes shimmering before tears started streaming down her cheeks, unseen horrors flashing by her eyes, her ears flatting as unheard, monstrous words trampled them down.

“I have done terrible things. I’m a monster, Silk. I’m a monster because my babies needed me to be one to stay safe. I need—” Rosary drew in a ragged breath. “I need you to do what I cannot be seen to do. I need you to make sure my sweet moon has a safe place.”

“And Quill?”

Rosary shook her head softly, a faint smile on her lips. “Quill is already safe, Silk. I have… made arrangements for him already with… well.” She shook her head again, more sharply. “Moon is the reason I came to you, and I’d rather not share more of my plans than I must.”

Silk pursed her lips, but nodded. “Three can keep a secret if two are dead.” She cocked her head. “And Kestrel? He’s not really ill, is he?”

Rosary gave her a considering look, ears twitching. “He’s heartily sick of being cooped up, but he was truly ill. Featherfell, but a mild case. Powder and Well have made their own arrangements. I’m not privy to them, either.”

“You’re taking away mother’s arsenal, then.”

“Only the sticks and stones we care most about. They will never be used to break our bones.” Silk glanced at her cup, raising it to study the intricately painted lines of vines and greenery decorating the base. “You have a plan for Vine?”

Instant suspicion welled up in her heart, but she managed to keep it from her eyes and her voice, but only barely. “Do you really think I’m going to trust you to even answer a yes or no question? Either way, you have something over me.”

Her sister laughed, harsh and cold. “Fair enough. If you don’t have a plan, I suggest you make one. Soon. And don’t allow yourself to be alone with mother. Always have a witness, Silk.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have incest hanging over your head.”

“No. I don’t.” Rosary’s eyes turned cold and hard. “What I have hanging over my head is two piles of dirt, six feet deep. I will do anything to keep my children safe, Silk. Even if that means outing you and Vine. I don’t want to. But I’m a monster, Silk. Don’t make me be the monster under your bed.”

“You won’t threaten me, Rosary,” Silk said in a shakier voice than she liked. “I love Moon. You don’t need to threaten me to look out for her.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I know you’re scared. But this isn’t the way to ask for my help. ‘Or else’ won’t buy loyalty. Can’t you see that? That’s what mother does.”

Rosary held her breath for a long moment, then nodded. “I… I apologize. There is a reason why I came to you now, Silk. It wasn’t to interrupt your reading. I am…” She took a breath, then another, eyes closing as she focused and then relaxed. “I am not in my right mind. I had a meeting with mother this morn’ over breakfast tea and scones…”

“They are getting far too cozy with each other,” Rosate said for the sixth time in as many days, staring out the window towards the Primrose bridge. The noise of the festival was dimmed by distance, but the occasional shout of a hawker would reach them when the breeze from inland caught it just right. “There is no way they ‘happened’ to plan a dinner during the first snowstorm of the year. Tonight, there will be news that Rosewater has decided to ‘play it safe’ and stay the night and get herself with foal.”

Rosary shook her head slowly. “They have not yet registered. We’d know. Aren’t we paying a clerk to let us know if any such paperwork crosses their desk?”

“A hundred bits a month. With no guarantee and no leverage.” Roseate snorted. “That’s if she didn’t raise her tail for that knight captain and get it done under the table.”

Why must everything be about sex? Rosary shrugged instead. “If she did, and the paperwork isn’t settled properly, we can challenge the legitimacy of the foal in court. We know she hasn’t registered with a stallion in Merrie.”

“Because that Prim stallion of hers is rutting other mares now?” Roseate snorted. “Rosary, you’re too naive. The law says nothing about the stallion maintaining a single partner. He could come rut with me and get me with foal and Rosewater’s would be just as legitimate.”

Thank you, mother, for that disgusting image. He’s thirty years your junior. Rosary kept the sentiment from her face and nibbled at the edge of a scone, sniffing as she did so to make sure the body wasn’t doused with any of mother’s Softening Mind perfumes. She didn’t need to be saying the first thing on her mind. Ever.

Eventually, Roseate turned from her seething survey of the distant festival and rummaged around for a map in her wall of scrolls, coming away with one of the southern districts that she rolled out on the desk, ignoring the tea cup Rosary had to rescue and the half-eaten scone barely hanging onto its plate.

Roseate was unraveling faster and faster, and it was starting to show in the small things.

“How are your children?” Roseate asked abruptly, sitting down and resting a hoof on the map.

“Quill is recovering quite nicely from the case of featherfell he got from his cousin, though I admit he did have a rough time of it for a week,” Rosary said, shaking her head slowly. “At least he and Kestrel had some play time together.”

Roseate tapped her hoof on the map lightly. “Good. I’m glad he’s doing better. And Moon? I saw the bow she embroidered on Silk’s dress. It really was well done.”

