In Her Element
Chapter 5

Frederick walked back to his room slowly, practically dragging his feet in despair and self-degradation. He shook his head at himself. Saying that had not gone well would be a gross understatement.

He was losing time and opportunities. Soon he would have to leave, unless he managed to gain her trust. He needed to do that soon, before anything else happened, and the anger at himself grew.

He had to get her alone, to talk. And soon.

He entered his room and shut the door quietly. He sat down by his desk and took out a clean piece of parchment and a quill. He dipped the quill into an inkwell and began writing.

He had to try to get Matthew to help, but he couldn’t risk anyone overhearing, specifically Almyra. And if everything was true, she had a lot of convenient methods on hand.

He continued writing, jotting down his thoughts and plans. Matt had figured the reason he was here involved Almyra, as well as Frederick’s past, but Frederick wondered how much he really knew.

Matt trusted him, trusted that he wouldn’t hurt Almyra. Frederick did not want to lose that trust. And he definitely did not want to hurt Almyra.

Almyra. He sighed.

A picture of her instantly came to mind—that long white nightdress, hair sweeping over her shoulders, and her glowing face.

When he had felt her mind, it had been like walking into a sea of hate. Nay, a swamp, one that he had to slog through with all the effort he had in him. He had wanted to get on his knees and beg forgiveness, for all those years ago when he had tried to help her and ended up hurting her feelings in the process. It had taken a large amount of self-control not to.…

Frederick shot up straight and shook his head. He couldn’t think like that, not ever, even if she was prettier and sharper than ever. The Master had plans, and they did not include Frederick getting himself involved with Almyra in that way—he could only pretend. He had to be so very careful not to get attached.

In hopes of clearing his mind, he got up and opened his window wide. He stood there, leaning against the sill, allowing the cool breeze to refresh him.

There was another obstacle. A big one, quite literally. One that went by the name Rupert.

Almyra trusted him completely, or at least a lot more than she did anyone else. He would make it harder to get alone with her, especially since Frederick had this gut-feeling that Rupert knew something was up.

Perhaps something could be arranged for Rupert. Almyra might be devastated, and the Gods new she would not take losing someone else very well. He would hate to be the source of the pain, but at this point, it was a price he would have to be willing to pay. If all went according to plan, she would forgive in the light of what her new life would be like. If she fulfilled the Lady’s Prophecy, her life would change to an even more splendid one then what she currently lived. And the loss of Rupert might leave her more susceptible to change, and more open to new ideas.

Frederick laughed to himself at the thought of what she might do with her newfound power over a large regime. She might just abolish all balls that were forced upon the unwilling young ladies of the higher society. She might hide her negative feelings for her upcoming Debutante’s Ball from her mother, but Frederick had watched her long enough to get to know her that he recognized the small signs she unknowingly gave that showed just how much she was dreading it.

He reached into his shirt and pulled out the strip of leather that he kept there. A small, oddly shaped key dangled from the end of it. He walked to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and opened it. He shifted clothes around until he found the small notch he was looking for, and pressed it. A soft click sounded, and a door swung open, revealing a small compartment. Inside it laid an even smaller chest, which Frederick pulled out.

He brought it to his desk and inserted the key. He twisted it, and the lid popped open. He gazed intently at the contents for a moment, picking up one and handling it before replacing it, shifting through them, and picking up another. Finally, he picked up the scroll lying on the bottom and closed the lid, pushing the chest to the corner of the desk as he did so.

Frederick undid the string keeping the scroll closed, opened it, and laid it out before him. He extracted two more inkwells from his desk drawer, and placed them as paper weights on the ends of the paper to keep them down.

He read, and read again, the story that was engrained in him since he was a young boy.

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