The Girl far from Innocent

Julianna rasped two sharp knocks on the door of her father's study. It slowly grew ajar, revealing Leopold, her father's assistant. He was a man of around sixty years of age, with a precisely groomed ash blond mustache and gray curtained hair.

Leopold never left Sebastian's side. He served from attendant to footman to steward, and had been in Sebastian's life longer than Julianna had. Little was known about him, except that he'd mysteriously appeared when Sebastian was a teenager, and had remained ever since.

With a graceful bow, Leopold gently took the doorknob between his fingertips and swung the door further open whilst retreating to allow her passage. As she stepped through, the delicate frame of his glasses risked slipping off his face, so he pushed them back up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, but remained bowed until Julianna had proceeded into the room. She continued forward and heard the door close gently behind her, then turned to watch as Leopold positioned himself next to it, immobile as a coat rack.

She turned back around to face the piercingly light room. October in Moscow may have been shiveringly cold, but the light was as bright as ever on Kremlin Hill.

The study was minimalistic, containing the bare essentials and nothing else. Her father had never taken to decorating it, as he rarely invited guests here. As far as Julianna knew, the only outsider to have ever entered this private space was Lawrence Murray.

To both sides were towering bookcases stacked to full capacity with intricately bound volumes. Across the room, a vast window occupied the beige wall behind her father's bureau, which was currently piled with three different loads of documents.

Right before her was a low coffee table of brown mahogany embellished with two tiered stands of pastries, four porcelain tea cups, and a china kettle that rang a bell inside Julianna's heart. A few moments of thought identified it as one of her mother's china pieces, which had rested in a cabinet in the dining hall since Julianna was a young child. They came from all over Asia, and were some of her mother's most prized possessions.

Melinda was a rather distant, indifferent mother, and had not laid many rules for her seven children to follow, but there was one that she'd stressed infinitely. None of them, under any circumstances, were to touch that cabinet. This, of course, meant those pieces were never used. Yet there it was, laying in broad daylight, as if it were just one of many that had arrived on a cargo ship.

Something was not right.

This meeting was more than Ellington had made it out to be. Much more. Why else would her father have her mother's kettle here? Her mother, whom he hated most out of all inhabitants of the world.

Julianna began observing her surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Any hint of her mother's insanity, perhaps another attempt to murder her father. Or Archie, Scarlett's dog. Not that Julianna would blame her. That Archie was a real pest fest.

As she scanned the room, her eyes finally fell on her father, sitting in one of the four lavish maroon armchairs that surrounded the table. He was leaning into the backrest with his legs crossed, a thin book open on his lap.

"Father," she addressed, bowing her head respectfully with her hands laced together in front of her.

"Julianna," he replied, looking up from his book. He cast a quick glance at her sage and forest green dress before turning his head to the window. The bright mid-afternoon sun cast a goldenrod glow over her father's complexion, highlighting his bumpy nose, razor-sharp jawline, and the tips of his walnut curls. The light, however, seemed to sink into the craters of his deep set eyes, adding depth and intensity to his expression.

King Sebastian's distinct features had attracted attention to him since childhood. Some have described his traits as eerie and ghoulish, but here, hidden from the public eye, Julianna could not picture him as anything but innocent and young.

She'd heard stories of her father's past, how he had been an enclosed, bookish boy, who'd often been kicked around by his three older brothers and afraid to show his face.

She hadn't believed any of it at first. Until now, her perception of him had been that of a powerful, intimidating figure, feared by all who dared oppose him, and who was not against employing severe forms of punishment against his children. The whip marks all along Julianna's back, the first of which she'd received when she was only nine, were proof of that.

But in that tranquil moment, it was almost as if Sebastian's past and present forms overlapped, presenting Julianna with a window into her father's true self.

"What have you seen in Rhyles?" he asked out of the blue, snapping Julianna out of her reverie. He hadn't turned away from the window, his sun strained eyes almost looking directly into the sun.

"Nothing worth the time," she replied. She was still standing, and was not supposed to sit until her father allowed her to. He, however, gave no hints that he had any intention to do so.

"Things will improve, rest assured," he promised, voice trailing off into the blazing skyline. A few silent moments passed before he spoke again. "You are scheduled for a meeting with George Dearnaley later today, do I have this right?"

"Yes, Father," she answered.

"Be kind. Regardless of your feelings toward his work, he is still family," he reminded as he finally pivoted back towards her.

"Yes, Father," she repeated.

After a nod of approval, he swept a hand over the chair facing the window, at last allowing her to sit. She gave a quiet 'thank you' and sat down.

What followed next was several minutes of peaceful silence. The father-daughter pair never said much to each other, but this was simply the way things worked between them . They may have seemed cold and distant from an outside perspective, but Julianna had the closest relationship to Sebastian compared to those her siblings had. For example, Sebastian interacted with Alexander using only nods. Scarlett had not seen him in a week, though they lived on the same floor.

Time passed, and the three occupants of the room remained still. Sebastian went back to his book, Leopold retained his coat-rack stance, and Julianna stared out the window at the verdant pocket of wilderness parallel to the burning horizon.

