Eirwen felt the wind pick up, ambient mana flowing faster towards her as she struggled with her fury taking control. She drew forth her own ice to cool down the fire, depending on her hatred to keep her rage in check, barely being able to fight it to a standstill. It felt like a losing battle, but she had to hang in there as long as she could.

Next to her, both Carraig and Pertrellan gave her worried glances. Her passenger sprung to action, falling back on guiding her gently, helping the cold flow just a bit faster, the fury slowing down but a tad. Enough to help her keep her focus. He really knew her too well. She hated and loved it.

The Flameheart guards were no stranger to this kind of fury, it seemed. They didn't even blink as they saluted. One shouted, facing her but clearly intending it for those inside. "The Duchess has arrived! Open the gates!"

The Duchess. Not her name, just the. They knew. And they had already accepted that she was in charge now. What other surprises had he prepared for her? Why didn't he just tell her? How dare he manipulate her even in defeat. She felt her fury build, in turn he steered her back to her ice-cold hatred for him. It scared her, how easily he was willing to make her hate him, just to protect her.

Don't. 

He drew back his manipulation of her emotions, guilt and concern tangible in his presence. It had helped her, though, just not in the way he had intended. Her concern for him had temporarily overruled her anger and hatred, allowing her to focus for a while. Until the next trigger arrived, most likely.

The gates had finished opening while she had been busy combatting her own emotions. Focusing on keeping up her mask, she moved through in into the courtyard. There she saw the rest of the guards. As she guided her horse forward, they all dropped to a knee and bowed their heads. "Your Grace! Awaiting your command!"

The blind loyalty left a bitter taste in her mouth. She also wondered what order would work well. She didn't know the precise situation, which made it hard to ask for the right thing. Deciding to swallow her pride, she shot him the mental equivalent of an inquiring eyebrow.

"Service staff has been kept from leaving for over two days now. A few of them, including your spies, were temporarily imprisoned. That might be where you want to start."

Another hidden preparation coming to life. She managed to put her thoughts on that aside as she issued her first command as new ruler of the estate. "Let the staff go home. Then guard the outside. Vicomte Carraig will handle guiding me." The guards ignored the slight, the hint that she didn't trust them yet. To a man they confirmed, then sprung to action.

Her entourage dismounted and the carriages emptied as everyone joined her. Only two stayed where they were. She on horseback, looking down on everyone, keeping her face expressionless. And in her carriage, he remained still as well, curtains closed, hiding his presence from the world. Even his link to her was laying low, as subtle as he could make it while still being able to help.

The main doors opened and out poured the servants, in shock at seeing her. They didn't understand, showing exactly how tight information had been controlled. Only a few exceptions were present, realisation hitting their faces. A notable one was the elderly majordoma, Lady Róisín. With a face as expressionless as Eirwen's, she stood at full attention. "Attention! All hail the Duchess!"

Dozens of hails, directly from the guards and some servants, more delayed from those still processing, rang out through the courtyard. Róisín continued. "Reporting, your Grace! We have prepared quarters for your entourage. Fresh ingredients and firewood are stockpiled. The body of the former Duke was enbalmed and lies in his private office." Both of them ignored the gasps coming from a few surprised servants. "Permission to leave, your Grace?"

[...]