ã€ŠThe Lady and the Harperã€‹


 Request

    On the day Prince Garrin was to meet his betrothed, a light dusting of snow fell over the castle grounds. The court Tellers said it was an omen, though what the omen meant remained unspecified. Garrin took little interest in the weather. He had been planning the night for six months, handpicking the traits he desired for his bride, preparing for the ceremony and following feast. Portends and politics didn¡¯t matter to him; he simply wanted the event over with.

    On his desk was a scroll decorated with flowing script, detailing the characteristics of his new wife. The Architects had worked for months to design the princess, and they spared no feature in matching her perfectly with Garrin. She was to be a head shorter than him to appear delicate while accenting his otherwise average height. Her hair would be a lovely auburn red to match his darker brown, and her eyes a deep blue to offset his gray. She would be slim and light and beautiful, as every princess should be, and possess a voice both soft and sweet for singing. In addition to her appearance, Garrin had selected several talents befitting of a future queen: she would be adept in painting, embroidery, horseback riding, poetry, calligraphy, letter writing, and music. All in all, she would be the perfect bride for Garrin and for the kingdom.

    Garrin sighed, seeking the cool gray window on the wall opposite his desk. Part of the tradition of marriage was that he would not learn his princess¡¯ name until the betrothal ceremony, but that would be the only surprise of the night. He knew everything there was to know about her, and she¡¯d been made with a complete knowledge of him. There would be nothing new to learn, no adventure to face¡ªhis freedom would end with the betrothal. Like his father and grandfather and great-grandfather before him, the law of court and country would bind Garrin to the politics and ceremonies and empty words and laws of his position.

    State affairs could not hold Garrin¡¯s interest in his studies, and he doubted they would suddenly become more interesting after tonight. As the only heir, Garrin was expected to carry on the tedious duties of the king, though he would not officially take over for another four years, after his 25th birthday.

    A light knock announced a servant in the hallway, and Garrin stood and assumed what he thought of as his ¡°prince stance¡±: his hands clasped behind his back, spine straight and stiff, feet together, chin up. ¡°Come,¡± he commanded.

    ¡°Her Majesty the Queen,¡± the servant said, bowing and backing away to give Garrin¡¯s mother room to enter. She swept through the doorway with a warm smile, holding out her arms as if Garrin were still a child in need of comfort.

    ¡°My son,¡± she bubbled. Her fingers sought Garrin¡¯s, landing lightly in his grasp as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. ¡°I¡¯ve come to see how the preparations are going. I hear the Architects have been working nonstop to get everything ready.¡±

    ¡°All is well,¡± Garrin said, pressing his mother¡¯s fingers. The queen shared several characteristics with his bride¡ªunderstandable given Garrin¡¯s resemblance to his father¡ªthough Garrin hadn¡¯t realized just how similar they were until now. What would it be like, gazing into the eyes of his betrothed and seeing his mother?

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    The thought made him shudder.

    ¡°You are working too hard,¡± the queen admonished, reaching out to cup Garrin¡¯s cheek in her hand. ¡°You should have delegated more tasks. You look exhausted.¡±

    ¡°The excitement has kept me awake,¡± Garrin lied. Excitement, nightmares; it was all the same to her. Like everyone in the palace, the queen put on a show of affection for Garrin, but never offered realistic solutions to his problems. He wanted to see more of the kingdom before becoming king¡ªhis advisors gave him more books about economy and history. He¡¯d composed a new song but was having problems finding lyrics moving enough to match the melody¡ªthe queen was a wonderful singer, and would gladly perform with him once he had finished writing. He didn¡¯t want to be trapped under restrictions and customs as his father was¡ªthe advisors gave him control over his betrothal ceremony, a task usually reserved for the king. Surely the excitement of designing and meeting his princess would banish all unhappiness from his mind.

    It hadn¡¯t.

    ¡°You must promise me that you will rest before tonight,¡± the queen said. ¡°No staying up late thinking about your princess. I know your father was horribly nervous before meeting me, though I can¡¯t imagine why. I have always loved him, as your princess will love you. There is nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°Nothing at all,¡± Garrin agreed. ¡°Thank you, Mother. Your words have soothed my anxiety.¡±

    She beamed at him, beautiful as sunlight reflected off a puddle, and just as deep. Garrin walked his mother to the door, promising to take things easier until the ceremony, and wondered absently if his princess would be as shallow. No, shallow wasn¡¯t the right word¡ªGarrin knew his mother cared for him, because she could do nothing else. Maternal love had been woven into her being the same as her looks and her ability to sing. But it was the love of a mother to her son as an extension of herself and her husband. Garrin himself was of little importance. Only the Prince mattered.

    His fingers touched the strings of his harp before he realized he¡¯d picked it up. They plucked a melody he¡¯d been working on, setting his thoughts to music as he struggled out of the dismal mood that had gripped him the last few days. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he had been working too hard. He¡¯d taken the last bit of ill-conceived advice and thrown himself into planning his ceremony, hoping to trick himself into feeling excitement about it, but so far that hadn¡¯t happened. His life had only seemed more bleak as the date approached, and now that it was upon him, all he felt was a kind of resigned dread.

    The song dropped into a minor key. Garrin would put on a show for the rest of the palace, but here in his chambers, alone, he could give in to the hopelessness as he looked to a future trapped within the richly tapestried walls of Whitecliff Castle. Words drifted through his mind¡ªlyrics he had no intention of writing down.

    Who looks at a palace and sees a cage?

    Any who does is thankless,

    for what is a kingdom without a prince?

    Garrin froze, his fingers leaving the last chords unfinished as the answer to his stanza and his problem came together in his head. What is a kingdom without a prince?

    A kingdom with a princess.

    A princess who could possess any quality he desired, including the ability to rule. He could give her the skills to be the greatest queen in history, and he¡ªwell, what would the kingdom need from him with such a competent ruler in his place? He would be free to travel, to see the world, to sing his songs for an audience who could appreciate them. It was perfect.

    Garrin dropped his harp on his bed, snatching up a cloak for the drafty walk to the Architects¡¯ chambers. The ceremony was tonight; there was no time to waste.

    Garrin had a request to make.

 New Qualities

    By the time Garrin reached the Architects¡¯ chambers, he¡¯d composed a list of new qualities to add to his princess. None were conventional, but then, neither was his plan. He was sure there would be a great deal of convincing to be done, but there had to be some benefit to being a prince. What were the Architects going to do? Refuse his request? Then he would simply order them.

    He¡¯d never ordered anyone to do anything before, but he was sure he could.

    There was no servant to announce his arrival outside the chamber, so Garrin knocked and strode in without a declaration of his presence. He found five men inside, all dressed in the formal scarlet robes the Architects wore to distinguish themselves from the other members of the court. They jumped to attention as he entered, staring openly before they realized they were staring and scrambled to look busy.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± one of them stammered, bowing awkwardly. ¡°To what do we owe this pleasure?¡±

    Garrin clasped his hands behind his back and offered the man a small smile. ¡°Master Aremus. I¡¯ve come to check on the progress of the princess.¡±

    Aremus, the lead Architect and the only one whose name Garrin was sure of, spread his hands wide to indicate the piles of paper spread over every tabletop. ¡°We are just going over the details now, sire. Everything will be ready in plenty of time.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Garrin said. ¡°Then I hope it will not inconvenience you to add a few more qualities.¡±

    Aremus hesitated. ¡°Certainly, sire, if you wish to¡­¡±

    ¡°I do.¡± Garrin nodded to one of the other Architects, who hastened to find a piece of paper and a quill.

    ¡°Of course, Your Highness,¡± Aremus said.

    Garrin smiled. ¡°I would like the princess to understand all Fyrestian court procedures, laws, and politics, as well as those of Eiliad and Thiyaan. Also a complete understanding of the histories and languages of all three countries, as well as anything a ruler might need to know about economics, trade, culture, and diplomacy.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± Aremus fumbled when Garrin¡¯s smile hardened, but he pressed on meekly. ¡°Why, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Fyrestian procedures are the most important, of course,¡± Garrin said. ¡°But surely a knowledge of our neighboring kingdoms would be useful as well?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire, but¡­ but for a king or an advisor. What need does a princess have for such knowledge?¡±

    ¡°I will have no patience for explaining things to her,¡± Garrin said, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°If she understands the government, will she not be a more desirable queen?¡±

    ¡°Is understanding desirable in a woman?¡± one of the Architects said. ¡°The queen does not need such useless traits.¡±

    Another nodded, emboldened by his companions. ¡°Knowledge is dangerous, Your Highness, so we have learned to purge it from our queens. Intellect is the burden of man. A princess could not handle it.¡±

    ¡°Then give her the ability to handle it,¡± Garrin said, his voice low but strong. ¡°Isn¡¯t that your job?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°She will have the qualities I desire. And she will have them by tonight.¡±

    Aremus paled. ¡°My Prince, surely this could wait until after the betrothal¡­¡±

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    ¡°Tonight.¡±

    For a moment Garrin thought the Architect would argue, but he simply cleared his throat and bowed. ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Oh, and change her hair color.¡±

    ¡°Her¡ªher hair color?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Garrin was already turning for the door, but he paused to meet Aremus¡¯s eyes. ¡°Blonde, black, anything but auburn.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    Aremus bowed again, and Garrin inclined his head in acknowledgement and hurried out of the room. Alone in the privacy of the hallway, he let out a long breath that felt a little shaky around the edges. He¡¯d never pushed so hard to get his way before, and an inkling of pride threaded its way through what was left of his nerves. Maybe things were not as desperate as they had seemed. If Aremus and the other Architects could add the characteristics he¡¯d requested before the ceremony, he might be free by the end of the year. He wouldn¡¯t officially be king for another four years, but he was expected to use the time between his betrothal and his coronation to learn the finer details of ruling. However, with a princess who already knew every detail there was to learn, no one could blame him for using that time to travel instead. She could handle the few tasks required of him in his absence, and probably better than he would.

    And in the meantime, he could search for the other thing lacking from his life in the castle: love. His princess would love him, of course, but it wasn¡¯t true love¡ªnot a love he¡¯d earned. Not even a love for him. She would love the prince because she was the princess, and that was that. His personality had nothing to do with it.

    Garrin knew little of love besides what he had learned in ballads and poetry, but he knew devotion without choice could hardly be considered love. And that was one thing he was determined to experience at least once in his life. On his travels, he would find actual love, the kind of love that he could earn and return in kind.

    And that love, he knew, was not within the castle walls.

    ¡°Ah¡ªYour Highness.¡±

    Garrin looked up, though the creaking of armor named the speaker before his eyes could. ¡°Lord Renton,¡± Garrin said. He pushed away from the wall, straightening his spine and folding his hands behind his back.

    The king¡¯s military advisor scowled; to everyone else in the castle, he went by Marshal Renton. Though he no longer served as a field marshal, he insisted on wearing his armor even when there were no formal duties to perform. Garrin had always found the man pompous, and so refused to use his military title¡ªand Renton noticed.

    It was difficult to tell whether the scowl on his face was because of Garrin or the dim lighting in the hallway. The coolness in his voice, however, left little doubt. ¡°Is everything well, Your Highness?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Garrin answered.

    Renton¡¯s pale eyes flashed to the door at Garrin¡¯s elbow. ¡°A last-minute visit to the Architects? Are you so eager for a glimpse of your princess that you could not wait until tonight?¡±

    ¡°I had business with Lord Aremus,¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°Business,¡± Renton repeated. ¡°I certainly hope your business has been concluded in a satisfactory manner.¡±

    Garrin held in a snort. ¡°Yes, thank you. But I must be going. There¡¯s much to do before tonight.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Renton echoed. ¡°I had wondered what was so important it could keep you from your other duties.¡±

    Other duties? Garrin did his best to keep his expression bland, but when Renton smirked he knew some of his confusion had shown.

    ¡°The delegations from the Second and Third kingdoms are due to arrive any moment,¡± Renton said. ¡°As Crown Prince, you are to welcome them and see them settled into their guest rooms before tonight¡¯s ceremony. But as you have time to consult Aremus on a project which has been finished for some time, I assume you have already made preparations for their arrival.¡±

    ¡°I have made preparations,¡± Garrin said coolly. ¡°And I was on my way to the Great Hall when you interrupted me. If I am late, my father will know why.¡±

    The threat was empty, and Renton knew it. The smirk stayed lodged on his face as he executed a shallow bow and backed out of Garrin¡¯s way. Determined to keep his irritation hidden, Garrin inclined his head in acknowledgement and swept past him, his footsteps measured and unhurried.

    In fact, he had forgotten about the delegations from the other kingdoms¡ªor rather, he¡¯d forgotten that it was his job to welcome them. Whitecliff Castle had hosted several international events during Garrin¡¯s lifetime, but this was the first in which he was to take part as more than an observer. The castle staff had spent weeks cleaning and decorating the guest wing in preparation for the royal families, who would stay with them for several days to celebrate Garrin¡¯s betrothal before returning to their parts of the continent. As Garrin was the oldest of the royal children of the three kingdoms, his would be the first betrothal ceremony¡ªand would therefore be judged the harshest.

    So, much as Garrin preferred to retire to his bedchambers for the rest of the afternoon, he instead made his way toward the Great Hall to await the arrival of his guests.

 Arrival

    In the six hours since Garrin had last passed through the Great Hall, it had completely transformed. Servants had made rows of long banquet tables, each covered with a white tablecloth and decorated with a silver runner, candles, and bouquets of white primrose, snowdrops, and ivy. Silver silk banners hung from each of the twelve columns supporting a high marble ceiling, and the floor was strewn with furs and richly embroidered rugs to hold in the heat from an enormous fire pit blazing cheerfully in the center of the room. The low chandelier spanning nearly half the room had been lit with what seemed like hundreds of candles, which cast a bright glow over the hall that had always seemed dull and dark to Garrin.

    The effect was illuminating. It had to be to impress the royal families from Fyrest¡¯s sister countries. Garrin had visited them both a handful of times in his youth, but the last time he¡¯d seen the Eiliad or Thiyaan royalty had been nearly ten years ago. Princess Lliane Teyrnelis of Eiliad, the Second Kingdom, was only about six months younger than Garrin, and they¡¯d gotten along well as children. The other Teyrnelis children were much younger, so Garrin only know them by name. He was more concerned with the royals from the Third Kingdom, Thiyaan. They were a passionate, volatile group that seemed to always take offense at something, despite every effort being made to keep them happy and comfortable.

    Luck was not with Garrin; when a herald rushed into the room to announce that banners had been spotted working their way up the hill, he described the golden banners of Thiyaan. Resigned, Garrin put on his most welcoming face and stood at the entrance of the Great Hall to wait. It might insult them not to be met at the gate, but Garrin was still a prince. He wasn¡¯t about to act like a servant to flatter his northern cousins. They could do with a reminder that they were guests of equal rank and not due any extraordinary shows of respect.

    Garrin heard them coming long before they entered the Great Hall¡ªmostly because of the children. The Kirahan family boasted 9 children, 8 of which were girls under the age of 16. The oldest, Crown Prince Senjay, was a year younger than Garrin. It was he who led the procession; apparently Garrin wasn¡¯t the only one taking on extra diplomatic duties.

    ¡°Prince Garrin,¡± Senjay said, offering a miniscule head tilt of deference. His long dark hair was braided and tied back out of his face, which all the noblewomen assured him was very handsome. To Garrin, Senjay had always looked too foxlike to be attractive. ¡°We are honored to be greeted by you.¡±

    ¡°I am honored to greet you,¡± Garrin answered. He returned the tiny nod and surveyed the rest of the company. ¡°Has the queen not made the journey with you?¡±

    ¡°My mother found the journey taxing,¡± Senjay said. ¡°Unfortunately, she has no energy for a lengthy reception. Your servants took her directly to her quarters.¡±

    ¡°I shall be sure to send her refreshments,¡± Garrin said, nodding to a passing servant to give the order. He gave a deep bow and scurried off to fulfill the request.

    ¡°How kind of you,¡± Senjay said. ¡°You are a credit to your kingdom. Of course, if we had been given adequate time to prepare for our journey rather than receiving your invitation at the last minute¡­¡±

    Last minute. Garrin had sent out their invitations 6 months ago. A retort bit at Garrin¡¯s tongue, but he held it there and peered past Senjay to the next eldest, Princess Setaare. ¡°In fact, I¡¯m sure you would all enjoy some refreshments,¡± he said. ¡°Some hot tea, perhaps? And maybe some warmed honey milk for the young ones?¡±

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    Setaare curtsied, spreading her golden, fur-lined skirts wide and tossing her head haughtily at Senjay as she rose. ¡°Thank you, Prince Garrin. Please don¡¯t think poorly of us because of my brother¡¯s bad manners. Some of us know how to behave in public.¡±

    Garrin reached out and caught her hand, pulling it in for a light kiss. ¡°I never doubted it.¡±

    Chin lifted high as she passed Senjay, Setaare led her sisters to one of the banquet tables, which servants were already setting with cups of warm drinks and sweets. ¡°You are welcome to them as well,¡± Garrin said to Senjay. ¡°Though perhaps you¡¯d prefer something stronger?¡±

    ¡°Tea will be fine, thank you.¡± Senjay¡¯s voice betrayed no hint of irritation, and his smile, when he flashed it in return, seemed genuine. ¡°You have more bite in you since we last spoke.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how offering refreshments can be called bite,¡± Garrin said.

    Senjay smirked as he made his way toward his sisters. ¡°No,¡± he drawled. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    And Garrin would have to spend the next two weeks with him. Two weeks minimum¡ªin the past, the children of the royal families often stayed behind for a month or more after their parents returned home. But maybe this time Senjay would return with his mother. King Kirahan had died three years earlier, no doubt leaving Senjay with more responsibilities than a Crown Prince would normally have taken on. Perhaps Garrin would be safe after all.

    The noise from the Kirahan table kept Garrin distracted, so it felt like only moments had passed before the herald returned to declare the Eiliads¡¯ arrival. Finally. Princess Lliane had been his ally against Senjay in the past, and he hoped she would be again. He straightened as the doors of the Great Hall opened to admit the small party, made up of only the king and queen of Eiliad and their children, Lliane and her younger brother Mered.

    This time, Garrin¡¯s bow was appropriately deep and formal. ¡°I am happy to welcome you to Whitecliff,¡± he said, smiling at each of the travelers. ¡°I hope your journey was not too difficult.¡±

    ¡°It was quite pleasant,¡± answered King Iefan. ¡°But even if it were not so, we could not have missed your betrothal ceremony. It seems like we were just celebrating your birth, and now here you are! Only a few short years from being crowned king yourself.¡±

    Garrin gave another quick bow. ¡°I am content to wait for that day. Would you like some refreshments here before I show you to your quarters? Or shall I take you there first so you can rest?¡±

    ¡°I think we could all use some rest,¡± the king said.

    ¡°Of course.¡± Garrin swept his arm across the hall, inviting the king to join him rather than having to follow. ¡°I will have refreshments sent to you once you are settled.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve grown quite tall since we last saw you,¡± said Queen Berys. Her face was flushed with travel, and her eyes bright and approving. ¡°I am glad to see you taking over some of your father¡¯s duties. He was always so quiet and reserved. It will do this court good to see some change.¡±

    Was that a slight? Garrin knew his father and the Teyrnelises hadn¡¯t always seen eye to eye, but they¡¯d always remained cordial. He hesitated over the proper response, but before he could voice it Iefan was waving the comment aside. ¡°Pay no mind, she meant no offence. We are simply proud to see how much you¡¯ve grown these last years. It bodes well for Fyrest¡¯s future.¡±

    Garrin didn¡¯t know about that, but he smiled and accepted the compliment anyway. They had nearly reached the guest quarters, which were situated just outside the Great Hall. ¡°The ceremony will begin at nightfall,¡± Garrin said, opening the door to a large gathering room where the family could meet around a fireplace already burning against the far wall. From there the Teyrnelises could choose any of the four bedchambers connected to the main room, but as they had stayed there several times before, Garrin didn¡¯t bother explaining it to them. He simply repeated his promise to send refreshments and said he would leave them to rest.

    He caught Lliane¡¯s eye as he backed out of the room. Her expression was oddly cold, though he could think of nothing he¡¯d done to offend her. He¡¯d have to see if he could talk to her later that night.

    Satisfied that he¡¯d completed his duties, Garrin returned to his room (taking a roundabout path to avoid Senjay and his siblings in the Great Hall) and took up his harp to calm himself before the ceremony.

 The Ceremony

    Garrin¡¯s respite didn¡¯t last long. He was swept up in last-minute details, solving multiple tiny crises as servants brought them to his attention. He joined his parents and the Teyrnelis and Kirahan families for a midday meal, which was only slightly less elegant than that night¡¯s feast would be. Garrin tried several times to catch Princess Lliane¡¯s eye, but she continued to avoid him. He approached her at the end of the meal, standing before her and her parents so she had no choice but to acknowledge him.

    ¡°Princess Lliane,¡± he said formally. ¡°I hoped you might help me with a matter concerning the ceremony. I have always valued your opinion.¡±

    She scowled, but since declining him was no longer an option, she gave a stiff nod and allowed him to guide her away.

    ¡°I knew it,¡± Garrin said as they settled in an empty corner of the room. ¡°I knew you were upset with me.¡±

    Lliane seemed fascinated by the details in the molding along the walls. ¡°What makes you say that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve barely looked at me all day.¡±

    ¡°There is so much else to look at.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what I could have done,¡± he said, frowning. ¡°I haven¡¯t even had a chance to say anything to you.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Fine, it isn¡¯t you I¡¯m upset with. It¡¯s this whole farce of a ceremony. I don¡¯t mind visiting, really, but to drag us down here in the dead of winter just so you can pretend to be betrothed is¡ª¡±

    ¡°I will be betrothed,¡± Garrin interrupted.

    ¡°Right,¡± she said. ¡°To a thing made to look and speak and act exactly the way you want it to. Not to a real woman.¡±

    ¡°Just because Eiliad doesn¡¯t have the same customs doesn¡¯t make ours wrong,¡± Garrin said stiffly.

    ¡°Just because you¡¯ve always done it doesn¡¯t make it right,¡± she fired back.

    ¡°What is wrong with it?¡± he asked. ¡°The crown prince has always married a princess designed by the Architects. Since the very beginning of Fyrest.¡±

    ¡°Designed by,¡± Lliane echoed. ¡°Don¡¯t you see how wrong that is? The poor thing is made to be your ornament, nothing more. Do you even know how they are made?¡±

    Garrin frowned uncomfortably. ¡°It¡¯s a secret. Only the Architects know the process for creating a princess.¡±

    ¡°And you never thought to ask?¡± Lliane pressed.

    ¡°If it was good enough for my ancestors...¡± Garrin said.

    Her blue eyes flashed¡ªas light and as cold as ice. ¡°Come on, Garrin. I know you better than that. You always used to talk about going off on an adventure, finding true love, battling pirates. What happened to you?¡±

    Nothing, he wanted to say. But much as he liked Lliane, he wasn¡¯t sure he trusted her. He couldn¡¯t give away his plan yet, not until he¡¯d had a chance to meet his princess and verify her knowledge. If something went wrong... well, he didn¡¯t want to get his hopes up.

    So he simply shrugged at her and mumbled, ¡°It¡¯s my duty.¡±

    ¡°Duty,¡± she spat. ¡°Well, you are free to perform your duty however you wish. And I am free to dislike it.¡±

    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true,¡± Garrin said. Unease stirred in his stomach, mixing with the nerves and leaving him in abject discomfort. His one ally had apparently turned her back on him, leaving him to face the coming ceremony¡ªand interactions with Senjay¡ªalone. He wanted to argue, but Lliane looked so sure of herself, and he didn¡¯t have the same conviction.

    He¡¯d never really thought about the princess as a thing before. He hadn¡¯t thought of her as much of anything, really. Just the next hinderance in his overburdened life, another obstacle keeping him from adventure. That the practice of creating a princess was strange had never occurred to him. It was simply The Way Things Were. But now that he considered it, he knew very little about the whole process. The Architects had always guarded their procedures carefully, almost jealously, and Garrin had never pressed for more information.

    Perhaps it was time he did.

    ¡°Well,¡± Garrin said, stepping back and executing a shallow bow. ¡°Since you are so disenamoured by my presence, I will leave you. Perhaps you can find Senjay if you prefer the opposite of my company.¡±

    She didn¡¯t argue, but he thought he heard a snort as he stalked away. He¡¯d meant to speak to Aremus, to order him to explain the Architects¡¯ methods, but as soon as he left the banquet room he was ambushed by a frazzled servant babbling something about a floral disaster. Resigned, he went off to solve the problem, only to be met by another three.

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    The rest of the day passed in a blur until Garrin extracted himself from the latest (and, hopefully, final) catastrophe to prepare for the night¡¯s activities. As the sun set, Garrin¡¯s manservant helped him into his formal clothes, complete with the cold silver circlet he wore at every ceremony. The betrothal would happen in one of the outdoor courtyards, under the light of the full moon, so his dark blue clothing was thick with furs and covered by a heavy cloak.

    ¡°Are you ready, Your Highness?¡± asked the servant.

    ¡°If you say I am,¡± Garrin answered.

    ¡°Forgive me, Your Highness,¡± the servant said. ¡°But you don¡¯t seem to be excited. Has something displeased you?¡±

    Garrin looked at the servant. ¡°Your name is Jakin, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Can you keep a secret?¡±

    Jakin blinked in surprise. ¡°Yes, Your Highness.¡±

    He was tempted. Jakin had been his manservant for a few years now, and he¡¯d done nothing to make Garrin think he could not be trusted. It would be such a relief to confide in someone¡ªanyone¡ªespecially now that Lliane was no longer speaking to him. But he had a reputation to maintain, and gossip spread among the servants faster than sickness through a village.

    So he only smiled and said, ¡°I am very tired. The preparations took longer than I expected. I¡¯ll be grateful when it¡¯s all over.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness has done well,¡± Jakin said kindly. ¡°Everything is in its place. The guests are seated, the music¡¯s playing, the feast is prepared for afterwards. The rest of it is the simple part, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Garrin laughed. ¡°I suppose it is.¡± He smoothed his hand down the front of his cloak and adjusted the circlet over his brow. ¡°There¡¯s nothing left to do then. Am I ready?¡±

    ¡°You are ready, Your Highness.¡±

    With Jakin¡¯s blessing, Garrin pulled his cloak tight and abandoned the sanctuary of his room. The courtyard was just outside the Great Hall, so Garrin used one of the side doors to make his way around the hedges to the front of the yard. Servants had spent the last few days clearing the grounds of snow and setting up chairs for the guests, all arranged in circles around the crescent platform in the center of the yard. White and silver cloth streamers were draped along the evergreen hedges, and lanterns lit the shadows where the full moon couldn¡¯t reach. Most of the seats were already filled, and a hush came over the crowd as Garrin made his way up the steps to the crescent platform. One of the court Sages, a middle-aged man with a neat black beard, waited at the top. He smiled as Garrin approached and gestured for him to stand in the center of the platform. Over the Sage¡¯s shoulder, Garrin watched as his parents took their seats in the front row. His mother beamed at him. His father looked bored.

    ¡°The blessing of Fyelle be upon us,¡± the Sage intoned, raising his arms to begin the ceremony.

    ¡°Fyelle be with us,¡± answered the crowd.

    The Sage smiled and spoke to the assembly. ¡°We meet under Fyelle¡¯s full moon to ask her blessing on this betrothal. We meet with the children of the Second and Third Kingdoms, and we ask the blessing of Randfre and Hylde to be with us as well.¡±

    At the names of their patron goddesses, the Teyrnelises and Kirahans touched their foreheads in reverence.

    ¡°As our people were once one,¡± the Sage continued. ¡°We join again to witness the union of our Crown Prince, Garrin Brego Athweald of Fyrest. With this betrothal, our prince moves closer to the day when he will become our king.¡±

    ¡°Long live Prince Garrin!¡± called the crowd.

    ¡°Long live indeed,¡± smiled the Sage. ¡°Then with the blessing of all present and of those above, I call forth the bride.¡± All heads turned. The guests craned their necks, shifting to get a better view of the princess as the door to the Great Hall opened to let her pass.

    She entered the courtyard the way spring overcame winter¡ªunhurriedly, but with a presence that was impossible to ignore. Her hands were clasped demurely in front of her, not lifting the hem of her white gown as the other ladies did as they walked. She seemed not to notice the fabric at her feet, or anything at all. Her eyes were focused on Garrin, and his, he noticed abruptly, on hers.

    All princesses made by the Architects were beautiful, but she was¡­ breathtaking. Her skin was as pure and flawless as the moonlight which seemed to gather about her, drawn by her presence. Honey-gold hair trailed down the sides of her elegant neck, framing a head that bowed respectfully as soon as she was near enough for Garrin to study her face. In the moonlight, her features were as soft as the petals of the most delicate flower, so perfect that he had to wonder if he was imagining her beauty through the shadows. He¡¯d known exactly what she would look like, and it hadn¡¯t been nearly enough to prepare him for the reality. She was perfect. Everything about her was perfect.

    Garrin swallowed, his face flushed. Not everything. She was beautiful, but she was not his destiny. That waited outside the castle walls.

    As the princess reached the base of the stairs, Garrin fought to regain his composure. Her eyes came up to meet his, just darker than the shade of his shirt, the perfect complement to his own. He swallowed again and held out his hand to help her ascend the steps.

    Her skin was softer than silk and her fingers fit in his palm perfectly. Had the Architects measured his hand? He couldn¡¯t remember. He was having a hard time remembering anything.

    ¡°Princess,¡± said the Sage, jolting Garrin back to reality. ¡°What is your name?¡±

    She turned her gaze from Garrin and met the Sage¡¯s. ¡°Arya,¡± she breathed.

    ¡°Princess Arya,¡± the Sage announced, turning slightly to address the entire crowd. ¡°You were created as a companion to the Crown, to serve it as your life¡¯s purpose. From this day forward, your life is bound to it through Prince Garrin, who you will aid in the governing of Fyrest and the support of its allies. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Arya said, her voice gentle as falling snow.

    ¡°Prince Garrin,¡± said the Sage. ¡°Do you accept Princess Arya as your betrothed?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Garrin said faintly.

    ¡°Then I name you betrothed, in accord with and under the care of one another, until you make your formal vows at your wedding. May Fyelle bind you and bless you as She has blessed this kingdom.¡±

    The crowd cheered. The Sage took Garrin¡¯s hand¡ªwhich still held Arya¡¯s¡ªand held them in his own. ¡°Blessings upon you, Prince and Princess. Your kiss will seal the betrothal.¡±

    Garrin turned to his bride, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on him. He expected her to blush, to look down and wait shyly, and he intended to get the spectacle over with as quickly as possible.

    Instead, Princess Arya stared back at him. There was no meekness in her gaze, no flush across her cheeks. Just dark eyes that bored into his, waiting. Challenging.

    ¡°Your Highness?¡± the Sage prompted.