Minutes flowed like thick syrup, in that unhurried, tranquil manner, until suddenly footsteps sounded, growing louder and louder until Leopold unlatched the door and announced the Murrays' arrival.

The atmosphere shifted to one of light humor and casual professionalism when Lawrence stepped through with a wide smile on his weathered face, accompanied by a nervous Miss Charlotte.

Mr. Murray was a man of fifty or so years old, with a thin sheath of strategically placed strands the budding yellow of a baby duck. His face was worn, with saggy cheeks, tight skin around the eyes, and wrinkles all over.

He was much shorter than Charlotte and Julianna, but had a way of towering over them both with his distinguished presence. His success, skills, and reputation were more than enough to make up for his inferior height.

Though his face was tired and ashen, he retained an air of relaxed business, and was genuine in his greetings.

As for Miss Charlotte, her almond-shaped, ice-blue eyes were akin to two pools of spring water, natural forms of beauty that did not attract much attention to themselves, but upon second glance, were mesmerizing all on their own.

Amidst her softly contoured visage was an elegantly contrasting nose, sculpted and prominent against the backdrop of her subtly beautiful face, while her skin resembled lustrous pearls, glistening with the dazzling radiance of the sun, resembling the magical sparkle of scattered fairy dust. It was innocent skin, the skin that showed the bearer had never spent hours in the scorching heat of a southern steppe, watching soldiers rip each other to shreds.

No, this was the skin of a rich, pleasant girl, who sat perfectly upright in the library reading tales of tragic love and happy endings. The skin of a girl whose biggest worry was whether her embroidery was neat enough to make into a tapestry for the living room.

Her flowing full length dress was the starkest white Julianna had ever seen, so white it hurt to directly look at. A matching belt of lace snatched her tiny waist, while a short yellow tailcoat was draped over her petite frame. The golden buttons were the same shade as her hair, adorned in a loose braid over her shoulder.

Almost completely hidden from view by the long hem of her skirt were delicate peach colored dress slippers. Their glistering surfaces were free of any specks of dust or soil, as if a red carpet had been extended right from the doors of her carriage all the way to her father's study. Even Lawrence, who was as respectfully neat as usual, had faint smears of mud on the bottom of his boots.

No one would blame him. Though Semper was shiningly clean, the servants were no fairy godmothers. The walk outside could still be ever so slightly speckled with mud. Yet here Miss Charlotte stood, impeccable as a marble statuette.

Julianna had never been fond of her.

It wasn't her money that bothered her. Of course not, the Murrays' money was but a dime compared to that of the Blackguards'.

No, money was not the issue. It was the innocence Charlotte so flawlessly portrayed.

Julianna never thought of herself as privileged, and this was because she always thought the luxuries her money afforded were perfectly matched by the pains she has had to endure since birth. The shot wounds, the sword cuts, the sights of countless massacres. Seeing her soldiers, some of whom she'd known since childhood, lay in hospital beds as life eased out of them and they became nothing but mutilated products of merciless battles.

And of course, losing her sister to the forsaken Black Devouress and her mother to pure insanity.

But Charlotte seemed to have only the luxuries and not the pains. And that is exactly what made the princess resent her.

All four occupants of the room exchanged brief, pleasant greetings, each with more or less genuine smiles on their faces.

Just as Julianna was shaking Charlotte's hand, smooth as marble under her own rough calluses, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.

Leopold was slipping out of the room.

As she turned back to Miss Murray, she noticed her father watching him go.

Leopold was always wherever Sebastian was, even war councils, but it appeared Sebastian had asked him out.

This bizarre gesture only deepened Julianna's belief that this get-together concerned far more than mere matters of business and finance.

Suddenly, the hand in hers twitched, and she turned back to a puzzled Miss Murray. Julianna let her go as Charlotte examined her with slight worry in her ice-blue eyes.

Suppressing her anxiety concerning the upcoming hour, Julianna managed to conjure a light smile before taking her seat.

The meeting began, tea was served, and inquiries after family members exchanged. They talked of work and school, of latest fashions and new arrivals in town, and of the upcoming Harvest Festival.

The Festival came halfway through the harvests of the year to congratulate and motivate the people of Legion Blackguard. It was one of the biggest holidays of the year, and was treated with utmost importance and anticipation by all.

Lawrence spoke of his plans to sponsor a boutique specializing in festival decorations, believing it held great financial potential. Sebastian weighed in with his plans for the Blackguards to tour the districts for three days to enhance the allegiance and support of the people towards the royal family.

All was going well. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be coming forth, and Julianna was starting to think she may have read too much into details. Until suddenly, Sebastian stood and retrieved from his bureau a thick pile of paper, enveloped in a leather skin and bound with gold string. The document did not bear the appearance of a typical financial document, nor the resemblance of any other royal document Julianna had ever seen.

The king moved the two dessert stands to the table's edge, creating space to place the folder as Julianna surveyed the faces of those around her.

