Earlier, when Tamsin was getting ready to leave, Primrose had been kind enough to help without asking any questions.

Primrose had helped Tamsin sneak into her brother's room, helped her go through his old oak wardrobe for something that might at least sort of fit her, helped her awkwardly dress herself in it. Her only comment had been about how Lady Tamsin had always looked nice in maroon.

Then Primrose had followed her back to Tamsin's own room, where she'd helped her mistress pack. Only essentials. Undergarments (her brothers, Tamsin had never been very gifted in the... chest region, so she could get away with men's underthings), boots and socks (her own, her brother had much larger feet than hers and she needed to be able to walk comfortably), and Primrose's book. Primrose didn't ask her why she needed to take it, when she had just been meant to borrow it before. Primrose even sneaked down to the kitchens to steal some bread and cheese for Tamsin to take with her.

Finally, Primrose had taken out a pair of scissors and begun shearing Tamsin's locks, with only a minor complaint of "Such a shame, your hair has always been so pretty. So fine and soft. Like a cat's fur."

"It will still be soft after you cut it," said Tamsin.

"True enough, my lady."

Sitting there in the chair, the sound of scissors snipping softly behind her, Tamsin finally built up the courage to broach the subject herself. "You're not curious where I'm going?"

"The way I see it, there are plenty of good reasons for a young woman to dress up as a man and run away from home," said Primrose. "Most of which are quite personal. I wasn't sure you'd feel comfortable sharing with me, my lady. I don't want to overstep."

"After helping me this much, you're allowed to overstep a little," said Tamsin.

"Well, if you insist, my lady," said Primrose. She combed out a bit of Tamsin's hair to check the length and then made another snip. "Are you with child, then?"

"What!?" Tamsin sat up in her chair so quickly, Primrose actually nicked her ear slightly. "Ow!" said Tamsin.

"Oh, my lady, you should be careful around scissors," said Primrose, grabbing a handkerchief to press to Tamsin's wound.

"Why would you think I'm with child?" asked Tamsin. It was a small cut but it was bleeding a surprising amount. "How would dressing as a man even help me if I was having a baby?"

"Oh, I don't know, my lady," said Primrose, lightly. "You could be going to find the father of your child, who was only passing through at the time, to get him to marry you before you give birth to a shameful bastard."

Tamsin had to take a moment to process this.

"Who... who even passes through here that I could have had a chance to be with like that?" asked Tamsin, blushing at the very notion.

Primrose shrugged. "Guards? They come and go all the time."

"Not in and out of my bed!" said Tamsin.

"Alright, my lady, no offense meant," said Primrose. The bleeding had mostly stopped by now, so Primrose picked up the scissors and got to work again. "Are you off to seek glory, then? Pose as a young man with no family to join the army and prove yourself on the field of battle?"

"But women are allowed to join the army as they are!" said Tamsin. After all, she'd been killed by a woman who was a war hero.

"Yes, but only at the level of knights or above," said Primrose. "If you wanted to abandon your family name you'd have to become an enlisted man and to be an enlisted man you'd have to be, well, a man."

Tamsin sighed. "No, I don't want to join the army as an enlisted man," she said. "Obviously I'm not going to try to seek glory in battle. When have I ever been interested in learning to wield a sword? You know me!"

"Well... sort of," said Primrose. "You've always been a quiet sort, my lady. Lord Roger was always easy to read, but I've never quite been sure what's going on in that head of yours. There. All done."

Primrose handed a small hand-mirror to Tamsin, and she did her best to inspect herself by the candlelight.

It was almost depressing how little she actually looked like her brother.

Roger's skin had been tanned and healthy looking. Tamsin's was pale and freckled. Roger's hair had been messy, often sticking up this way and that in a way that drove their mother insane, but it made him look... full of life, somehow. Tamsin's hair, now short and parted to one side, still looked mostly flat and lifeless. Roger had filled out his suits with strong muscular arms, but Tamsin looked like a skeleton with fabric hanging off her.

Still, the cut was clean. And the suit at least looked masculine. It wouldn't fool anyone, but Tamsin was hoping that being seen to play the part would help her make her case, when the time came. It didn't need to fool anyone, it just needed to convince them she was serious.

