"I declare this meeting concluded."

The heavy gavel struck wood with a resonant thud, and the sound carried through the grand chamber.

Almost at once, a wave of movement swept over the Noble Council. Velvet-draped chairs scraped softly against polished stone as nearly a hundred nobles rose. Robes brushed past one another and boots clicked in the echoing hall. The air filled with a low tide of voices, growing louder by the moment as nobles found their intended companions. Some broke into lively discussion over the surprising votes just cast, while others exchanged quieter words about private matters before parting ways.

Sedna and her mother were among the many preparing to leave, having risen from their seats at the High Table. Sedna smoothed out her skirts and reattached the metal contraptions to each of her arms to help her walk out of the room.

"Lady Sedna, I have something I must give you," Duncan's voice sounded. He had not hurried out in this loop, it appeared.

Sedna blinked, and brushed aside a glimmersteel-blue strand of hair from her face—the less unpleasant of indicators of her quickly spreading ailment.

"What is it?" she inquired, curious but her voice was nonetheless sharp.

The vote had gone through three loops, with Duncan being present for the proceedings. However, on this third instance, something had changed. Duncan didn't have something he wished to give her in the two prior loops.

"It's rather large," Duncan said. "Or at least too large to have brought in here. I left it in my carriage. I might have delivered it to your residence, but…"

His eyes flicked toward Sedna's mother.

"You are welcome anytime now," Duchess Meriwa Ozern said, her voice gracious. "It is the least that I can offer given how sorry I am for how you were treated for being a messenger of ill-news."

Duncan gave a short nod.

"I can bring it by later—or, if you'd prefer, I can give it to you now," he suggested.

"Well, if it's not so large, I'd rather have it now, rather than later," Sedna replied, her curiosity piqued.

"It's not from me, just so you know," Duncan clarified. "It's from Luca Frey. I'm not sure of the contents myself, as it was sealed. But I don't believe it to be anything ill-well. He said it was in thanks for all you have done."

"Ah."

Sedna was hardly surprised. In this world, there were few people capable of bending the sequence of events between loops.

But what the world could Luca Frey have for me? And in thanks?

***

"Well?" Sedna's mother asked from across the carriage, one brow arched. "Afraid it'll explode if you open it?"

The carved sandalwood box rested on Sedna's lap, its smooth surface beneath her palms. The carriage swayed gently as it rolled over cobblestone streets, the muffled clop of hooves and the rhythmic creak of the wheels filling the quiet air between them. The air inside had a faint lingering scent of her mother's favorite perfume—vanilla laced with bergamot—its warmth mellowing the sharper tang of fresh polish still clinging to the carriage's woodwork.

They were heading back toward their residence in West Genise. The voting had gone quite efficiently, with many of the individuals who would have elongated the meeting having been missing. However, it was not efficient enough to avoid going into the evening. Outside, light-stone lamps began to provide about as much light as the quickly setting sun.

"I wouldn't blame you—it is from the infamous Luca Frey," her mother added.

Sedna smiled faintly. She had lived through too many loops to count, long past the point of remembering any rumors about the young Luca Frey in this timeline. But she had done her due diligence of looking into her several loops back, and was well aware of his poor reputation.

"No, I doubt it'd be anything like that," Sedna replied and clicked open the large carved box made of light sandalwood. The mechanism recognized her as the intended owner and opened with a click.

Her brows knit together.

A delicate and buttery scent immediately drifted upward from the box—warm, comforting, and rich.

What the…?

Inside lay neatly arranged contents that made no immediate sense. There was also a folded note, which she quickly read for an explanation, but instead it confused her.

"What is it?" her mother asked, leaning forward slightly, curiosity sparking in her sharp eyes. "The scent alone is tugging at my appetite."

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"It's… cookies," Sedna replied. "He says they are for my health."

Given the sheer size of the box, there had to be at least two hundred of them. The small cookies lay stacked in tidy rows and their golden-brown surfaces suggested a satisfying crumble.

"Cookies? For one's health?" The duchess gave a short laugh. "Well, if that's the case, you'd best be careful. I heard about that other Frey boy and the disaster at the Fievells' party—the children left half-conscious after eating his baked goods."

"I doubt he'd give me something like that," Sedna countered.

"True, I'd have his head, regardless if he's of that Frey family or not," her mother replied curtly. "And as much a fool as Luca may be, I'd like to think he still has some sense rattling around in that head of his."

The carriage rolled to a soft stop, merely pausing for pedestrians crossing the road.

"Well, I'd best examine them." Her mother plucked a cookie from the box, turning it over in her fingers with the care of a jeweler studying a gem.

Sedna smiled.

The duchess had a naturally keen eye, one honed further by the artifact she always wore. It was that perceptiveness that had dramatically grown the Ozeryn fortune—and that had secured Sedna the best medicines wealth could buy. Though in the end, even the best remedies were not enough to prevent her body from breaking down and dying a horrid death.

Sedna's fingers curled slightly around the wooden box. She still had full command of them now, but just like her legs, she knew their strength would wither in time. Or rather, if these loops were ever allowed to stretch beyond mere days or months.

