The guards looked at the Emperor, horrified. The Emperor just shrugged. His sword coated in blood, and the Empress lay crumpled on the ground.

“It must have been her blood that made my son so weak," said the Emperor, matter-of-factly. "What use do I have for such a wife? I don’t need any more of the children she might give me.”

The Emperor wiped his sword with the end of his cloak and resheathed it, gesturing for the guards to take the Empress’ body away.

“Come here, my children,” he said, waving Corvina and Sebastian closer.

Robert continued to hang back, watching the whole scene with the same level of bored attention.

When they reached him, the Emperor knelt down, putting one hand on Corvina’s shoulder and the other on Sebastian’s.

“Such a shame,” he said. “One of you is the daughter of a whore, but has the soul of a leader. The other, the son of a royal, but with a weak disposition.” The Emperor shook his head. “Never mind. Between the two of you—” he nodded towards Robert, “—between the three of you, we will ensure the future of the empire. As long as you all learn to play your proper roles. Do you think you can do that?”

The children all nodded.

“Excellent!” said the Emperor, clapping his hands once and standing up. “Then we shouldn’t waste time.”

After that, the children never saw Viscountess Lintone again. Instead, the Crown Prince was instructed by a series of tutors, who taught him such things as horseback riding, etiquette, history—all the knowledge a young nobleman was expected to possess. He grew up to be a hedonistic young man, throwing himself into anything he found fun or interesting or distracting, while his father indulged him in his every whim.

Meanwhile, Corvina and Robert were instructed by the Emperor himself and several of his senior advisors, learning politics, spycraft, swordplay, and all the other violent and unpleasant skills required of a true leader.

When asked about what happened to the Empress, the Emperor had claimed she had secretly been a traitor spying for her homeland all along. Using this supposed betrayal as an excuse, he’d declared war on Ladore. Within five years, the Kingdom of Ladore no longer existed, and the citizens of the empire rarely dared mention the woman who had once been its princess.

The lamp-light flickered and the weight of history seemed to hang heavily in the shadows around them while Corvina relayed all of this to Anne. At some point Corvina had taken out a cigarette, but she hadn’t lit it. She just held it in her hands, fidgeting with it while she spoke.

“Robert’s father died in battle when he was around 19. This was a different war by that time, but the empire is always at war with someone,” said Corvina. “Robert became the Grand Duke after that, and that was when the Emperor instructed us to get engaged to each other.”

Corvina leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. “I think if Robert or I had failed his test, the Emperor would have had us ejected from the palace. Or perhaps killed us outright the way he killed the Empress. But despite it all, he was too proud to take such drastic measures against his own full-blooded son and heir. So he just gave up on him, instead. He intends for me and the Grand Duke to be the true powers behind the throne once Sebastian becomes Emperor. It’s what he raised all three of us for. Our fates were all sealed on that day. I thought… I thought I didn’t have any other choices.”

When Corvina finally looked over at Anne, Anne could see how exhausted she looked. Drained by act of telling the story, or possibly drained by the very fact it had ever happened, and everything that had happened since.

“Well, Anne?” said Corvina, with a sardonic smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Killing that bird was the first violent act I ever committed, but it certainly wasn’t the last. I’ve done worse since, or caused worse to be done. In the name of making the tough decisions, of doing what had to be done. You said I let other people use me like a tool… Perhaps it’s been easier for me to think of myself as the dagger rather than as the scared little girl. Although in the end it was the girl, not the dagger, that ended that life anyway... Or perhaps I was always the bird in the cage… just waiting for someone to come along who was brave enough or scared enough to finally kill me.”

Corvina let that final thought hang in the air, watching Anne’s face. Up until this point, Anne had been listening quietly. But it seemed like the story was finally over, and Corvina was expecting her to respond to it somehow.

“Dude," said Anne. "That's fucked up."

Corvina winced. “I know, but I hope I can make up for it somehow, I hope I can—”

“No, no, no,” said Anne. She grabbed Corvina’s hand and looked Corvina in the eye, saying with all the seriousness she could muster. “That’s fucked up what your dad did to you. To all of you. What kind of person does that?”

“But I told you, since then I’ve done worse things than kill a songbird at the Emperor’s command,” said Corvina. “If you don’t want me to think of myself as a tool to be wielded by whoever I’ve decided to follow, then surely I bear some responsibility for—”

“Well, sure,” said Anne. “Your actions are your actions, but you also have to keep in mind the power structure you’ve been trapped in. When you’ve been stuck from a young age with a violent father who seems to hold the ultimate power of life and death, what are you supposed to do? And whatever you’ve done up until now, it doesn’t mean you can’t choose to do different things in the future. You can break free of your father’s influence. It might be hard and it might take a long time, but that’s okay.”

Anne could feel Corvina’s hand trembling in hers. It was strange to see a woman who was usually so composed and dignified apparently on the verge of tears like this. With Corvina’s other hand she was still holding her cigarette, rolling it between her fingers.

“Um… I’m not sure if that was the right thing to say,” said Anne. “I’m not very good with words or, like, with people in general. I don’t know if you wanted me to condemn you or whatever, but I’m on your side, Corvina. None of this changes that. If anything, it just makes me even angrier on your behalf. Like, seriously, fuck your dad for real.” Anne still didn’t feel like anything she was saying was good enough, after hearing all that. There was only one thing she could think to do, but she wasn’t sure if she would be crossing a line, so she asked. “Do you want a hug?”

Corvina nodded slightly and Anne opened her arms. Corvina collapsed into the hug, dropping the cigarette she had been holding. Corvina clung to Anne desperately and Anne held her tight, trying to somehow comfort both the woman in front of her and the scared little girl she had once been.

When Corvina had composed herself, she pulled away. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” she said, her voice a little unsteady.

“It’s okay,” said Anne. “I don’t mind, really.”

Corvina smiled wanly. “Anne…?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s something that you want?” she asked. “Right now. In this moment. Show me what it means to want. Please.”

Anne thought about it for a moment. “Dance with me,” she said.

“Dance with you?” said Corvina, slightly baffled.

“I got to dance with everyone else!” said Anne. “But the only person I really wanted to dance with was you. And you were gone from the party so long that I never got the chance.”

“There’s no music,” said Corvina.

“That’s okay,” said Anne. She stood up and offered her hand to Corvina. “We can hum something. You’re going to have to lead, though. I still don’t know how. And I apologize in advance if I step on your toes.”

Corvina took Anne’s hand and stood up.

Together, the two of them danced. In that moment, as they stumbled through a clumsy waltz in the low-lit drawing room, humming off-tune and occasionally bumping into furniture, Corvina finally understood something important.

Sebastian had been right. She was like him after all.

Corvina knew what she wanted.