    Arya broke their stare, dropping her eyes to her feet. ¡°My lord,¡± she murmured, her voice as sweet as before. For a moment Garrin could do nothing but blink at her, but the Sage cleared his throat until Garrin finally leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

    She bit him.

 Reception

    Garrin had never been bitten before. Not by a person¡ªand not on the lip. He gave a strangled gasp, more from surprise than pain, and pulled away as far as he could with the Sage still holding his hand in Arya¡¯s. The Sage apparently mistook his intake of breath for one of passion, because he chuckled and said, ¡°The Architects have really outdone themselves with your princess. She is a rare beauty.¡±

    The rare beauty in question blushed and looked down, the perfect example of meek submission. Garrin almost wondered if he¡¯d imagined the whole thing, except for the throbbing in his lower lip.

    ¡°If you are ready, Your Highness,¡± the Sage said. ¡°You can guide your princess into the Great Hall for the banquet.¡±

    Garrin coughed and pulled his hand free of the Sage. Arya¡¯s came with it, her fingers twined through his, and when he tried to let go she held even tighter. He flashed her a curious look, but her eyes were still on the ground. Maybe he had been mistaken after all. It was absurd to think that a princess would bite him during their first kiss¡ªtheir betrothal kiss!¡ªin front of so many people. Perhaps it had been a shock, not a bite.

    ¡°The Prince and Princess!¡± the Sage announced, and the guests once again erupted in applause. Garrin led Arya down the steps and down the aisle between rows of chairs, pausing to kiss his mother¡¯s cheek and shake his father¡¯s hand. Arya sent bashful smiles into the crowd, her cheeks still colored, her eyes bright. She looked exactly the way a joyful bride should look, and Garrin...

    Garrin tripped on the threshold leading into the Great Hall. It was Arya who pulled him upright, pressing herself against his side as though it was she who had stumbled, not him. ¡°Careful now,¡± she muttered, squeezing his arm. ¡°What would all these people say if you fell flat on your face in front of them?¡±

    ¡°Pardon me?¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°You are pardoned. It¡¯s not as though you were born graceful. It seems it takes some people longer to perfect the quality.¡±

    ¡°And biting?¡± Garrin hissed. ¡°Were you born an expert in that as well?¡±

    ¡°Would you call me an expert?¡± she asked innocently.

    He stared at her, but she only smiled a dazzling smile and gestured toward the head table. ¡°Shall we eat, my lord?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± he started, but when she pulled him along he had no choice but to go with her.

    A servant drew out their chairs as they approached, bowing, while another filled their cups with wine. Garrin caught them both staring at Arya, but they ducked away before he could say anything. Well, he could hardly blame them. Bathed in the warm glow of the candles, she was radiant¡ªlike a star plucked from the heavens to illuminate the dark room.

    Love or not, the princess would provide plenty of inspiration for future songs and poetry. As bright in the night as the stars above, even if she is not my love...

    ¡°You should thank your guests,¡± Arya said.

    Garrin took a drink of wine¡ªwhite to fit the colors of the ceremony, though he preferred red¡ªand looked out over the Great Hall. ¡°I will as soon as everyone is seated. No one would hear me if I said something now.¡±

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    Most of the guests were still filtering in from the courtyard, finding tables and calling for wine before the meal. It gave Garrin a chance to think about what to say. Normally the duty of addressing guests fell to his father, but of course tonight that would be Garrin¡¯s responsibility. He would thank them for coming, of course, but then what?

    ¡°Have you not prepared a speech?¡± Arya asked.

    He frowned at her. ¡°A speech? No one wants to hear a speech when they¡¯re waiting for their food.¡±

    ¡°Well you must say something.¡±

    ¡°I will.¡±

    ¡°Without preparation?¡±

    Garrin took another drink to keep from glaring at her. ¡°If you are so worried about it, why don¡¯t you thank the guests?¡±

    ¡°That would be the better option,¡± Arya said, adding a wistful sigh. ¡°But I can only imagine what your council would say if I made the speech instead of you.¡±

    Her voice was light, so he couldn¡¯t tell if she was being serious¡ªbut she had a point. He imagined the look on Renton¡¯s face if the brand new princess, having held her position for less than an hour, addressed the assembled guests in the prince¡¯s place.

    It was almost enough for Garrin to let her do it.

    ¡°Let us dine, Garrin!¡± called his father, waving at him from his table. The royal families were all seated together, leaving Garrin and Arya alone at the head table. Originally he¡¯d appreciated the distance. Now he wondered how he was to handle his princess by himself.

    ¡°Yes,¡± added Queen Berys. ¡°Give us your speech, Prince Garrin!¡±

    Beside her, Lliane rolled her eyes and sipped her wine, pointedly ignoring Garrin. He fought to keep the scowl from his face. It appeared she was not ready to let go of her anger with him, and he found himself growing angry in return. He was only following the customs of his kingdom. A fine prince he would be if he snubbed generations of princesses and queens simply because Lliane disapproved. It wasn¡¯t fair to expect him to.

    And for better or worse, Arya was here now. Garrin wasn¡¯t about to send her away to please a foreign dignitary he only saw once every few years.

    Resolved, Garrin stood up and waited for the guests to quiet. He¡¯d never addressed a group this size before, but he was a musician. He knew how to perform.

    ¡°Honored guests,¡± he began, projecting his voice the way he did when he sang. ¡°I am blessed to share such a joyous occasion with you all. Some of you have traveled for days to join in my celebration, and I am honored by your presence here tonight. On behalf of my father the king, I welcome you to Whitecliff Castle and hope your stay here will be enjoyable¡ªstarting with this feast!¡± He gestured toward the servants waiting on the side of the room while the guests clapped in appreciation. ¡°With the blessings of Fyrelle under the full moon, let us give thanks and enjoy one another¡¯s company.¡±

    ¡°Thanks to Fyrelle,¡± the assembly chanted. Garrin sat as the servants brought out platters of food, taking in a slow breath through his nose. It was much easier to play for a crowd than to speak to them, he decided, but at least now he knew he could do it.

    Arya thanked the servant who set her plate before her and glanced at Garrin when he did not begin his meal. ¡°Hmm.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± he grumbled.

    ¡°You are not a terrible speaker.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°My thanks.¡±

    ¡°Why then were you nervous?¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t nervous,¡± he said, reaching for his wine.

    ¡°Your hand is trembling.¡±

    He stopped short of his cup and dropped his hand to the table. ¡°It¡¯s cold.¡±

    ¡°Garrin.¡±

    It was his poet¡¯s heart that made his name sound so melodic on her lips, he was sure. She could likely make any word sound like music. But he looked at her all the same, unable to ignore whatever she said next. Her dark eyes focused on his in a way no one else dared look at him¡ªwithout deference, without fear of consequence for her boldness. She did not speak, but her point was clear.

    I see you.

    She noticed him, and Garrin had no idea what to do with that.

    She did not speak, but her point was clear: I see you.

    Being truly seen for the first time in his life was a strange mixture of exhilarating and terrifying, and he didn¡¯t have a single idea of what to do about it. So he cleared his throat and drank his wine, turning his attention to the assortment of seafood arranged in the shape of rose on his plate. ¡°Eat,¡± he said.

 First Kiss

    It was customary for the princess to retire from the betrothal feast early; after all, it was only her first day out of the Architect¡¯s chambers. The events of the night would no doubt be overwhelming, and no one knew this better than Garrin¡¯s mother. She approached the head table at the end of the feast, smiling beatifically and reaching out for Arya¡¯s hands.

    ¡°You have done so well tonight, my dear,¡± she beamed. ¡°But I know how tired you must be. Come, I will take you to your chambers. Leave the rest of the night to the men.¡±

    For half a second, Arya hesitated. The look she shot Garrin was so brief it was hard to read, but he thought he saw dismay on her face. Before he could react, she eased her fingers into Queen Olyssa¡¯s palms and returned her smile. ¡°Thank you. It has been a long day.¡±

    The queen squeezed her hands. ¡°I know, dear, I know. I will make sure you have some tea before bed. I can have a maid sit with you as well, if you are afraid to spend the night alone.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Arya said, a little coldly. ¡°I am not afraid.¡±

    Garrin¡¯s mother laughed. ¡°There¡¯s no reason to feel embarrassed. It¡¯s only natural to feel a little afraid when you¡¯re alone in a strange room. But it will not be strange for long, and in a few short years you will wed and never have to spend another night on your own.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Mother,¡± Garrin muttered. ¡°I¡¯m sure she will be just fine.¡±

    She gave Garrin an indulgent smile. ¡°Of course. You needn¡¯t concern yourself with our silly talk. Enjoy your night, my love, and we will see you in the morning.¡±

    Silly talk? Settling the princess into her quarters for her first night in existence hardly seemed silly, but they left before Garrin could think of a suitable response. He would have rather gone with them than stay here to entertain the guests, who had now been drinking for much of the night and were eager to dance and gossip. Perhaps he could start the dance and sneak out afterwards¡ªthere were so many people that he could hardly be missed.

    There were too many guests to utilize the space in the Great Hall for dancing, so Garrin directed them back into the courtyard for the rest of the evening. Servants had already cleared away the chairs, kindling fires along the outside of the yard for warmth and light. The court musicians began a song as soon as Garrin exited the Great Hall, and he was immediately called upon to start a dance. After it ended, Prince Senjay thrust a cup of wine into his hands and demanded a livelier dance, one with more parts for couples and less time as a group. Reluctantly, Garrin acquiesced, but when Senjay called for another at the end, he told the Thiyaan prince that he was welcome to lead the next dance himself.

    The night wore on, and Garrin¡¯s hopes for leaving the dance early went unfulfilled. Noblemen and council members kept him surrounded, plying him with wine and well-wishes until the early hours of the morning. He was obliged to stay until the last of them wandered away to find their lodgings, and by then Garrin was in no mood to do anything other than sleep. His feet hurt and his head swam, so much so that he could not even appreciate the sight of Senjay, too drunk to walk on his own, being dragged away by his manservant.

    Away from the fires, the chill of the night wormed through Garrin¡¯s cloak and settled over his skin, urging him to his bed. He took a longer route back to his room, hoping to avoid guests, so by the time he reached his chambers he was shivering and ready to put an end to the night.

    When Garrin opened his door, he found Jakin loading wood into the fireplace. ¡°Your Highness,¡± he said, bowing. ¡°I have a brick warming in the coals. Can I take your cloak?¡±

    ¡°Did you have to wait up for me?¡± Garrin asked guiltily.

    ¡°Oh no, sire,¡± Jakin said. ¡°The servants had a feast as well, down in the kitchens. I¡¯ve just come up from that.¡±

    Garrin shrugged out of his clothes and passed them to Jakin for cleaning. ¡°Was it an enjoyable feast?¡± Garrin asked.

    ¡°Very. I think it is the most fun I¡¯ve had in a long time.¡± Jakin passed Garrin his nightclothes and turned back the heavy blankets on the bed, smoothing them out while Garrin dressed. ¡°Shall I put another brick in the fire?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Garrin said. ¡°One should be enough.¡±

    He held aside the open curtain on his four-post bed, crawled beneath his blankets, and sighed as Jakin eased the hot brick into the sheets at the foot of the bed. ¡°Thank you,¡± he yawned. ¡°That will be all, Jakin.¡±

    Jakin bowed, showing an enviable lack of fatigue, and left the room. Garrin eased back onto his pillow, pulling the curtain closed and settling into the darkness. He wanted to sleep¡ªwas desperate to sleep¡ªby every time he closed his eyes, her face appeared in his mind.

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    Arya.

    His princess.

    She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and the only emotion he could summon when he thought of her was confusion. His only frame of reference for how a princess should act was his mother, and Arya was nothing like the meek queen. Not to him, anyway. She¡¯d played her part well enough when there was an audience, but in private... He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, wishing he¡¯d thought to check for cuts before going to bed. If she was willing to bite him in front of witnesses, what might she do when they were alone?

    Whatever changes the Architects had implemented to add his requests on such short notice had to have done something to her mind¡ªmade her violent. But surely he wasn¡¯t the first prince to realize that some adjustments must be made after the initial betrothal? Perhaps he could go to Aremus in the morning and explain what had happened, give him a little more time to¡ª

    A click and a thud brought Garrin upright in bed. It sounded like the door, but no one would dare enter his bedchambers so late. Garrin eased his covers off, reaching through the curtains for the whittling knife he kept on his bedstand.

    He held himself still, listening, but the only noise was the crackling of the fire. After a few moments, Garrin forced himself to relax and chided himself for being foolish. He had no enemies here. The castle made strange sounds all the time. He started to put the knife back, but the whisper of a footstep stopped him short. There was a brush of fabric as someone drew aside the curtain on the other side of the bed, a sharp intake of breath...

    Garrin threw himself across the bed and pressed his knife to the intruder¡¯s throat. With his free hand he reached for the attacker¡¯s wrist, hoping to intercept a weapon, but his fingers closed around something slim and soft instead. Silky hair fell into his face as he flashed upright, filling his nose with the scent of roses and honey.

    ¡°Well,¡± a quiet voice said. ¡°I guess you¡¯re not asleep.¡±

    ¡°Arya?¡± Garrin released his betrothed, leaning back in the bed and lowering the knife. ¡°What are you doing here? I could have killed you!¡±

    The curtains on his side of the bed blocked the firelight, so Garrin couldn¡¯t see her face¡ªbut the chuckle she let out made him consider raising the knife again. ¡°I did not know you were so skittish,¡± she laughed. ¡°What would you have done against a real attacker?¡±

    Garrin clenched his jaw and replaced the knife on the bedstand, just in case she provoked him past his endurance. ¡°How did you even get in here?¡±

    ¡°The side door.¡±

    Garrin reached for the curtain to bring some light into the bed, but paused when her words sank into his exhausted brain. ¡°The what?¡±

    ¡°You know. The one connecting our rooms.¡± The mattress shifted as Arya climbed onto the bed, pulling his blankets aside to tuck her bare legs into their warmth. In the faint light from the fireplace, he saw that she was dressed in only a thin nightgown and an open robe.

    He looked away, making a show of adjusting the curtain while she settled in beside him. ¡°What¡ªwhat door? There¡¯s not a door connecting our rooms.¡±

    ¡°Yes, there is,¡± Arya said. ¡°The room next to yours used to be a nursery, so there was a door connecting them. It¡¯s covered by a tapestry now, but it¡¯s still there.¡±

    How could he not know about an extra door in his room? She had the benefit of all the knowledge he¡¯d requested for her, but he should have at least known about that. ¡°Arya,¡± he said sternly, and waited until she turned her shadowed face toward him. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    Her eyes flicked away. ¡°I was... exploring.¡±

    ¡°Exploring.¡± He sat back down on top of the covers, despite the chill that tried to urge him in beside her.

    ¡°Yes. Exploring. Or did you forget I¡¯ve only seen a handful of rooms in my life?¡±

    ¡°You were so curious you had to explore now? In the middle of the night?¡±

    ¡°When else am I supposed to do it?¡± Arya asked.

    ¡°Just... go explore on your own then,¡± Garrin said, exasperated. ¡°Let me go to sleep.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not stopping you,¡± Arya said.

    Garrin looked at her¡ªcurled up in his bed, under his blankets¡ªand felt himself flush. ¡°Fine. Stay here if you want, I¡¯ll sleep in the chair.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re betrothed,¡± Arya reminded him, propping herself on her elbows. ¡°What are you afraid of?¡±

    ¡°Maybe that you¡¯ll bite me again?¡± he grumbled.

    She laughed. ¡°I should apologize for that, I suppose. It was impulsive. Probably not the way you wanted to experience your first kiss.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t my first kiss,¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    He cursed himself for being baited so easily. Even with all her knowledge of him, she could only know what the Architects knew¡ªand they certainly didn¡¯t know that story. ¡°It was nothing,¡± he said. ¡°Forget it.¡±

    ¡°Tell me,¡± Arya pleaded. ¡°I promise not to make fun of you. Who was it?¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t it make you jealous?¡± Garrin asked.

    She tossed her hair. ¡°Jealous? Of what?¡±

    ¡°Of¡­ I don¡¯t know, the other girl.¡±

    ¡°Do you want me to be jealous?¡±

    Did he? Wanting her to be jealous would mean he wanted her affection, and didn¡¯t he already have that? He should, though she wasn¡¯t acting like it. Maybe that was another thing the Architects could fix.

    And in that case, they could erase this conversation from her memory if he confessed to it, so there was no harm in telling her. ¡°I was twelve,¡± he said finally, shifting back against his pillows. ¡°I kissed Lliane as part of a game we were playing with Senjay and some of the other noble children. Like I said, nothing.¡±

    Arya was silent. For a moment he wondered if he had made her jealous, and looked over at her curiously¡ªand found her face inches from his own. ¡°Then that wasn¡¯t a proper kiss,¡± she said. ¡°And I did ruin your first.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not...¡± he mumbled.

    ¡°Would you like to try again?¡± she asked.

    His mind went blank. She leaned closer, stretching out across his bed until he could feel her breath on his lips, her fingers against his arm. He wanted to move¡ªto pull away or close the gap, he wasn¡¯t sure¡ªbut his body wouldn¡¯t act. She was an inch away, a finger¡¯s width, a hair...

    ¡°Someday,¡± she said, her lips almost touching his. Then she patted his hand, threw off the covers, and slid out of the bed. ¡°On the day we¡¯re wed, perhaps.¡±

    Garrin stared after her as she glided across the floor, disappearing behind the tapestry beside his wardrobe. He let out a shaking breath, hand resting on the warm mattress where her body had been, and dropped back onto his pillows.

    There was no way he was going to sleep tonight.

 Breakfast

    Though he did eventually fall asleep, Garrin¡¯s rest was fretful. He woke frequently, convinced there was someone in his room, and kept his knife under his pillow for the remainder of the night. He fell into a doze sometime around dawn, and finally managed a few hours of uninterrupted sleep while the rest of the castle stirred awake.

    A knock roused him a little before midday, and he mumbled permission to enter.

    The door creaked open and Jakin¡¯s voice floated across the room. ¡°Good morning, Your Highness. Will you be joining the other princes and princesses for luncheon?¡±

    Luncheon... no, he did not want to go to luncheon with a hungover Senjay and a disapproving Lliane, plus their siblings. Plus Arya. He would rather do almost anything else.

    But his stomach grumbled audibly at the thought of skipping the meal, so Garrin threw back his blankets and climbed out of bed. While Jakin was busy stoking the fire, Garrin peeked behind the tapestry next to his wardrobe and found the door connecting his room to Arya¡¯s.

    Would it be suspicious if he requested the wardrobe be moved in front of it?

    ¡°Do you know the history of this room?¡± Garrin asked, dressing in plain clothes and throwing a heavy jacket over his shoulders.

    ¡°The history?¡± Jakin asked.

    ¡°Yes. Who used this room before me? Do you know?¡±

    Jakin shook his head. ¡°Sorry, Your Highness. I¡¯ve only been working in the castle for a few years. I can try to find out for you, though.¡±

    ¡°No need,¡± Garrin sighed. He already had a walking history of the entire kingdom next door.

    ¡°Then will you be needing anything else, sire?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, Jakin. Thank you.¡±

    Garrin pulled his jacket closed, bracing himself for the cool halls, and hesitated outside his room. Should he offer to escort Arya to the meal? Technically she should not know how to get there, and the other royals would think him rude if he didn¡¯t guide her.

    He sighed. Being betrothed wasn¡¯t supposed to change anything, but here it was causing him more headaches in two days than he¡¯d had in the whole previous year. At least he wouldn¡¯t have to deal with her being too attached to him. When he left, she would probably thank him for it.

    ¡°Princess?¡± he called, knocking on her door and forcing a polite tone into his voice. ¡°Are you awake?¡±

    The door opened under his knuckles, so abruptly that he almost fell forward. ¡°I¡¯ve been awake for hours,¡± Arya said, stepping aside so he could enter. ¡°Laziness is not a desirable trait in royalty.¡±

    Did she mean that she hadn¡¯t been given that trait, or was she admonishing him for having it? ¡°I rarely sleep so late,¡± he muttered. ¡°Someone kept me up all night.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hardly my fault if you stayed up daydreaming about me,¡± Arya smiled. She lifted a sky-blue cloak off a hook on the wall and draped it over her shoulders. Her dress was a rich dove gray, without extra details or ornaments to distract from her beauty, and her hair was loose around her shoulders.

    Garrin turned away before she could notice him noticing. ¡°Did you do any more exploring?¡± he asked.

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    ¡°No. I think I¡¯ll do that today.¡±

    ¡°Not until after luncheon,¡± Garrin said. ¡°The rest of the royal families are expecting us.¡±

    Arya followed him into the hall, tugging her door closed behind her. ¡°I¡¯m eager to meet them,¡± she said, falling into step beside Garrin. ¡°I know their biographies, of course, but the information the Architects gave me is so... dry. And I want to see for myself how jealous I should be over Princess Lliane.¡±

    That last comment was made with a smirk, which Garrin stoutly ignored. ¡°You would shock the whole table if you brought that up,¡± he said.

    ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s my intention.¡±

    Garrin glanced at her. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. If you meant to cause a scene, you¡¯d have done so at the ceremony.¡±

    ¡°The day is still young.¡±

    He flashed her a concerned look and found her laughing in response. They could do without conversation, he decided, and led her down the hall in silence.

    Luncheon would be served in one of the smaller dining rooms, one that was easier to heat. Apparently Arya had figured this out too¡ªor someone had told her¡ªbecause every time he made a turn he found her anticipating it. She never went so far as to walk in front of him, but would lean just a little in the direction he wanted to go as if proving to him that she knew the way. Baiting him again, waiting for him to mention it.

    He kept silent.

    When they reached the dining room, she fell back a step and folded her hands before her. They were the last to arrive; the chairs at the long table were already full of Eiliad and Thiyaan royalty, leaving only two seats open. One was at the head of the table, and Garrin made his way toward it without hesitation. Normally that spot was reserved for his father, but the kings and queens would be dining on their own that day. They always did when the three families got together.

    Garrin pulled out Arya¡¯s seat before taking his own, ignoring the attention of his guests as they watched him. Arya ignored them too, turning as she sat to beam up at him. It was beautiful, but the smirk at one corner of her mouth¡ªhidden to the rest of the room¡ªruined the effect.

    ¡°About time,¡± Senjay said. He was seated at Arya¡¯s left, with his sisters in a line that wrapped around the other side of the table. Lliane sat beside the youngest, leaving her brother Mered at Garrin¡¯s right.

    The blatant distance Lliane had put between them¡ªplus Senjay¡¯s comment¡ªrekindled Garrin¡¯s irritation. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re able to join us, Senjay,¡± Garrin said. ¡°After watching you being carried out of the party last night, I assumed you would sleep in.¡±

    Senjay grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve never yet experienced a hangover that could keep me down.¡±

    A few of his sisters giggled, so Garrin turned his attention to the other royals as he took his seat. ¡°And you, Prince Mered? Princess Lliane? How did you enjoy the festivities?¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Mered answered. ¡°The feast was as impressive as always. I quite enjoy your cuisine here in Fyrest.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡± Garrin said politely, his eyes on Lliane. She simply took a drink from her cup and agreed with her brother.

    ¡°And Princess Arya?¡± asked Setaare. She leaned over the table so she could see around Senjay and smiled. ¡°Did you have fun last night?¡±

    Arya folded her hands serenely in her lap. ¡°There was so much going on that it was a little overwhelming. I¡¯m afraid I had to leave early.¡± Her voice had that soft, faint quality it had at the ceremony¡ªshowing no hint of the sharpness she¡¯d displayed in his bedchambers.

    Setaare gave Arya a sympathetic nod. ¡°I went to sleep early as well. I enjoy the dancing, but my brother kept calling for couple¡¯s dances, and there were more women than men. There were too many of us sitting out, and that is no fun at all.¡±

    ¡°You could have called for something else,¡± Senjay argued.

    ¡°In Fyrest?¡± Setaare snorted. A sheepish look flashed across her face, and she sent an apologetic glance toward Garrin. ¡°Not that there is anything wrong with the way Fyrest does things. It¡¯s just a little different from back home.¡±

    Different... that was an understatement. In Thiyaan, Setaare could have done more than call for a dance. She could have played the music (though Garrin knew she had no interest in doing so), she could have been a part of the planning¡ªshe could even hold a spot on the council to help her brother rule when he became king. The first time Garrin had gone to Thiyaan as a child, the sight of so many women at the official meetings had baffled him.

    As he grew, he started to look forward to those visits. The women in Thiyaan were so much more vibrant than the ones in Fyrest¡ªand not just because of the warmer climate and flashier dress they favored. They spoke to him as though they cared to hear his thoughts and expected the same in return. Not like the women in Fyrest, who curtsied and cast down their eyes as soon as he came near. Well, not like most of the women here. Garrin glanced at Arya, who was waiting silently with her head down. In private at least, she acted more like a Thiyaan than a Fyrestian.

    Maybe that wasn¡¯t such a bad thing.

 Rebellion

    Garrin finished his meal in thoughtful silence. Senjay more than made up for his lack of conversation, and his sisters kept themselves entertained by quarreling amongst themselves. Prince Mered spoke a few times, but Lliane kept up her stubborn indifference toward Garrin and his betrothed. If it bothered Arya, she didn¡¯t mention it; she simply answered any questions posed to her and interjected a pleasant comment here and there.

    When luncheon was finished, Senjay beat Garrin to the task of pulling out Arya¡¯s chair. ¡°They say all Fyrestian princesses look alike,¡± he said, smiling down at her. ¡°But I have seen no one as beautiful as you. You are a diamond in a castle full of stones.¡±

    Arya blushed prettily and laughed. ¡°You are kind to say so. I was worried I would stand out with this yellow hair. All the other queens have had red, you know.¡±

    ¡°Yellow!¡± Senjay exclaimed. He took Arya¡¯s hand and helped her to her feet, then bowed over it and kissed her palm. ¡°Gold, Princess. Your hair is gold, not yellow.¡±

    ¡°I hardly see the difference,¡± Arya smiled.

    ¡°Have your groom explain it to you,¡± Senjay said. ¡°He is a supposed to be a poet, is he not?¡±

    Garrin rolled his eyes at the other prince. ¡°You are welcome to explain whatever you wish to her; I have business to see to. If you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±

    ¡°I would like to come with you,¡± Arya said.

    He hesitated, but with the others royals watching he could hardly refuse her. ¡°Very well.¡±

    Arya glided up beside him as he turned from the table, resting her hand in the crook of his elbow as naturally as if he¡¯d offered it to her.

    Which he had not.

    ¡°If you want someone to escort you, I¡¯m sure Senjay is free,¡± he grumbled.

    Arya chuckled. ¡°Now who¡¯s the jealous one?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not jealous. Flirt with whomever you like; it¡¯s no concern of mine.¡±

    ¡°Whose concern is it, if not that of my betrothed?¡±

    Garrin sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t you wish there was more to it than that? Wouldn¡¯t you like to fall in love with someone you¡¯d picked for yourself?¡±

    Her hand stiffened on his arm. He flashed her a surprised look, but she just tossed her head and snorted. ¡°Love is of little consequence in marriages of state.¡±

    He searched her expression and found nothing but bland acceptance. ¡°Do you really believe that?¡±

    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I?¡± She pulled her hand free and faced straight ahead. ¡°I was created for a single purpose: to be your queen. Love isn¡¯t a factor.¡±

    That was wrong. The Architects created every princess to love her prince¡ªhe¡¯d read that in his studies. If Arya didn¡¯t love him, it meant something had definitely gone wrong somewhere in their process, likely when they implemented Garrin¡¯s last-minute request.

    But maybe this was for the best. If Garrin intended to leave, it would be cruel to do so knowing Arya loved him. This way, there was nothing to keep her from agreeing to his plan.

    ¡°If that¡¯s the case,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s something I¡¯d¡ª¡±

    They turned a corner, and before Garrin could get the rest of his words out, he found himself face to face with Renton. The military advisor stopped to avoid colliding with them, but did not move out of the way.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± he said, smiling unpleasantly. ¡°I hope you have not been neglecting our honored guests in order to sneak away for a tumble with your princess. Remember, sire, you are not yet married. Tumbles, if they are to be had, must remain discreet.¡±

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    Heat rushed to Garrin¡¯s face. He opened his mouth, but Arya¡¯s light laughter cut him off.

    ¡°Tumble? There¡¯s nothing to worry about, Lord Renton. One of the traits the Architects gave me was grace. I am in no danger of tumbling over.¡± She tilted her head, smiling innocently at him. ¡°Perhaps they can give you some more grace so you needn¡¯t worry?¡±

    For a moment, Renton¡¯s only reaction was to stare at her. Garrin¡¯s was the same. Speaking sharply to him was one thing, but to target a man as powerful as Renton... she¡¯d even failed to call him Marshal. But she continued to smile as though she¡¯d meant her words sincerely and couldn¡¯t imagine they might carry another meaning.

    ¡°How thoughtful, Princess,¡± Garrin said, clearing his throat to keep the amusement out of his voice. ¡°We will have to see what the Architects say about it. Until then, Lord Renton, enjoy your day.¡±

    Renton gaped, but Garrin pulled Arya away before the advisor could say anything else. They hurried down the corridor without speaking, without looking at one another, without glancing back. The spell of silence didn¡¯t break until they reached the door to their bedchambers, where they paused and finally made eye contact.

    Garrin did his best to keep his expression serious with Renton¡¯s open-mouthed stare still fresh in his memory. ¡°That was risky.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Arya asked. ¡°Because he¡¯s on the council? He thinks he¡¯s more important than he is.¡±

    ¡°The Architects told you that?¡±

    Arya shrugged. ¡°In a way. They gave me his history and I drew my own conclusions. Do you disagree?¡±

    ¡°No, not at all.¡± He reached for the handle on his door and hesitated. Should he invite her in? Should he tell her to go to her own room? He¡¯d meant to drop her off so he could talk to Aremus about her deficiencies, but after breakfast and their run-in with Renton...

    Maybe he could wait to find out more about her. The Architects could make corrections any time he wanted¡ªthere was no rush.

    ¡°Would you like to come in?¡± Garrin asked.

    Arya tilted her head. ¡°And do what?¡±

    ¡°Just... talk. Get to know each other better.¡±

    ¡°I already know everything there is to know about you,¡± Arya said, tossing her hair and walking into his room. ¡°And you hand-picked every detail about me. What else is there to know?¡±

    Garrin shut the door, following her into the room and taking the chair from his desk. ¡°I knew what you would look like, what skills you would have, but I don¡¯t know you. You are not at all what I expected.¡±

    ¡°No?¡± She dropped into the wing-backed chair before his fireplace, somehow managing to make even that movement seem graceful. ¡°You are exactly what I expected. A spoiled prince who has known nothing but luxury, wasting every opportunity presented to him in favor of daydreams.¡±

    The words hurt more than they should have from someone he¡¯d just met the day before. ¡°I¡¯ll admit to being spoiled,¡± he said stiffly. ¡°I¡¯ve never known real hunger or pain or loss, not like the rest of the world. That¡¯s why I want to go out and experience some of it for myself. A king who can understand suffering is better than one who turns a blind eye to it, isn¡¯t he? Would you call that daydreaming?¡±

    Arya leaned over the arm of the chair to study him. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s not just an excuse to run from your responsibilities? Can¡¯t you be compassionate without leaving?¡±

    An argument leaped to Garrin¡¯s lips, but he held it there. Was it an excuse? Maybe¡ªhe¡¯d be lying if he said it wouldn¡¯t be a relief to have someone else take over the decision-making and boring meetings and endless pandering to visiting nobles and royals. And part of wanting to travel was the selfish desire to have his own adventures and find his own love. That was all true. But it was also true that a good king should understand his people, and he could not do that without meeting them.

