Natalia St. Vincent had never been to the new Theater, therefore it was safe to say she was not aware of what awaited her in The Coffin.

Aliya's mother-in-law had insisted that they accompany Oliver to Sinclair, claiming that 'it was a Royal Wife's duty to be there in case her husband got the worst missions'.

"But you rarely accompanied father when he was here," said Oliver.

"Your sister needed to be dragged to every ball I could get her to," Natalia said. "But now that they are both not here, Aliya needs to learn how to be a Royal's Wife."

"My wife is doing quite tremendously, Mother," Oliver drawled, but that did not stop Natalia from climbing into the carriage when it was time for him to leave for Sinclair.

Aliya, on the other hand, was grateful that Natalia was with her for when the woman finally stepped into The Coffin for the first time, she stiffened. And when Natalia St. Vincent stiffened with a big scowl on her face, a miracle was about to happen.

Natalia's green eyes swept across the room—from the two dead bodies and to Lady Winthrop waving at her with a teacup in her other hand, and finally at Oliver who was looking more uncomfortable as seconds ticked by.

"Oliver, what is this room?"

Oliver broke into a wide, forced smile. "Your waiting room, Mother."

Natalia's eyes widened with horror. She turned to Aliya who was biting her cheek to mask the laughter and to her friend, Lady Winthrop, already seated in her worn-out leather armchair. "Do you agree with this setting, Clara?" she asked her friend. "This is unacceptable!"

Natalia St. Vincent whirled around before Lady Winthrop could offer a reply and glared at her son. "You transform this room now, Oliver, or the opera will not begin."

"Mother, the dead bodies are necessary for hiding the Theater."

"I do not mean that side of the room, son," Natalia said, pointing at the two gurneys. "I meant that side of the room!" she finished, swinging her arm to point at Lady Winthrop.

Oliver cleared his throat and slowly nodded. "I will see what I can do—"

"No, you will allow me to do what I can do," his mother said, turning to Aliya to say, "Come, Aliya, we have much to do."

"I already have a carpet in mind," Aliya hastily whispered to Natalia as they rushed out of the chamber to look for more help.

That very day, the other side of The Coffin welcomed a transformation. Cabinets were brought it from different parts of the hospital, chairs from Oliver's office were dragged and positioned perfectly around the hardwood center table.

"Something is missing," Natalia said, frowning at their work.

"A winged chair," Aliya suggested.

"Yes."

"There is one in Simon's office."

Her mother-in-law nodded her blonde head. "Perfect."

After two more tables and a vase of fresh flowers, Natalia St. Vincent finally sat down to relax.

"Natalia, this is marvelous," Lady Winthrop said as the three of them shared tea and biscuits. "Fret not, I will try to have fresh flowers delivered to Sinclair and into this chamber every week. And since no liquors are allowed in the Theater, us, ladies can have some sherry for ourselves—in secret, of course."

But Natalia was preoccupied with something else. "Why are there no other wives in attendance?"

"Well, you should know that The Coffin was not too... well, you saw it, but now that it is transformed, I may be able to spread the news that they can all start to come in. We can all just pretend that side of the room as a large mural," Lady Winthrop said and Aliya had to laugh.

"Have you given Aliya enough information on the other wives?"

"Yes, of course," Lady Winthrop asked. "It is my duty to prepare her.

Natalia slowly nodded with satisfaction. "Should we then begin to tell her the rules?"

Aliya blinked. "Of being a Royal Wife?"

"Yes, of course."

"I understand that there is much need for secrecy, but why do we have to follow rules when we are barely a part of the Circus?"

"Rules are not only made for you to uncomfortably follow, Aliya. They are made to protect the bigger purpose of the Royal Circus," Natalia sternly told her, green eyes narrowed at her. "Do you have any other objections we must hear before we continue?"

Aliya blinked, avoiding Natalia's eyes. "No."

"Good. Then we should start on how you should interact with the Royals outside the Theater."

"I cannot approach them?"

"You can if it is needed. But you do not engage so easily, most particularly if you have no friendly history. Their children are not to be approached unless their lives are in danger or threatened. If possible, you do not interact with them at all. Your relationship with them inside the Circus is not the same outside in society. If he is a duke, then he remains a duke in society and unless society recognizes your relationship with a Royal from the highest stations, you do not engage at all. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Natalia St. Vincent nodded and leaned over to pick up her teacup. Aliya dutifully waited. When the woman did not say another word, she frowned. "Is that it?" she asked.

