You ever misplace a princess?
It's surprisingly easy.
Last time we saw Loma, she was being shipped north to marry some old baron with thinning hair and expanding borders. Not Tanagra's doing. Tanagra would have preferred her quietly stabbed behind a tapestry.
This was distant relatives.
Cousins of cousins. Branch royalty. The kind that smile while calculating inheritance trees.
They didn't want her dead.
They didn't want her loud.
They wanted her contained.
So off she went.
Marry her.Park her.Keep her warm in case the throne ever needs rearranging.
Neat.
Disgusting.
The Dragon and I moved north after Lycan country and Ogden's dramatic corpse performance.
Yes, he faked his death.No, I'm not over it.
Anyway.
We weren't charging in with swords.
We were sniffing for information.
Is she married?Is she miserable?Is she wealthy?Is there a ransom angle?
Important questions.
The Baronies are wide and blunt. Bread heavy. Beer heavier. People stare straight at you and count your teeth.
We asked around.
"Princess from Tanagra?""Blonde?""Looks like she was raised indoors?"
Some nodded.
"She passed through."
"With escort."
"With priests."
Priests.
I don't like priests in travel stories.
In one town she was betrothed.
In another she was already wed.
In a third the groom "fell ill."
In a fourth the wedding "never finalized."
When four towns tell four different lies, you know you're in dynastic territory.
We followed the trail anyway.
Because she shines. You don't just lose Loma. She walks like someone owes her marble floors.
But somewhere between two keeps and a river crossing, the story stopped being about marriage.
It became about "transfer."
"Protective seclusion."
"Temporary holding."
Holding.
Like grain.
Like livestock.
Like inconvenient royalty.
The Dragon summed it up while pretending not to care.
"She is too valuable to discard. Too dangerous to empower. So they circulate her."
"She's not coin."
"No," he agreed. "She is collateral."
That's when it clicked.
She wasn't being married.
She was being positioned.
Pawned between distant branches of monarchs who didn't dare use her but wouldn't let her breathe either.
Move her north.Move her west.Move her out of sight.
Keep her warm. Keep her silent.
I don't like boards.
I don't like being told where pieces belong.
And I definitely don't like someone shelving my princess like seasonal pottery.
So we kept moving north.
Because if she's a pawn?
Then I'm about to flip the board.
***
And before you start getting sentimental ideas — no.
It's not like I'm getting soft on that royal brat.
Don't look at me like that.
It's simple.
Practical.
Strategic.
If Loma is suddenly a proper baroness — even if it's some pigsty little fiefdom with three goats and a damp hall — that is still better than barefoot and fallen princess wandering magistrate dungeons.
Baroness is stable.
Baroness has income.
Baroness has walls.
Barefoot princess has… me.
And let's be honest, that's not a retirement plan.
So if she's married?
Good.
Excellent, even.
Because then what does that make me?
Well.
At minimum?
Baronial best friend forever.
Which comes with:
guest chambers
access to kitchens
influence
plausible deniability
and maybe, if we're lucky, a small discretionary purse
This is not softness.
This is upward mobility.
Through friendship.
And mild emotional leverage.
The plan was very simple.
Find where Loma got domesticated.
Weasel or blackmail our way into the baronial household.
Establish presence.
Assess finances.
Deploy charm.
We are adorable.
Or at least I am.
The Dragon is philosophical.
He claims that ruins the effect.
"Households sense disturbance," he says, flying low over the barley fields. "They close ranks."
"They won't close ranks on me."
"They will."
"They won't."
He snorts smoke.
"You do not enter systems. You agitate them."
"That is called personality."
"That is called structural stress."
He circles lower.
"Besides," he adds, "if she is married, she may not welcome interference."
"Please," I say. "She always welcomes me."
He gives me a look.
"You are aware that is not universally considered a virtue."
I ignore him.
Because the logic is flawless.
If Loma is a baroness now?
Then she is safer.
And if she is safer?
Then I can afford to be dramatic about it.
And if she is wealthy?
Then I can afford dinner.
This is not about affection.
This is about asset stabilization.
Which just happens to involve my princess.
And if somewhere under all that practicality there is a tiny flicker of annoyance at the idea of her being locked in some northern keep without me?
That is purely territorial.
I invested in her chaos.
I expect dividends.
So north we went.
Not to rescue.
Not to intervene.
Just to… check.
And maybe move in a little.
For stability.
Obviously.