    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s both,¡± Garrin said finally. ¡°It¡¯s selfish and it¡¯s compassionate. Do you think that¡¯s possible?¡±

    She looked toward the fire, but for a long time she didn¡¯t respond. Then she stood up and walked to his wardrobe, threw it open, and pulled out one of his heavy winter cloaks. ¡°Put this on,¡± she said, tossing it to him.

    He caught it over the back of his chair. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Your theory is that you must experience your people and your lands in order to be a good ruler,¡± Arya said. ¡°And what does one do when one has an untested theory?¡±

    ¡°One... tests it?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± She pulled the tapestry aside and opened the door to her room, smiling over her shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you in the hallway.¡±

    Garrin stood up, cloak draped over one arm. ¡°Wait, we can¡¯t just leave. Not with the Kirahans and Terynelises expecting to be entertained, and all the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± Arya needled. ¡°Be a little rebellious for once.¡±

    ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Garrin muttered.

    She shrugged one shoulder. ¡°Maybe it is. It¡¯s easier to decide what you want to be when you¡¯re only two days old.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ve decided you want to be a rebel?¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°Yes.¡± She stepped through her door without looking back at him. ¡°I think I have. Are you coming?¡±

    She shut the door before he could answer, but they both knew there was only one thing he could do.

    With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, Garrin pulled the cloak over his shoulders and went to meet his princess in the hall.

 Gillesport

    Whitecliff Castle, as its name suggested, was built on top of the white cliffs west of Gillesport. The port had been the first settlement on the continent, founded by renowned adventurer, bard, and personal hero to Garrin, Andren Gille. From there, the first settlers of the continent branched north, east, and west, eventually founding the three kingdoms¡ªbut Gillesport remained the capital of Fyrest from the beginning. The oldest part of the city sprawled along the coast in a series of ports, courtyards, and merchant shops. It was Garrin¡¯s favorite place to visit, though he didn¡¯t get there often. Sailors from all over the world gathered in the harbor, searching for work and open taverns, buying wares and telling tales of their adventures to anyone who would listen.

    Garrin always listened, so he rarely had to search out men who wanted to talk. Whenever he was in town, he was guaranteed a free mug of questionable ale and several hours¡¯ worth of stories.

    But Garrin had no intention of taking Arya into the kinds of places his favorite storytellers frequented. He knew enough about the ports; today they would explore the rest of the city.

    They made their way down the twisting road connecting Gillesport to Whitecliff Castle, hoods up to conceal their identities from infrequent travelers. It was a pleasant day, despite the cold; there was no wind, and the sun gleamed off the gathered snow and warmed their faces as they walked. With his warm cloak and the brisk pace Arya set, Garrin even found himself lowering his hood when the road was empty.

    He could still hardly believe they¡¯d gotten out of the castle without being seen. Arya had taken him through the servants¡¯ halls to an exit south of the main gate, one he hadn¡¯t known existed. By the looks of the dust coating the door handle, few others knew of its existence either. When he asked about it, she just sighed, ¡°And you call yourself a prince.¡±

    It was the first time Garrin had ever been outside the castle without an escort¡ªand the first time he¡¯d walked to town rather than riding. There was more to see by foot, he decided; usually he was so focused on getting to the ports that he paid little attention to the scenery.

    He would have to do this more often.

    ¡°What are you grinning about?¡± Arya asked. She had her hands folded into the sleeves of her dress, which Garrin noticed guiltily was much thinner than his own clothes.

    ¡°Just... It¡¯s a pleasant day, don¡¯t you think?¡± he answered. ¡°And it¡¯s nice to be away from the castle.¡±

    Arya tilted her head back to bare her face to the sun. ¡°How often do you dream of leaving the castle?¡±

    ¡°Now and then,¡± he hedged.

    ¡°Why? Is it the confinement? The responsibilities? Renton?¡±

    He laughed, though when he looked at her, her expression was serious. ¡°It isn¡¯t anything wrong with the castle,¡± he said, sobering. ¡°It¡¯s just that there¡¯s so much more to the world. I don¡¯t suppose the Architects gave you any desire to travel.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said in a flat voice.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t a desirous trait for a prince either,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I have it. I want to see new places, experience new things. Even if it¡¯s just here in Fyrest.¡±

    ¡°And write and sing about them like the bards in your stories?¡± Arya said.

    ¡°Why not?¡± he asked. ¡°Someone has to write songs. Why not me?¡±

    ¡°Because you have a kingdom to run.¡±

    ¡°Not for another four years.¡±

    She adjusted her hood so she could see him better. ¡°You know that isn¡¯t true. You have other responsibilities to perform before then.¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have to be me doing them,¡± Garrin argued.

    ¡°Who then?¡±

    He looked at her, but if she caught the meaning in his gaze she gave no indication of it. He wanted to tell her then, but they had almost reached the edge of the city and he didn¡¯t want to get into his plans when they couldn¡¯t discuss them at length. It would have to wait.

    ¡°Look,¡± he said instead, pointing down the road. The rooftops of Gillesport rose into view, complete with clouds of smoke and circling seagulls overhead. ¡°Where should we go first?¡±

    Arya¡¯s expression brightened. ¡°The old town.¡±

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    That wouldn¡¯t have been his first choice, but if she wanted to look at a bunch of crumbling walls and outdated architecture, that was her business. He led her down the road that would take them into the oldest part of the city, entering the district through a stone arch built into a short wall. The streets here were simple dirt paths, made uneven by snow and ice, and Garrin offered Arya his arm as they passed into the shade of the ancient buildings. ¡°They say Andren Gille oversaw the construction of some of these buildings himself,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I think most of that is rumor, though. Just a way to bring in tourists from the ports.¡±

    ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no way to know for sure,¡± Arya said.

    Garrin turned them between two buildings, following the half wall that would lead to the ruins of the first fort built in the harbor. ¡°I¡¯m sure the Tellers have a record somewhere,¡± he said. ¡°They have a guild in the business district. Most of the important records are held in the university, but the Tellers like to keep some of their books from the Sages.¡±

    Arya chuckled. ¡°You sound like someone who¡¯s looked into this. Who would have thought the prince had so much interest in history?¡±

    ¡°Not history for its own sake,¡± Garrin admitted. ¡°Just when it concerns Gille.¡±

    ¡°Ah, I should have guessed. A musician who traveled the world and helped establish the three kingdoms... it¡¯s not hard to see the connection.¡±

    ¡°You make it sound so simple,¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±

    He paused in a patch of sunlight streaming between two buildings. ¡°He wasn¡¯t just a musician. He wrote the first ballads about Fyrest. He helped King Kaldis establish a lasting kingdom throughout the continent.¡±

    ¡°The kingdom broke up within a single generation,¡± Arya pointed out.

    ¡°It passed to his three children,¡± Garrin corrected. ¡°It didn¡¯t break up. It¡¯s still here in mostly the same form, it¡¯s just ruled by three kings instead of one.¡±

    Arya shrugged. ¡°Who is your history teacher? He seems to have left a few things out.¡±

    ¡°The Architects didn¡¯t tell you that?¡± Garrin said, bristling. When Arya simply stared at him, he rolled his eyes and said, ¡°It¡¯s Sage Dellon.¡±

    She wrinkled her nose. ¡°He¡¯s hardly older than you are. Why not have someone who¡¯s experienced history teach it?¡±

    ¡°Dellon is a good teacher,¡± Garrin said.

    That was a lie. Dellon assigned readings and mostly left Garrin to his own devices, checking in a few times a month to make sure he was keeping up with his ¡°studies¡±. Most of that centered on Dellon¡¯s favorite period in history, the Revitalization¡ªwhen the focus of most Fyrestians shifted from settling and taming their country to creating and trading art. ¡°It was when our national identity truly began to take shape,¡± Dellon had told him. ¡°It was a time of unity, of collaborative pursuit of a worthy goal, of intellectual gain. If history does repeat itself, let us repeat the Revitalization.¡±

    Arya shot him a doubtful glance. ¡°If you say so.¡±

    ¡°If you have such a poor opinion of history, why did you want to see the old town?¡± he asked.

    ¡°The cemeteries,¡± she answered. When he frowned, she laughed and added, ¡°Is that not fitting for a princess?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly,¡± he said.

    She shrugged. ¡°Go back to the castle if you want to. I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t leave you here alone,¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°You can,¡± Arya argued. ¡°You just shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tempt me,¡± he muttered. Part of him wanted to turn around there and leave her to her own devices, but he continued down the street toward the nearest cemetery. The day seemed less pleasant than it had when they¡¯d started out. Maybe it had gotten colder; maybe it was just his mood. He was ready to end this bizarre trip and return to the castle.

    Garrin chided himself silently. He wanted to be an adventurer, but at the first hint of a chill in the air he was ready to run back home? That wouldn¡¯t do.

    ¡°Perhaps after the cemetery we can try the guilds,¡± Garrin suggested. ¡°Some of them have music or indoor tumbling demonstrations during the¡ª¡±

    ¡°Hey, Othe!¡±

    Garrin turned in surprise as a wiry man slinked out of the shadows behind him, pulling an oiled cloak tight about his shoulders. ¡°A lord and lady from the hills got lost in the sewer streets.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re from higher than the hills,¡± said another man, stepping out of an alley ahead of them.

    Another joined the first man in the cloak. ¡°You¡¯re right¡ªlook at them furs. They gotta be noble, Othe. We should leave ¡®em alone.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense,¡± said the man in front of them. Othe, apparently. ¡°By the looks of ¡®em, they got the money to afford a donation. Won¡¯t be much. Nothin¡¯ they would miss.¡± He eased toward Garrin, holding out his hand and grinning.

    Another man darted out of the alley and pushed Othe¡¯s hand down. ¡°Hang on now. Let¡¯s think about this logically. We can take their money, sure, or we can take them. What do you figure a pair like them¡¯d fetch us?¡±

    ¡°With all them furs and feathers,¡± Othe said. ¡°Thousand crescents at least. Maybe two.¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Garrin said firmly. ¡°Except perhaps an arrest warrant. It would be better for you to let us go.¡±

    Othe laughed. ¡°The little bird has a voice! Or do you think he¡¯s just singing for his lady? What¡¯s your name, little bird?¡±

    Arya put a hand on his arm, but the warning was unnecessary. The men had faint Thiyaan accents¡ªsailors, most likely, men who planned to be out on the sea again before the law could catch up to them. They might defer if they knew Garrin was the prince, or they might escalate. There was no way to be sure. ¡°Let the lady go at least,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I will stay behind if you wish to attempt a ransom exchange.¡±

    The men cackled. ¡°So she can run for the guards?¡± Othe said. ¡°No, little bird, you both stay with us. Come quiet, now.¡±

    Garrin set his feet. ¡°We¡¯re not going anywhere with you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re outnumbered,¡± Othe pointed out. ¡°You think you can fight us all?¡±

    With swords? No question. Garrin had trained to use the sword his whole life, though most of the moves he knew were for show over practicality. But none of these men were armed, and neither was he. And Garrin knew nothing about brawling.

    It didn¡¯t matter; he couldn¡¯t just let them take Arya. ¡°Run for help while they¡¯re distracted,¡± Garrin muttered, lifting his fists.

    Arya shook her head.

    ¡°I¡¯ll run as soon as you¡¯re far enough away,¡± Garrin promised. ¡°But not till you¡¯ve gone. Understand?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡ª¡± she started, but Othe took a step forward and reached for her arm.

    Garrin swung.

 Bargain

    When Garrin was first learning how to use a sword, his tutor told him never to attack unless he had a plan. ¡°Once you know more,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°You can react from instinct. But until then, only move when you know what you¡¯re going to do.¡±

    Garrin had a plan when he swung at Othe, but it mostly amounted to try to hit him. He¡¯d hoped his sudden movement would take them off-guard, and at first it seemed to. He hit Othe in the jaw with a punch that hurt Garrin at least as much as it had hurt his opponent. Othe stumbled, giving Garrin the chance to swing at the man beside him, and then the other two were grabbing his shoulders and wrestling him away. Garrin got one arm free long enough to undo the clasp on his cloak, then twisted out from under it so the men were left holding onto the fabric instead of him. He chanced another punch into the group and felt his knuckles connect with a nose.

    He couldn¡¯t see Arya. She must have gotten away, because all four of the men who¡¯d stopped them were now surrounding him. And if she¡¯d gotten away, he only had to keep this up for a few more minutes before attempting to join her.

    A fist slammed into his ribs, doubling him over and driving the breath from his lungs. He gasped, scrambling to hold on to one of the men, and felt a boot drive into the back of his knee. An elbow struck him in the back of the shoulder, and he tumbled into the snow.

    ¡°Not bad, little bird,¡± Othe said, rubbing his jaw. ¡°Umbren, go after the girl. Make sure she doesn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Garrin lashed out with his foot, catching Othe¡¯s shin and knocking him back a step. It wasn¡¯t enough to push him over, but it was enough to reclaim his attention. ¡°Sell the cloak if you want money,¡± Garrin growled. ¡°Or take me. Those are your only choices.¡±

    ¡°And how do you figure you¡¯re going to stop us?¡± Othe asked.

    Garrin pushed himself to his knees, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning as pain shot through his ribs. ¡°I know the king,¡± he spat.

    He¡¯d hoped for hesitation¡ªmaybe a worried glance or two¡ªbut Othe only laughed. ¡°Of course you do, dressed like that. But does the king know each of his nobles?¡±

    ¡°He knows me,¡± Garrin said. His eyes went to Umbren, who had paused at Garrin¡¯s words. ¡°And he knows the lady. If anything happens to us, he¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°Guards!¡± hissed one of the other men. ¡°Listen!¡±

    They stilled long enough to hear the tramp of feet and the clang of metal. Othe sighed. ¡°It¡¯s your lucky day, little bird. Come on, boys. We¡¯ll try our luck elsewhere.¡±

    Garrin climbed to his feet as they hurried away, breathing between clenched teeth and searching for his saviors. None came. The metallic clatter continued, but never seemed to get any closer. After a few moments, Garrin shuffled in the direction of the noise and turned into an alley, frowning as the sound amplified in the narrow space.

    It wasn¡¯t guards. It was Arya, stomping on a crate and banging two empty barrel lids together. The metal band around the lids was the source of the metallic sound he¡¯d mistaken for armor, though looking at the scene now, he couldn¡¯t imagine anyone had fallen for such a simple trick.

    He slumped against the wall, arm wrapped around his ribs. ¡°They¡¯ve gone. You can stop now.¡±

    ¡°So sullen?¡± Arya asked, dropping the lids and stepping carefully off her crate. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re embarrassed at having been saved by a woman?¡±

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    He spat out a trickle of blood; he must have bitten his tongue during the fight. ¡°What¡¯s there to be embarrassed about?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯re the smartest person in the city¡ªprobably the country¡ªpossibly the continent. There¡¯s no shame in being saved by someone like you.¡±

    But he was ashamed. Not that Arya had saved him, but that he hadn¡¯t put up a better fight. He¡¯d taken more hits than he¡¯d given, and even the ones he¡¯d landed had hurt him in return. His knuckles were bruised, his ribs felt broken, and all he had to show for it was a princess who hadn¡¯t needed saving.

    Well, that part wasn¡¯t so bad. Arya had faced the danger bravely and kept her wits about her, and rather than flee to save herself, she¡¯d stayed behind to help him. Those were the qualities of a true hero. He couldn¡¯t begrudge her for having them.

    He only wished he had a few as well.

    Arya¡¯s eyes were still on him, so he cleared his throat and turned back to the street. ¡°Let¡¯s go. But I think we¡¯ll take the main streets to the cemetery.¡±

    She moved to join him and frowned. ¡°You still want to go to the cemetery?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± She stared at him a moment longer and then stepped into the street, bending to retrieve his cloak. ¡°I just want to see something.¡±

    He did his best to settle it over his shoulders without wincing. ¡°Check what?¡±

    ¡°A name.¡±

    ¡°What name?¡±

    Arya settled the hood back over her hair, huddling into her cloak while Garrin adjusted his. ¡°Just... a name. I¡¯ll tell you if I find it.¡±

    He sighed. ¡°Fine. Come on, we¡¯ll go this way.¡±

    For once she didn¡¯t argue as he led the way up the street, seeking out the center of the city and, more importantly, witnesses. The cemeteries were mostly located in the old town, but the paths leading to them were better traveled than the alleys and ruins they¡¯d passed through. So much for my sense of adventure, Garrin thought bitterly.

    He shook his head and forced the muscles in his face to relax. This wouldn¡¯t do. One failed scuffle didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t be an adventurer¡ªit just meant he needed to train more before going off on his own. Or he needed to wear a sword when he came to Gillesport. Either way, it didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t hold his own, only that he hadn¡¯t this time. There was still plenty of time to learn and prove himself.

    What would his tutors do if he asked them to teach him brawling rather than swordsmanship?

    ¡°Here,¡± Arya said, leading him through an arched iron gate into a low-walled cemetery. Garrin followed her wordlessly, glancing at the gravestones with little interest. This was one of the old cemeteries, with graves dating back to Gillesport¡¯s beginning. Arya moved between them as if she knew where she was going, striding without hesitation in a place that would have made most ladies cling to his arm as they passed.

    After a few minutes of wandering, she paused before a flat stone pressed into the earth and almost completely covered with snow. Kneeling, she brushed aside as much of the snow as she could and looked up at Garrin, her expression masked. ¡°Can you read the name?¡±

    He leaned over her. ¡°Anarya Ellysen. Never heard of her.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Arya muttered. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    ¡°Who was she?¡±

    Arya stood and wiped her hands on her cloak. ¡°Anarya Ellysen was one of the first Architects. That¡¯s all I know about her. Just a name and that she¡¯s buried here in Gillesport.¡±

    ¡°An Architect?¡± Garrin echoed. ¡°Women can¡¯t be Architects.¡±

    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Arya answered.

    ¡°But...¡± Garrin frowned as he studied the plain, overgrown gravestone. ¡°If she was an Architect, she should have been buried in the castle grounds. Especially if she was one of the first.¡±

    Arya crossed her arms. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Then... why wasn¡¯t she?¡±

    A mischievous gleam sparked in Arya¡¯s eyes, and a wave of foreboding crashed over Garrin. ¡°You said you wanted adventure. Do you want mystery too?¡±

    No. Not if it had captured Arya¡¯s interest¡ªwhatever it was would only cause trouble. This mystery of hers had already left him bruised and battered, and it had only involved a walk into the city. He should turn his back on this whole affair now, while he still could.

    And yet... a female Architect stricken from history, her grave abandoned and neglected... it wasn¡¯t the kind of story Garrin could ignore. And judging by the look on Arya¡¯s face, she knew it.

    Well, he wasn¡¯t about to make it easy for her. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he said lightly. ¡°And I¡¯ll think about it more seriously if you help me with something first.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Help me find someone who can teach me to fight.¡±

 Healing

    Garrin¡¯s declaration did not have the effect he¡¯d expected. He figured Arya would laugh, or maybe try to talk him out of it, but she just frowned and said, ¡°You already know how to fight.¡±

    ¡°With a sword,¡± Garrin said. ¡°Against an opponent who wouldn¡¯t dare hurt me. We see how well that knowledge served me today.¡±

    She shrugged one shoulder. ¡°What do you think I can do about it? Fighting is not a skill the Architects gave me.¡±

    ¡°But they gave you knowledge. You know who might teach me.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯re overreacting,¡± Arya said. She pulled her cloak tight and started back for the gate. ¡°We should return to the castle. I have what I came for.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Garrin asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re upset that you were bested by four men,¡± Arya said, rolling her eyes. ¡°Now you think you need to get stronger. For what, exactly? Do you plan on being threatened by Thiyaan sailors again?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t plan on it this time,¡± Garrin said.

    She swept into the street ahead of him, leading the way back toward the main road. ¡°Fair point.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not overreacting,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to be prepared.¡±

    Arya slowed and looked up at him as he joined her. ¡°What exactly do you want to learn?¡±

    ¡°How to defend myself against real threats,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I need someone who won¡¯t hold back just because I¡¯m the prince.¡±

    ¡°And in return, you¡¯ll help me look into Anarya Ellysen?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Garrin said.

    She sighed. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll think of someone who can help you.¡±

    Garrin grinned, and she looked away with a short huff. ¡°Let¡¯s go. It¡¯s getting colder.¡±

    The return journey was, thankfully, less eventful than their time in Gillesport. Arya led him back into the castle through the servants¡¯ entrance, which Garrin marked for future use. Without Arya, preferably. She¡¯d barely spoken to him since they left Gillesport, and he was beginning to wonder whether he¡¯d done something to offend her.

    He couldn¡¯t imagine what. The whole thing had been her idea in the first place, and she¡¯d gotten to see her gravestone. She¡¯d even gotten to rescue him from a fight. What was there to be upset about?

    ¡°Do you think¡ª?¡± Garrin started, hoping to steer the conversation back to Anarya Ellysen to bribe Arya into talking. Before he could finish, the echo of oncoming footsteps announced the presence of someone around the corner, and he cut himself off and straightened his spine. His cloak was filthy, but at least the pain in his ribs had softened from a shooting throb to a dull ache. Hopefully whoever was coming toward them would be too polite to mention his appearance.

    He groaned when Renton turned the corner. The man paused to give his customary sneer, but when he took in Garrin¡¯s disheveled clothes, his eyes widened and he stopped short. ¡°Goddess,¡± he muttered. ¡°What happened, Your Highness?¡±

    Did he really look that terrible? ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Garrin said, smoothing out his shirt. ¡°A misunderstanding in town.¡±

    ¡°In town?¡± Renton repeated. ¡°Surely you don¡¯t mean Gillesport?¡±

    ¡°That would be the nearest town,¡± Garrin said.

    Renton blinked as if he didn¡¯t understand. ¡°You went into town, my lord? When? And without telling anybody?¡±

    ¡°Just now,¡± Garrin said. He started forward, but Renton blocked his path.

    ¡°Your Highness, what happened?¡±

    Renton stood a few inches taller than Garrin, but he summoned what height he had and tilted up his chin to stare into the military adviser¡¯s eyes. ¡°I went into town. Now I am back. You can see for yourself that other than a dirty cloak, I am perfectly fine. Now excuse me, Lord Renton, I must change before I invite any further questions about my appearance.¡±

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    ¡°You should not leave the castle grounds without an escort,¡± Renton said, undeterred.

    He certainly wouldn¡¯t be leaving unarmed again. But he wasn¡¯t about to tell Renton that, so he just moved past the man and beckoned for Arya to follow him. ¡°Thank you for your concern, councilman. I will take it into consideration.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness, really¡ª¡±

    ¡°Princess?¡± Garrin interrupted. ¡°Are you coming?¡±

    Garrin twisted to get past Renton and winced as the movement jarred his ribs, but Arya came up beside him and blocked Renton¡¯s view of his expression. ¡°It was a lovely day for a walk,¡± Garrin said, pitching his voice to carry through the hall. ¡°We will have to do it again soon. Maybe tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°I would love to, my lord,¡± Arya smiled.

    ¡°Perhaps later in the week we can explore the forest.¡±

    ¡°I have never been. Is it beautiful in the winter?¡±

    ¡°The paths are a little cool under the trees, but when the branches are filled with snow, they¡¯re wonderful to see.¡±

    By then they¡¯d turned a corner, and Garrin abandoned the topic and rubbed at his sore side. ¡°Why is it always Renton? Why can¡¯t we run into anybody else?¡±

    Arya sent a worried glance over her shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t think you should be so dismissive of him. A man like that isn¡¯t used to being disregarded. Who knows what he might do?¡±

    ¡°What can he do?¡± Garrin asked. ¡°He doesn¡¯t hold any power over me.¡±

    ¡°I just think you should be cautious,¡± Arya said.

    He hitched one shoulder. ¡°I will be.¡±

    Arya¡¯s eyes fell to his ribs, a small frown forming on her lips. ¡°That would be wise. I¡¯m going to see what I can find out about Anarya.¡±

    She swept away before he could say anything else. That was just as well¡ªafter the long, eventful morning and his run-in with Renton, Garrin wasn¡¯t in the mood for any more arguing. He made his way slowly back to his room, feeling the jar of each step in his aching body. It wasn¡¯t just his ribs now; the muscles in his legs reminded him that he hadn¡¯t been particularly active in recent months, and the long walk had taken its toll on him. His feet were sore and his lower back throbbed more harshly with every step. Maybe he could take a nap before the servants came to summon him for whatever duties he¡¯d forgotten to do that day.

    Part of him hoped he¡¯d find Jakin in his room so he could order a bath, but other than the freshly stoked fire, there were no signs that anyone had been in his room since that morning. Garrin sighed and let his cloak slip off his shoulders, leaving it on the floor for Jakin to find later. Then he gingerly removed his shirt, breathing through clenched teeth, and twisted to see the damage.

    A large bruise stretched across his side, pulsing with pain as he tried to examine it. Garrin let out a breath and dropped into the chair beside the fire. There was nothing to be done; one of the guards had broken his ribs in training a few months ago, and Garrin had overheard the servants saying that the only treatment was rest. It didn¡¯t pay to go to the healers for a bruise they could do nothing about, so Garrin tipped his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, prepared to take the servants¡¯ advice.

    Until a knock on the door pulled him back to consciousness. He groaned, ready to tell whoever it was to come back later, but either way he¡¯d have to get up eventually. It was probably Jakin summoning him for his next assignment.

    Slowly, he stood and made his way across the room. ¡°Sorry, Jakin,¡± he said, pulling open the door. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I might have permanently damaged my...¡±

    It wasn¡¯t Jakin. It was Lliane, who gave him a startled look that reminded him he was not wearing a shirt.

    ¡°Your ribs?¡± she said.

    He stayed where he was in the doorway, staring at her in confusion. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    Lliane¡¯s eyes hadn¡¯t left his side or the bruise marring it. ¡°Princess Arya said you¡¯d been hurt and that you might need some help.¡±

    ¡°I...¡± He trailed off, not knowing what else to say. He didn¡¯t need help, and he couldn¡¯t understand why Arya would tell Lliane that he did. It was just a bruise. But she was looking at him like it wasn¡¯t ¡°just¡± anything. Like he was new and fragile and uncertain; like he needed help. Like she wanted to help him.

    ¡°The princess said you were attacked,¡± Lliane said. She set her hand on the door and pushed it gently, waiting for him to resist. He didn¡¯t.

    ¡°She said you protected her,¡± she went on. ¡°That you were hurt because of it.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that,¡± Garrin protested, but she opened the door far enough to move past him and went to stand beside the fire.

    ¡°Come here,¡± she said. ¡°I brought some ointment. It will help with the pain.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need any¡ª¡±

    She put a hand on her hip and blew a sharp breath through her nose. ¡°You¡¯re going to make me say it? Fine. I feel bad that I was ignoring you for something that isn¡¯t your fault. Happy? Now just let me help you.¡±

    Stunned, Garrin followed her into the room and stood awkwardly while she opened a jar of ointment she produced from her pocket. ¡°This was made by the best healers in Eiliad,¡± Lliane said.

    ¡°I can do it,¡± Garrin said uncomfortably.

    ¡°Stop talking,¡± Lliane sighed. She smeared a dab of ointment onto his skin and sent a shiver across his body. ¡°I haven¡¯t had much experience in apologies,¡± she went on without meeting his eyes. ¡°Princesses rarely have to say they¡¯re sorry.¡±

    ¡°Princes either,¡± Garrin said.

    A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. ¡°I thought you were giving up. You always talked about going adventuring, but that was all it ever was. Talk. Now you¡¯ve done something like this...¡± She smoothed her fingertips over his bruise. ¡°And I wonder what else I haven¡¯t noticed.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Just that.¡± She looked up at him, eyes bright beneath long lashes. ¡°I¡¯m going to be paying attention from now on.¡±

    Garrin wanted to ask what she¡¯d be paying attention to¡ªand why¡ªbut before he could form the words, she set her hand on his shoulder, lifted herself to her tiptoes, and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek.

    ¡°There¡¯s my apology,¡± she said. Then she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, leaving him gaping by the fireplace.

 Lessons

    Jakin knocked on Garrin¡¯s door ten minutes after Lliane left and found the prince still standing in the middle of his room. At first he seemed confused, but when his quick eyes picked out the bruise on Garrin¡¯s side, he surged into the room with a gasp. ¡°Your Highness! What happened?¡±

    Embarrassed¡ªwhy hadn¡¯t he thought to put on a shirt?¡ªGarrin made his way to his wardrobe and opened the doors wide. ¡°Nothing,¡± he grunted, searching for a change of clothes. ¡°Just an accident. I¡¯m fine.¡±

    The manservant rushed to join him and took over the search. ¡°Of course, sire, but¡ªbut if you¡¯d like me to fetch a healer, I can¡ª¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I¡¯ve already been given some salve. It¡¯s just a bruise, really.¡±

    Though Jakin didn¡¯t look convinced, he gave up the argument and pulled a new shirt and pair of trousers out of the wardrobe. ¡°As you say, Your Highness. Would you like me to cancel your classes for this afternoon?¡±

    Yes... but that would only convince everyone that his injury was serious. ¡°I¡¯ll continue my lessons as normal,¡± Garrin said, hoping he sounded cheerful instead of resigned.

    Jakin helped him dress, and within a few minutes Garrin was out the door, wrapped in a clean, warm jacket as he made his way to the tower where his lessons took place. He¡¯d gone less frequently in the past year, but the king insisted Garrin continue some form of study until his coronation. Mostly he just met with Sage Dellon for a brief discussion of his last reading, then was left to his own devices while Dellon completed his own work.

    It was tedious, but not demanding. And it would take Garrin¡¯s mind off that morning¡¯s events, which he was eager to do.

    The tower room where Garrin usually met with his tutors was empty, so he pulled a book off a shelf and took a seat at the single desk in the center of the small study. Dellon was often late for their meetings, but it didn¡¯t bother Garrin. He rarely got the chance to read in peace.

    When he was half-way through a chapter on the importance of the fishing trade in Fyrestian history, Sage Dellon entered the room and smiled pleasantly at Garrin. ¡°Good afternoon, Your Highness,¡± he said in his deep, soft voice. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m late. I lost track of time.¡±

    Garrin returned the smile and held up his book. ¡°I had to finish my reading, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes,¡± Dellon said. ¡°And what did you think?¡±

    ¡°Mostly what I¡¯ve thought of the last few readings,¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°It¡¯s important to view a topic from multiple sources,¡± Dellon said.

