Hohenfels

“I wonder if Eisengrund Hall is still standing,” Friedrich wondered with a spiteful grin on his face.

“Don’t be too happy about this. I’ll have to deal with the fallout as well,” Arne sighed. While the stupid rumors painted Princess Klara in a decidedly more negative light, he would still have to live with the various social consequences and undoubtedly endure dozens of curious inquiries.

‘I wish I could contact Mother,’ he despaired inwardly. A letter would take forever to arrive at Hohenfels castle, and her reply would take just as long. In the meantime, the entire situation would have changed drastically.

Doing the next best thing by talking to Lord Hartmut had not been particularly fruitful, with the old warrior simply suggesting to ‘sit it out and wait’, something Arne had planned to do anyway.

He sighed again, letting his head fall on the wooden surface of the dorm refectory table. Thankfully, the cousins had occupied a small niche in the back, so he did not have to care about optics.

“And of course Prince Maximilian’s soirée is set for tonight,” he mumbled into the table. “That would have been bad enough on its own, and now it got so much worse.”

The invitation had arrived earlier today, shortly before news of the rumors had reached Arne’s ears. It was at extremely short notice, which would have been perceived as rude coming from anyone but a son of the Emperor. But perhaps it was better this way – had Arne known earlier, he would have spent more time dreading it.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that,” Friedrich said cheerily. “But look at the bright side: That wretch will have an even worse time than you, if she shows up!” Malicious glee.

“She can’t afford not to go. Just like me. It will be so awkward when we run into each other…”