"Thank you, Primrose," said Tamsin, setting the mirror down.

"So, what's the answer then?" asked Primrose.

"Huh?" said Tamsin.

"Where are you going?" asked Primrose. "Since you say it's not possible for you to be with child, I assume you're not eloping with a sweetheart."

Tamsin thought about this for a moment.

"Well..." she said.

Primrose's face lit up. "Don't tell me you really are eloping?" she asked, excitedly.

"Not exactly..." said Tamsin. "But also sort of."

She explained.

Half an hour later, Tamsin was explaining the same thing to poor Captain Frieg, standing there in his nightshirt with his mouth hanging open.

"Marry the—? Why? How!? You can't—" he paused for a moment. "No, you definitely can't! And why would you want to? And how would you even—"

Tamsin put her hand up to stop him.

"I can," said Tamsin. "I've found legal precedent. It's from a book of stories but... I think it will carry weight. And I have to. You were in the imperial army for years. Certainly you know the consequences for breaking this kind of contract."

Frieg closed his mouth, and his face suddenly went dark as he contemplated what he knew. "There must be... there must be another way. Someone else you could send as a substitute groom."

Tamsin shook her head. "There's no one else. For a noble engagement contract in which land and titles will change hands, the closest acceptable substitute in the case of an unexpected death is a second cousin, by blood. You know that I'm the last of the Gwedric line."

"But you're..." Frieg looked back and forth and then lowered his voice like he was telling a secret. "A woman. As is the Duchess! Two women can't get married. Even if you cut your hair short and wear your brother's suit."

"For the legal purpose of my marriage, I'll be a man," said Tamsin.

"What?" said Frieg. "That doesn't make sense."

"Oh, I know the answer to this one!" said Primrose. "You see, the substitute in a wedding like this actually legally takes on the identity of the original person who was supposed to get married. You'd be surprised how often that comes up in romance novels about the aristocracy."

"What?" said Frieg again. "I still don't understand."

"I'll marry the Duchess," said Tamsin. "But on paper, as far as the law is concerned, it will be my brother who marries the Duchess."

Frieg took this all in.

"And you think the Duchess and her people will accept this argument?"

"She'll have to," said Tamsin. "There's precedent. Besides, I don't think..."

Tamsin remembered the grim expression in the Duchess's eyes when she'd dealt the final blow. The anger that flashed across her face when she realized what Tamsin's parents had done to her.

"I don't think the Duchess actually wants to go through with the alternative," finished Tamsin.

"What's the alternative?" asked Frieg.

"You know," said Tamsin. "You don't want to know, you don't want to think about it, but you must know what's coming if I don't do this."

Frieg was silent again for a moment. The look in his eyes now was far away, full of unfamiliar pains. "Yes, I know," he said finally.

"Most of the household knows," said Primrose, in a tone far more serious than she'd been using up to this point. "No one dares to talk about it out loud, but they whisper about it at night and in dark corners. Everyone's trying to decide whether or not to flee the city before the Duchess's forces come."

Tamsin gave Primrose a sideways look. "You knew the Duchess's forces were coming and you didn't guess that I was running away for that reason?" asked Tamsin.

Primrose shrugged. "I thought that would probably be the answer in the end but it was more fun to guess other things first."

"I would have stayed," said Frieg, the pride of an old soldier flashed in his eyes. "I would have stayed with your family to the end. But I had hoped there would be another way..."

"I've found the other way," said Tamsin, trying to project a confidence she didn't fully believe herself yet. "I just need your help. You know the way, and..."

Tamsin remembered Frieg, with that same kind, concerned, but determined look on his face, staying with her while she waited to die. He was the only one who did.

"I trust you," said Tamsin. "Will you come with me? Please?"

Frieg's hesitation was gone. He placed a hand on his chest and bowed. It was a dignified gesture, even in his nightshirt. "My lady, it would be a true honor," he said. "I'll meet you by the stables as soon as I'm prepared. If you wish to leave before morning we don't have much time."

Primrose waited by the stables with Tamsin, keeping her company in the early morning darkness. The two of them were leaning against a low fence, standing in a silence that was surprisingly comfortable, given the drastic journey that Tamsin was about to set out on.

