The Daughter Was About to Make Her Move

The Pritz family estate was one of the largest in the city. Its garden alone was as big as Pavel's home.

At dinnertime, a blue lace tablecloth imported from the Duchy of Weissen covered the long dining table. The glow of the magic lamps, shaped like silver candelabras, illuminated the fine china, while the aroma of the dishes mingled with the crisp scent of birchwood burning in the fireplace.

Polena sat midway down the table. Across from her were her eldest brother and sister-in-law, along with her two younger brothers, both under ten. To her right sat her second sister, who had returned home that morning, and her nephews. Her brother-in-law had been banished to the very end of the table on her left—supposedly because he'd failed to answer a question from his father-in-law and teacher, Count Pritz, that afternoon.

Count Pritz sat at the head of the table. He was nearly fifty, his silver-gray hair combed to perfection. Mrs. Pritz sat at the other end, poised and elegant. The two of them were chatting cheerfully with their grandsons and granddaughters.

The servants brought out the food in silence: roast venison, cream of mushroom soup, venison offal stewed with root vegetables, and sparkling apple cider vinegar.

Knives and forks clinked against china. Conversation flowed easily among the family, and Mrs. Pritz kept trying to sell her second daughter on the apple cider vinegar she'd brewed herself.

But as the venison on the plates dwindled, Polena began to sense that something was off.

She looked up and met her mother's faintly amused gaze. It lingered on her face for a moment, then casually shifted away.

As she spooned up some soup, she noticed her father cast her a seemingly casual glance. An inscrutable look flashed in his eyes.

Even her eldest