    Garrin closed his book. ¡°I don¡¯t disagree with that. But we¡¯ve spent the last year talking about the seafood industry. Surely there¡¯s more to learn than that?¡±

    ¡°Your curriculum clearly states¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to see my curriculum,¡± Garrin interrupted.

    Dellon hesitated. Garrin had never questioned the topics of his learning before¡ªat least, not out loud¡ªand the Sage plainly didn¡¯t know how to respond. ¡°Perhaps we can move on to the next lesson,¡± he said at last, even more softly than usual.

    ¡°I think we should,¡± Garrin said.

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    The Sage moved to the bookcase on the back wall and ran his large fingers over the collection. Dellon was built more like a soldier than a Sage, with wide shoulders and thick muscles and a frame so tall his robes had to be custom made. But he was soft-spoken and extremely bright, if a little absent-minded, and Garrin usually enjoyed his company. His adventure that morning, however, had caused a question to turn over and over in his mind, and it bothered him that he didn¡¯t have an answer.

    What had he really learned about governing? About being a good king?

    ¡°Have you heard of Anarya Ellysen?¡± Garrin asked impulsively.

    Dellon paused and looked over his shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t believe so, Your Highness. But I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have a memory for the names at court.¡±

    ¡°She isn¡¯t a noble,¡± Garrin said. ¡°She was an Architect. One of the first, I think.¡±

    The Sage frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Ellysen? No, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve never heard the name. Are you certain she was an Architect? I¡¯ve read extensively about them, and I don¡¯t recall ever hearing about a woman in their ranks.¡±

    If a Sage had never heard of her, it wasn¡¯t likely Arya would be able to find any information. Dellon had read every book in this room, and likely those in the castle library as well. Where else was there to look?

    Garrin stood and moved across the room to replace his book on the shelf. ¡°The curriculum?¡± he prompted.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have it with me,¡± Dellon said.

    ¡°Then please bring it to our next lesson. Until then, I have other matters to attend to.¡±

    ¡°Your Highness¡ª¡±

    ¡°That will be all. Thank you.¡± Garrin left before Dellon could argue¡ªthough he doubted the Sage would put up much of a fight¡ªand sped down the spiral stairs to the main level of the castle. His mind was a tumble of questions with no immediate answers, and he was used to immediate answers. He didn¡¯t like the feeling of not knowing something and not knowing how to find it out. It was new and unpleasant and not at all something he wanted to get used to.

    So he had to find answers. And the only place he could think to look was back where they¡¯d found the first clue: in Gillesport.

    The bigger problem was whether he should take Arya with him.

    Garrin reached the main floor and marched down the hall without pause, though he wasn¡¯t sure where he was going. His lesson was supposed to last for another hour and a half, so he was guaranteed that time without interruption. Was it enough time to walk to town and back? He wasn¡¯t sure he was up to making the journey again that afternoon. Maybe he could spend some time exploring the older sections of the library in case there was a mention of the first Architects. Or maybe he could speak to the Architects directly? Maybe¡ª

    A hand shot out of the doorway he was passing and closed around his arm. Startled, Garrin spun to break the grip, snapping up his other arm to push the assailant away.

    Senjay stepped into the hall, shaking his hand as if it stung. ¡°Not bad. I always thought you had slow reflexes.¡±

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Garrin snapped.

    ¡°Just testing,¡± Senjay said, rolling his shoulder. ¡°They say you¡¯re soft here in Fyrest. I wanted to see for myself.¡±

    Garrin stared at him. ¡°Are you insane? You can¡¯t just go around attacking¡ª¡±

    Senjay swung a fist at Garrin¡¯s face, forcing him to fall back to avoid it. He stumbled into the wall, but Senjay kept coming¡ªanother fist, which Garrin knocked away, and then a kick that buckled his knee.

    What was left of his patience fled as he caught himself against the wall. With a growl that was anything but prince-like, Garrin pushed off of the cold stone and slammed his shoulder into Senjay¡¯s chest. His momentum sent both of them to the ground, where Garrin enjoyed a moment of triumph as he pinned Senjay to the floor.

    Senjay threw one leg up, twisting, and flipped Garrin to the side before leaning his full weight on Garrin¡¯s chest. Pain burst through his anger, ripping a gasp out of his lungs before he could catch it.

    ¡°Do you yield?¡± Senjay grinned.

    Garrin clamped his lips over his ragged breath and gave a half-hearted squirm, but the Thiyaan prince moved with him and kept him flat on his back. ¡°Fine,¡± Garrin wheezed. ¡°Get off of me.¡±

    ¡°Is that any way to talk to your teacher?¡± Senjay asked.

    Garrin stilled. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Your princess talked to me,¡± Senjay said. ¡°She said you wanted to learn to fight, and from someone who wouldn¡¯t handle you like a fragile vase. So? Is this rough enough?¡±

    Garrin shoved, and Senjay let himself be pushed away. So Arya had spoken to both Lliane and Senjay on his behalf. He wasn¡¯t sure if he should feel thankful or annoyed. ¡°A little warning would have been nice,¡± he grumbled.

    ¡°Your opponent isn¡¯t always going to warn you before he attacks,¡± Senjay pointed out.

    ¡°A good teacher lets his student know before the lesson begins,¡± Garrin counter.

    Senjay laughed. ¡°Maybe I am not a good teacher. Maybe you are not a good student. I guess we¡¯ll have to see.¡±

 Training

    Arya¡¯s interference was both helpful and irritating. He hadn¡¯t asked to have Lliane sent to his room, nor to have Senjay as a teacher¡ªbut Garrin had little choice except to take advantage of the situation. He needed a teacher; Senjay was willing to teach him. And he¡¯d certainly proved he wouldn¡¯t hold back because of Garrin¡¯s title. This was exactly what he needed if he was going to learn how to protect himself.

    So why did he feel so bitter about it?

    Senjay rocked smoothly to his feet and let down his hand to help Garrin up. ¡°So? Are you ready for your training now, or shall I schedule an appointment with your staff?¡±

    ¡°Now is fine,¡± Garrin grumbled. He wanted to ignore the offer of help, but it wasn¡¯t Senjay¡¯s fault that he was so bad at fighting. It wouldn¡¯t be fair to take his frustrations out on someone who had agreed to help him. ¡°But we should probably find somewhere other than the hallway,¡± he added.

    Senjay hitched one shoulder. ¡°As you command. Where would you prefer to go?¡±

    Privacy was rare in Whitecliff Castle. The regular training grounds would be full of soldiers and guards, so that wouldn¡¯t work. There were his bedchambers, but the room wasn¡¯t spacious and Garrin didn¡¯t want to risk something getting broken. The few storage rooms he knew about were too small, and all the courtyards were open to windows and doorways so anyone could stumble upon them.

    Where was a princess with a memorized map of the castle when you needed her?

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to go outside the castle,¡± Garrin decided. ¡°It¡¯s the only place we won¡¯t be disturbed.¡±

    Senjay nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t bother with a cloak¡ªyou won¡¯t need it once we get started. Lead the way.¡±

    Garrin was tempted to use the servants¡¯ exit Arya had showed him that morning, but he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted a foreign dignitary to know a hidden way out of¡ªor into¡ªthe castle. So he lead the way to the front gate, hoping that Renton was occupied elsewhere, and hurried across the grounds. Their luck held long enough that no one questioned them as they exited the gates, which left Garrin feeling as though he¡¯d cheated his way out of a consequence. The sensation annoyed him; after all, there was no rule that said he could not leave the castle. Renton had only suggested he take an escort with him. Technically, Senjay could be counted as an escort, since he was of equal rank with Garrin. So why did he feel uneasy?

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know we¡¯d be walking halfway across Fyrest,¡± Senjay complained.

    Garrin frowned at him. ¡°We¡¯ve barely left the castle. Do you want somewhere secluded or not?¡±

    ¡°It makes no difference to me,¡± Senjay said. ¡°I don¡¯t mind if your subjects see me beating you.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no glory in defeating someone who doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s doing,¡± Garrin pointed out.

    Senjay shrugged. ¡°I take my wins however they come to me. Not all of us can afford to be picky.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Garrin asked.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Senjay said. ¡°Details you haven¡¯t earned the right to hear. Perhaps if you beat me, I will explain.¡±

    When I beat you, Garrin amended. When.

    There was a flat area against the southern walls of the castle, obscured on three sides by tall rocks that jutted up from the cliff¡¯s face. Garrin had spent many summer days huddled below the rocks, reading in their shade back in the time when he still had some freedom. That had ended before he turned ten, but he thought of the secret space often. It would provide shelter from the wind and prying eyes while giving them a clear area to train.

    ¡°Well,¡± Senjay said when they¡¯d arrived. He looked around at the high rocks, which had shielded the ground from drifting snow. ¡°This should work well enough. It¡¯s not a proper training ground, of course, but we will make do.¡±

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    ¡°It¡¯s all we have to work with,¡± Garrin said. He rolled his shoulders, suppressing a wince as his ribs stretched. The walk had been cold and his muscles were still stiff from the morning, so he took a moment to stretch while Senjay inspected the space.

    ¡°If we were back in Thiyaan, there would be dozens of suitable places,¡± Senjay muttered. ¡°And the prince would not have needed to ask for training¡ªit would have been given to him.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you,¡± Garrin said.

    Senjay grinned. ¡°You did not. But you need it, so let us begin.¡±

    They trained for what felt like hours. Senjay was a surprisingly patient teacher, generous with his compliments as well as his corrections. He elbowed Garrin in the ribs once, but after Garrin¡¯s hiss of pain, he was careful to avoid the area. Neither mentioned the kindness, though Garrin silently appreciated it. He wasn¡¯t quite ready to excuse Senjay¡¯s other faults just because he wasn¡¯t taking advantage of the injury.

    ¡°You are not as strong as you look,¡± Senjay said at one point as he effortlessly knocked Garrin¡¯s punch away. ¡°Put your weight behind your fist. You must learn to strike with more power.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve had little reason to use it,¡± Garrin grunted back.

    Senjay lifted his hands as targets. ¡°You do not keep busy here, not like you would in Thiyaan. There I train every day with my sisters. Even the youngest know how to protect themselves.¡±

    Garrin tried to imagine what it would be like to train with sisters¡ªto have sisters¡ªand came up blank. ¡°What about... strength differences? Size? Isn¡¯t it unfair to expect your sisters to fight as well as you?¡±

    ¡°You are bigger than I am,¡± Senjay pointed out. ¡°And we are unevenly matched because of my skill, not your size. You would be ill-equipped to defeat my sisters as well.¡±

    That was a depressing thought, and Garrin resolved to learn quickly¡ªif for no other reason that to wipe the smug smile off Senjay¡¯s face.

    They trained until Garrin was panting and sore enough for Senjay to take pity on him and suggest they return to the castle. ¡°The hour grows late,¡± he said. ¡°It will be time to dine soon. And you will need to clean up.¡±

    There was no use arguing that. Garrin¡¯s clothes were soaked in sweat, which froze to his skin every time a gust of wind made it past the outcropping of rock. He wanted nothing more than to return to his room and call for a bath, then collapse into it and fall asleep before anyone else could bother him. But Senjay was right; they would be dining soon, and he didn¡¯t have the luxury of putting off the meal. He would have to wait until afterwards to bathe.

    ¡°This training,¡± Garrin said hesitantly as Senjay led the way back to the castle. ¡°I would like it to remain secret.¡±

    Senjay grinned. ¡°You do not wish it to be known that you have been so poorly prepared for your life on the throne?¡±

    ¡°Others would argue that I should not have to fight,¡± Garrin muttered. ¡°I have others to do that for me.¡±

    ¡°But you obviously do not agree,¡± Senjay said.

    When Garrin didn¡¯t answer, Senjay laughed. ¡°I will tell no one of our training. It suits me to keep the secret as well. Who wants it to be known that your bruises are because of me? Your Marshal Renton would doubtless have something to say.¡±

    That was likely true. Silence was prudent for both of them then; Garrin could trust that the Thiyaan prince would keep the secret.

    They returned to the castle without incident, even though they entered through the main gate. Where the guards may have questioned Garrin alone, they could hardly say anything to two royals. A passing servant answered Senjay¡¯s inquiry after the details of the evening¡¯s meal: dinner would be served in an hour, and if he could be so bold, His Majesty the King had questioned after Garrin¡¯s whereabouts.

    Senjay shook his head as the servant hurried away. ¡°Your absence was noticed, then. Can you come up with an excuse?¡±

    ¡°Of course I can,¡± Garrin muttered. ¡°You¡¯d best do the same, just in case.¡±

    He grinned. ¡°No one cares about what I do with my time. But I shall create some alibi if it will ease your fears. To prove what a thoughtful teacher I am.¡±

    Garrin rolled his eyes. ¡°Tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± Senjay agreed.

    They parted ways near the Great Hall, each returning to his room to prepare for dinner. Garrin had made up his mind to ask Jakin to have a bath ready as soon as the meal was finished, but an hour should give him enough time to at least wash the sweat from his face and change clothes. This would be his third wardrobe change of the day¡ªand if he continued his training, that trend would continue. He cringed to think of the curses the launderers would heap upon him for so much extra work.

    But at least their curses would be in private. What Renton would say when he found out Garrin had left the castle again... well, Garrin wasn¡¯t looking forward to it.

    There was no use postponing the inevitable. Safe within his bedchambers, Garrin allowed himself a groan while he peeled the clothes from his clammy skin and washed in the basin of fresh water Jakin left for him each morning. When he was dry, he changed into yet another outfit, this one suitable for a dinner with visiting royalty.

    Then he donned a midnight blue cloak and left the comfort of his room behind.

 Confrontation

    The evening meal was served in the lesser hall, which was smaller and easier to heat, though it was still decorated with banners and flowers to commemorate the occasions of both Garrin¡¯s betrothal and the visit of foreign dignitaries. The council had also been invited to dinner, as well as all the court Sages, Tellers, and Architects, and a handful of nobles to fill out the empty seats at the three long banquet tables. The menu would showcase Fyrest¡¯s port offerings, featuring a myriad of baked fish, shrimp, mussels, and crab, all served with personal dishes of melted herb butter for dipping. A savory clam soup, roasted vegetables, and fresh brown bread would make up the rest of the meal, with the tempting promise of dessert on small round tables throughout the room.

    The long walk to and from Gillesport paired with his training session made Garrin¡¯s stomach rumble as he strode into the dining hall. Arya was already seated beside Lliane, chatting and smiling as though she¡¯d known the Eiliad princess her whole life. The other princes and princesses had settled themselves around Arya, leaving the chair at her left empty for him. The kings and queens sat at the head table¡ªall except Queen Asella, Senjay¡¯s mother, who had not yet arrived. All other court guests had found their seats at the remaining table and were busy talking and laughing while they awaited their meal.

    Arya favored Garrin with a bright smile as he approached the empty chair beside her. ¡°Are you feeling better rested?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Very,¡± he lied. ¡°I spent the afternoon studying.¡±

    ¡°That sounds more like the Garrin I knew before,¡± Lliane teased.

    He tried not to bristle. He¡¯d never been a profound study, but he enjoyed reading¡ªoften more than other activities. Lliane had frequently teased him about it when they were children. But the way she said it now held little bite. In fact, it sounded almost... fond.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯ve found your stay here comfortable,¡± Garrin said, hoping to stop his thoughts from rushing down unproductive paths.

    ¡°Of course,¡± Lliane said. ¡°Mered and I were just talking about how much more comfortable the guest wing is than the last time we visited.¡±

    Her younger brother nodded. ¡°Not that there was anything wrong with it before. But it seems warmer this time.¡±

    That would be because they were visiting later in the season, and during a milder winter. But Garrin was prepared to take credit for the change and smiled at them both. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. Perhaps in the future¡ª¡±

    The crash of a door being flung open cut off the rest of his response. All heads in the hall turned toward the southern door to find Marshal Renton stalking across the floor, his long cloak sweeping his heels.

    He hesitated and seemed to make an effort to control himself when he noticed the eyes on him. ¡°Forgive my tardiness,¡± he said to the head table, accompanying his words with a slight bow. ¡°I have just come from the guardhouse.¡±

    ¡°Please, sit,¡± Garrin¡¯s father said, gesturing toward the other council members. ¡°There is no need to apologize. Dinner is yet to be served.¡±

    Renton bowed again. When he straightened, his sharp gaze raked over Garrin. ¡°Would you care to share what I found when I spoke to the soldiers on duty at the gate?¡± he said in a low voice that somehow carried across the hall.

    The eyes that had been on Renton flashed to Garrin. Beside him, Arya stilled and held her breath.

    Years or months or even days ago, Garrin would have shrunk back from the open anger in Renton¡¯s face. The man was used to commanding respect and immediate obedience, and anything less put him in an awful temper that Garrin usually avoided. But feeling Arya stiffen next to him and hearing the hush that fell over the room gave him a courage he hadn¡¯t experienced before. He¡¯d always known that Renton was a bully, but this time he knew something else: he was not alone. Arya supported him. The fact that she could not act on that support in public didn¡¯t matter¡ªwhen the dinner was done, she would commend him for standing up to the former marshal.

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    And if she would support him in silence, who else might?

    So Garrin folded his hands on the table and lifted his chin, speaking in a calm voice. ¡°Please enlighten us, Lord Renton. What did your soldiers tell you?¡±

    Renton¡¯s face flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. ¡°They told me that you had again left the castle grounds without an escort,¡± he grated out. ¡°This after I had already¡ª¡±

    ¡°I did not leave without an escort,¡± Garrin interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m sure your guards can verify that Prince Senjay accompanied me.¡±

    ¡°With all due respect to His Highness,¡± Renton said, with a jerking nod toward Senjay. ¡°An escort should be trained and armed. I must insist that from now on, you only leave the castle grounds under the protection of at least two of my soldiers.¡±

    Garrin kept his gaze and his voice level. ¡°While I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, there is no need to go to such extremes. I am quite safe within and around the castle. Or do you think I have enemies here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Marshal Renton only has your safety in mind,¡± Garrin¡¯s father said. His voice shook slightly, as though he hadn¡¯t been prepared to speak. Garrin resisted the urge to look at him over his shoulder, instead keeping his eyes on his opponent.

    ¡°I appreciate your dedication,¡± Garrin said firmly. ¡°But your authority does not extend over me, Marshal. I will do as I need to, and you will not interfere. Is that understood?¡±

    He expected an argument. He expected his father to insist on Renton¡¯s goodwill, or explain that leaving the castle with a pair of soldiers wasn¡¯t much of an imposition. But the hall was quiet in the wake of his question, as though all within were holding their breath. Renton stood frozen in the middle of the room, eyes burning through Garrin, hands twitching at his side. Still, nobody spoke.

    So Garrin did the only thing he could think to do to end the increasingly awkward silence: he called for a servant to pour the wine and begin the meal. His father would still have to bless the food and take the first bite, but at least this would provide a distraction for the rest of the guests and allow Renton to find his seat without all eyes on him. A diplomatic decision, Garrin thought. Better than commanding the marshal to take his seat.

    ¡°You must be careful with him,¡± Arya whispered.

    Garrin blinked at her in surprise. ¡°What do you mean? I just¡ª¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll make a dangerous enemy,¡± Arya said. ¡°You should have confronted him in private.¡±

    ¡°He confronted me,¡± Garrin argued.

    ¡°Then you should have let him have his moment and addressed the problem later.¡±

    A frown pulled at Garrin¡¯s brow. So much for Arya supporting his decision to stand up to Renton. ¡°Next time I¡¯ll do just that,¡± he said bitterly. ¡°I¡¯ll let him treat me like a child in front of my future subjects and allies, and talk to him in private where he can twist my words without an audience.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t what I meant,¡± she said.

    But the servants had arrived with plates full of food, and Garrin turned his attention to the head table. His father was on his feet, waiting uncomfortably for the room to quiet so he could speak. Renton had found his seat among the other council members, who spoke around him with forced cheerfulness and fascination with their plates.

    ¡°My friends,¡± Garrin¡¯s father began, repeating himself twice more before the room quieted. ¡°With the blessing of Fyelle, I invite you to enjoy this meal.¡±

    Simple but effective¡ªas all the king¡¯s public addresses were. Anything to shift the attention from himself. But this time the brevity was welcome, because it gave the guests an excuse to focus on their food and forget the awkward confrontation. Garrin wished he could forget it, too. His mood had darkened with Arya¡¯s warning, though he knew the reaction was childish. He picked up a fork and poked at the fish on his plate, trying not to sulk.

    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend to be meek now,¡± Lliane said, leaning over the table to speak around Arya.

    Garrin took a bite of fish to give himself time to answer. ¡°Meek? How so?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve gone quiet again, as if we didn¡¯t all just watch you stand up to the biggest bully in your castle.¡± Lliane swirled her wine, smiling at him over the rim of her cup. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s gotten into you lately, but I think it¡¯s a welcome change.¡±

    ¡°A change from what?¡± Arya asked.

    Lliane took a shallow sip. ¡°He had this shyness,¡± she said. ¡°And he was always reading and talking about his storybooks and poetry and ballads, but he never did anything. Sorry, Garrin.¡±

    He shrugged, but her words stung more than he liked to admit.

    ¡°But the last few days,¡± she went on. ¡°You¡¯ve grown. You¡¯re stronger than you were before. It¡¯s nice to see.¡±

    ¡°I think he was fine before,¡± Mered put in kindly.

    Garrin smiled at him. ¡°Thank you. But I¡¯m not sure Renton appreciates my new courage.¡±

    ¡°Let him sulk,¡± Lliane said, tossing her head. ¡°What can he do to you?¡±

    Garrin wanted to agree with her, but the troubled look on Arya¡¯s face made him hesitate. He had a feeling she knew something he didn¡¯t, and he didn¡¯t like being kept in the dark.

    But he could hardly ask her about it here, so he took another bite of his dinner and resigned himself to waiting.

 Fears

    Dinner was an agonizing exercise in patience. After the main courses, Garrin had to endure dozens of toasts to him, his betrothal, his health, and his future, and the quantity and lengths of each toast increased with every drink. By the time the king dismissed his guests from the meal, it seemed as though every noble and councilman had spoken.

    Except for Renton, who hadn¡¯t so much as glanced in Garrin¡¯s direction since their confrontation.

    At least Lliane was talking to him again. She made a teasing, whispered speech of her own during the twelfth or twentieth toast (Garrin lost count) that had Mered in giggles and earned several glares from their mother. It made Garrin smile, easing the tension that had settled in his chest since her arrival. He¡¯d missed her humor.

    And now that he knew he did not have Arya¡¯s support, Lliane¡¯s was even more precious.

    It was after midnight by the time Garrin could finally return to his bedchambers. Jakin was waiting to help him into his nightclothes, promising to arrange a bath for the following morning so Garrin could soak his sore muscles. With a nod of thanks, Garrin dismissed his manservant and settled into his bed, ready to put the long day to rest.

    Then he heard the scrape of a door, and all his hopes for a peaceful night crumbled.

    ¡°Go away,¡± he groaned, not moving from where he was already draped across his bed.

    ¡°I have something to tell you,¡± Arya said.

    ¡°Tell me tomorrow.¡±

    She pulled a corner of the curtain around his bed aside, letting in the light from the fire. ¡°It¡¯s important.¡±

    ¡°And so it will still be tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Garrin.¡±

    Garrin frowned and opened his eyes. Arya was still dressed in her evening gown, her hair pulled down to twist in ringlets around her face. The warm glow from the fire made it shine like molten gold, framing the serious look on her face.

    Something was wrong.

    He sat up and waited for her to join him on the bed, but she stayed where she was. ¡°I was searching for information on Anarya,¡± she began in a low voice. ¡°I thought I¡¯d check the records room in the western wing. There¡¯s a passage there that goes between two of the chambers¡ªit was on the castle blueprints as extra storage, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s been used in decades. While I was in the passage, I heard the door to the other room open, and someone started talking.¡±

    Garrin pulled his legs up to make room for her. ¡°I assume this person said something significant? What was the other room he was in?¡±

    ¡°Just another storage room,¡± Arya answered. ¡°I¡¯m sure he thought no one else would be around to hear, and that¡¯s why he chose that place for the meeting.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    She folded her arms. ¡°Renton. The other person only spoke in a whisper, so I couldn¡¯t tell who it was, but he said that they shouldn¡¯t risk meeting. Renton said it was more dangerous to risk communicating by letter because it would leave a record, and that nobody used those rooms anymore, so they were safe. And then...¡±

    She trailed off, her eyes straying toward the fire. Impulsively, Garrin reached for her hand and drew her down onto the mattress. ¡°And then what?¡±

    ¡°They talked about your father,¡± Arya said quietly. ¡°And about you. They talked about... about keeping you from becoming king.¡±

    Garrin stared at her. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t dare.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not their first plan,¡± she said. ¡°Renton thinks you can be controlled through your education and by having his men keep an eye on you.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why he¡¯s so insistent on my having an escort,¡± Garrin muttered.

    She nodded, pulling her hand free to fold it in her lap. ¡°If that doesn¡¯t work, they implied being willing to use violence.¡±

    Violence. He couldn¡¯t believe it¡ªnot even Renton would be that bold. But why would Arya lie to him? He met her gaze, searching for any hint of deceit, but there was only concern. Over him? Or over the future of the kingdom? After all, if Garrin was replaced as king, where would that leave her?

    ¡°Why are they doing this?¡± Garrin asked.

    Arya shook her head. ¡°They didn¡¯t say. But a strong king would mean less power for the council.¡±

    ¡°But to go so far as to threaten me... We have to find out who this other person is.¡±

    ¡°And you must continue your training,¡± Arya said. ¡°You need to know how to defend yourself.¡±

    Garrin scowled. ¡°At least we know Senjay isn¡¯t loyal to Renton.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean you can trust him,¡± Arya said. ¡°Not with this. It¡¯s best not to tell anybody¡ªat least not until we¡¯ve figured out who the other person is.¡±

    ¡°What about my father?¡± Garrin asked.

    Arya managed a weak smile. ¡°He¡¯s in no danger as long as he¡¯s king. He doesn¡¯t stand up to the council, so they have no reason to hurt him. The longer he¡¯s in power, the longer you¡¯re not.¡±

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    That was something. At least he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about protecting his father and himself. ¡°What should we do?¡± he asked. His voice came out smaller than he¡¯d meant it to.

    ¡°How should I know?¡± Arya asked. ¡°You¡¯ve known these people longer than I have.¡±

    Garrin closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard to think. She was right¡ªit wasn¡¯t fair for him to expect her to have a solution. He was the one who was supposed to be king. He needed to solve the problem. But this was bigger than planning a feast or organizing decorations. He didn¡¯t have the experience or the training to handle a threat of violence on his own.

    But he wasn¡¯t alone. And perhaps there was a way to solve two problems at once.

    ¡°What if there was a way you could help?¡± Garrin asked carefully.

    Arya frowned. ¡°What way?¡±

    ¡°What if... I didn¡¯t become king?¡±

    She stared at him. A dozen questions flashed across her face, each one realized and dismissed in a heartbeat. He could tell the exact moment she¡¯d figured out his plan by the way her eyes darkened.

    ¡°You want me to be queen,¡± she said in a flat voice. ¡°That¡¯s why you requested I have all this extra knowledge. You intend to abandon your duties and place them on me.¡±

    ¡°Not abandon,¡± Garrin argued. ¡°Just... postpone.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯ll let Renton target me in the meantime,¡± she frowned.

    Garrin leaned forward. ¡°It won¡¯t be like that. Renton won¡¯t see you as a threat¡ªnone of them will. You¡¯ll be safe while I travel and gather support. Once I have more information, more connections to the people, I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll return to a murdered wife and a kingdom controlled by the council,¡± Arya snapped. ¡°No one would think twice about disposing of me. I¡¯m just another created princess. Expendable. I wouldn¡¯t last a week.¡±

    ¡°Not if they thought they could control you,¡± Garrin said.

    The darkness in Arya¡¯s eyes had spread across the rest of her face. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be the same as with your father. I could encounter any number of unfortunate accidents within the castle and nobody would question it.¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t dare,¡± Garrin said.

    She snorted and shot to her feet. ¡°You would be gambling with my life if you left. There¡¯s no way around that.¡±

    Garrin tried to take her hand as she moved, but she pulled away and stalked toward the wardrobe. ¡°It isn¡¯t like that,¡± he said, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed to follow her. ¡°I would make sure you were safe before I left.¡±

    ¡°And how would you protect me once you were gone?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go until I knew you were safe,¡± he said.

    ¡°You could never know that for sure.¡±

    ¡°But if you¡ª¡±

    She spun to face him. ¡°This is your problem. You think of everything as if it¡¯s a ballad with a grand romantic ending. It isn¡¯t. Some people will do anything to stay in power, including killing the hero and his betrothed. You are not guaranteed a happy ending just because you are the prince.¡±

    ¡°That isn¡¯t what I think,¡± he frowned.

    ¡°That is how you act.¡± She turned back to the wardrobe, but her hand stilled on the tapestry as a sharp knock pounded at the hallway door.

    ¡°My lord,¡± called Renton, his voice muffled but sharp. ¡°I must speak to you immediately.¡±

    ¡°Go,¡± Garrin hissed.

    ¡°He¡¯ll hear the door,¡± Arya whispered.

    ¡°Then hide,¡± Garrin said. ¡°Here. Quick.¡±

    He opened his wardrobe, shoving her inside and yanking out a robe to explain the noise. ¡°No¡ª¡± she hissed, twisting in the tiny space. ¡°Wait!¡±

    But Renton had started pounding on the door again and covered up her protests. ¡°I¡¯ll get rid of him quickly,¡± he promised, closing the door. He jammed his arms into the sleeves of the robe and stomped across the room, jerking open the door and glaring at the red-faced marshal.

    ¡°Lord Renton,¡± he growled. ¡°This is extremely inappropriate. Anything you have to say to me can wait until morning.¡±

    Renton glared. ¡°It cannot, Your Highness. The insult I have bourn this night is beyond¡ª¡±

    ¡°I had no intention of insulting you,¡± Garrin interrupted. ¡°But you insisted on making the confrontation a public one. How can I¡ª¡±

    He stopped, clenching his teeth over the rest of the thought. How can I be a strong leader if my subordinates treat me like a child in public? But Arya had already answered that question: they didn¡¯t want him to be strong. Being strong put him in danger. It was better for Renton and the rest of the council to think him weak and malleable, at least for the time being. Until they could come up with a plan.

    So he bit the inside of his cheek and forced out, ¡°How can I be a good host to our guests with such tension in the room?¡±

    ¡°You deliberately went against my orders,¡± Renton snapped.

    Orders. Renton didn¡¯t have the right to give him orders. ¡°I misunderstood,¡± Garrin said through a tight jaw. ¡°I thought you meant I should not leave the castle alone, which I did not. I shall be more careful in the future.¡±

    ¡°You shall be escorted by two armed guards in the future,¡± Renton said.