"There are more, but you shall learn them as you go along," said Natalia with a wave of her hand. "The one I just told you is the most important of all."

"Is there a rule about murder?"

"No. You may kill anyone you wish, save for a Royal and his family."

*****

"Your mother gave me a good lecture earlier," she said to her husband as she brushed his hair that evening. When he did not reply and simply frowned down at the nail he had been biting, Aliya's brows furrowed. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing," he said. Aliya waited until he could not take it any longer and he finally asked, "Ali, do you suppose you love me enough to forgive me?"

Her hands stilled from its task of tying his hair. "That would depend on what you are about to confess, Ollie."

He groaned and closed his eyes. Aliya peered at his face. "What is it? What have you done?"

He stood and his hair fell back to hover over his shoulders. When he faced her, Oliver's face was ashen he could very well be one of the bodies in The Coffin. "What is it?" she asked with a laugh, perhaps hoping he was jesting again.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back as though preparing himself for an attack. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

"Yes, of course. We were on the ship—"

"No, I meant fourteen years later."

Aliya frowned. "You mean when I met you in Strait?"

"Yes, in Sinclair after you broke your arm."

She blinked. "Of course, I remember." Carefully, she asked, "Why?"

He took a lungful of air and placed his hands on his hips. "Please do understand, Ali, that I had to do what I did because—"

"You fixed my arm, of course, I understand."

"No, I meant before I had to fix your arm."

Her frown deepened. "Ollie, you are losing me. I do not know what you are trying to say."

He swallowed hard. "You had a carriage accident before you broke your arm and—"

Oliver was not able to finish the rest of his words because Aliya sent the brush flying toward him, finally understanding his crime. "You did not!" she growled, reaching for the next item her hand could hold—a book—and threw it across the room as well.

He had to run to the door and she had to shout, "Do not dare escape this bedchamber, Oliver St. Vincent!" Not finding another object she could easily hurl toward him, Aliya bent down to pull out her lace slippers. "You bloody bastard!" she snarled, satisfied that the footwear hit his chest. "Oh, yes, of course, cower in one corner, Ollie, because I am not done with you!" She bent down to grab the other slipper. "You fixed my arm good, that you did. So I can effectively throw this!" The slipper crashed against his thigh and he jumped on one foot with a pained cry. "Oh, stop acting, Ollie! I know it does not hurt!"

He immediately stood to both feet and raised his arm to ward her off when she began to come forward and attack him with her fists.

"I did not mean for the accident to be worse than what it turned out to be, I swear, Ali, I did not—stop, stop, darling, that one hurt—"

"I cannot—" she punched his arm, "believe you could do such horrid act!" She landed a fist on his chest. "You are not sleeping here tonight," she said, her chest heaving.

He groaned and pleaded, "Darling, I truly regret what I did—"

"Do not speak for now, Ollie, I am still very much angry. I know you have a rapier sword nearby and let me tell you now that I am very good at fencing." She went to the door and opened it. "Sleep elsewhere tonight. I need to be alone."

Aliya was seriously furious, but as he walked past her looking like a defeated giant, she added, "Seek me out when you think I can have a proper conversation with you. For the time being, think very carefully about what you are going to say to me then."

He opened his mouth then stopped. Once he exited the room, Aliya slammed the door shut.

*****

Three days later, Natalia St. Vincent was glaring at him during breakfast. Obviously, Aliya and the woman had a pleasant conversation about him. By afternoon, she told her son that Aliya was packing and he ran up the stairs to their bedchamber to find her writing a letter.

Her face turned serious when he burst into the room unannounced. He looked around and found that there were no trunks.

"Mother said you are packing."

"Your mother lied," Aliya curtly replied.

Sensing she was not as angry as she was three nights ago, Oliver quietly closed the door and rushed to her side. "Ali, I'm sorry."

"You know I do not appreciate your apologies, Ollie."

He cleared his throat. He lowered to the floor and rested his hands on the table beside the paper she was writing on, his head turned to peer at her face. "Ali, I did not intend for the accident to be that bad. I only needed you to be delivered to Sinclair with a few scratches."

Aliya's hand stilled and he stiffened. She closed her eyes and through her teeth, murmured, "God, Ollie, if I can only break your bones myself." When her eyes opened, they were still very much furious. "Did you enjoy it? When I was injured, did you enjoy it?"

