Her eyes fluttered open. In an instant, she was aware. The deep breaths, the weight that made her bed as if on a gentle slope, even the warmth. It was not unpleasant. Not that she would call it pleasant, though. It simply was.

As if her awareness spread, those deep breaths softened and, soon, the gentle slope became steep, his hand sinking into the mattress as he pushed himself up.

He was a handsome man. She could say as much by the sight. Whether she found him handsome was not a question she could answer, though. Her life had been moulded around being a different prince's wife and so she had grown numb to such things. Or rather, had numbed herself. A marriage without leverage. The less she had, the less she would lose—and she would lose it all under that prince's care.

Such numbing could not be simply undone. Even if it could, she saw no reason to try. This marriage had no need for complications. She had no desire for such complications. Weaknesses.

"I apologise if I woke you," he whispered.

She replied with a thin smile, her eyes narrowed in a squint, and she brought up a finger to press to her lips. For a minute, they simply stared at each other. He saw no reason to question her and she saw no reason to explain.

So it was that, rather than either of them, the bedroom's door soon creaked open and a familiar maid slipped inside. "Dear need not worry, rather typical that my routine starts this early. Of course, given last night's exertions, I would come down late after a bath."

He listened with a polite expression that became ever more controlled as she spoke, yet he could not keep the blush from mingling with his sunned cheeks. "Is that so?" he said, his gaze sliding away from hers.

Her lips curled. "Gianna is my maid and knows nothing, so be at ease with her. The only other here who knows nothing is Mr Cromer; however, it should be said he was my father's butler. I trust him as I am a continuation of my father's will. For dear, I would keep that in mind."

Although he regarded the maid, it was neither warm nor cold, clear that he simply wished to remember the face. "Gianna."

Her maid paused in her preparations, mistress's clothes in hand, to bow at the master's mention of her, even if he only said her name to better his memory.

"I wonder, would dear accompany me to bathe? It does ache to be separated for even a heartbeat," she said, her tenderly delivered words at odds with a smile that looked wicked when he glanced back at her.

A sigh slipped out of him. "Must I be teased so early?" he asked.

"Is dear saying it is fine to tease him at all other hours?" she asked, this time her smile certainly wicked.

He ran his hand across his face and through the front of his hair, leaving behind an exasperated smile.

Soon enough, in the bedroom's attached bathroom, she lowered herself into the hot water, breath mingling with steam. Once settled, she dismissed her maid with a flick. "My dear shall help wash me. After all, it is only right that one should offer a proper apology for such injustices, no?"

That last word was directed at him and he once more could only offer a smile and a sigh in answer. Meanwhile, her maid bowed her head in acknowledgement, then left the room.

So it was only the newly-weds. The silence held distant chatter of birds, muffled footsteps of maids in the halls, and the gentle splashes of her movements. She seemed as if alone with how shameless she was in her scrubbing. Sure enough, she might as well have been alone, her husband's gaze fixed firmly elsewhere.

Eventually, he spoke. "She knows nothing?"

"Mm, so I would rather keep her that way. In much the same way, while I believe there should be no secrets between husband and wife, the knowing of a secret inevitably changes us. So, I would ask dear to trust my judgement on what secrets are best not known, while also promising that, if asked, I would be truthful. I would offer dear the same and ask for the same promise."

Her continued use of dear in private drew another empty smile out of him. "Is such an arrangement warranted?" he asked.

She paused her bathing to stare at him until he glanced over. With their gazes meeting, she raised an eyebrow. "Only dear knows the weight of his secrets. That I am the one proposing this, it need not be said how heavy my secrets are."

His gaze slid away in a silent concession. "What of your acting, is that warranted too?" he asked.

"Does dear remember me at all from my time at the Royal Palace?"

"I mostly recall how Hector spoke of you," he said. In the silence that followed, though, he mulled it over. "Docile, I suppose. You looked at him as if he was your sun, the light of your world, which made his comments all the more off-putting."

She laughed, the gentle sound filling the room as they echoed off the walls. Her voice, though, notably did not echo, quiet. "The truth is I never loved him. Well, perhaps when my father still breathed, I did. However, it was to my benefit to be perceived as completely enamoured with him. It still is. As long as others think my actions are intended to aggravate him up, they do not consider what else I may be accomplishing."

"Like your assistance to Lord Bavaria and then to Lord Bohemia," he said in a matching quiet.

At that remark, she cupped her hands in the water and brought them up, then let the water splash down. "Indeed. From what I have heard, I sought favours to oppose the betrothal's annulment. When Lord Bavaria petitioned on my behalf, it was a ruse to remind the King that I had lost the only family I had left in a last attempt to have him reconsider."

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"Your acting even had me fooled."

"Pray do not misunderstand," she said, and for the first time he heard a chill in her voice. "That I never loved him does not mean I do not now hate him. What he took from me, what he denied me, cannot be understated. I shall never know motherhood, estranged from the future my father prepared for me. It is as if am in limbo."

A moment, then he asked, "Is that the truth?"

Her laughter again spilled, splashing against the walls and running under the doors to any listening. "It is close enough. Disgust, perhaps, fits better. He is not fit to rule."

"However, he would have been an ideal ruler with you at his side."

She found herself unexpectedly surprised. "Dear already knows me so well," she said lightly.

With a hand on his chin, he asked, "Do I, or am I simply being shown another act?"

"I wonder?" she said, the tone oh so sweet.

His empty chuckle didn't quite fill the room as well as her laughter. "Perhaps I should begin to learn my lines, that I may play the role mein Schatz has prepared for me."

"I have no interest in writing plays. However, I would recommend dear uses French instead. It better suits his station."