    ¡°As you see fit,¡± Garrin muttered. ¡°But I am certainly not leaving the castle tonight. If you think we must discuss this further, we can continue in the morning.¡± He started to shut the door, but thought better of the action and added, ¡°Good night, Marshal.¡±

    It was a minor appeasement, but Renton didn¡¯t argue as Garrin closed the door on him. He waited until he heard the marshal¡¯s footsteps recede down the hall before returning to the wardrobe and shrugging out of his robe.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, carefully opening the door. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    Arya tumbled into his arms. He caught her reflexively, his robe falling to hang from one shoulder as she clung to his shirt, burying her face in his chest.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he faltered.

    She stiffened, but didn¡¯t let go. For a long moment she said nothing, her forehead pressed above his heart, her hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt. The knuckles of one hand were dangerously close to his bruise, but he wasn¡¯t about to move it. After a while, he relaxed his arms around her and let the hold melt into an embrace. The fire burned at his back, and her breaths warmed his chest as they went from short and shallow to slow and soft.

    At last, she pulled away. Her face was red, and for the first time since they¡¯d been alone, she wouldn¡¯t raise her eyes to meet his. ¡°Thank you,¡± she mumbled.

    Garrin let her go and tried not to feel how cold his chest was in her absence. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± she said tersely. ¡°The Architects¡¯ doing. Something I will soon overcome.¡±

    Garrin frowned in confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Every princess is given a specific fear,¡± Arya bit out. ¡°Apparently the Architects think it is endearing. Hasn¡¯t your mother ever shown hers?¡±

    ¡°Spiders,¡± Garrin admitted. ¡°Mother wouldn¡¯t even go into a room if she thought she saw a cobweb. But I never realized... why would the Architects do such a thing?¡±

    ¡°The prince must feel needed,¡± Arya said bitterly.

    ¡°Needed?¡±

    She scowled. ¡°There is nothing for a prince to protect his princess from here. So the Architects create a fear, something that will leave the princess terrified enough for the prince to swoop in and comfort her. Isn¡¯t that romantic?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s barbaric,¡± Garrin said. The flash of anger in her eyes said she agreed with him.

    ¡°My fear is darkness,¡± Arya went on. ¡°And this is the last time it will best me. I was unprepared, but that won¡¯t happen again. Don¡¯t expect to have to comfort me again.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of,¡± Garrin said.

    Arya shoved the wardrobe door closed and lifted the corner of the tapestry. ¡°It will not happen again.¡±

    ¡°Arya, you don¡¯t need¡ª¡±

    But she ducked behind the tapestry and was gone before he could finish.

 Reprucussions

    The next morning, a knock at the door pulled Garrin from a restless sleep. He was tempted to ignore it, but Jakin¡¯s promise of a bath was powerful enough to draw him out from under the covers and across the cold room. The fire had burned low in the night, leaving a chill that seeped through the stone walls and into Garrin¡¯s stockinged feet. He threw a robe over his shoulders before opening the door, ready to ask Jakin to have hot tea brought up with the bath.

    Instead, he opened the door to find not his manservant, but his father.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to wake you,¡± the king said, eyeing Garrin¡¯s nightclothes and robe. ¡°But I thought it best not to delay this conversation. Might I come in?¡±

    The castle was his, and with it Garrin¡¯s bedchambers¡ªhe didn¡¯t have to ask permission. But King Edric had never been one to take what was not offered, even if it was his right. Garrin stood back and let his father inside, closed the door behind him, and turned awkwardly to face him. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±

    ¡°No, no,¡± his father said. ¡°At least, not yet. But I worry for you if you continue down this path.¡±

    ¡°What path?¡±

    ¡°This new desire to spite Marshal Renton,¡± his father said.

    Garrin fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe. ¡°I have no desire to spite him. What happened at dinner is now resolved.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve spoken with him?¡± asked his father.

    ¡°He came by last night.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± The king cast his eyes around as if searching for a spot to sit, but he didn¡¯t move from his place in the center of the room. ¡°But Marshal Renton will be on his guard around you now. He will look for slights. You must not give him an excuse to make you an enemy.¡±

    Garrin crossed his arms. ¡°Is that why you don¡¯t stand up to him? You¡¯re afraid to make him an enemy?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± his father said simply. It took Garrin off guard, leaving him without a response. No matter how weak he suspected his father of being, Garrin hadn¡¯t expected the king to admit to his fear.

    ¡°The council is powerful,¡± King Edric went on. ¡°More powerful than you realize. And Marshal Renton holds a prominent position among them. It is wiser not to anger him. Men who do often meet unfortunate accidents.¡±

    Was his father admitting to knowledge that Renton had harmed those who opposed him? Why had nothing been done? If there was anyone who could challenge Renton, it would be the king. Surely he couldn¡¯t have the support of the entire council. There still had to be someone who was loyal to the king.

    Things would be different when Garrin was in charge. Somebody needed to stand up to Renton and the rest of the council, and if his father wouldn¡¯t do it, then the responsibility fell to him.

    But then... how could he leave to go adventuring when he knew the state of his kingdom? How could he do anything but fight to right the wrongs his father had allowed?

    When had everything gotten so complicated?

    ¡°Do you understand what I¡¯m telling you?¡± Garrin¡¯s father asked, fingering the hem of his cloak.

    Garrin hitched one shoulder before straightening his back and summoning a more dignified pose. ¡°Yes. Thank you for your warning.¡±

    Relief spread over the king¡¯s face. ¡°Good. Then I will take my leave of you. I understand you have some extra studying today.¡±

    ¡°Extra studying?¡± Garrin asked.

    ¡°That is what Sage Borrun said,¡± his father said uncertainly. ¡°He said you had dismissed Sage Dellon and were looking for a new teacher.¡±

    ¡°Dismissed?¡± That couldn¡¯t be right. He¡¯d questioned Dellon¡¯s curriculum, but he hadn¡¯t sent him away. ¡°Is Sage Dellon leaving?¡±

    His father shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve only heard that he has been reassigned.¡±

    There was no point in explaining the mistake to his father, so Garrin opened the door and gave a slight bow while the king made his way into the hallway. He would have to talk to Sage Borrun himself if he wanted any answers.

    It was looking more and more like he would not get his bath.

    ¡°Remember what I said,¡± King Edric said, placing a light hand on Garrin¡¯s shoulder. Almost before he¡¯d made contact, he was turning and walking away. Glad to be finished with the meeting, no doubt. That was how all of Garrin¡¯s conversations with his father went. Quick, awkward, and often bewildering. Garrin was usually just as glad to be done with them.

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    He retreated into his chambers to change, selecting clothes he wouldn¡¯t mind getting dirty if another impromptu lesson in fighting came along. Then he returned to the hall in search of the Sage¡¯s tower.

    He paused outside Arya¡¯s room, succumbing to a short internal argument over whether he should check on her. He¡¯d waited up the night before, wondering if she would return to explain her reaction to the darkness¡ªor possibly even to seek further comfort¡ªbut the hidden door between their chambers remained closed. Shouldn¡¯t he make sure she was okay? She hadn¡¯t seemed to want his concern last night, at least not after the initial shock had worn off. Maybe it would be better to leave her be.

    He could always ask after her once he¡¯d finished speaking to Sage Borrun. After all, it was still early, and princesses generally kept late hours. Arya was probably still in bed.

    Garrin wished he were as well.

    The tower where the Sages kept their offices also held most of their sleeping chambers. A few lived in Gillesport or other surrounding villages, but most of them preferred to keep residence in the castle, where they could take part in council meetings and court receptions. Borrun was one of the oldest Sages employed by the king, and he¡¯d gone to every court meeting that had been held since he first became a Sage at sixteen. He was stuffy and self-important¡ªnothing like the friendly and humble Dellon. Garrin couldn¡¯t leave the choice of his tutor up to Borrun.

    But he had to remain calm. This was a test in diplomacy, and he intended to make the most of it.

    By the time he¡¯d reached the studies in the Sage¡¯s tower, his ribs were aching with the exertion. He wished he¡¯d thought to wrap his chest before attempting the climb, just to give his rattled bones a little more support, but he could imagine how Senjay would mock him if he found out. He stood a little straighter on the step before knocking on the door that belonged to Sage Borrun.

    ¡°Enter,¡± came the faint reply from inside.

    Garrin opened the door and folded his hands behind his back. ¡°Good morning, Sage. I¡¯m sorry to disturb you so early.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Borrun sat behind a small desk piled high with papers, a quill and inkpot set before him. The single window in the room let in the light from the sunrise, painting the space with a reddish gold that highlighted the dust floating in the air. Borrun adjusted his spectacles as if questioning his sight and frowned. ¡°Your Highness? What are you¡ªthat is¡ªhow can I help you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve come for clarification,¡± Garrin answered. ¡°I hear there¡¯s been a misunderstanding concerning my education.¡±

    The ancient Sage blinked at him. ¡°Misunderstanding? Well, I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯ve heard, but it¡¯s all quite clear on our end. You have graduated on to your next course of study, which will begin this afternoon with Sage Athelthryn.¡±

    ¡°I welcome new material to study,¡± Garrin said. ¡°But I will continue my lessons with Sage Dellon. He and I have come to know each other well during our time together, and I prefer his style of teaching.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that will be impossible,¡± Borrun said. When Garrin frowned, he added, ¡°Sage Dellon specializes in historical economics. He doesn¡¯t have the background to continue your studies.¡±

    Garrin frowned. ¡°Sage Dellon is well qualified to be my tutor, and I do not appreciate your interference in my affairs.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me, sire,¡± Borrun said stiffly. ¡°But it was not my interference. Marshal Renton made the decision; I have merely taken care of the details.¡±

    Cold anger spiked through Garrin¡¯s chest. ¡°Why is a military advisor deciding anything about my education?¡±

    ¡°He is the highest ranking member of the council,¡± Borrun pointed out. ¡°As such, he¡¯s been involved in your education for years. I believe he¡¯s even helped develop the curriculum. But let me assure you that he is well suited for¡ª¡±

    Garrin had heard enough. With a furious swipe of his hand, he cut off Borrun¡¯s excuse and stormed out of the office. How long had Renton been controlling his life behind the scenes? Keeping him weak and untrained, uneducated¡ªunprepared to take the throne. Given what Arya had overheard last night, that had apparently been his plan for years. How had Garrin never realized it?

    Fury raced through him, speeding up his heart, pounding in his head. But underneath the anger was something pointed and cold, something he wasn¡¯t used to feeling.

    Fear.

    Garrin had never been threatened before. His way of life had been boring, but secure¡ªhe¡¯d never had to worry about attacks or conspiracies or danger. He¡¯d thought Renton an annoying obstacle to his adventures, but he was turning out to be much more. And if such a high-ranking official in the king¡¯s court was involved, who else might be? Who was left for Garrin to trust?

    ¡°Your Highness?¡±

    The voice startled Garrin out of his thoughts. He turned, surprised, and found Dellon peeking out of the doorway to his left. ¡°Come in, sire,¡± Dellon said, backing into his study. ¡°If you have a moment.¡±

    Dellon¡¯s words were hushed, and the glance he sent up the hall made Garrin curious enough to follow him in. ¡°I want you to know that your dismissal had nothing to do with me,¡± Garrin said as Dellon closed the door behind him.

    The young Sage gave him a small smile. ¡°I know that, sire. It¡¯s because I was asking too many questions.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Dellon gestured to a wooden chair pressed into a corner between two bookshelves, but Garrin was too anxious to sit. ¡°The questions you raised about your curriculum,¡± Dellon said, turning toward his desk. ¡°I¡¯ve asked them before. Most of the time the answers I received were vague, but I thought little of them¡ªsurely you were taking supplemental classes, or else the curriculum would become more rigorous as you got older.¡±

    ¡°Neither is true,¡± Garrin said in a flat voice.

    ¡°I know that now,¡± Dellon sighed. ¡°Perhaps I always knew. I should have demanded better answers, but now I fear it is too late.¡±

    Garrin was starting to have the same worry. ¡°Was it Renton who fired you? Because I wanted a different curriculum?¡±

    ¡°It was Marshal Renton, yes,¡± Dellon said. ¡°But he only dismissed me when I mentioned Anarya Ellysen.¡±

    ¡°The female Architect? What does Renton know about her?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t say,¡± Dellon said.

    It didn¡¯t make any sense. Anarya Ellysen was long dead¡ªwhat could Renton fear from her? Why would it matter if Garrin had been asking about the history of the Architects?

    What was he trying to hide?

 Escort

    Garrin stood outside Arya¡¯s door, his hand poised to knock. He¡¯d left Dellon less than ten minutes ago, and his head was still reeling from their talk. Renton was keeping him in the dark on purpose¡ªhe was sure of that now. But he didn¡¯t know what to do with the information. Dellon had agreed to search out more information on Anarya Ellysen and to continue Garrin¡¯s lessons in secret, and Garrin was determined to include Arya in the classes. He was sure to learn something useful from them.

    But he had to talk to Arya first, and something made him hesitate. The memory of her forehead pressed against his chest, her hands gripping his shirt as she trembled in fear¡ªit played over and over in his mind, like the verse of a song he couldn¡¯t forget. She¡¯d never shown him any kind of vulnerability before, and he wasn¡¯t sure how to proceed. It felt like he was holding onto a secret he wasn¡¯t supposed to know... like he had a power over her that he shouldn¡¯t have.

    He wished he could give it back.

    After another few moments of indecision, he steeled himself and knocked on Arya¡¯s door. There was nothing he could do about the night before, but at least he could make it clear that he didn¡¯t intend to use the information against her. And once they got that out of the way, he could focus on sharing what Dellon had told him.

    ¡°Come in,¡± Arya called through the door. Garrin entered and closed the door behind him.

    Arya sat on a cushioned settee before the fireplace, her feet curled beneath her midnight blue dress. She held a small piece of white cloth in one hand and a needle in the other, but she set both on her lap when Garrin came into the room. ¡°You could just use that door,¡± she said, nodding toward the wall she shared with Garrin¡¯s room. A tapestry depicting the goddess Fyelle hid the secret door between their chambers, far more delicate than the one in his room. But then, most of her furnishings were. Despite the two bedchambers being mirrored duplicates of each other, they were decorated in vastly different styles. For one thing, there were no books in Arya¡¯s room. Just shelves filled with painting and stitching supplies and two more wardrobes set on either side of a huge gilded mirror.

    He caught Arya¡¯s eyes in its reflection and cleared his throat. ¡°About last night...¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve decided to heed my warning about Renton?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, but that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±

    Arya set her needle and cloth on the settee beside her and turned to face him. ¡°Then something you said at dinner?¡±

    ¡°Something I¡ªwhat? No.¡± He took a step into the room, but something in her expression stilled him. The usual challenge she held in her eyes was gone, replaced by a request.

    Don¡¯t bring it up.

    He wanted to anyway, just to reassure her that her vulnerability was safe with him, but surely following her wishes would serve the same purpose. So he sighed and moved to an open chair against the far wall and attempted to sit without groaning. ¡°I spoke to Dellon this morning.¡±

    ¡°About what?¡±

    ¡°Renton dismissed him as my tutor.¡± He waited for her surprised reaction, and for once was not disappointed. ¡°But Dellon is going to continue teaching me,¡± Garrin continued. ¡°Us, actually. If you¡¯d like. He¡¯s going to find information on the history of the Architects.¡±

    ¡°And Anarya Ellysen?¡± she asked.

    Garrin nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a Sage he wants us to talk to in Gillesport. Or he was a Sage, anyway. Now he¡¯s a Teller.¡±

    ¡°Why would a Sage become a common storyteller?¡± Arya asked.

    Garrin hitched one shoulder and leaned back into the chair cushions. Her furniture was more comfortable than his. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But he¡¯s not connected to the court, so he might be willing to tell us what he knows.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go,¡± Arya said. She stood and pulled a cloak out of the nearest wardrobe, sweeping it over her shoulders while she kicked off her slippers.

    ¡°We can¡¯t go yet,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I need an escort, remember?¡±

    She frowned. ¡°How are we going to get around that?¡±

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    ¡°Dellon has someone in mind,¡± he said. ¡°He still trains with the guards sometimes, so he knows which ones are trustworthy. He went to find one while I came to talk to you.¡±

    Arya tossed a pair of boots closer to the settee and sat to pull them on. ¡°And are you sure Dellon is trustworthy?¡±

    ¡°As sure as I am about anyone else,¡± Garrin shrugged. ¡°Except you. You¡¯re the only one I¡¯m sure is on my side.¡±

    She blinked up at him, and he frowned in confusion. His words had caught her by surprise, but why? Why shouldn¡¯t he trust her? She¡¯d been created with his best interests in mind. Sure, she didn¡¯t seem to love him, but she¡¯d never tried to harm him.

    Maybe he was just too trusting. After all, he¡¯d believed Renton incapable of harming him until yesterday. Maybe he needed to be more cautious with Arya as well.

    Well. Caution had its place, but he couldn¡¯t go through life without trusting anybody. And Arya was as good a candidate as any.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get my cloak,¡± he said, pushing himself upright off the chair. ¡°We can meet Dellon in the yard so no one will question his coming to our chambers.¡±

    She nodded, silent, and he left via the hallway door and entered his own room. The cloak he¡¯d worn on their previous excursion was still being laundered, but he had more than one. This time, he selected something heavy and plain, something that wouldn¡¯t be easily recognizable as being of fine quality. He didn¡¯t have any real weapons in his room and he wasn¡¯t about to go to the armory to request one, so he strapped a belt with a polished dagger around his waist and adjusted his cloak to cover it. Then he followed Arya¡¯s example and changed into winter boots, and went to meet her in the hall.

    She was waiting for him, but she barely looked his way as he opened his door. ¡°Ready?¡± she said, marching off toward the gates. ¡°We don¡¯t want to keep Dellon waiting.¡±

    Garrin had to hurry after her, which he was sure would pose an undignified scene if anyone happened upon them. For once, though, the halls remained empty until they reached the main doors, and then Arya slowed and let him take the lead. The guards at the doors saluted as they passed¡ªat least Renton¡¯s instructions hadn¡¯t prevented them from leaving the castle itself. Garrin resisted the urge to look over his shoulder once they reached the courtyard. He didn¡¯t want to appear suspicious.

    ¡°Do you see Dellon?¡± Arya asked, lifting her hood over her hair. The sun was bright, but a cutting breeze sent swirls of snow around their feet and made both of them pull their cloaks tighter.

    ¡°He was supposed to meet us in the training grounds,¡± Garrin answered. ¡°If he can¡¯t find anyone there, we¡¯ll go right to the soldier¡¯s barracks.¡±

    ¡°Are you allowed there?¡± Arya asked.

    Her voice was teasing, but the reminder of Renton¡¯s restrictions made him scowl. ¡°He hasn¡¯t specifically forbidden me from it, so I might as well go there while I can.¡±

    Arya laughed. ¡°You¡¯ll have to find a focus for this rebellious attitude soon, otherwise you¡¯ll get yourself into trouble.¡±

    At least one member of the council was conspiring against him¡ªwhat other trouble could there be?

    At least trouble left them alone long enough to reach the training grounds undisturbed. The sound of clashing metal and the shouts of men touched their ears before they could see the fights, bringing a wave of nostalgia with it. Garrin had trained here in his childhood, though only with the sons of other nobles. No one was allowed to hit him, but Garrin had convinced one of his teachers¡ªa grizzled soldier named Hennrig¡ªto spar with him when the other boys wouldn¡¯t. Hennrig still went easy on him, but he would at least point out when Garrin had done something wrong. Or he had until Garrin¡¯s head tutor found out and gave Hennrig other duties during training time.

    Had that also been Renton¡¯s influence? The possibility deepened the scowl on Garrin¡¯s face and made him grind his teeth together. Was there any part of his life that Renton had not meddled in?

    There was one thing. He glanced at Arya, her hood fluttering over her golden hair as another gust of wind swept past them. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes bright with excitement. Renton had tried to influence her creation, but Garrin¡¯s last-minute adjustments had taken her back out of the marshal¡¯s control. She really was the only one not connected to Renton.

    The only one he could trust.

    The wind shifted, and a voice carried across the yard as the soldiers came into view. ¡°Your Highness!¡±

    Most of the soldiers continued sparring, but two detached from the main group and made their way toward Garrin and Arya. The taller of the two was dressed in Sage¡¯s robes, but the shorter¡ªthough only shorter by an inch or so¡ªwore the armor and uniform of the castle guards. ¡°The goddess is with us today,¡± Dellon called, pulling his robes tighter about his huge frame as he hurried across the yard.

    ¡°You¡¯ve found an escort?¡± Garrin asked, glancing over at the other figure. ¡°One who understands what we¡¯re doing?¡±

    Dellon patted his companion¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Yes, and one who agrees with it.¡± He hesitated when he saw Arya, but after a moment he gave a swift bow and smiled at her. ¡°Your Highness. You will be joining us?¡±

    ¡°I will be,¡± Arya said.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Dellon said. ¡°Then let me introduce our escort for the day. Your Highnesses, this is Elonie.¡±

    Garrin blinked at the soldier. He was built like Dellon¡ªtall and muscular, with a proud bearing that spoke of competence and confidence. A helmet hid most of his face, but what Garrin could see of his jaw was lean and shaved, without the short beard many of the guards favored. Elonie reached up to remove his helmet, letting loose a long braid that fell gracefully about his shoulders.

    Elonie smiled and offered a salute. ¡°Your Highness,¡± he said, his voice soft. Soft as Dellon¡¯s, but not so low. Blue eyes framed by long lashes seemed to laugh at Garrin as he finally put the pieces together.

    ¡°Dellon,¡± he muttered. ¡°Is this...?¡±

    ¡°Our escort into Gillesport,¡± Dellon beamed. ¡°My sister.¡±

 The Teller Sage

    It was impossible. Women weren¡¯t allowed to join the castle guards¡ªor anything else resembling a position with a title. But the proof stood right in front of them: Dellon¡¯s sister, plainly dressed in a guard¡¯s uniform, a sword on her hip, a shield on her back, watching Garrin as if daring him to question her right to them.

    Dellon took pity on him and explained. ¡°Elonie was always more suited to fighting than I was. Our father trained us both, but when it became clear that she was far more talented, he started bringing her to sparring matches with him. By 12, she could beat most of the men in the castle. And thank the goddess, because it freed me to focus on my studies.¡±

    He smiled at Elonie, who shrugged back. ¡°I¡¯m a guard in name only. Marshal Renton won¡¯t assign me any duties, even though Father and Captain Mornar keep telling him I¡¯m ready. I¡¯ve been waiting for my chance to prove myself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure this will be your chance,¡± Garrin said. ¡°There¡¯s little glamor in walking us down to Gillesport and back. But we welcome your company, and I¡¯ll put in a word with Renton when we return.¡±

    Her face brightened. ¡°That¡¯s all I can ask, sire. I won¡¯t let you down.¡±

    Garrin was certain she couldn¡¯t, but he didn¡¯t say so. Having Dellon¡¯s family member as their escort was better luck than he¡¯d hoped for. And if nothing else, Elonie looked intimidating. He doubted they¡¯d have any more trouble with bandits preying on the unarmed, unsuspecting nobles with her standing nearby.

    ¡°I¡¯ve called for horses,¡± Dellon said helpfully. ¡°Shall I bring them?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll all go,¡± Garrin said. He hadn¡¯t ridden in some time, but it would certainly be faster than walking. And it would give Arya a chance to show off the horseback riding skills he¡¯d requested for her (all part of the standard princess set). As far as he knew, she hadn¡¯t been able to try it yet. Would she enjoy the activity? Did she enjoy any of the skills she¡¯d been given? He¡¯d never thought to ask before.

    He turned to ask, but before he could get the words out, Arya was hurrying ahead to walk at Elonie¡¯s side. The two quickly fell into conversation about Elonie¡¯s experience as a guard, about her favorite weapons and drills and the soldiers who supported her. ¡°Most of them see me as a kind of mascot,¡± Elonie explained. ¡°You know, something to show off to visitors, but not really a part of the team. But there are a few who take me seriously. I just want a chance to prove myself and make them proud.¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s very admirable,¡± Arya said. She flashed a brilliant smile at the guard, who smiled back and dipped her head respectfully.

    ¡°Thank you, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Please call me Arya. At least when we¡¯re outside the castle walls.¡±

    ¡°My father would kill me if he knew,¡± Elonie said in a loud whisper.

    ¡°I promise not to tell,¡± Arya laughed.

    Elonie nodded, grinning. A twinge of jealousy made Garrin look away, feeling as if he was intruding on a moment not meant for his eyes. He¡¯d never been easy with people the way Arya could be. Friendship was something he¡¯d only ever observed from a distance, and to see the two women interacting so naturally and comfortably during their first meeting filled him with envy. There were plenty of people that he liked, but none that he was certain liked him back. Lliane had been an ally in the past, Senjay an annoyance, Dellon a tutor, Jakin a servant¡ªthere was no one who could look at him and see Garrin the poet, the musician, the person. Whatever he had with Arya was probably the closest thing he had to a real relationship, and even that was only one-sided. She hadn¡¯t shown any feelings of love or even affection, besides her willingness to help him unravel Renton¡¯s plots toward him.

    That was why he wanted to travel. Why he had to travel. No one was ever going to respect him for who he was here in the castle. He had to get away, find some place new where he could be himself and earn his own friendships. His own love.

    ¡°I had them saddle Iole,¡± Dellon said, jarring Garrin out of his thoughts as they reached the stables. ¡°My father said that was the horse you preferred during training, but if you have another favorite I can have it changed.¡±

    ¡°Iole is fine,¡± Garrin said. It didn¡¯t matter to him which horse he rode, but at least Iole was familiar. The tall gray was ready and waiting as they went inside, along with three other horses of varying heights and dispositions. Dellon¡¯s and Elonie¡¯s horses were taller even than Iole, while Arya¡¯s was a delicate white mare that tossed her head haughtily when the others approached. The stable hands backed away to give them room to mount, and Garrin paused to help Arya before swinging up into his own saddle. She accepted his hand without a word, but he got a smile of thanks as she arranged her skirts over her lap. He tried to ignore how the sight of it heated up his chest.

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    ¡°I¡¯ll take rear guard,¡± Dellon offered. ¡°If you want to lead, El?¡±

    Elonie nodded, and the four of them fell into formation and trotted out into the yard. Garrin adjusted his position on Iole¡¯s back, re-familiarizing himself with the swaying gait and pulling his cloak tight against the biting wind. Iole didn¡¯t seem to mind it. He tossed his head and gave an impatient stamp as Garrin nudged him after Elonie. On a warmer day, Garrin might have let the horse run off some energy on the way to town, but the wind was already cold enough. He would try to make more of an effort to exercise Iole in the spring.

    If he was still there in the spring.

    The castle gates were open, and the soldiers on guard there let them through after a brief conversation with Elonie. Garrin didn¡¯t hear all of what they said, but he caught ¡°Marshal Renton¡± and ¡°escort¡± repeated several times. Whatever Elonie told them was apparently acceptable, and Garrin wasn¡¯t about to question it. He would take his luck any way he could get it.

    They made good time, and before long they were stabling the horses and making their way toward the Teller¡¯s Guild. It was in the business district, tucked between the market squares and the university, crouched on a hill overlooking the ports. All the city guilds shared the same few blocks, with the Tellers¡¯ building set on the opposite end of the row from the Sages¡¯. The two groups had had their differences in the past, though Garrin had never understood their animosity. Both involved the study of history, after all. But where the Sages focused more on the facts, dates, and philosophical influences of history, the Tellers were more concerned with the stories of Fyrest¡¯s past.

    Garrin had always preferred the Tellers.

    Despite the cold, the streets teemed with people pushing their way through the markets. Arya pressed close to Elonie as they walked, since the mass of people gave her a wide berth as they swarmed down the street. Garrin couldn¡¯t blame them; Elonie stood several inches taller than most of them and made an intimidating figure in her uniform and helmet. Much as Garrin hated to admit it, having an armed escort was making a difference. Only the market vendors were brave enough to call out to them; everyone else just moved aside and continued on their business.

    The Teller¡¯s Guild was a low, long building littered with windows and covered in iced-over vines. Elonie led the way to the heavy oak door, pushing it open with ease and holding it while the rest of them filed in. The warmth of a fire greeted them as they entered, crackling cheerfully from the back of the small lobby lit by wide, tall windows. A man sat behind a long desk to their right, a half dozen books spread out before him.

    ¡°Welcome!¡± he said brightly, peering at them over his pages. ¡°Do you have an appointment with one of the Tellers?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re hoping one might have time to meet with us,¡± Dellon answered.

    The man gave him a long, curious look. ¡°Blue robes, hmm? We don¡¯t get many Sages here, though that¡¯s not to say they¡¯re not welcome. Personally, I think the Sages and the Tellers should collaborate more, but no one listens to the clerk.¡±

    ¡°I agree with you,¡± Dellon said. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. We¡¯re hoping to see the man they call the Teller Sage. To collaborate.¡±

    The clerk tilted his head. ¡°Is that so? Well, let me see... you¡¯re looking for Talys if you want a Teller who used to be a Sage. He doesn¡¯t get many visitors.¡± He paged through his book until he found whatever he was looking for, and then he snapped it closed and smiled. ¡°His schedule is free. Come, I¡¯ll take you to him.¡±

    During their brief conversation, the clerk had focused entirely on Dellon. He hadn¡¯t asked why Garrin still had his hood up, or why a Sage had come to the Teller¡¯s Guild with two guests and a castle guard¡ªhe simply got up from his desk and led the way down the hall until he reached a door with the name ¡°Talys¡± printed on the front. The clerk knocked and opened the door before there was an answer, then stepped back and smiled at Dellon.

    ¡°Good luck with your collaboration. I wish you success.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Dellon said. The clerk bowed to each of them without seeming to notice any of them before returning down the hall to his desk. Dellon met Garrin¡¯s eyes and hesitated, giving Garrin the chance to enter first, but Garrin shook his head. This was Dellon¡¯s project¡ªhis and Arya¡¯s¡ªand Garrin was content to observe from the background.

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± The voice came from behind a stack of papers and held just enough of a bite to let them know they were interrupting.

    Dellon stepped inside and cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to disturb you, but we¡¯re hoping you can help us with something.¡±

    ¡°What would a castle Sage want with an old man?¡± the Teller Sage grumbled. He swept his eyes over the rest of them, frowning. ¡°And I see you brought company from the castle, too. A soldier? Seems a bit unnecessary. I haven¡¯t violated any terms of my release.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not here about that,¡± Dellon said, but the old man stood suddenly and slammed his hands on his desk.

    ¡°You listen here,¡± he snapped. ¡°I¡¯ve done everything the council asked of me. I moved out of the castle, I left my research behind, and I never told¡ª¡±

    He stopped, his eyes stilling over Arya. His shoulders went rigid, and Garrin felt the same shocked stiffness settle over his own body as he searched the man¡¯s face. There was something familiar in the height of his cheekbones, the set of his brows, and the shape of his lips, but it was only a vague resemblance. It was his gaze that made Garrin freeze, and he sensed a shared surprise rush over his companions when they noticed the same thing.