Primrose had been so kind to her in the last few days. She supposed Primrose had always been kind to her, she just hadn't taken much notice of her. For most of her life, Tamsin hadn't particularly wanted to be noticed. So she tried not to notice others as well. She shrunk herself. Minimized her contact with others, minimized her presence, until it was like she barely existed. She thought that was better.

But now Tamsin could see how many friendships she had missed out on by living that way.

She regretted it immensely. She'd wasted so much of her life. She'd wasted her entire life, living that way. She didn't want to waste it again.

"I don't know if it's inappropriate to ask, my lady," said Primrose, breaking the silence. "But if it's not too forward, could you perhaps write to me, from Jordaine? Just so that I know you arrived there safely. And I'd love to hear stories of the Duchy! I've heard it's beautiful this time of year."

"I'd be happy to write to you," said Tamsin, with a small smile. Then she had an idea. Excitedly, she added, "But Primrose... do you maybe... want to come with us? I'm sure the Duchess wouldn't begrudge me bringing a personal maid with me."

"Oh, my lady!" said Primrose, covering her mouth with her hand. "It's so kind of you to ask, but I just couldn't."

"Why not?" asked Tamsin.

"Well... you know, poor Zelene would be completely lost without me. She's absolute rubbish when it comes to making a bed. And Mrs. Ashworthe really relies on me for dusting the library and... well," Primrose's eyes were shimmering with emotion. "This is my home, plain and simple. I could never leave my home. I don't think... I don't think I would have left even if the Duchess and her army were knocking at the door."

That knocked Tamsin back to her senses.

Of course this was Primrose's home. Just because Tamsin had to leave behind everything and (almost) everyone she'd ever known behind to march willingly into an unknown lion's den, didn't mean she had a right to ask the same thing of her servants. Even if... even if it seemed like they might be capable of becoming her friend.

Tamsin wondered vaguely what had happened to the domestic servants, the first time around. The ones that hadn't fled. The ones that her parents hadn't brought with them. Would they have hidden, maybe in the root cellar or the scullery? Would the Duchess's army have shown mercy to non-combatants?

"I understand," said Tamsin. "I promise... I'll make sure the Duchess's army never comes knocking. I'll save your home."

"Oh, my lady," said Primrose, tears in her eyes. "It's your home, too, you know! Even if you're leaving it behind."

Tamsin wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Finally, Frieg arrived. He was wearing plate armor with a sword strapped to his side and he was carrying several full saddlebags. He was walking fairly awkwardly, and not just because of the weight of the bags.

"It's my old army gear," said Frieg. "My guard uniform's never been very... practical. It's never needed to be. But this armor doesn't quite fit right anymore."

While Frieg saddled up the horses, Primrose and Tamsin exchanged brief goodbye hugs and Tamsin promised to write. Finally, the maid went back inside.

Tamsin hoped Primrose was going to get some sleep, and that Mrs. Ashworthe wouldn't be too mad at her if she woke up late the next morning.

Perhaps the young mistress of the household suddenly going missing would be enough to distract the household so none of them noticed if Primrose was slacking just a little.

When it was finally time to leave, Frieg helped Tamsin up onto her horse. He'd chosen a rather meek mare for her, and Tamsin didn't know whether to feel offended or relieved. She'd learned to ride when she was younger, but she didn't like to do it very often. That was just another way she was unlike her brother, who had been a skilled horseman.

Not quite skilled enough to not fall off a horse and hit your head and die in a freak accident, thought Tamsin, bitterly. But don't worry. I may not be as handsome as you were or as personable as you were or as skilled as you were... but I will do your duty in your place.

As she settled onto the horse, Frieg looked up at her with concern. "Are you sure you don't want to say goodbye to your parents?" he asked. "Tell them where you're going?"

Tamsin remembered the last time her parents had said goodbye to her, before abandoning her to die in their place. She thought of them up in their room right now, plotting that same plot again.

"No," said Tamsin coldly.

Tamsin had a lot of regrets. A lot of things she wished she could have done differently in her life up until now. A lot of people she wished she could have been closer to.

But she would be perfectly happy if she never saw her parents again.

"Then let's go," said Frieg, struggling a little to get onto his own horse in the plate armor he was no longer accustomed to. When he finally got settled in, he said. "To Jordaine!"

And they were off.