"Of course, mon petit pain," he said, humour in his voice that did not linger on his face.

For a while, silence settled atop their quiet breaths. The hot water, lightly scented, massaged away yesterday's aches, even a simple ceremony far from simple when it involved a prince.

"Do give father my thanks for his gifts," she said.

His mouth widened into a smile. "I think the amusement it gave him is thanks enough, being asked for a bunch of animals as if we were living in the Old Testament."

"Those animals are worth countless thanks," she simply said, neither serious nor sarcastic.

"Truly?" he asked lightly.

She traced a pattern atop the water and watched the ripples spread and merge. "In particular, to sell a Polish warhorse is a capital offence. I do not disagree with that weight. They are a supreme breed for war," she said.

"That they might be, yet will there be a place for them? You have already bested them with gunpowder," he said, interest colouring his tone warmer.

"Did I?" she said with a smile only the water saw. "It would have been my complete loss if not for the circumstances."

His eyes narrowed, brow pulled together in a wrinkle. "I confess those circumstances are not known to me."

"Well, there will be no shortage of time to discuss this later. Dear should be more concerned with his first campaign," she said, the bait she left for him as enticing as always.

So he happily bit. "Mm, I wonder where mon petit lapin shall send me," he said, humour in his voice.

She replied with a titter. "Dear is fortunate, Italy in the spring a lovely place. I have even paved the way—both literally and figuratively."

Of course, he had expected that. "Another boon for you that our marriage shall connect to your new territory." There was no disgust in his words, rather a subtle praise, the grand extent of her forethought something that became more apparent with time.

However, she replied with a sharp slap, water splashing over the side of the tub.

"Allow me to be clear, I would conquer no one. That is something men do to make up for their own inadequacy. If one cannot rule without pillaging, then one is not a ruler, but a thug," she said, her voice carrying a chill.

It left him hesitant, unsure if this was another act he was supposed to question. In the end, he offered a quiet, "Of course, do forgive me."

"How could I not forgive dear?"

More chilling than before was how warm she once again sounded, another reminder for him that, regardless of where she resided now, she had grown up in the Royal Palace.

"This shall be a joint venture with the Austrians to blockade the Venetians. We shall move down in the west while they take the east, then surround the lagoon. Of course, it may seem futile when they may simply bring in supplies by boat, but that is to misunderstand the purpose of the blockade."

Although he did not consider himself talented at such thought, it felt as if she had always made sure to say just enough—and not confuse the matter by saying too much. "We sever Venice from the mainland, yet for what purpose if not to subjugate them? Or is it that you would gift that land to the Austrians?"

While her smile went unseen by him, he heard it clearly. "It truly is always conquest for men. No, the Austrians shall adjust their border, but there is tension with Hungary and Croatia, as well as agreements with other Italian powers to temper their greed."

She slipped deeper into the water, a long sigh escaping her as she did.

"Does dear not remember the purpose of my trip?"

He stilled, chided, frustrated with himself. "Trade," he whispered.

Her smile grew and she said no more.

"The Venetian mainland produces much grain that would need to be sold elsewhere," he said.

She drew in another deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly let it out. "There are many moving parts involved. In truth, I cannot detail a specific plan at this time. What I can clearly give are the goals. First, that my army gains logistical experience. Second, that we may sway parts of the Venetian mainland into trading with us. Third, albeit unlikely and less important, that we may come away with a token concession from the Venetians."

He listened, listened close. It was not that she said anything particularly ludicrous nor genius, instead fascinated by this perspective, that she so clearly knew what her success looked like—success that did not strictly require a single battle won.

It was not as simple as cause and effect, rather that she reshaped the world to be in her favour. She built a road, not only for a particular reason, but for the opportunities it could and would present her. Her marriage to him now seemed much the same—her every meeting with him.

Indeed, how great must Alexander's inadequacy have been.

Although she indulged his silence for a while, she had better things to do than spend the entire day idle, so she continued. "At the present rate of making, dear should have four thousand infantry, a quarter armed with firearms. I hope to increase that to two thousand firearms and an overall force of five thousand. With the emphasis on mercenary forces in Italy, our modest cavalry detachment should prove valuable and invaluable. Without the intention to siege, I have commissioned smaller, more mobile cannons, which can be both moved at greater speed and used more readily in battles, while their primary use should be to fortify defensive positions."

His fingertips drummed together, head hanging forwards. "Rather than the lagoon, we establish a perimeter far enough that, if they should land troops, the point of their attack can withstand the brunt while allied forces march to surround."

"Dear is indeed wise."

He froze, then a wry smile broke free. Had that been her plan all along or had she given him the requirements and the confidence that there was an answer?

"To begin with, then, dear shall be in command of the militia at the mayor's appointment. We intend to gradually introduce mandatory service with annual training thereafter. Dear would use this time to refine how he intends to manage the army, as well as begin recruitment."

"You can afford this army?"

He spoke it not as a harsh question, almost a polite statement. Still, she laughed, gentle sounds of splashing water as she adjusted her position. "I cannot afford to not afford it. So, if I am to have it, let it bring value."

Again, he could not comment on the validity of what she had said. A normal war, perhaps, but how could he even begin to guess at the profits of her "blockade"? However, he could appreciate her intention to make use of what she had.

What she had—would have—was more than just an army to her, but an extension of both diplomacy and economy, as everything seemed to be.

Splashes rang out, this time as she rose from the bath. "As for the sheep father acquired, it need not be said that I shall put them to good use too," she said, her tone light, teasing.

He could only laugh. "Of course, mon petit navet."

Of course she would.

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