He blinked. "I did enjoy the part I met you, yes. But not the broken bones, no, of course not." He grabbed her hand and desperately squeezed it. "Darling, I will pay for it dearly."

Aliya sighed and looked down at him. "What you did was horrible, Ollie."

"I know."

"I suffered a great deal because of it."

"Yes."

"And I would not have met you if it did not happen."

"Yes, I know and—what?"

She shrugged. "It was horrible, but it was effective."

He blinked. "Then do you forgive me?"

"People never completely forgive," she said. "Because we cannot forget."

He let out an exasperated sigh.

"But one can always do something to get another chance."

"I will do anything you ask of me, Ali."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, Ollie, do not say that. You cannot truly give me anything I ask."

"Well, yes, but I know you will ask only the possible ones."

His wife sighed. "Very well, if you will return to this bedchamber later tonight, I will think of something you can do for me."

He jumped to his feet and grinned at her. "I will be counting the hours, darling," he said, walking backward to retreat from the room.

"After dinner."

"Yes."

"Ten o'clock sharp."

"I will not be late," he readily replied. "Can I kiss you?"

Her face hardened. "Ten o'clock sharp."

He nodded. "Ten it is." He poked his head through the door before he left and said, "I shall arrive with blueberry jam."

*****

"Are the two of you done with your quarrel?" Natalia St. Vincent asked the following morning during breakfast.

Oliver smiled, remembering the night prior—how he had to beg for his wife's mercy while she punished him with her hands and mouth... and the blueberry jam...

His wife's scowl drew him back to his mother's question and he said, "Yes, we are. In fact, I had to ask Aliya's forgiveness several times last night."

Aliya's eyes widened with horror at his insinuation, her cheeks turning scarlet.

"Good," said Natalia. "I hope you learned your lesson, Oliver."

"I deliciously did, Mother."

His wife helplessly closed her eyes before she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders.

His mother nodded with a curious look on her face. "You know that women do not easily forget, Oliver."

"I know. Neither do men."

Aliya kicked him under the table.

"You may never get another chance," Natalia said, ignorant of the kicking under the table as she spread jam on her bread. "The cook told me the blueberry jam keeps missing. We should ask Jason to address this matter right away."

Oliver's shoulders shook with silent laughter. Aliya blanched, eyes panicking.

"Jason will dutifully find the culprit, Mother."

Natalia shook her head, frowning at Aliya. "Are you quite all right, Aliya?"

His wife cleared her throat. "Yes."

Looking at them with curiosity, Natalia surprised them both by asking about Delaney and the Circus's decision to help her.

"Are you confident with your plan?" she asked Aliya who looked relieved to finally have a different subject to talk about.

"It is the only one that is safe for us and Delaney."

"I know what you are thinking, Mother," Oliver pointed out. "You are thinking of taking Delaney out by force. We cannot do that. Belcourt knows who wants Delaney and that is Aliya. And they will look into Aliya and then into our lives. Remember that they have a Vow against Ali."

Natalia St. Vincent sighed. "We can make Delaney disappear in the Americas for a few years. Then at Herst. Then—"

"Then that will not be a life," said Aliya. "Fret not, Natalia, I made a plan with the Circus."

Natalia looked at both husband and wife. She made a motion to speak, but then stopped herself and nodded.

*****

West Blackwood stood with his friends, Tanner MacMier and Rider Fairborne in the crowded ballroom of the Chase ball. The three of them had been wasting their time walking around doing naught but socialize with their peers, all of whom about ready to leave Coulway soon now that parliament had come to a close.

The three of them were alone as men and women walked around to search for their partners as a quadrille was about to start.

"Will Darcy continue to give St. Vincent's wife tests?" Rider asked under his breath, just loud enough for West.

"Surely you are not concerned, Rider?" Tanner asked, looking at the blond woman crossing the ballroom. "It is Lord Darcy's right to be suspicious of the chit."

West emptied his glass of brandy. "Darcy is willing to give Aliya a chance." Placing the glass on the table behind them, he said, "It is time."

He turned and walked away to the direction of the garden while Tanner and Rider took the opposite direction.

West did not have to wait long in the eastern part of the garden because merely a few minutes later, Tanner and Rider arrived dragging a struggling blond woman with them.

She was rendered motionless as soon as she saw West waiting for them.

"Good evening, Mariam," West greeted, stepping out of the shadows to stand closer and offer the woman a smile.