"Sedna, why would Luca Frey give you this? The two of you have no relation, no?"

Sedna froze.

Her mother's tone of voice was uncharacteristically slow and measured.

Her mother's gaze sharpened. "Does he fancy you, perhaps? Or… perhaps he's learned about him—no, that wouldn't make sense…" Her voice drifted off as she turned toward the window, the lamplight outside catching the hard lines of her thoughtful expression.

The carriage eased forward again, the cityscape outside shifting with the motion.

"What did you find out about the cookie?" Sedna inquired. That was the only reason for this strange string of questions.

The duchess shook her head in a daze and pulled off the bracelet on her right wrist. It was the least ornate of her jewelry, dull in color and with no jewels of any worth, but it was the most invaluable piece of jewelry in her collection.

"See for yourself," she said, passing it over.

Sedna accepted the ancient artifact and pulled on the Oculus Band. A faint tingle ran up her arm as her gaze dropped to the cookies. Her eyes widened as insight regarding them came into her mind.

Her hand darted for the note again, written in Luca's unmistakable chicken scribble that was unbecoming of someone hailing from a family of means.

I hope these alleviate your ailment while I am away. Please be healthy and well. Thank you for all you have done, and I promise to return your kindness a hundred fold, with more potent cookies in the future.

***

"Did you take your cookie?" her mother asked, the question posed in the same tone she'd use when inquiring if Sedna had taken her medicine.

Not that she was wrong. The cookies were medicinal, despite their buttery richness that made it far too tempting to eat the whole box in one sitting. But restraint mattered.

Spreading them out made their effects last. They were no cure, but they could help ease the strain on her body, giving her legs a few hours of strength they otherwise lacked.

"As you can see, I have," Sedna replied, lowering herself into a high-backed chair, sitting beside her mother at the long table for lunch.

It was day eight into this loop, and today, for the first time in what felt like a century—and for Sedna, that was not entirely a figure of speech—she had walked from her bedroom to the dining room without the aid of her crutches. It was not without some difficulty, but she had managed the trip all on her own.

She felt a happiness inside that she had long forgotten. In her elated mood, she was noticing her surroundings more, now that her attention was relaxed from having to focus on her legs. The dining room felt brighter, sunlight streaming in through the tall windows to glint off silverware and porcelain. Around them, the Ozeryn servants moved with quiet precision, setting down dishes on the table.

"It's a miracle to see you walk again. Any word from Luca Frey?" her mother inquired. It was the most interest she'd shown toward anyone in a while.

Sedna smiled and lifted her cup of tea to her mouth.

"No," Sedna replied, "and it would seem you don't have any word either, odd given your spy within the Frey residence is his personal attendant."

As they spoke, servants glided in and out of the room, bringing in more plates—leek tart still warm from the oven, summer corn topped with truffles, fermented potato bread. Neither Sedna nor her mother cared about the potential for gossip. Discretion was a prerequisite for employment here, and any servant with a loose tongue would find themselves dismissed swiftly. More importantly, Sedna and her mother shared a private language that only the two of them understood, one that even Sedna's father was not privy to.

"He was not paid to spy on Luca Frey," her mother replied, cutting into her quiche. "Though perhaps that should change."

"You'd best not," Sedna warned.

Luca Frey had given her the cookies as a gesture. Whether it was out of kindness or something more calculated, she couldn't yet say. Though she suspected it was the later. In their first meeting, he had offered the warning, the stick so to speak, in the form of a fiery phoenix perched on his shoulder. Now, he had given her the carrot. And it was a very enticing carrot indeed, one that suggested that, if she played her cards correctly, there might be more to come.

She shuddered to think what Luca would do if he discovered that a spy was hidden among his own staff, employed by none other than her family.

"It might be prudent to pull him out entirely," Sedna said. "That family is dangerous. If they find out—"

"I know the Freys are dangerous," her mother cut in sharply. "That's precisely why I keep tabs on them. And while I am thankful for these cookies, I expect there is a profound cost to them."

Sedna exhaled a slow sigh, knowing she couldn't press further now without having to open a can of worms she preferred to keep sealed.

"His brother, Micah Frey, has also recently disappeared," her mother continued, shifting topics without missing a beat. "No intel yet on where he's gone. I doubt it's anywhere without trouble. He was last seen in the Town of Ascot for his grandmother's funeral."

Sedna frowned as she topped a piece of the potato bread with butter.

Her mother continued talking, changing the conversation to her intention of visiting an old friend in a neighboring country, whom she knew from before her engagement to Sedna's father, but Sedna's mind wandered.

More discrepancies from the previous loop.

For reasons unknown, Madame Ruth Arankagul hadn't lived as long as before. That was almost certainly tied to Luca's actions, though the motive remained unclear. She was his grandmother. Beloved as her intel suggested. But perhaps his calculations spared no one.

In the last loop, the Frey family manor had burned to the ground. Taking extra precautions and altering the course of events was prudent—if not outright cold.

I wonder exactly what Luca is scheming this time around.

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