    The Teller Sage had Arya¡¯s eyes.

 Choice

    The Teller Sage blinked, frowned, and inclined his head toward Arya. ¡°Your Highness. This is not a place I expected to find Fyrest¡¯s princess.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve come with questions,¡± Arya answered.

    ¡°No doubt.¡± Talys turned his gaze to Garrin and sized him up warily. ¡°Sire. I apologize for not recognizing you. You were quite young the last time I saw you.¡±

    Garrin lowered his hood, still reeling from the sight of Arya¡¯s eyes in the Teller Sage¡¯s face. ¡°You have nothing to fear from us. We¡¯re not here on council business.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you here?¡± Talys¡¯s voice was plain, if a little sharp, and Garrin found himself both taken aback by and appreciative of his bluntness.

    ¡°What do you know about Anarya Ellysen?¡± Arya asked.

    Talys¡¯s eyes snapped back to her. ¡°Where did you hear that name?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear it,¡± Arya said. ¡°I simply know it, the way I know that the sky is blue and the snow is cold. It was a part of my memories when I first opened my eyes. But I don¡¯t know who she is.¡±

    The Teller Sage frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Then it¡¯s true: the knowledge is generational. They¡¯ve tried erasing her from history, but they cannot destroy her memory in those touched by the goddess.¡±

    They who? The Architects? How could a single woman be so dangerous that her enemies would want to wipe her completely from history? Garrin buzzed with questions, but Talys¡¯s eyes were still on Arya, studying her like a text he couldn¡¯t decipher.

    ¡°Please,¡± Garrin said, drawing the old man¡¯s attention. ¡°All we have is a name, and that she was an Architect. If you can tell us anything¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a Teller, aren¡¯t I?¡± Talys interrupted. ¡°I¡¯ve always been a little more storyteller than scholar. That¡¯s why the council dismissed me, if you check the record. But that¡¯s only part of the story.¡±

    ¡°Then tell us the rest,¡± Garrin pressed.

    Talys sighed and gestured toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for someone to listen for fifteen years¡ªI suppose I can¡¯t afford to be picky now. Sage, close the door. Maybe you¡¯ll learn something new.¡±

    Obediently, Dellon shut the door and stood shoulder to shoulder with his sister. ¡°I am eager to learn, sir.¡±

    Talys snorted. ¡°We¡¯ll see. Where to start? The beginning, I suppose. Well, the beginning is Anarya herself.¡±

    ¡°She was an Architect?¡± Arya said.

    ¡°One of the first.¡± Talys sat, shuffling aside a pile of papers and resting his elbows on his desk. ¡°She developed much of the process for creating the king¡¯s companion. In fact, she based the first queen¡¯s appearance on herself.¡±

    Garrin looked at Arya. The princesses always bore a strong resemblance to the queens who came before them, but he¡¯d always assumed it was because they were created to match their princes. Maybe he had it backwards. Maybe Arya looked like his mother because his mother looked like Anarya Ellysen.

    But that didn¡¯t explain Talys. ¡°I can understand Arya¡¯s resemblance to the previous queens,¡± he said. ¡°But why do you look like them too?¡±

    A half-smile turned up one corner of Talys¡¯s mouth. ¡°Anarya was my ancestor. I¡¯m told I have her eyes, though that¡¯s impossible to prove. Over the years, the Architects have destroyed every likeness of her except the princesses.¡±

    ¡°But why?¡± Arya breathed.

    Talys steepled his fingers together and narrowed his eyes at her. ¡°Is Aremus still the head Architect?¡± At Garrin¡¯s nod, he continued, ¡°His father was before him, and his before him, and so on. In fact, most of the Architects have inherited their positions. They pride themselves in their lineage and the power and knowledge that has passed down from father to son for generations. The only men able to create life.¡±

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    ¡°But it wasn¡¯t their fathers who created life,¡± Elonie said. ¡°It was Anarya.¡±

    Dellon crossed his arms. ¡°That¡¯s why they wanted to keep Anarya¡¯s contributions a secret. If they destroyed her memory¡­¡±

    Talys gave them an approving look. ¡°They could claim the accomplishment for themselves. And they did. They stole her work, they stole her livelihood, and they stole her legacy. The first Architects prevented Anarya¡¯s daughter from joining their ranks, but eventually the Sages welcomed her great-grandson into their organization. Unfortunately, my family has always held a reputation for dissonance. It has since caught up to me, leaving me in the situation you now witness. Aremus was overjoyed at my dismissal. I was the last remaining tie to Anarya Ellysen, besides the queen.¡±

    ¡°And now Arya,¡± Garrin said.

    The Teller Sage nodded. ¡°Over the years, various Architects have tried adjusting the princess¡¯s looks to destroy the resemblance, but it has never worked. They used to refer to it as ¡®Her Rebellion¡¯, as though Anarya is still choosing to act against them.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain why Marshal Renton wants to keep Anarya a secret,¡± Dellon said. ¡°He isn¡¯t an Architect. Why does he care if Prince Garrin learns about her?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s likely afraid of Anarya¡¯s curse,¡± Talys said.

    ¡°Curse?¡± Arya repeated. She sounded far too interested for Garrin¡¯s liking.

    Talys seemed to catch her enthusiasm; his eyes gleamed with amusement as he answered. ¡°Legend claims Anarya spoke a curse against the men who had wronged her, saying that one of her own would rise against them and reclaim the power they had stolen. Of course, it¡¯s a ridiculous fear¡ªthe Architects have kept each princess docile and complacent, and I am Anarya¡¯s only living descendant. They have no more to fear from Anarya¡¯s own.¡±

    Garrin glanced at Arya. She was anything but complacent, and if Renton suspected her skills and knowledge, it would certainly explain his desire to keep Anarya¡¯s history from them. ¡°Thank you,¡± Garrin said, his stomach churning uneasily. ¡°You¡¯ve helped us a great deal.¡±

    ¡°I simply told a story,¡± Talys shrugged. ¡°As I have always done.¡±

    ¡°History is full of stories,¡± Dellon said.

    A smile touched Talys¡¯s lips. ¡°So it is. Be careful of who you say that to, young Sage, or you¡¯ll end up with a dual role like me.¡±

    Though Talys¡¯s voice was light, Dellon nodded seriously. He opened the door and led the way into the hall, glancing back at Elonie and beckoning her to follow¡ªgiving Garrin and Arya a chance to speak with the Teller Sage alone.

    And he wanted to. He wanted to confess everything he knew about Renton¡¯s conspiracy, about the way the council had kept his father under their control and how they wanted to do the same with him. But Arya¡¯s wary expression made him pause, and before he could think of a way to phrase his concerns, Talys was waving a dismissive hand.

    ¡°Thank you for speaking with us,¡± Arya said.

    The Teller Sage opened a book and nodded without looking up from it. ¡°Come and see me again. Things have been dull of late.¡±

    Garrin pulled his hood back up as he left Talys¡¯s office, pausing outside to wait for Arya. ¡°Do you think Renton suspects me?¡± she asked quietly, closing the door and casting a worried glance down the hall.

    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Garrin said. ¡°But not because of anything you¡¯ve done. I¡¯m sure he would suspect any new princess.¡±

    ¡°Then it¡¯s even more important that we make sure there¡¯s nothing for him to suspect,¡± she said firmly.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t done anything,¡± Garrin pointed out. ¡°It¡¯s me he¡¯s watching.¡±

    ¡°We know he¡¯s watching you,¡± she corrected. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean he isn¡¯t watching me. We have to be careful.¡±

    Or we have to leave. If he was going to leave anyway, wasn¡¯t now the best time? Let Renton run the kingdom, if he wanted it¡ªGarrin was tired of trying to unravel a conspiracy that was decades in the making. Generations, really. Maybe it was best to cut his losses and live the life of adventure he¡¯d dreamed about.

    But then what about Arya? She¡¯d be in danger if she stayed in the castle, assuming Renton¡¯s threats extended to her. Would she come with him?

    Did he want her to?

    She¡¯d gotten ahead of him and had joined the others in the lobby, adjusting her hood while she spoke softly to Elonie. A torn feeling held him still as he watched the women talk. He hadn¡¯t really considered Arya in any of his plans, other than how she could serve his needs. He hadn¡¯t asked if she wanted to rule in his absence, or whether she preferred to come with him, or if she wanted to do anything else. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to him that he should. In that respect, was he any better than Renton?

    The thought chilled him. He couldn¡¯t go on that way¡ªif he wanted to live up to the examples set by his heroes, he needed to do things differently. Arya deserved to decide her own future the same way he wanted to.

    As soon as they got back to the castle, he would ask her. He would involve her in his plans rather than dictating his decisions. For the first time, he would treat her the way she was supposed to be treated, the way Anarya Ellysen intended.

    As his partner.

 Unrequited

    Garrin barely registered the journey back to the castle. Iole followed behind Elonie¡¯s horse dutifully, leaving Garrin to rehearse what he would say to Arya when they returned. I want you to have a choice. You have the right to determine your own destiny.

    Arya, too, seemed lost in her own thoughts. The few times he looked back at her, her attention was wholly focused on her horse¡¯s reins. A solemn, stern expression covered her face, drawing her brows low over the eyes she¡¯d inherited from Anarya Ellysen.

    He couldn¡¯t believe how wrong he¡¯d been about so many things. What else didn¡¯t he know?

    Two figures stood waiting for them in the center of the courtyard when the four trotted their horses through the castle gates. Garrin steeled himself for another lecture from Renton, but as they approached he realized that neither of the figures was the marshal. It was Senjay and Lliane.

    ¡°Out for a walk?¡± Garrin asked, frowning in confusion.

    The Thiyaan prince folded his arms and planted himself in Garrin¡¯s path. ¡°At least I am exercising. Is this how you train? You work once and then never come back? Or have you lost your stomach for fighting me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been busy,¡± Garrin hedged.

    ¡°You must make time if you want to improve,¡± Senjay scowled. ¡°Now. We fight now, or you find yourself a new tutor.¡±

    ¡°The prince wants to learn to fight?¡± Elonie asked. Dellon clicked his tongue at her, and she colored under her helmet. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sire, it¡¯s none of my business.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Garrin sighed. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong in asking. Yes, I¡¯m learning to fight. The skills I learned during my training are a little more ceremonial than practical.¡±

    ¡°I could show you some of the soldiers¡¯ drills,¡± Elonie said. ¡°That is, if Your Highness would want another perspective. I¡¯m sure Your Highness already has¡ª¡±

    Arya interrupted her with a smile. ¡°How kind of you to offer, Elonie! Prince Garrin can use all the help he can get. I¡¯m sure he would be very thankful for your help.¡±

    ¡°I would be,¡± Garrin said honestly. ¡°If you can spare the time.¡±

    Elonie looked both relieved and pleased. ¡°Of course, sire. Anything you need.¡±

    ¡°And who says we need?¡± Senjay cut in. He narrowed his eyes and swept a critical look over Elonie, frowning. ¡°You look the part, but big doesn¡¯t always mean better. You would entrust your training to a mere soldier?¡±

    ¡°I would get as many perspectives as possible,¡± Garrin said.

    Senjay shook his head. ¡°Not without proof that this fighter is worthy. I will not train two students at once.¡±

    ¡°With all due respect,¡± Dellon said. ¡°Elonie is one of the best soldiers in the castle. She can hold her own against even the captains. And once she disarmed Marshal Renton!¡±

    ¡°Then she should have no qualms about testing her skills,¡± Senjay answered.

    Elonie glanced between Senjay and Garrin, then to Arya. ¡°I¡¯ve never held back in a fight. Is it... I mean, will I...?¡±

    ¡°You will not get in trouble,¡± Lliane assured her. ¡°Not unless you kill him. But Senjay promises not to be a sore loser. Isn¡¯t that right, Prince Senjay?¡±

    Senjay snorted and drew his sword. ¡°You will not be able to hold back, soldier. That you will see shortly.¡±

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    With one last look at Dellon, Elonie removed her helmet and drew her sword. She moved to meet Senjay, her footsteps light, her posture easy. Garrin backed toward the others, folding his arms and waiting for one of the fighters to strike. He felt a touch on his shoulder and turned his head without taking his eyes from the two.

    ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that I tagged along,¡± Lliane said. ¡°When Senjay told me he was going to find you for a fighting lesson, I just had to see it. What on earth are you doing, learning to fight like this?¡±

    Garrin frowned at her. ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Like a brawler!¡± she said. ¡°Like a common¡ª¡±

    ¡°Elonie is not common,¡± Arya interrupted.

    ¡°Perhaps not in skill,¡± Lliane acknowledge. ¡°Or even in determination. But in the sense of rank, she is only¡ª¡±

    ¡°Watch,¡± Garrin said. He¡¯d never seen Elonie fight, but he knew in his bones that she would triumph over Senjay. Maybe it was the spark that drove her, the desire to prove herself against the men who doubted her. Maybe it was just that it would make a better story for her to win, and Garrin¡¯s sense of dramatic irony was always looking to be rewarded. Maybe he just really wanted Senjay to lose.

    But he knew it was going to happen, and he wasn¡¯t about to miss a moment of it.

    The fight lasted about four minutes. Senjay was a graceful whip of movement, his sword a snaking, teasing extension of his arm, but Elonie parried each attack simply and quickly. Every move she used was simple¡ªor at least, it seemed simple to Garrin, who had learned similar steps and thrusts during his limited training¡ªbut before long it was clear that Senjay had no answer to her style. The match ended with Elonie¡¯s twisting step, a flicker of movement Garrin almost couldn¡¯t follow, and Senjay¡¯s sword on the ground.

    Lliane and Arya burst in to applause. Dellon held a respectful silence, but his face glowed with pride, and Garrin couldn¡¯t help grinning in response. ¡°Well?¡± he called. ¡°Are you satisfied?¡±

    Elonie bent to retrieve Senjay¡¯s sword and held it out to him, her head bowed in respect. He took it from her, laughing.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Thiyaan prince said. ¡°I am satisfied. If this is how your common soldiers fight, then it is no wonder your country enjoys such peace. You must learn from her!¡±

    Garrin intended to.

    ***

    They started with fists.

    Since Garrin didn¡¯t have his sword, Senjay insisted they fight with the weapon he could never leave behind. Elonie joined them, mostly listening to Senjay¡¯s directions, but occasionally throwing out her own suggestions. They were hesitant at first, but when she realized that her input was appreciated, she grew bolder. To Garrin¡¯s delight, she even corrected Senjay once.

    Lliane, Arya, and Dellon found a bench at the edge of the yard and sat to watch them, which was far more distracting than it should have been. They were far enough that Garrin could only hear snippets of their conversation, but what he did hear kept him from focusing fully on the lesson. Most of it was banter between the two princesses, interspersed with a comment here or there from Dellon. Nothing that could explain the growing sense of unease in Garrin¡¯s stomach. He should have been glad that they were getting along. He should have been happy to hear the peals of laughter that rang out throughout the fight.

    But when he heard his name mentioned three times in as many minutes, what little attention he¡¯d been paying to Senjay¡¯s instructions fled.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think Garrin is working hard?¡± Lliane had said, her voice pitched so it would carry across the yard. It had to be intentional, given how quiet they¡¯d been only moments before. Garrin did his best to listen while still appearing to pay attention to his tutors.

    ¡°He has a lifetime of lessons to learn,¡± Arya answered dismissively.

    ¡°Then you¡¯d grab my elbow here,¡± Senjay said, holding out his arm for Elonie to demonstrate. ¡°And twist. See?¡±

    Garrin nodded. He couldn¡¯t speak, or he¡¯d risk talking over Lliane¡¯s reply.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen him work this hard,¡± she was saying. ¡°Not at anything. He must really want to impress you.¡±

    Impress Arya? He was doing this to make himself a better ruler¡ªa better man. Not because of Arya.

    She said the same to Lliane. ¡°Besides,¡± she added. ¡°I¡¯m more interested in the scholarly types. Like Dellon here.¡±

    ¡°And then you flip,¡± Senjay said cheerfully. He punctuated his words by grabbing Garrin¡¯s arm, twisting him across his body, and throwing him onto the ground. Garrin caught himself on his elbow, saving his ribs from a painful jarring, but the action still made him gasp.

    Senjay crouched over him. ¡°That¡¯s why you pay attention to the fight and not to the girls,¡± he whispered.

    ¡°I¡¯m flattered,¡± Dellon laughed across the yard. ¡°But you outrank me, Your Highness.¡±

    ¡°Rank shouldn¡¯t matter,¡± Arya said.

    ¡°But it does,¡± Lliane said. ¡°Or do you mean... don¡¯t you love Garrin?¡±

    ¡°Are you hurt, sire?¡± Elonie asked, moving over to stand above Garrin. He was still sprawled across the ground, half-raised on his elbow, staring stupidly at Senjay¡¯s grinning face.

    He didn¡¯t want to hear Arya¡¯s answer. He couldn¡¯t¡ªnot with Senjay listening. Not with Elonie looking at him with concern, both over the bruises he¡¯d suffered, and the words they could all clearly hear.

    ¡°Again,¡± Garrin said, pushing to his feet and shouldering Senjay aside as he went. ¡°I¡¯m ready now.¡±

    He tuned out the women for the rest of the fight.

 Decision

    ¡°Can I talk to you?¡±

    Arya paused with her hand outstretched, ready to open the door to her chambers. Garrin had barely caught up to her after his training session; Lliane, Arya, and Dellon had lingered while Senjay and Elonie finished their lesson, but then Senjay insisted on walking him back inside. He¡¯d taken the long way through the halls, forcing Garrin to run the rest of the way to Arya¡¯s bedchambers in the hopes that she would go there to change before dinner.

    And she had, thank the goddess. She watched him struggle to catch his breath, her expression bland as she waited to hear what he had to say. ¡°You can always talk to me,¡± she said at last. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what I was made for?¡±

    He grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s part of what I want to talk about. Will you come inside?¡±

    She shrugged and opened his door instead of hers. ¡°As long as it doesn¡¯t take too long. I have a few things I need to get done before dinner.¡±

    Garrin followed her inside and shed his cloak, hanging it back in the wardrobe while Arya took a seat beside the fire. ¡°I wanted to...¡± he started, but faltered. The grand speech he¡¯d prepared had fractured into disconnected thoughts, and with her bright eyes fixed on him, he couldn¡¯t seem to pull them back together.

    ¡°Yes?¡± she prompted.

    He cleared his throat. ¡°I wanted to... apologize. For treating you like you were created solely for my use.¡±

    A hint of color rose to her cheeks. ¡°I was created for your use.¡±

    ¡°And that is wrong,¡± he said. ¡°However you were born, you are... you are you. Not just the princess, not just my betrothed. You deserve a chance to be an individual.¡±

    She looked toward the fire. ¡°Fine words, but impractical. I am as bound to this place as you are.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be.¡± He waited until her eyes found his again, and then he moved across the room and sat in the chair beside her. ¡°If you left, the council would let you. If you wanted to go somewhere else, be someone else...¡±

    Arya blinked at him, her brows furrowed. ¡°What about you? Have you decided to take your responsibilities seriously?¡±

    ¡°I know what my responsibilities are,¡± he sighed. ¡°But they don¡¯t have to be yours, if you don¡¯t want them. I can manage on my own.¡±

    ¡°You would still need a queen,¡± Arya said.

    He hitched up one shoulder. ¡°I would find one, eventually. One that wanted to be here, not one that was forced to.¡±

    For a long moment, Arya simply stared at him. The fire crackled in the silence, popping as it burned away the chill from the room. It offered nothing else. No encouragement, no insight into what Arya might be thinking¡ªjust a respite from the quiet. A distraction, not a solution.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need your answer now,¡± he said at last. ¡°It¡¯s just... something to think about. If you want to.¡±

    Still, she was silent. But she offered him a small smile as she stood, and she set her hand on his arm as she made her way across the room.

    He didn¡¯t watch her leave, but his ears strained toward the sound of the door opening and closing. He wanted to feel good about the conversation and about the fact that he¡¯d offered Arya the choice no one had given him, but he mostly felt... empty. Like he was being left behind by the only one who could understand his situation.

    But she hadn¡¯t said that she would leave. Just because it was what Garrin would do didn¡¯t mean that Arya would do the same. He should use the time he had to plan and prepare, and not let himself mope over something that hadn¡¯t even happened yet.

    Resolved, he changed into clothing more appropriate for a state dinner and made his way to the dining hall. It was another small affair, hosting the royal families and the council, but this time there were no dramatic entrances before the meal. In fact, the meal was almost what he could call boring¡ªand that was a welcome change. There was only one thing that made him question the peace.

    Arya wasn¡¯t there.

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    The other royal heirs waited politely at first, but after ten minutes, Garrin told them to begin their meal. ¡°She¡¯s probably tired,¡± Lliane said, leaning over the empty seat at his right. ¡°She declined coming to my room for tea before dinner. She said she wanted to rest.¡±

    An excuse, Garrin was sure, though there was nothing to prove that it was not true. He was tired too. If he could avoid a tedious formal dinner by taking a nap, he would do it. But some intuition told him there was more to the story, and he was anxious to find out what it was.

    ¡°You needn¡¯t worry,¡± Lliane said toward the end of the meal. ¡°Arya is much more capable than she¡¯s given credit for.¡±

    ¡°I know she¡¯s capable,¡± Garrin said.

    Lliane smiled. ¡°I misjudged her. I had this image in my head of a simpering, meek princess, more like¡ª¡± She broke off, but Garrin could guess the rest of her thought. Like your mother.

    ¡°She has a mind of her own,¡± Garrin said. His eyes roamed, for the dozenth time, to the main door.

    ¡°I know that now,¡± Lliane said. ¡°And I like her better for it. It¡¯s too bad she doesn¡¯t... well, that she doesn¡¯t...¡±

    Garrin did his best to sound nonchalant. ¡°That she doesn¡¯t love me?¡±

    Lliane shrugged. ¡°She told me you¡¯d requested a few other qualities last minute. Maybe that cancelled out the devotion she was supposed to feel.¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    ¡°But isn¡¯t that better?¡± Lliane pressed. ¡°You always said you wanted to find your own love, and now you can do it without having to worry about her feelings.¡±

    It was better¡ªshould have been better. So why didn¡¯t it feel better?

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯ll look?¡± Lliane asked.

    Garrin frowned. ¡°For what?¡±

    ¡°For your love,¡± she laughed.

    Right. If Arya decided to leave, he would have no choice but to stay¡ªand where was he going to find true love here in the castle? ¡°I don¡¯t exactly have a plan for that,¡± he said flatly.

    ¡°Maybe you don¡¯t need to look,¡± she said. ¡°Maybe... maybe you¡¯ve already found her.¡±

    ¡°One of the nobles?¡± Garrin snorted.

    Lliane gave him an impatient look. ¡°You would still need a princess, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    On his left, Senjay leaned into his shoulder and said in a loud whisper, ¡°Why are you being difficult? Do you really not know what she¡¯s saying?¡±

    Garrin glared at him. ¡°Stay out of this.¡±

    ¡°No, he¡¯s right,¡± Lliane said. ¡°Do you really not know?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡±

    ¡°She wants to nominate herself for the open position,¡± Senjay said. He plucked a piece of roasted potato off Garrin¡¯s plate and took a bite, winking. ¡°Must be for the food. I can¡¯t imagine any other reason she¡¯d want to tie herself to you.¡±

    Garrin stared at him, then at Lliane. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. I¡¯m betrothed!¡±

    ¡°In words only,¡± Lliane said. ¡°Neither of you holds any affection for the other. If you want to marry Arya, then by all means, do so. I¡¯m just offering another alternative.¡±

    ¡°But you...¡± he sputtered. ¡°You...?¡±

    She smiled. ¡°Love you? I could, I think. Easily. The last few days have certainly shown you in a more favorable light. But this is a decision of the head, not the heart. My parents have already started looking for a husband for me, and none of the suitors they¡¯ve presented are even remotely interesting. You, at least, I get along with. Why couldn¡¯t we grow to love each other? You like me, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he answered. ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°But he wants to find his own love,¡± Senjay interrupted.

    Lliane stirred a pile of vegetables on her plate. ¡°So do I. That¡¯s why I think this is a good idea. We already like each other. We respect each other. Love grows from those things. It would be better than marrying a stranger.¡±

    It was too much. Arya hadn¡¯t even decided whether she wanted to leave¡ªhe couldn¡¯t consider replacing her with someone else. But what was he replacing? Arya had admitted she didn¡¯t love him. Neither did Lliane, though she apparently thought she could. That wasn¡¯t the kind of love he wanted, though. He wanted something strong and passionate, something that inspired ballads. Something to base a life on, and not just a kingdom.

    ¡°Think about it,¡± Lliane said, offering him an understanding smile. ¡°We have time for decisions.¡±

    Senjay stole another potato from Garrin¡¯s plate. ¡°And if he decides he¡¯d rather live alone, I know another prince you can talk to.¡±

    Lliane snorted. ¡°I¡¯d rather marry the forty-year-old duke my father favors.¡±

    They talked over him for the last few moments of the meal, but as soon as Garrin was able to leave without offending the court, he fled the noise of the hall and tried to understand what had just happened. He didn¡¯t want to marry Lliane... did he? He¡¯d always considered her pretty, but his feelings had never gone deeper than that. Or was it only that he¡¯d never thought of her as a possibility for love? If she thought she could grow to love him, couldn¡¯t he do the same? Lliane knew him in a way no one else did. Perhaps she could be his true love after all.

    But when he closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand against them, it wasn¡¯t Lliane¡¯s face he saw.

    He needed to talk to Arya.

    A frantic, almost desperate feeling rose in his chest, but he did his best to push it down and force a calm breath through his lungs. If Lliane was right, he¡¯d find Arya asleep in her room. He didn¡¯t want to wake her, but he had to talk to her. Now, before his heart beat out of his chest.

    He fairly ran to her room, knocking before he¡¯d come to a complete stop. There was no answer. He cracked open the door and called inside, but there was no one there. He tried the same in his own room and found nothing, so he went back into hers to see if he could find a clue as to where she¡¯d gone.

    Instead, he found a note.

    Garrin,

    I¡¯ve thought about the things you told me earlier, and I think it¡¯s best if we part ways. I can clearly not serve as this country¡¯s queen. I have neither the qualifications nor the temperance to serve in such a capacity. The one we spoke to this morning was right. It will be best for everyone if I simply leave and make my own way in the world. I hope you find the kind of adventure you¡¯re looking for. It might be closer than you think.

    Arya

 Disappearance

    The following day passed in a blur. Garrin stayed in his room all morning, despite a summons from Senjay to continue his training and an invitation to a luncheon hosted by his mother. In the afternoon he got the idea to ask Elonie if she had heard from Arya and if she might know where she¡¯d gone, but the soldier confessed ignorance of the situation. When he mentioned finding Dellon, Elonie told him that her brother was busy moving his things to the Sage¡¯s guild in Gillesport.

    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to,¡± she said when Garrin looked surprised. ¡°They haven¡¯t dismissed him from the castle. But Dellon thinks he¡¯ll be able to do better work in town than here.¡±

    That made sense, but the Sage¡¯s absence made him feel even lonelier. Garrin returned to his room and tried to distract himself with his harp, but his mind wasn¡¯t on the music. How could Arya just leave? Without saying goodbye? Without saying anything? He didn¡¯t necessarily think he was entitled to more than a goodbye, but she could have at least told him in person. A letter was so... so...

    Well, fitting, if this was a romantic ballad instead of real life. That was exactly how a tragic hero would receive the news that his love had left him. But Arya wasn¡¯t his love, she was just his betrothed. She¡¯d made that clear enough the day before.

    So why did he feel like he¡¯d lost something more?

    After a while, he gave up on doing anything productive and laid down to rest instead, but the snapping of the fireplace sounded like explosions to his frazzled mind, and he couldn¡¯t relax. Finally, having nothing else to distract him, Garrin returned to Arya¡¯s letter.

    Garrin,

    I¡¯ve thought about the things you told me earlier, and I think it¡¯s best if we part ways. I can clearly not serve as this country¡¯s queen. I have neither the qualifications nor the temperance to serve in such a capacity. The one we spoke to this morning was right. It will be best for everyone if I simply leave and make my own way in the world. I hope you find the kind of adventure you¡¯re looking for. It might be closer than you think.

    Arya

    He frowned. ¡°Neither the qualifications nor the temperance?¡± he muttered aloud. ¡°She has the exact qualifications. There is no one who has better qualifications.¡± Who else knew the entire history of the kingdom? The maps of every region on the continent? The details of the economy, the intricacies of court workings¡ªArya had more knowledge than any single person alive. And she knew it. And he knew it.

    So why pretend otherwise?

    ¡°The one we spoke to this morning,¡± he read on. That had to be Talys, but why not just say that? She¡¯d written the letter to Garrin and left it in her own room, so there was no risk of anyone else reading it.

    Unless...

    The one we spoke to this morning was right. About what? Renton? About the dangers to Garrin? What if those dangers had extended to Arya as well¡ªwhat if they made her leave? Maybe she¡¯d written the letter not as a goodbye, but as a warning?

    But then where did she go?

    There were too many questions, and Garrin could prove none of them. It was far more likely that he was succumbing to wishful thinking than that Arya had written him a secret message, but he couldn¡¯t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

    He needed more information.

    For the next hour, Garrin studied Arya¡¯s room with a thoroughness that would have impressed even the strictest tutor. He searched her wardrobe, her shelves, her chests and trunks, and anywhere else she might have hidden something. Most of what he found was useless, though he noted that none of her clothes seemed to be missing. If she had left the castle, wouldn¡¯t she have packed clothing? Or a change of shoes? She might even have taken some of her jewelry to sell once she got to town in order to fund the rest of her journey, but every item was right where it belonged.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    He was about to give up his search when his gaze fell on the rug beneath her bed. One corner was folded over itself, like it had been kicked or scuffed by the last person to tread on it. He kneeled beside it, feeling over the thick fabric, then pulling it back to check underneath. Nothing. He leaned down and peered under the bed, but when he couldn¡¯t see anything he reached his hand into the darkness and felt along the floor.

    His fingers touched something cold and firm. Curious, he grabbed the object and withdrew it, then held it up for inspection. It was a book, thin and leather-bound, unmarked by any title or image. He opened the front page and found rows of neat handwriting, which went on for a dozen pages before stopping mid-sentence. He flipped back to the first page and scanned it, frowning.

    It is my first night, not just as a princess, but as a person. I know that much, and a thousand other things, but everything feels so new and strange. I know it shouldn¡¯t¡ªI know that for most people it is just another night¡ªbut I feel it unfair that I must face it alone. I wish he would have come to me so I would not have to go to him.

    Garrin closed the book, his face burning. He shouldn¡¯t be reading this, not without Arya¡¯s permission. But what else could he do? If it held any clues to her whereabouts, he had to continue. He had to know what had happened to her.

    He flipped to a page toward the end of the entries and skimmed it, but paused when he read his name.

