Traveling with Ed at her side was perfectly safe—which was exactly the problem. Lia was suffocating.
*Why did I even say I wanted to travel in the first place!*
She had wanted to escape, even briefly, from the stifling life of a noblewoman—all etiquette and protocol and not a single breath of freedom. She had practically begged and sung for this trip! Her father had agreed to let her go only on the condition that Ed accompany her, and Lia had accepted. For the moment.
*Ed always does what I say. I'll make up some excuse at the station and send him back. I'll even pay him if I have to!*
It had seemed like a perfectly clever plan. Then Ed had refused to leave at the station, and the whole thing had collapsed.
Recalling every ounce of effort she'd spent convincing her father to let her travel at all, Lia squared her jaw. *This will not stand.* She began plotting her escape.
But even as she popped a bite of dessert into her mouth and let her eyes roam the train car with studied casualness, Ed had already read her like an open book.
*Let's see what you come up with, my lady.*
Lia believed she was being terribly cunning. Ed, meanwhile, could see straight to the bottom of her.
**Operation One: Sleeping Draught and the Window Escape**
After dinner, when the steam locomotive paused at a whistle-stop, Lia told Ed she needed the restroom—then bolted to a nearby herbalist's shop and purchased a sleeping draught in secret. She bided her time, then slipped it into his tea with what she considered masterful nonchalance, and handed him the cup.
Ed drank. His eyes drifted shut.
Lia nearly cheered out loud. She hiked up her skirts and threw herself at the small window, wriggling and tugging with everything she had.
"Ha! Sorry, Ed, but I'm off to find my freedom! Out of this stuffy little compartment and into the world—street food, here I come!"
She was still squirming and wedged firmly in the frame when Ed appeared beside her, expression perfectly serene.
"My lady, that window is thirty centimeters wide. With your current—*voluminous*—new dress, passage is a physical impossibility."
"Wha—? But I—"
There she hung, thoroughly stuck, unable to go forward or back. Ed smiled pleasantly, lifted her free, and set her safely on the floor. He had, of course, noticed the sleeping draught immediately and only pretended to drink it. The fact that her scheme was so transparent it was adorable—that part he kept to himself.
He smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt and offered his hand.
"The draught, incidentally, was quite ineffective. On the bright side, it gives me more to teach you. A butler finds meaning in such things."
"You're teasing me again!"
Lia bristled. Ed simply smiled. She glared at his infuriatingly composed face, forced herself to calm down, lifted her chin with all the dignity she could muster, and walked away. Ed followed behind her, snickering.
First attempt: failed.
She was not giving up.
**Operation Two: Disguise and Flight to Third Class**
The next morning, Lia sent Ed away on an errand.
"Find out if the breakfast menu has mushroom soup—and it had better, because I won't eat without it!"
"Complaints before you've even seen the menu, my lady?"
"Go! It's my favorite, and if they don't have it, ask whether they can make it specially!"
The moment he was gone, Lia stripped off her jewelry, changed into the plain traveling clothes she had packed specifically for this purpose—the outfit of a free woman, not a noblewoman—and slipped into the crowded third class dining car. She'd bought the dress at a shop that catered to ordinary people; the fabric was rough against her skin, and she loved it. This was what freedom felt like.
She was absolutely certain Ed would never set foot somewhere this *common*. She pulled a plain brown bonnet over her gleaming red curls and smiled to herself.
The third class dining car was a far cry from first class—the menu was sparse, and somewhere nearby something was frying in oil that had seen better days. But this was exactly what Lia had dreamed of. A small, delicious act of rebellion. Who cared if the food was humble?
The other passengers, however, kept glancing at her. Her perfume was exquisite. Her red curls caught the light. Her skin was soft and pale in a way that had nothing to do with rough travel. A few of the looks she was drawing were not the friendly kind—low, appraising eyes trading glances across the car. Lia, buzzing with the thrill of her first real escape, noticed none of it.
"Perfect—nobody here knows who I am! Now, that sausage looks absolutely—oh?"
She reached for her purse. A familiar voice came from the seat beside her.
"The hygiene rating on those sausages is rather poor. I'd recommend the egg toast and grilled bacon instead. The chocolate pudding is an acceptable dessert."
Ed was already seated next to her, dressed in a train attendant's uniform, reading a newspaper. He looked up at her open-mouthed stare and smiled pleasantly.
"The disguise was excellent, my lady. Unfortunately, you forgot to change your perfume. That particular scent costs enough to purchase an entire train car. It does tend to stand out."
"E—Ed?! How did you—"
"I'm your butler."
*What does being a butler have to do with getting hold of an attendant's uniform? And how did he know I'd come to this car?*
Lia gave up asking. Her butler was uselessly, infuriatingly competent. She shot him a withering look, snapped "Fine, then let's go back!"—and stuck out her lower lip. Ed gave her the same warm smile as always. But the moment she turned and marched ahead of him, the smile faded.
His gaze swept the third class dining car—cool, unhurried, thorough. Then Lia called back to him, and the easy, teasing smile returned as if it had never left.
Back in her private sleeping car, Lia dropped onto the berth with a thud. Two escape attempts, two humiliating failures. She glared at Ed with undisguised resentment. He set a warm cup of cocoa on the table beside her—and next to it, a small document.
> **SPECIAL PERMIT** > *Issued by Butler Ed* > > One (1) hour of market browsing permitted, provided Ed maintains visual contact at all times. > > All street food purchases subject to Ed's mandatory ingredient inspection before consumption. > > Should the bearer consent to hold Ed's hand throughout, curfew extended by thirty (30) minutes.
"What is *this*!"
Lia stared at it and let out a short, sharp yelp.
"*I'm* the employer here!"
She rounded on him, fuming. Ed replied with perfect composure.
"Technically, the Count is my employer, my lady. And the Count's foremost instruction was to ensure your safety. You are his only heir. Should any accident befall you during this journey, the consequences would be severe."
It was entirely reasonable. Lia hated that it was entirely reasonable. She conceded the point in her heart and refused to let it show on her face.
"Ed, you are so *annoying*! Why do you have to be this smart?"
She flung herself back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Two foiled escapes, and the frustration was piling up. She was grateful he wanted to protect her—she was. That didn't make it any less maddening.
Ed straightened her shoes and laughed quietly.
"Do you remember? When I was a child—waiting to die at the slave market, until the Count found me." He paused. "That was when I made my decision."
"To be loyal to my father?"
Lia's voice softened at the memory of meeting a young Ed for the first time. Ed answered without missing a beat.
"To be the only person in this Empire allowed to tease you. I refuse to let anyone else make you look foolish. Absolutely not."
"*What kind of answer is that!*"
She had been on the verge of being genuinely moved. The feeling shattered.
"I mean it sincerely. To tease you properly, I must always be nearby."
"Is that a confession, or are you just teasing me again?"
"What if it's both?"
For just a moment, Ed's eyes were serious. Lia's heart did something inconvenient. She yanked the blanket up over her head.
The plan to shake her butler had failed completely. But her heart was beating faster than the train's engine, and she didn't know what to do with that. She decided, firmly, that it was simply because he kept teasing her—nothing more—and rolled over to face the wall.
The silent dismissal was clear enough. Ed said, "Good night, my lady," and withdrew.
In the dark, Lia closed her eyes and wondered: before this journey ended, would she manage to slip away from him even once? Or would she spend the whole trip safe inside the palm of his hand—less free, perhaps, but never quite alone?