Lawrence was staring intensely at the document, revealing this was the whole purpose of his coming that day. Her father was looking at Lawrence with a calculating look. And Charlotte was doing the same exact thing as Julianna.

Nobody moved, yet the tension continued to escalate until it seemed about to burst the whole room wide open. After long moments of intense awkwardness, Sebastian sat up, his elbows on the armrests with his hands clasped in front of him.

"Miss Murray," he spoke up, taking on a gentler air as he switched his gaze from her father to her. She seemed to subtly exhale in relief. The tension must have been most uncomfortable for this timid, sensitive girl.

"Yes, sir?" she replied in a sweet, quiet voice.

"I have extended this invitation to you today hoping to pose to you a question of great importance," Sebastian continued. Without giving her a chance to reply, he proceeded with: "Your father is a most remarkable man, and I understand he is just as remarkable a father. Am I mistaken?"

This unusual question visibly distressed poor Charlotte. It sounded like a test, though Julianna could not fathom the purpose of it.

"Not in the least, sir," she replied, her voice growing more and more faint with every word.

"Well, if that is the case, he must have taught you well. Which should mean you have as much promise as your father has talent," he went on, looking affectionately at Lawrence, to which the latter replied with a nod and a smile, though Julianna caught him peeking glances at the document in between eye contact with her father.

"I…I sure hope so, sir," Charlotte returned, looking frantically from her father to Julianna. The princess offered a tight, tenuous smile, feeling equally perplexed as Charlotte and almost empathetic toward her. Not to mention, she knew precisely what the other girl was going through. She, too, had fallen subject to her father's peculiar questioning numerous times.

"Very well, Miss Charlotte," King Sebastian announced. "In that case, my original idea proves to be well-thought," he went on, smiling a pleased smile. He propped himself up on his elbows to sit up even straighter, much like a small child that had just received a compliment from an elder.

"Miss Murray, I would like you to be frequently educated here in Semper," he stated, which elicited a bewildered reaction from Charlotte. "Your studies would be meticulously tailored to your needs, and you would have your own personal tutor. Perhaps you could also occasionally join Julianna and Jameson. How might you like that?"

Julianna silently gasped in surprise. Her father was granting an outsider regular access into Fort Semper! She didn't believe this had ever been done before!

Semper held the legion's deepest, most paramount secrets, that if leaked could take the Blackguards to their ruin. Not to say the education the inhabitants of Semper received were of the utmost excellence. Not any other school or royal family in all of Russia possessed the resources that the Blackguards did, and they were not to be shared freely.

Though she tried her best to conceal it, Julianna was exceedingly angered by her father's proposition.

Meanwhile, Charlotte looked as if Sebastian had grown horns and begun speaking in French. A few moments passed, with Miss Murray's mouth just barely off the floor, Lawrence paying more attention to that seemingly bewitching folder than his daughter, and King Sebastian looking on in contentment at the scene before him. All the while, Julianna stared at the deserted pastry stands, attempting to quench her anger with the thought of drowning herself in sugar once this was all over. Nothing could calm Julianna more than food.

Finally, Charlotte smoothed down her skirt and collected herself.

"I would greatly appreciate such an opportunity, thank you very much sir," she thanked him. Sebastian smiled, yet Julianna had a feeling this was only the beginning of something more. He had a look in his eyes, the one he often showed when his plan was following through. When everything was in his control, going exactly as he wanted them to go.

"Then, it is decided. You shall begin tomorrow. A schedule has already been prepared for you, Leopold shall bring it to you later on in the day. Before that, my son will show you around the premises," Sebastian declared, turning towards the doors that opened on command. Jameson entered, changed into a forest green suit and white boots.

Julianna stared at him, dumbfounded. This was yet another reminder that the twins were growing apart, and it tore at her.

Just eight months ago, she'd known Jameson's schedule better than her own, yet now, she hadn't even known he would end up at the same meeting as her.

"Jameson will guide you through all the classrooms where you will be learning, the library, and the twins' study. It will likely take some time, but you should know them all," he said, still looking at Jameson. He, however, seemed devoid of expression as he looked straight at Charlotte, yet Julianna could see him biting the inside of his cheek. It was a nervous habit he'd developed as a child, which had led to many instances of continuous bleeding and reluctance to drink fluids.

Julianna turned to Miss Murray.

She was looking back at him, far from expressionless, yet Julianna could not even begin to describe what she saw. It was a mix of tinted cheeks, short breaths, and fleeting eyes, something she herself had never experienced, and had never seen in anyone she cared about enough to notice.

Once again,the room risked falling into silent awkwardness, so Sebastian leaped in and broke the quietness.

"You should set off, you have quite a tour ahead of you," Sebastian advised. Charlotte stood and bowed deeply before Sebastian, then Julianna, and lastly, her father.

Jameson held the door open for her and watched her step through. Julianna watched her go, when suddenly Charlotte appeared to trip over the hem of her skirt. This brought Julianna's gaze down to her feet.

On the heel of her left shoe, the exact same shade as the one on Jameson's discarded beige suit, was a deep red streak of powder.