    Garrin offered to release me today. He said I deserved to make my own decisions about my future. The very thing I¡¯ve been able to hold against him, the last barrier against these ridiculous, illogical feelings¡ªand now it is gone as well. I fear I will not recover from such an offer. How can I go, knowing that he would have to face the oncoming obstacles alone? Isn¡¯t this my purpose? If not this, then what?

    Then... she didn¡¯t want to go. She¡¯d decided to stay and help him against Renton, and to serve out her duties as a princess. The rest... ridiculous, illogical feelings... He didn¡¯t have time to ponder that now. He had to find out what had happened to her, if she hadn¡¯t left on her own.

    But he didn¡¯t have to pry more than that. Resolutely, he turned to the last entry and read.

    WW passage: SR. R arrived first. Second person arrived 10 minutes later.

    R- You¡¯re late.

    SP- I thought I was being followed.

    R- Then you were right to be cautious. What have you found out? Why is Garrin spending more time with Prince Senjay?

    SP- Senjay is training Garrin to fight.

    R- For what purpose?

    SP- He didn¡¯t say. But he must know about our plans. Why else would he seek to protect himself?

    R- If he knew, why would he risk training in the open as he has? No, if he suspects, he does not know the full truth. We have time yet.

    SP- Not enough. I will be leaving in a few days. If we do not act soon, we will miss our chance.

    Beside that line, Arya had written Royal? and circled it twice. Garrin paused and reread the page, puzzling over her abbreviations. R had to be Renton, and SP was apparently ¡°second person¡±. Then ¡°WW passage: SR¡± probably stood for ¡°west wing¡± and ¡°storage room¡±, where Arya had eavesdropped on Renton the first time. Her note meant that she suspected the second person of being a royal, someone who¡¯d come for the betrothal ceremony and would leave within the week. Which meant Renton had a deadline for doing whatever it was he was planning on doing.

    Which was what, exactly? Garrin read on.

    R- We can¡¯t rush this. It¡¯s been decades in the planning¡ªit will work the way we¡¯ve discussed. As long as you do your part.

    SP- I¡¯m ready. With Senjay training your prince, things will only be easier. All I will have to do is lure him to our chambers under the guise of a training session, and

    The writing stopped. Garrin flipped desperately through the next few pages, but the rest of the book was blank. If Arya had been writing while she was listening, it could only mean one thing¡ªRenton had discovered her. Then she hadn¡¯t left, not of her own choice. She¡¯d been forced to go.

    Or worse.

    Garrin stared at the last words Arya had written, frowning. How had the journal gotten back here? He doubted Renton would have allowed Arya to return to her room and hide the book under her bed for Garrin to find later. No, it was more likely that he¡¯d forced her to write a letter explaining her disappearance, and she¡¯d dropped the journal and kicked it under the bed when he wasn¡¯t looking.

    And Garrin had found it. Against all obstacles, he¡¯d found the clues Arya had left behind.

    Now he just had to find her.

 Help

    A knocking came from next door¡ªon Garrin¡¯s door. He stuffed Arya¡¯s journal into his pocket and stood, freezing as he wrestled over whether it would be better to answer from Arya¡¯s room or his own. He settled on his own and hurried back through the passage behind the tapestry, pausing to smooth the wrinkles in his clothes and make sure he looked presentable. Then he took a breath, patted the hidden journal, and opened the door.

    ¡°Lliane,¡± he said, hoping his voice came out sounding casual.

    ¡°I wanted to check on you,¡± she said, folding her hands behind her back. Her hair was swept up in a casual braid, and the dress she wore was a simple, creamy white. Not as elegant as the ones she¡¯d worn throughout her visit so far¡ªas if she was making a point to show that she was here as a friend, not a princess.

    Arya¡¯s notes flickered through his mind: The second person might be a royal. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he said.

    She tilted her head. ¡°You don¡¯t look fine.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a little tired,¡± he hedged. ¡°But it¡¯s nothing serious.¡±

    ¡°Garrin.¡± She studied him, shrewd eyes prying into his as if they could flush out his secrets. ¡°It¡¯s me. You can tell me anything.¡±

    Could he? Or was this a trick to get him to confess what he knew? Much as he¡¯d always liked her, it had been a long time since they¡¯d last seen each other. He couldn¡¯t think of any reason she would want to betray him, but that didn¡¯t mean there wasn¡¯t one. He couldn¡¯t confide in her, not without proof that she was on his side.

    ¡°I caught a chill yesterday,¡± he said at last. ¡°Nothing serious, but I haven¡¯t been feeling well.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure this has nothing to do with Arya?¡± she pressed.

    Garrin shook his head. ¡°She¡¯s made up her mind. If she wants to leave, I already told her I wouldn¡¯t stop her.¡±

    ¡°Then... have you thought about what I said earlier?¡±

    A warning bell chimed in his head. Would Lliane work with Renton to get Garrin¡¯s throne? But why, when she had her own? She would become queen of Eiliad when she married. It would be no different if she married Garrin¡ªin fact, she¡¯d have even less power in Fyrest than in her own kingdom. So what did she have to gain?

    She was watching him, waiting for an answer he couldn¡¯t compose. ¡°I¡¯m not sure it would be a good idea,¡± he said at last.

    Was that disappointment on her face? Because she wanted to marry him, or because he was disrupting her plans? ¡°I shouldn¡¯t pressure you,¡± she said, looking away. ¡°I just got so excited by the idea of solving my own problem and not having to marry any of the awful men my parents have found. I should have realized you didn¡¯t feel the same.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not about feeling,¡± Garrin started.

    She smiled. ¡°But you don¡¯t. Maybe I don¡¯t either. I certainly like you, but love? Maybe we¡¯d grow into it eventually, but that¡¯s not what you¡¯re looking for, is it?¡± When he remained silent, she patted his arm. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re looking for. Have you thought about why you¡¯ve been so upset since Arya left?¡±

    Worry, guilt, envy¡ªthere were a dozen reasons, and none of which he could share with her. ¡°I¡¯m just¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not tired,¡± Lliane interrupted. ¡°Or sick. At least, not physically sick.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked uncomfortably.

    ¡°Well I¡¯m not going to tell you if you can¡¯t figure it out yourself,¡± Lliane said. ¡°You¡¯re a reasonably smart man. What would you think of a pair of characters in one of your poems, if they were in the same situation as you and Arya?¡±

    ¡°Even I know poetry isn¡¯t the same as real life,¡± Garrin grumbled.

    Lliane chuckled. ¡°Sometimes I wonder. But I¡¯ll leave you mope until you can come up with an answer. And I meant what I said before,¡± she added, backing out of the door. ¡°You can talk to me about anything. I¡¯ve always considered us friends.¡±

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°So have I,¡± he said.

    She smiled and turned away. ¡°Don¡¯t take too long to figure it out,¡± she called over her shoulder. ¡°Arya won¡¯t wait forever.¡±

    If he couldn¡¯t find her, she might. Lliane had spoken as if she believed Arya had left of her own will, but Garrin couldn¡¯t be sure that she wasn¡¯t pretending. He needed more evidence, or proof against someone else that would take the suspicion from Lliane.

    He needed Arya.

    The journal poked at his skin through the pocket, an insistent reminder that he should be doing something else. He had to find out what had happened to Arya. Renton would know, but Garrin wasn¡¯t confident in his abilities to draw the information out of the marshal without giving himself away. He would have to find her on his own.

    Or with the help of the only other person in the castle that he might be able to trust. He couldn¡¯t go to a royal, but he could seek out someone who wanted to prove herself, someone who would be just as worried about Arya¡¯s safety as he was.

    He practically ran to the training field, mumbling a prayer to the goddess Fyelle that Elonie would be there. He didn¡¯t know where else to search for her¡ªthe soldier¡¯s barracks? In Gillesport, helping her brother? Perhaps she lived outside the castle, in one of the surrounding villages or hamlets, and he¡¯d have to hunt through each one before he could find her. His thoughts spiraled uselessly, each moment finding a more horrible alternative to the problem before, until at last he reached the yard and heard the comforting cacophony of soldiers sparring.

    And the goddess was with him. When he neared the training field, one soldier broke off from the rest and jogged to meet him.

    ¡°Elonie,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I need your help.¡±

    Her expression sharpened. ¡°Of course, Your Highness. Anything. What can I do?¡±

    He beckoned her to follow and led her away from the field, back toward the castle and into the servants¡¯ exit Arya had taken him through on their first trip to Gillesport. Once inside, he faced her in the darkness and let out a low sigh. ¡°I need your word that you will keep everything I am about to tell you to yourself.¡±

    ¡°I swear it, sire,¡± Elonie said.

    He told her everything. He¡¯d meant to focus mostly on Arya¡¯s disappearance, but that led to their suspicions about Renton and his involvement in keeping the king weak. That led to Arya¡¯s journal and the fact that she had been eavesdropping on him, and her suspicion that the other conspirator was a royal. The words spilled out of him faster than he could think them through, and Elonie listened to it all in silence. When he¡¯d finished, she maintained a thoughtful quiet that stretched on and made him want to demand her thoughts, until at last she folded her arms and said, ¡°She has to still be within the castle. The gate guards are my friends¡ªI¡¯d have heard if she left.¡±

    ¡°But where?¡± Garrin asked.

    Elonie drummed her fingers along her forearm. ¡°If I wanted to keep someone hidden, I¡¯d use the dungeons.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have any dungeons,¡± Garrin said. ¡°They were repurposed a century ago because they were never used. Now it¡¯s just kitchen storage, and it gets far too much use for Renton to risk keeping her there.¡±

    But Elonie was shaking her head before Garrin finished. ¡°They aren¡¯t using all of them. My father told me about more rooms beneath the storage, cells that were too difficult to use as anything else. Dellon and I snuck into them once when we were children. There are only half a dozen cells, and most of them are rusted, but there¡¯s no way to get out of the lower level from below. It would be the perfect place to hide someone.¡±

    Cold dread seeped into his chest. If that¡¯s where Arya was, it meant she¡¯d already spent a night alone in the darkness¡ªalone with her deepest fear.

    There was no time to lose. ¡°Where¡¯s the dungeon?¡± he demanded. ¡°I have to¡ª¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t just charge in without a plan,¡± Elonie interrupted. Garrin broke off and waited for her to say more, but she blushed and fumbled, ¡°Y-you¡¯re Highness. I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean...¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Garrin said. ¡°Don¡¯t lose your nerve now. We¡¯ll need it if we¡¯re going to challenge Renton.¡±

    She nodded, though her face remained flushed. ¡°He¡¯s sure to have a guard near the dungeons. We¡¯ll need to lure them away.¡±

    ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°It will depend on who it is,¡± she answered. ¡°And whether they know who they¡¯re guarding.¡±

    ¡°Can you handle them?¡± Garrin asked.

    Elonie gave another hesitant nod. ¡°I can talk to them. Give them some excuse to leave, or at least distract them so you can get past.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯ll need,¡± Garrin said. He held her gaze, willing his pounding heart to quiet. He wanted to be strong and firm and brave like the heroes in his stories, but a flush of fear was already working its way over his skin. If he was wrong about this... if he was caught, or if he got Elonie caught... he didn¡¯t want to think about what Renton might do. What fate he might be leading Elonie to.

    What might have already happened to Arya.

    He swallowed and did his best to keep his voice even. ¡°Elonie, before we do this, I need you to understand what kind of risk you¡¯re taking. Even if everything works according to plan, there¡¯s a significant chance you may not be able to return to your position as a guard. And if things don¡¯t go to plan...¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± she said. After a moment, she gave a small chuckle. ¡°I wanted a chance to prove myself. What better way is there than this?¡±

    He reached out his hand. At first she only stared at it, uncertainty and surprise mingling on her face, but then she smiled and put her palm in his. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said solemnly. She squeezed his hand in response.

    ¡°Then if you¡¯re ready,¡± he said, taking a long, slow breath. ¡°Let¡¯s go save Arya.¡±

 Rescue

    Elonie lead Garrin to the kitchens, past the pantries used most often by the castle cooks, and then down the stairs into the long-term storage rooms. They passed shelves laden with jars bearing fruits and vegetables, preserved from the harvest for use in the coming months. Wheels of cheese and smoked meats were stacked among the jars, stored in the cooler air where they would last longer. Barrels and crates filled the rest of the long room, as well as the alcoves carved out every few steps. Now that Garrin knew what to look for, he could see the resemblance to dungeon cells. The iron bars had been removed and chandeliers had been hung along the corridor, adding a cheery light to the otherwise dismal location.

    ¡°There¡¯s a turn up ahead,¡± Elonie whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll go first and see who we¡¯re dealing with.¡±

    Garrin nodded. He tucked himself into the last cell-turned-storage-alcove and waited while Elonie continued on around the corner. ¡°Kel,¡± she greeted loudly. ¡°Torris. how long have you been down here?¡±

    ¡°Hours,¡± one of the guards answered glumly. ¡°Marshal Renton assigned us here for the rest of the day. Joen and Pallyn were here yesterday, too. We figure it¡¯s some kind of test.¡±

    ¡°I heard my father talking about it,¡± Elonie said. ¡°He told Captain Blackthorn that Marshal Renton is running some kind of new obedience drill. Basically just sending men to guard nothing, and seeing how long it takes them to question it.¡±

    There was a short silence. ¡°Then are we supposed to question it or accept it?¡± one man asked.

    ¡°Accept it,¡± Elonie answered.

    ¡°And so we have,¡± the other sighed.

    ¡°Which is why I¡¯m here,¡± Elonie went on. ¡°My father doesn¡¯t agree with Marshal Renton¡¯s tactics. He needs more men to patrol the walls, since the royal families will be leaving soon. He said it¡¯s more important for them to see us as a competent, safe stronghold than for Marshal Renton to play mind games with the men.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense,¡± a guard mumbled.

    ¡°So he sent me to take over for you,¡± Elonie said. ¡°Marshal Renton won¡¯t let me patrol, so it makes more sense for me to be here than you.¡±

    ¡°Aw, we couldn¡¯t leave you down here by yourself,¡± the other guard said.

    ¡°Dellon will be here later to keep me company,¡± Elonie said easily.

    There was a shuffling as the guards kicked their feet. ¡°Well... if you¡¯re sure,¡± one said.

    ¡°Father¡¯s orders,¡± Elonie said.

    ¡°Then I guess we ought to obey.¡±

    Garrin pressed into the shadows as the guards turned the corner, their eyes focused straight ahead. He waited until they¡¯d gone up the stairs to the main level before leaning around the corner with a grin. ¡°That was perfect.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯ll buy us a little time,¡± Elonie said. ¡°I¡¯ll stand guard up here while you search the lower dungeons. Be quick; if they run into my father or Marshal Renton, it¡¯ll all be over.¡±

    He didn¡¯t need the reminder. His heart pounded a warning against his bruised ribcage, driving his steps as he hurried toward Elonie. She kneeled before a heavy wooden door, twisting something against the lock. ¡°You have the key?¡± Garrin asked.

    She hitched a shoulder without looking back at him. ¡°I have a pick. Some of the older soldiers showed me how to use it. That¡¯s how Dellon and I got in the first time.¡±

    The lock clicked open, and Elonie pulled it away with a grin. ¡°Lucky it¡¯s such an old door,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯d have had a harder time breaking into something newer.¡±

    ¡°If we get out of this,¡± Garrin said, clapping her on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m promoting you. You can have your choice of rank. Marshal, if you want.¡±

    Elonie laughed. ¡°Let¡¯s just focus on getting the princess out first.¡±

    Garrin could think of little else. He burned with impatience as Elonie opened the grating door, and he squeezed through before she¡¯d even pulled it open the whole way. Immediately, there was a shift in temperature, cooling more and more as Garrin jogged down the stairs. The stone steps were uneven and slick beneath his feet, and he almost slipped more than once before he reached the bottom.

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    The dungeons were pitch dark except for the faint light from the open door above. Garrin blinked as he rushed into the dank corridor at the bottom of the steps, his ears straining for the sound of movement. ¡°Arya?¡± he called, his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness. There were no lamps or torches, nothing with which he could search the space. He reached out blindly and felt for something to guide him, and his hand struck an iron bar.

    There was a shuffling sound ahead in the darkness. ¡°Garrin?¡±

    Relief flooded through him. ¡°Arya,¡± he breathed. ¡°Thank Fyelle. Are you hurt?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said. Her voice was small, weaker than the feeble light behind him.

    ¡°Keep talking,¡± he said, pushing comfort into his words and hoping she could feel it. ¡°I can¡¯t see where you are.¡±

    She took a shuddering breath. ¡°I¡¯m here. On your left, a few cells down. I can see you.¡±

    Garrin¡¯s eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, but he still had to blink hard to make out the darker shadow huddled against the door at the end of the corridor. He reached out and felt her hand touch his, her cold skin brushing along his palm like a winter wind. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, gripping her fingers. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it took so long. I didn¡¯t realize your note was a clue. I just thought you¡¯d gone.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what you were supposed to think,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s what Renton wanted. He wanted to keep me down here until¡ªI don¡¯t know, forever. He said I was too valuable to kill outright.¡±

    The threat chilled Garrin more than the damp air. It would have been so easy for Renton to harm Arya, and there would have been nobody to help her. Garrin had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice there was something wrong with her disappearance. What if he hadn¡¯t thought to reread her letter? What if he¡¯d come too late? Already she¡¯d had to spend a full day in the darkness. If he¡¯d have been any later...

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said again. ¡°I should have figured it out sooner. You¡¯ve been here alone all this time, and I should have realized... But it won¡¯t happen again. It won¡¯t ever happen again.¡± He released her to feel for the lock, heart soaring when he felt the same ancient mechanism Elonie had just disarmed. ¡°Elonie¡¯s standing guard upstairs, and she has a lock pick. I¡¯ll be right¡ª¡±

    Arya grabbed for him. ¡°Wait!¡±

    The desperation in her voice pinned him in place and made his chest feel bruised and broken. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving you,¡± he promised gently. ¡°I¡¯m just going to bring Elonie down so she can get you out.¡±

    Her fingers gripped his sleeve, and she made no move to release him. ¡°Don¡¯t go,¡± she whispered.

    He took her hand. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. If Renton finds out I¡¯m down here...¡±

    For a long moment she was silent, but at last she gave a tremulous nod and let him go. He took a step back, watching what he could see of her face in the darkness. Goddess, he couldn¡¯t leave her like this. Not even to get Elonie. There had to be another way.

    Garrin felt for the lock again. Rust flaked off beneath his fingers, and the metal squeaked when he pulled at it. ¡°Stand back,¡± he said, pulling off his boot. He aimed the hard heel at the lock and struck it once, twice¡ªand the third time, the fragile metal snapped beneath the blow and clattered to the stone floor.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± Garrin said, yanking open the door and bending to slide his boot back on.

    Arya didn¡¯t move. She stood rooted in the cell, staring at him as though she¡¯d never seen him before. ¡°I¡¯ve been a fool,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°You are the least foolish person I know,¡± Garrin argued.

    But she shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve spent all this time thinking about what I would have done differently... what I should have said...¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Garrin said. ¡°We¡¯ll have time to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it before,¡± she interrupted. ¡°And I must now. Please listen.¡±

    Garrin stilled. She nodded gratefully and took a shaking breath. ¡°I¡¯ve been... distant with you. Oppositional, sometimes. I know you¡¯ve noticed.¡±

    ¡°I know you don¡¯t love me,¡± Garrin said. ¡°I overheard you when you were talking to Lliane. And it¡¯s fine, you don¡¯t have to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I lied,¡± she said.

    The shadows seemed to flee from her face; even in the darkness, Garrin felt like he was seeing her for the first time. He stared at her, at the circles under her eyes and the way her hair hung in limp ringlets around her face. He wanted to reach out and tie them back so he could study her face closer. ¡°Then...¡± he muttered.

    Her eyes burned, and a hint of her old self flashed in them. ¡°Of course I love you. I had no choice¡ªI was created that way. It¡¯s the first trait the Architects start with.¡±

    ¡°But then why¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Try to imagine what it would be like,¡± Arya said. ¡°To exist only to please someone else. Not to be a partner or a friend¡ªjust a thing for him to use. And to be born loving that person with your whole being, when you¡¯d never even met him. Can you imagine that?¡±

    Garrin swallowed. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°And what was worse,¡± Arya went on. ¡°Was that you never wanted that love in the first place. You wanted to go off and find your own, and you wanted to leave me behind in your place. So I decided that I wouldn¡¯t be a passive spectator in my own life. If you didn¡¯t love me, then I could learn not to love you.¡±

    ¡°Arya¡ª¡±

    ¡°See how well I¡¯ve done?¡± she scoffed. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked away. ¡°Did Lliane tell you that she thought you two should be married? I suggested it to her. After you told me I could leave, I thought it was the best option for everyone.¡±

    ¡°I never wanted you to leave,¡± Garrin said, stepping into the cell. She didn¡¯t shy away from him, so he pressed closer. ¡°I wanted you to choose to stay. I wanted you to...¡±

    To love me for real. The realization was sharp and gradual and obvious and amazing all at once. How could he have missed it? Here was a woman who was everything he¡¯d wanted: intelligent, passionate, dependable¡ªnot to mention wrapped up in the greatest adventure he could ever hope to have¡ªand he¡¯d been so focused on his original plan that he hadn¡¯t even noticed. Arya was exactly the princess he needed, and exactly the queen Fyrest needed. It had always been Arya.

    ¡°I wanted you to stay,¡± he said, amazed at his own stupidity. ¡°Arya, I¡ª¡±

    The door at the top of the stairs burst open. ¡°Sire!¡± Elonie called down in a strained whisper. ¡°Marshal Renton is coming!¡±

 Betrayal

    Arya gripped reflexively at Garrin¡¯s arm. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid,¡± he told her quietly, though his own stomach churned traitorously in response to the threat. ¡°I won¡¯t let anything happen to you.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t guarantee that,¡± Arya whispered.

    He couldn¡¯t, but it made him feel better to pretend that he had some control over the situation. ¡°Come on,¡± he muttered, taking her hand and pulling her from the dark cell. She went willingly, hurrying along beside him while he rushed up the stairs. In the short time she¡¯d been incarcerated, her fine dress had gone limp from the damp, and the hem was filthy above ruined slippers. The image made Garrin clench his jaw against the urge to seek out Renton and make him pay for the disrespect. He needed a plan, not rash action. Renton had been ahead of him for every step so far. This was no time to react emotionally.

    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Elonie said, offering a brisk bow as Garrin and Arya emerged from the dungeon. ¡°Marshal Renton is in the next room. You have to hide, quick¡ªI¡¯ll distract him.¡±

    There were plenty of hiding places behind barrels and boxes, and Garrin led Arya to the nearest pile of crates and crouched behind it. A large piece of canvas was stretched over the top, and Arya tugged at the corner until it fell over their heads.

    Footsteps clacked on the stone floor at the end of the room. ¡°Marshal Renton,¡± Elonie said, a shifting of fabric indicating that she was throwing up a salute.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Renton said sharply.

    ¡°Standing guard, sir,¡± Elonie answered.

    ¡°Why are you standing guard?¡± Renton barked. ¡°I haven¡¯t authorized you for this kind of duty, especially not on your own.¡±

    ¡°I have a high enough rank to allow for solitary guard duty,¡± Elonie answered in a flat voice.

    Renton snorted. ¡°Your rank entitles you to nothing; neither does your parentage. I will have words with your father over this.¡±

    For doing her job? Well, she wasn¡¯t doing her job, but Renton didn¡¯t know that. Had he really prevented such a promising soldier from any kind of experience because of who her father was? Or because of her gender? The thought made Garrin¡¯s stomach clench in anger. When he was king¡ªif he was king¡ªhe was getting ahead of himself. They had to get out of this situation first.

    ¡°Just get out of the way,¡± Renton snapped. ¡°I need to retrieve something from lower storage.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Elonie said. There was a clicking sound as Renton unlocked the door, then a loud grinding pull as he opened it. His footsteps disappeared down the stairs, and Elonie hissed, ¡°Your Highness, he¡¯s gone.¡±

    Garrin eased out from under the canvas and held it up for Arya. ¡°When he gets to the end of the hall, lock him in,¡± Garrin said.

    Elonie¡¯s eyes widened, but she nodded without arguing. ¡°It won¡¯t hold him for long,¡± Arya said. ¡°Eventually someone will find him.¡±

    ¡°And by then, we¡¯ll have told the whole castle what Renton¡¯s done,¡± Garrin said.

    Arya frowned. ¡°He has the support of the council. Unless we can win them over...¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Garrin said. ¡°But that¡¯s our only hope. We¡¯ll start with my father. If we can convince him to strip the council of power, we might have a chance.¡±

    Though Arya looked unconvinced, she nodded while Elonie eased the door closed and clicked the lock into place.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go,¡± Garrin said. ¡°Before someone comes looking for him.¡±

    With the two women following him, Garrin hurried through the storage room and back to the main level of the castle. A few startled servants averted their eyes from Arya¡¯s disheveled appearance, but she didn¡¯t seem to care. She held her chin high, noble despite her clothing and the slight tremor in her hands. Garrin sent a few glances over his shoulder at her, watching for any sign of weakness, until finally he simply reached back and took her hand. He gave an experimental squeeze, and she pressed back.

    He¡¯d meant to reassure her, but the warmth of her fingers in his sent a rush of emotion through him that he couldn¡¯t immediately identify. Courage? Faith that everything would work out? Either way, it made him feel less like a child fleeing trouble and more like a prince facing an adversary.

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    They turned down the corridor which would lead to the King¡¯s Room, where he generally spent this time of the day waiting to address citizen concerns. Few concerns ever reached him¡ªthe Council took care of most of them¡ªbut Garrin¡¯s father continued to hold his hours regardless. Maybe it was a need to feel useful, or just habit; whatever kept him going back, Garrin was grateful for it now. It meant he wouldn¡¯t have to waste time searching the castle, when every minute brought Renton closer and closer to freedom.

    At last they reached the Great Hall, the last obstacle to the King¡¯s Room. There was a path around it, but it would add too much time to their journey. They¡¯d just have to go through and risk being seen.

    Garrin pushed open the door and nearly ran into the person on the other side. A swirl of white fabric twisted away from the door, followed by a surprised, ¡°Garrin!¡±

    Lliane. Of all the people they could run into, of course it would be Lliane. Her eyes darted from his to the hand he held, then flashed up to Arya. ¡°Oh!¡± she said, her voice slightly strained. ¡°Arya, you¡¯re still here! You¡¯ve caused so much worry¡ªis anything wrong?¡±

    Garrin gripped her hand tighter. ¡°Everything¡¯s fine.¡±

    A strange emotion darted across her face¡ªdisappointment? Hurt? ¡°I see,¡± she said hesitantly. ¡°I¡¯m glad everything has worked out then. Where are you headed in such a rush?¡±

    ¡°Just a¡ªa walk,¡± Garrin said.

    Lliane peered past him. ¡°With a soldier?¡±

    ¡°Dellon¡¯s sister. You met her yesterday.¡±

    The Eiliad princess frowned. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    More than he could explain, especially to another royal. Garrin pulled Arya closer to him, trying to edge around Lliane. ¡°There¡¯s nothing¡ª¡±

    ¡°Garrin, stop,¡± Arya said. She dropped his hand and reached instead for Lliane. ¡°She might be able to help.¡±

    A denial sprang to his lips, but he waited. Arya was the one who had overheard the co-conspirator, after all. If she thought Lliane could be trusted, then all the better. They were woefully outnumbered, and even one extra person on their side could make a difference.

    ¡°Help with what?¡± Lliane asked. Her eyes darted down Arya¡¯s dress, taking in the torn and dirty hem, the stains on her knees. She gripped Arya¡¯s hand a little tighter.

    ¡°Marshal Renton is going to overthrow the throne,¡± Arya said. ¡°I overheard him talking about it, so he threw me in the dungeons. Garrin rescued me.¡±

    Lliane gaped at her. ¡°When? Just now? But how could Renton... he¡¯d need support!¡±

    ¡°He has it,¡± Garrin said. ¡°The council is on his side, and one of the visiting royals is a working with him.¡±

    Understanding dawned in her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯ve been so hesitant. But it isn¡¯t me, I swear! I haven¡¯t even spoken to Renton on this trip!¡±

    ¡°We know it isn¡¯t you,¡± Arya said.

    He sent her an uneasy glance. ¡°Then who?¡±

    ¡°There you are!¡±

    Garrin jumped and stepped around Arya, moving instinctively to put himself between her and the speaker. Senjay had entered the room from the other side of the Hall, and he strode toward them with a grin as innocent and irritating as ever. ¡°I told you, we have to keep training if you want¡ª¡± he broke off, blinking at Arya. ¡°Princess! You didn¡¯t leave then? That¡¯s a blessing, as our Garrin has done nothing but mope since...¡± Again, he stopped himself and stared at them. ¡°What¡¯s happening? Is something wrong?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± Garrin said, tensing. He should have brought a weapon. Why didn¡¯t he bring a weapon?

    ¡°What¡¯s over?¡± Senjay asked blankly.

    ¡°We know about Renton¡¯s plot,¡± Garrin spat. ¡°And how you were going to lure me into an ambush using our lessons as cover.¡±

    The confused expression never left Senjay¡¯s face. ¡°What plot? What ambush? I haven¡¯t done anything to¡ª¡±

    ¡°He might not know,¡± Arya whispered. ¡°It wasn¡¯t him I heard talking with Renton.¡±

    That was right¡ªin Arya¡¯s journal, the co-conspirator had said Senjay¡¯s name.

    ¡°It¡¯s his mother,¡± Arya said, following his train of thought. She shot an appraising look toward Senjay, frowning slightly as she studied him. ¡°I don¡¯t think he knows.¡±

    ¡°What don¡¯t I know?¡± Senjay said.

    Garrin shook his head. ¡°How could he not know? That¡¯s why he was so willing to train me. It was the perfect cover, the best way to keep me distracted while Renton and his mother made their plans. And the best way to get rid of me if I found anything out.¡±

    ¡°Look at him,¡± Arya said gently.

    Garrin did. Senjay was silent, his eyes wide, as though something had just occurred to him. He shook his head, though no one else was speaking, and when Arya reached out to him he flinched away.

    ¡°You suspected something was wrong,¡± she said in a soft voice.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be that,¡± Senjay murmured. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t. No matter how dire things seem, she would never...¡±

    ¡°Dire?¡± Lliane said.

    The Thiyaan prince nodded, his eyes falling to the ground. ¡°Our economy is... struggling. Ever since my father died, it¡¯s been harder to deal with foreign trade, and we¡¯ve had droughts four of the last six years. Mother has been seeking help outside Thiyaan, but she wouldn¡¯t tell me who she was working with. Just that she had a plan to help our people.¡±

    ¡°By taking over Fyrest,¡± Garrin spat. ¡°Except Renton wants power for himself. He won¡¯t share it with Thiyaan.¡±

    Senjay didn¡¯t answer. Disbelief and dismay mixed in his expression, making Garrin think of a lost puppy waiting to be rescued. Senjay wasn¡¯t that good of an actor. He couldn¡¯t have known that his mother was involved in the conspiracy.