Bow? Rosary wracked her memory for Moon telling her she’d made a bow for Silk for a gala dress. She’d have been over the moon with excitement if she had. Most of what Silk had her doing was simple hidden stitches in sashes and hats. Nothing fancy or more complicated than a straight line or an even curve. And certainly no embroidery. Not yet.

“It… was,” Rosary said cautiously, glancing down at where Rosate’s hoof tapped on the map intermittently. It was the most hamhocked way she’d ever heard her mother reference both of her children.

For a long moment, she stared confoundedly at the map and the words Roseate’s hoof were barely touching. The marks on the detailed inset crossing off rows upon rows of…

Sweet stars have mercy. Grave plots. Rosary drew in a sharp breath, her heart in her throat as she met her mother’s cold, dead stare. A pony didn’t look back at her, but a monstrous beast, unfeeling and uncaring.

“This winter will be especially harsh, Rosary. It’s important that we plan for all contingencies. I’ve ordered that we increase this year’s harvest of firewood for stockpiling in case of any emergencies, but we also need to beware of food shortages.”

Rosary’s mind reeled at the sudden shift. What did… why? Why ask me about my children? Why…

“I could barely keep my attention, and I’d half convinced myself I was making it all up. That I was paranoid and fearful. She wouldn’t… she couldn’t. She knows I’d…”

Silk stared at her sister as she finished recounting the harrowing morning meeting. “You came straight here?”

Rosary nodded distractedly, raising a hoof to her mouth and chewing lightly on its edge, a nervous habit Silk had thought she’d broken a decade ago. “Do you think she meant what I think she did? Am I being paranoid?”

“Does Featherhawk know?”

Rosary shook her head, ears flattening. “He doesn’t know half of what I’ve done. Not even a quarter.”

“You need to get them out of the city now, Rosary. Not tomorrow, not tonight, now. Send them… rutting hell. Send them to rutting Collar. He’d protect any child.”

“I can’t. Stars, I can’t, she’ll go after Kestrel.” Rosary’s fraying control snapped as she sobbed. “She’ll go after my foal, Silk. We haven’t even announced it yet.”

Pregnant? “Oh stars, Rosary.”

Her ragged nerves started making more sense. The entire situation made even less. “Stars, and you had to come straight to me. Why me, Rosary? Why can you only trust me with this? Why not Powder and Well?”

“Because…” Rosary hiccuped and swallowed. “Rosewater trusts you.”

Hoo. Silk sank down into her couch, staring at her sister and wondering just how much of the night, just how much of their private conversations, Rosary knew about. Words didn’t come for minutes as Rosary composed herself bit by bit, even getting up to make another two cups of tea without Silk registering the fact until the scent of Jasmine and blueberries tickled her nose.

She looked up to find Rosary watching her with a smile on her lips.

“And my daughter loves you.”

Silk took the offered tea and downed it in one gulp, barely tasting it, and cleared her throat. “I love her, too, Rosary.”

“Please. I need your help.”

It was a gamble. Stars, it was an enormous gamble. If this was a game, a ploy by Rosary to get inside information…

She shook her head and closed her eyes, focusing on the inner part of her magic that let her smell more of the world than anypony outside her family’s line, and took a deep breath.

Beneath the smells of the city clinging to her sister, there was a different flavor of tea, oranges and bread. Morning tea and scones. Underneath that was her sister’s unique aromatic profile. A mare, her hormones making small changes in her body that let out a particular pheromone that would only grow stronger in coming weeks as her body prepared her womb for a natal foal.

“I’ll do what I can, Rosary.” Silk closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t promise the world. But you’re right. I do have a friend who might help, but I might need to tell her some of what’s going on before she’ll agree.”

For the span of a breath being drawn in, Silk thought Rosary was going to tell her no.

“Do what you must.”

“And Quill?”

“His father is a pegasus, and we have a training saddle for our son to ride in. Quill can be gone without anypony being the wiser for most of a day before word gets back to mother.” Rosary smiled sadly. “I haven’t told him yet, but he trusts me to know when to get Quill to safety. In case of ‘bandits.’"

Silk relaxed more. “Good.”

Some part of her still warned her that this might be an elaborate ruse. Some way to get Rosewater to trip up through her. But another part of her, the part that wanted to believe that there was still good in her sister despite all she had done, wanted to believe her.

But there was no sense in leaving loose ends. “I want our agreement in writing.”

Author's Note

I really want to apologize, everyone, for being so late with this chapter. There has been a slight change in the plan going forward, and the former minor characters will start to play larger roles in the overall narrative. Vine and Silk especially will be going through their own journey, and Dazzle will likely make more appearances as the story progresses.

Rosewater and Collar are still the primary focus, but their upset at the end of the last book has caused more ripples that should be explored while their own story continues to move forward as well, and those paths that have been tangential up until recently will start to cross and impact each other in the rest of the book.

This is the start of that impact being felt.