    But that didn¡¯t excuse her. ¡°Come on,¡± Garrin said. ¡°We have to get to my father. Senjay, get your sisters and¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said. He lifted his chin, eyes hardening as they met Garrin¡¯s. ¡°If my mother is involved, I will be there to confront her. Thiyaan will not be remembered as the country that broke the peace.¡±

    Garrin hesitated, but Arya took his hand and nodded. ¡°Then let¡¯s go,¡± she said. He didn¡¯t argue¡ªthere wasn¡¯t any time.

    They had to find the king.

 Traitors

    Garrin tried not to notice exactly how close Senjay was following him. The Thiyaan prince wasn¡¯t armed, as far as Garrin could see, and Elonie was only a few steps behind. If he tried anything, she would stop it. Again, he wished he¡¯d thought to bring a weapon on his frantic search for Arya. Now there was no time to get one.

    The King¡¯s Room was just ahead. One door was already ajar, swaying slightly as Garrin reached for it. His skin prickled in warning, but there was nothing else to do but push forward. Either way, they had to go inside.

    He glanced over his shoulder and met Elonie¡¯s ready gaze. She nodded, hand on her sword, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders. He opened the door.

    The King¡¯s Room was dim, lit by a few smoky chandeliers whose weak light barely reached the center of the space, and a single row of thin windows along the northern wall. Two figures stood before the king¡¯s throne, and in the darkness it took Garrin a moment to recognize his father and Senjay¡¯s mother. Queen Asella was half-hidden behind the king, one arm clamped across his chest, the other hand pressing a knife to his throat.

    ¡°Stay where you are,¡± she commanded. Her eyes swept over Garrin¡¯s companions and stalled on Senjay. ¡°Come, my son. Help me.¡±

    Senjay didn¡¯t move. ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°I am doing what I must,¡± the queen answered stiffly. ¡°And you will do the same. Come here.¡±

    ¡°Back away from the king,¡± Garrin said, taking a cautious step forward. ¡°There is still time. You don¡¯t need to do this.¡±

    Asella scowled, her regal face contorting into something Garrin hardly recognized. ¡°Time? We have no time. My people are suffering, and you¡ªyour king¡ªhas done nothing to aid us. You preach unity and friendship, but you turn your back on those in need.¡±

    ¡°What need?¡± Garrin asked. ¡°If Thiyaan needs aid, we can¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fyrest has already rejected my pleas for help,¡± Asella interrupted.

    Garrin looked at his father. ¡°Is this true?¡±

    The king swallowed, sending a shiver of movement along the blade at his throat. ¡°The council thought it was best to forgo excessive shipments during the stormy seasons. We could not risk¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stormy seasons?¡± Asella snapped. ¡°I have been sending you messages for a year. Your ships were safe enough when they traded with Eiliad¡ªwhy not Thiyaan? The truth is that you wanted us weak so you could take our lands for yourself. I am only acting before you can.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Garrin said. ¡°Fyrest would never attack Thiyaan. We¡¯ve been allies for centuries!¡±

    Asella narrowed her eyes. ¡°You claim I am a liar then? I have proof, Prince Garrin, and your pretense at innocence is not fooling me. If not for Marshal Renton, we would be lost.¡±

    ¡°Whatever Marshal Renton has told you is a lie,¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°Mother,¡± Senjay said, taking a cautious step forward. ¡°Listen to him. Renton is not to be trusted.¡±

    ¡°I tried to shelter you from the truth,¡± Asella said. ¡°But I see now that I should have involved you from the beginning. Come, Senjay. I will explain everything in time.¡±

    ¡°I will not be a part of this,¡± Senjay said.

    ¡°You have no choice,¡± Asella snapped. ¡°You are the future king of Thiyaan. If you do not act now, if you do nothing to help your people, then you are unworthy of that title.¡±

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    Senjay stiffened. ¡°I am prepared to help our people,¡± he said. ¡°But not like this. Not through threats and violence. Father would never have¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your father is dead,¡± Asella shouted. ¡°I am your queen and your mother, and you will do as I say.¡±

    ¡°I will not,¡± Senjay said softly.

    Garrin stared at him. He¡¯d never suspected the Thiyaan prince of having such strong scruples, especially not with the flippant behavior he usually displayed. To defy not only Renton, but his mother as well... Garrin wondered if he would have the same fortitude. Would he have acted the same way if Arya had not been threatened? Or would he have continued to live out his life in ignorance of Renton¡¯s treachery, content to let someone else rule in his place so he could fulfill his own selfish desires?

    The way things stood, Senjay was a better prince and would likely make a better king. That was not a truth Garrin could allow to remain unchallenged.

    ¡°Put the knife down,¡± Garrin said in a firm voice. ¡°I give you my word that we will discuss Thiyaan¡¯s struggles together and provide a solution. If my father will not help, then I will.¡±

    Asella laughed. ¡°What power do you have? Marshal Renton has already guaranteed me all the help I will need. You can offer me nothing.¡±

    ¡°Marshal Renton is not¡ª¡± Garrin started, but a hand at his arm stopped him. He turned to see Arya shifting closer to him, staring over her shoulder with wide eyes.

    Renton had arrived.

    Garrin pivoted to face the marshal, reaching reflexively for a weapon he didn¡¯t have. Elonie turned as well, placing a hand on the hilt of her sword as she eyed the score of soldiers that marched behind Renton. They stormed up the hallway toward the King¡¯s Room, and it was all Garrin could do to stand still as they approached.

    ¡°Marshal,¡± he spat when Renton was close enough. ¡°I know your plan, and I won¡¯t let it happen. You have failed.¡±

    Renton snorted and snapped his fingers toward the men at his back. ¡°Arrest him.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Lliane said. ¡°You can¡¯t arrest your own prince!¡±

    ¡°The prince is guilty of insurrection,¡± Renton announced. ¡°He has come into the king¡¯s presence with an armed guard. Clearly his intention was to dispose of him in order to seize power.¡±

    ¡°An armed guard?¡± Lliane laughed. ¡°One soldier! You have dozens! We came here to stop Queen Asella from¡ª¡±

    Asella interrupted her with a loud laugh. ¡°I am only here to protect the king from you. I did my best to keep them at bay until your arrival, Marshal Renton.¡±

    Renton nodded. ¡°You see? Arrest them all now!¡±

    The soldiers surged forward. Red cloaks fluttered from their shoulders¡ªRenton¡¯s personal guard, loyal only to him. There would be no reasoning with them, and with Elonie holding the only sword between them, they had no chance in a fight. Garrin looked at Arya, who still gripped his arm, her brow furrowed in frantic thought, and then at Lliane, who hadn¡¯t moved from his side despite the threat. Elonie stood before him, her body tensed for a fight, and beside her Senjay had crouched into a defensive stance.

    He had to do something.

    ¡°Stop,¡± he said, shrugging free of Arya¡¯s hold and stepping past Elonie. ¡°I will go with you, but the others have done nothing. Let them go and I will go with you willingly.¡±

    Renton laughed. ¡°You are all guilty. And the penalty for treason is death, is it not, my lord?¡±

    This he addressed to the king, who had said nothing in his own or his son¡¯s defense. Garrin turned to him, but his father stared as if he hadn¡¯t understood the question. ¡°Death?¡± he repeated feebly.

    ¡°The king has confirmed the sentence,¡± Renton said. ¡°It is his right to pronounce judgement without trial. For the crime of attacking the king, Prince Garrin and his party are sentenced to death.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t¡ª¡± Garrin started, but Renton shouted over him.

    ¡°Arrest Prince Senjay, but none of the rest leave here alive!¡±

    Elonie drew her sword. ¡°Run, sire. I can handle them.¡±

    More than twenty against one? He wasn¡¯t leaving her with those odds. ¡°We all go,¡± he muttered. ¡°No one stays behind.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t fight them,¡± Lliane said.

    The soldiers advanced slowly, fanning around them to cut off any chance of them making it through the doorway. At least they didn¡¯t seem eager to kill their prince, though they certainly weren¡¯t going to let him through. ¡°Arya,¡± Garrin said in a low voice. ¡°Tell me there¡¯s another way out of this room.¡±

    ¡°Just the windows,¡± she answered.

    Not the perfect solution, but it would have to do. Garrin glanced at Senjay. ¡°Get Arya and Lliane out,¡± he said. ¡°Elonie and I will hold them off.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a better fighter,¡± Senjay argued.

    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re going with them,¡± Garrin said.

    The Thiyaan prince hesitated. His eyes darted toward the front of the room¡ªtoward his mother, toward Garrin¡¯s father¡ªbefore he nodded. He reached for Lliane and Arya, pulling them toward the window. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you outside,¡± he said.

    Goddess willing, Garrin thought, and faced the soldiers.

 Escape

    ¡°Senjay!¡± Queen Asella shrieked. He paid her no mind. He turned his face from the nearest window and jabbed at the glass with his elbow, shattering it.

    ¡°Hurry,¡± he said, just loud enough for Garrin to hear across the room. Lliane went first, clearing off the broken shards along the bottom of the window before she hitched up her dress and scrambled through. Arya followed, pausing just long enough to send an unreadable look toward Garrin as she went.

    ¡°My son,¡± Asella called desperately. ¡°You cannot go with them. You¡¯ll be killed!¡±

    Senjay hesitated with his hands on either side of the window, his back to the room. Garrin could read the tension in his shoulders, but the Thiyaan prince stayed still only long enough to draw in a deep breath. Then he vaulted through the window and was gone.

    ¡°After them,¡± Renton snapped, and a handful of men detached from the main group and hurried down the hallway.

    ¡°You should go, sire,¡± Elonie muttered, shifting her weight while the score of soldiers advanced.

    Garrin forced an even breath through his nostrils. ¡°We just have to give the others time to get away. Then we¡¯ll both join them.¡±

    She didn¡¯t argue. Instead, she wordlessly handed over her sword and stepped away so he couldn¡¯t give it back. He resisted the urge to try anyway. He needed a weapon, and she had the training and the skills to get her own. It was better this way.

    ¡°One last chance,¡± Garrin called to Renton, who watched the proceedings with a gleeful expression. ¡°Call them off, and we¡¯ll talk this over together. No one needs to get hurt.¡±

    Renton shook his head. ¡°You cannot suggest peace while holding a sword. Your intentions are clear, and I will not hurt the king further by allowing you to poison the minds of his subjects. Men, attack!¡±

    The soldiers surged forward. Elonie lunged to meet the first one, twisting as he swung his sword at her and grabbing for his wrist. Another two men stepped around her and came at Garrin, and he lost track of what she was doing. He parried the first blow, a half-hearted stab that Senjay would have criticized as being slow, and threw out his own cautious counterattack. The soldier avoided it easily and advanced again, forcing Garrin a step back. Away from Elonie. Of course¡ªthey wanted to separate the two of them, surround them and take them... or kill them.

    Garrin pivoted to stay near Elonie, hoping he wasn¡¯t getting so close that he would be in her way. He waved his sword again. The other soldiers were pressing closer, forming a half circle around him and Elonie. How long had it been? Long enough for Senjay to get the others into the grounds? How much longer did they need?

    Another soldier lunged at him, and Garrin met the attack the way his first tutor had taught him. The motion was automatic, the result of hours of drilling on his own after the practices ended, but it did little except turn the blade away. Another sword was there in seconds, and as soon as Garrin parried it, another took its place. He stumbled back, but before he could lose any more ground, Elonie was there. She¡¯d gotten a sword away from one of the soldiers, and now turned to put herself between the rest of the onslaught and Garrin.

    ¡°Just a few minutes,¡± Garrin said, squaring his shoulders against hers. ¡°That¡¯s all we need.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    He batted away a strike aimed at his chest. ¡°Have I mentioned that I owe you a promotion?¡±

    She huffed a laugh that turned into a grunt as she kicked a soldier away. ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    ¡°Forget captaincy. I¡¯ll have to make you a duchess when this is over.¡±

    ¡°As long as I can still fight, sire.¡±

    ¡°Captain and duchess then.¡±

    ¡°I believe that would be a first.¡±

    Garrin opened his mouth to respond, but Queen Asella¡¯s shout cut him off. ¡°They¡¯re getting away! Go after them!¡±

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    ¡°Arrest the prince first,¡± Renton snapped.

    Asella let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a growl. ¡°That¡¯s my son! We must bring him back before¡ª¡±

    ¡°I have sent men after them,¡± Renton interrupted. ¡°They will retrieve him.¡±

    ¡°Not enough! You do not need twenty men to arrest two. More must go after Senjay!¡±

    ¡°They are not yours to command,¡± Renton thundered.

    That was enough of a distraction, and Garrin wasn¡¯t about to let the opportunity go by. ¡°Toward the window,¡± he muttered, stepping backwards.

    Elonie followed. ¡°I can hold them,¡± she insisted. ¡°You need to get away, but my father can protect me.¡±

    He didn¡¯t believe that for a second. Even if her father stood up to Renton on her behalf, the marshal would find a way around it. Escape was their only option, and it had to be both of them. ¡°I need you with me,¡± he said, blocking another blade that would have gone through his shoulder. ¡°I need you to help protect¡ª¡±

    A sword snaked in past his guard and ripped across his upper arm. He cursed, turning with the blow and punching out with his hilt, but the damage was done. A scarlet stain spread across his sleeve, dripping down his elbow and wrist. The pain came a heartbeat later. It burned across his skin and burrowed deep, prying into his nerves, his spine, his neck. Every second brought a new wave stabbing into him, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out.

    ¡°Sire?¡± Elonie asked as he stumbled.

    ¡°Time to go,¡± he choked out. He swung his injured arm¡ªhis sword arm¡ªbut nearly dropped the weapon as the movement sent new agony searing into his shoulder.

    Elonie shoved the soldier before her, throwing him back into his companions and slashing her sword across the air before their noses. It was enough to make them hesitate, and that was all they needed. With a grunt, she spun and sprinted for the window and planted her feet before it.

    ¡°After you,¡± she said firmly.

    Look back, Garrin thought, placing both hands on the windowsill. Look back at him. It might be his last view of his father, and he knew he should look. But the image of the king¡¯s blank, confused face was all he could see in his mind, and when Elonie hissed at him to hurry, he went without turning his head.

    The drop from the window was farther than he¡¯d expected. It was enough to disorient him, enough that when his feet hit the ground, his knees buckled and sent him sprawling into the snow. Elonie leaped down a moment later, nearly missing his legs, and stooped to help him up. ¡°They¡¯re coming through,¡± she said urgently. ¡°Can you run?¡±

    It was his arm that hurt, not his legs¡ªthough when Elonie hauled him to his feet, he felt the pain down his whole body. ¡°To the stables,¡± he said. If Senjay had any sense, that¡¯s where he would have gone. With luck, they¡¯d make it there before the soldiers did.

    Not that he had an abundance of luck lately. ¡°We have to get out of the castle,¡± he grunted.

    ¡°Gillesport,¡± Elonie said. ¡°Dellon is there¡ªhe¡¯ll help us.¡±

    One more person Garrin didn¡¯t want to involve in this mess, but he had little choice. They needed all the help they could get. ¡°Good,¡± he said, swallowing his reservations. ¡°We can get supplies there, maybe rest until...¡±

    Until what? He couldn¡¯t go back to the castle, not with Renton still claiming he¡¯d attempted regicide. As long as Renton was there, Garrin was as good as exiled. Could he lure him away somehow? Double back to the castle while Renton was out? No¡ªeven with Renton gone, his influence extended to the whole council. They would follow whatever he¡¯d told them, regardless of the truth.

    Without more allies, Garrin was outnumbered. He¡¯d never stand a chance.

    His only option was to leave.

    ¡°There,¡± Elonie said, pulling his attention toward the stables. Senjay, Arya, and Lliane stood beside five saddled horses, waiting anxiously between the stables and the gate.

    ¡°Took your time,¡± Senjay grumbled, eying Garrin¡¯s bleeding arm without comment.

    ¡°A few soldiers followed us,¡± Lliane said. ¡°They¡¯re tied up in the stables.¡±

    ¡°And more followed you out the window,¡± Arya said, swinging into her saddle. ¡°We have to go.¡±

    ¡°To Gillesport,¡± Garrin said. He did his best not to wince as he climbed onto his horse, though he doubted anyone¡¯s eyes were on him. He could hear the pounding of booted feet in the yard behind him and felt a prickle of panic starting at the base of his neck.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get the gate open,¡± Elonie said, mounting and spurring her horse past the others. Lliane charged after her, but Senjay and Arya waited until Garrin had turned his horse to follow them.

    ¡°We cut the straps on the other saddles,¡± Arya said. ¡°That should slow them down for a little.¡±

    Senjay kicked his horse into a trot. ¡°Which won¡¯t matter if we let them catch us talking,¡± he snapped. ¡°Hurry!¡±

    Arya followed, and Garrin gritted his teeth against the jarring in his arm as his horse hurried after. Lliane and Elonie had already reached the gates and were speaking in hushed tones to the two soldiers on guard duty. ¡°It¡¯s treason,¡± he heard Elonie hiss. ¡°You know what Renton is like. If we don¡¯t get the prince out...¡±

    One soldier looked back at him, paling as he took in the blood running down Garrin¡¯s arm. ¡°Where are you going to go?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t answer that,¡± said the other. ¡°We can¡¯t lie if we don¡¯t know. Get as far as you can¡ªwe¡¯ll do our best to hold them off.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Garrin said, in as even a voice as he could manage. ¡°I won¡¯t forget this.¡±

    The soldiers saluted and opened the gates. Lliane urged her horse through before they were fully open, followed closely by Senjay. Elonie hesitated until Garrin and Arya were through, and then she threw the guards an answering salute while they rushed to close the gates.

    The doors slammed closed. Garrin dug his heels into his horse¡¯s sides and steeled himself for the long, painful ride ahead.

 Regrouping

    ¡°I can¡¯t see your wound,¡± Arya said.

    Garrin started. He¡¯d been dozing¡ªnot intentionally, and not well, but sometime between the flight from the castle and their present position on the road to Gillesport, Garrin had closed his eyes and succumbed to brief darkness. He shifted his arm, winced at the pulse of pain that shot through it, and cleared his throat. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Your arm,¡± Arya said. Her horse trotted near his, close enough that she could reach out and touch him. ¡°I can see blood, but not the wound. We have to bind it before you lose too much blood.¡±

    Garrin twisted gingerly to show her his arm. His sleeve was soaked through, but at least it wasn¡¯t dripping anymore. ¡°It can wait until we get to Gillesport,¡± he said.

    Though Arya looked uncertain, she didn¡¯t argue. She turned her eyes forward and rode silently for a few moments before looking back at him. ¡°Are you well?¡±

    ¡°It hurts,¡± Garrin said. ¡°But it isn¡¯t serious.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I mean.¡±

    Garrin inhaled slowly. The cold air stung his throat, but it was a clear, grounding feeling that banished some of the fog still clinging to his thoughts. ¡°This is not how I expected things to go,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°If you hadn¡¯t come after me¡ª¡± she started, but Garrin shook his head.

    ¡°No. This was Renton¡¯s doing.¡± And Asella¡¯s, and the council¡¯s, and his father¡¯s.

    His father. Garrin had left him with two people who showed no hesitation over killing royalty, abandoning the king to his own fate and escaping to save himself. And his mother¡ªwhat would happen to her? Would they kill her as well, or keep her prisoner to ensure the king¡¯s continued cooperation?

    ¡°You look troubled,¡± Arya said gently. ¡°You are worried about something else?¡±

    ¡°My parents,¡± Garrin admitted.

    Arya offered him a small smile. ¡°They aren¡¯t likely to be in any real danger. Renton may restrict them to the castle grounds, but they rarely leave anyway. They¡¯re both cooperative, so I doubt he¡¯ll have any need to threaten them.¡±

    Garrin nodded, though her words did little to comfort him even as he recognized the sense in them. It still felt like he¡¯d abandoned them.

    They were over halfway to Gillesport, and Garrin managed to stay awake for the rest of the journey. He and Arya had fallen to the rear of the group, though Senjay stayed close enough to drop back in case of trouble. Elonie and Lliane ranged farther ahead, far enough that they occasionally disappeared from view. Garrin guessed Elonie was eager to find Dellon and warn him about what had happened at the castle. Dellon was already at odds with Renton, and his sister¡¯s actions certainly wouldn¡¯t help. It would be safer for him to avoid the castle until...

    Until what? It was only a matter of time before Garrin¡¯s friends started asking what his plan was, and he didn¡¯t want to admit that he had none. His first concern had been escaping and getting everyone to safety, but what next? Gillesport could only shelter them for so long¡ªeventually they would have to leave. Where could he go that Renton would not find him?

    Maybe this was his chance after all. His chance to leave his problems as prince behind him, to strike out on his own and live the life he¡¯d dreamed about. He could take on a new identity and travel the world, singing and playing music and worrying only about which town he would visit next. He¡¯d planned on doing just that only a few days ago... why did the thought of it make his stomach turn now?

    Trails of smoke rose into the air before them; they would reach Gillesport in minutes. Garrin threw an anxious look over his shoulder, but there were no signs of pursuit. Apparently cutting the straps of the stable saddles had done enough to slow the soldiers down. Once Garrin and the others reached the streets of the busy port town, they¡¯d have even more time. All they had to do was lose themselves in the crowd.

    Lliane slowed her horse to a trot and waited for Garrin to catch up. ¡°Elonie went on ahead,¡± she reported. ¡°She wanted to find her brother. They¡¯re going to meet us at the docks.¡±

    ¡°Why the docks?¡± Senjay asked. ¡°It would be better to find a place to hide within the city, wait until things blow over¡ª¡±

    ¡°Things aren¡¯t going to blow over,¡± Lliane said.

    ¡°And we have no way of knowing who Renton has in the city,¡± Arya added. ¡°He may have spies and allies everywhere. We can¡¯t be sure of whom to trust.¡±

    Senjay scowled. ¡°You think escaping by sea will be any better? There are only so many routes a ship can take at this point in the season. It will not be hard for Renton to trail us over the water.¡±

    ¡°Garrin?¡± Arya asked. ¡°What should we do?¡±

    That was sooner than he expected. He didn¡¯t have an answer yet. If they fled, he could sever any remaining ties to his old life and begin anew. If they stayed, he might be able to sneak back into the castle at some point, assuming he could evade Renton¡¯s spies, and perhaps free his parents if they wanted to be freed. And then what? Escape again? Renounce his birthright in three or six months rather than that moment?

    ¡°To the docks for now,¡± Garrin said at last, aware of the others¡¯ eyes on him. ¡°We have to meet Elonie and Dellon before we can decide anything.¡±

    Lliane led the way into town, winding through the crowded streets toward the harbor. They weren¡¯t the only ones on horseback, but they still drew several curious looks as they passed. Garrin tried to appear unhurried and unassuming, but he doubted it would matter. If Renton had spies in the city, they would know of his presence within the hour. It was better to focus on speed than on concealment.

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    ¡°Elonie said she¡¯d be at the northern end of the port,¡± Lliane said as they rode. ¡°Something about Dellon being closer to that side of the city.¡±

    ¡°If we¡¯re going to take a ship, we won¡¯t need the horses,¡± Arya said.

    ¡°If we take a ship,¡± Senjay muttered.

    Garrin considered. If they sold the horses, they would have enough to travel far enough to give themselves a chance to breathe. They could decide what to do then¡ªeither get off at the next port or continue on to another kingdom. To run away or go back to fight.

    ¡°We need money,¡± Garrin decided. ¡°Whether we¡¯re going to stay in town or get on a ship, the horses will only draw attention to us. We should sell them.¡±

    No one argued¡ªnot even Senjay. ¡°We should find a buyer away from the docks,¡± Arya said. ¡°No sense in advertising where we¡¯re going.¡±

    They found a stable a few streets away, and Lliane handled the sale. ¡°I¡¯m least likely to be recognized,¡± she pointed out. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I went with a simple dress this morning, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Garrin and the others waited in the alley. It didn¡¯t take long for Lliane to return, grinning. ¡°I got extra for the saddles,¡± she said proudly.

    ¡°Good work,¡± Garrin told her. ¡°Is it enough to buy us passage out of Fyrest?¡±

    Senjay grabbed at his uninjured arm. ¡°We can¡¯t leave! My sisters are still in the castle!¡±

    ¡°Your sisters are with their mother,¡± Arya said. ¡°And she will keep them safe. Renton is after you, not them.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave,¡± Senjay insisted.

    ¡°What choice do we have?¡± Lliane asked. ¡°Staying won¡¯t help them. Better to leave and return later, if that¡¯s what you want to do.¡± She looked at Garrin, her jaw set. ¡°We have enough to leave, yes. And a little extra.¡±

    ¡°No one will be forced to go anywhere he doesn¡¯t wish,¡± Garrin said, gently pulling his arm free of Senjay¡¯s grip. ¡°If you wish to stay, you¡¯ll have your share from the horses to help you.¡±

    ¡°And what can I do on my own?¡± Senjay snorted.

    Garrin hitched his shoulder. ¡°Whatever you decide is best.¡± He stepped out of the alley and marched toward the docks, listening to the comforting sound of his friends¡¯ footsteps behind him. One, two... yes, all three were following. Garrin didn¡¯t want to admit it, but he wasn¡¯t thrilled at the thought of leaving Senjay behind. He felt he owed the Thiyaan prince for standing up to his mother and Renton, though he hadn¡¯t asked for the support. Nor had Senjay asked for his in retrieving his sisters¡ªbut if Garrin could help, shouldn¡¯t he? After everything Senjay had risked for him, how could he not do the same? Especially since it wasn¡¯t just Senjay¡¯s sisters at risk.

    ¡°There,¡± Arya said, pointing. Garrin turned to see Elonie and Dellon waving from the boardwalk leading to the docks. Lliane hurried toward them, but Senjay hesitated at Garrin¡¯s back.

    ¡°I want your word,¡± he said, slowing to a stop.

    Garrin took a breath and faced him. ¡°Your sisters are in no danger,¡± he said. ¡°Your mother is Renton¡¯s ally. He won¡¯t do anything to harm them.¡±

    ¡°Even being around that man is dangerous,¡± Senjay said.

    Garrin agreed with that, but he didn¡¯t say so. Instead, he reached out and put his hand on the Thiyaan prince¡¯s shoulder. ¡°If I can help them, I will,¡± he said. ¡°Though it may not be as soon as you like. We can do nothing without a plan and reinforcements. Our only option now is to get out of Fyrest and find someplace safe to regroup.¡±

    Senjay grunted. ¡°I will hold you to that,¡± he said, sweeping past Garrin and onto the dock.

    For a moment, Garrin watched him go, feeling a sinking weight in his stomach. ¡°It sounds like you¡¯re preparing to return,¡± Arya said at his side.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking about it,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be more opportunistic about this,¡± she said. ¡°This could be your only chance at the life you wanted.¡±

    Wanted. Past tense. She had to have phrased it that way on purpose. Garrin looked at her, at the dirt still smudged on her hands and clothes, and sighed. ¡°What would you do?¡±

    ¡°Whatever you do,¡± she said. ¡°I think you¡¯ve already made up your mind. Whatever you decide, I will be with you.¡±

    The sinking feeling settled into something warmer, like a counterbalance rather than an anchor. ¡°That is all I need,¡± he said. He reached for her hand, and she smiled when he guided her toward the others.

    ¡°I know of a captain,¡± Dellon said as they approached. ¡°He thought he might want to be a Sage one day, but it wasn¡¯t in the cards for him. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d give us passage.¡±

    Garrin nodded, and Dellon led the way to a ship anchored a little way ahead. By then the excitement of their flight had worn off, and Garrin¡¯s arm throbbed anew with every step. His body felt heavy, as though it would take all his strength to carry him the last few steps onto the ship¡ªassuming the captain would allow them on board. A tenuous connection to the Sages might not be enough to guarantee them passage, and every minute they wasted brought Renton closer to discovering them.

    But he found, when he paused to think it through, that he trusted Dellon. And he trusted Elonie, and Lliane, and even Senjay. And Arya, despite their rocky start, despite her resistance and his blindness¡ªArya had promised to stay by his side, no matter what he chose. He had never had so many people on whom he could rely.

    And he had never needed them more.

    Dellon jogged up the gangplank and questioned a sailor, who pointed toward a tall man in a heavy blue coat. ¡°Stay here,¡± Dellon said. ¡°I¡¯ll speak to the captain.¡±

    He hurried off, leaving the others on the deck. A frosty wind whipped past their faces, ripping through their hair and clothes. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Elonie asked, raising her voice to be heard over the shouting sailors and pounding surf.

    All eyes turned to Garrin, and for once, he had an answer prepared. ¡°No one is bound to come with me,¡± he began. ¡°If you wish to leave now, or to stay in Gillesport, I will not stop you. But I mean to leave Fyrest.¡±

    ¡°You are fleeing then,¡± Senjay said bitterly.

    ¡°For now,¡± Garrin said. ¡°Until I can gather enough support to return.¡±

    Lliane pushed her hair from her face, but another gust of wind blew it back. ¡°You intend to challenge Renton?¡±

    ¡°I intend to reclaim what is mine,¡± Garrin said.

    ¡°It will take an army,¡± Lliane said.

    Garrin nodded. ¡°And people I can trust. Right now, that is only the five of you.¡±

    Elonie smiled and saluted. ¡°How can you make me a captain-baroness if I do not help you? You know you have my support, sire, and Dellon¡¯s as well.¡±

    ¡°I want my sisters safe,¡± Senjay said. ¡°And Thiyaan¡¯s treachery corrected. If you intend to face Renton and my mother, I will be there.¡±

    There was a pause, and then Lliane sighed. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no use going back to the castle,¡± she said. ¡°My family will leave as soon as they hear that I¡¯ve gone. And at least this way I will get to see some of the world before I¡¯m married off to some ancient duke.¡±

    Garrin grinned, and his eyes sought Arya¡¯s. He already had her answer, but she met his gaze anyway and held it for a long moment. Then she looked at his bloody arm and said, ¡°We should bind that. You¡¯ll need your sword arm.¡±

    Relief flooded through him. He would have tried to challenge Renton on his own, but knowing that he had help gave him a settled feeling. This was the right decision.

    ¡°Here,¡± Elonie said softly, and Garrin turned to see Dellon returning with a smile on his face.

    ¡°They will take us,¡± he announced. ¡°And for a little extra, the captain has agreed to leave early.¡±

    ¡°Make it right away, whatever it costs,¡± Garrin said.

    Lliane nodded and returned to the captain with Dellon, and Garrin looked out over the docks to the buildings and streets of Gillesport. He wondered if he should feel sad about leaving it behind, or nervous about the journey ahead, but he felt neither. Instead, a strange peace had settled over him, which warmed into something like contentment when Arya stepped closer and took his hand.

    ¡°It isn¡¯t goodbye,¡± she said, looking up at him as though reading his mind.

    Garrin shook his head. It wasn¡¯t goodbye, at least not a permanent one. Whether it took weeks or months or years, Garrin would find a way to gather the support he needed.

    And then, when he was ready to challenge Renton, he would be back.