The water was warm. So warm that it nearly put the Ghost to sleep as she washed herself. It had been tiring the last few weeks. The palace was in a frenzy preparing for the Golden Prince's return from Pilgrimage. Martha had mentioned that Queen Laena was overseeing the Onyx Palace's cleaning and renovations personally which meant that everyone was on edge. Martha herself had been short and curt with Ghost anytime she'd come to do her daily duties. Ghost had been relieved not to be scolded so constantly but had actually missed the distraction from herself that Martha had brought.

     Queen Laena was not an easy woman to please. Although Ghost had never met her, she'd seen the way Martha shuddered when her name was mentioned. If this woman could make Stone-Cold Martha scared, she must have been something truly terrible to behold. "The Golden Dragon," That is what Martha had called her. Queen Laena's silver tongue was feared amongst even the bravest of Redcoats. She was a force to be reckoned with and the mute was extremely glad that she'd never had to cross paths with the queen, for she would surely take her time cutting into Ghost. She would be a perfect target for the queen's legendary wit.

     She dreaded Winter Solstice. The time of year when the Light was constantly dimmed down. Though Ghost looked forward to the darkness it brought, she dreaded the cold that came with it. Less Light meant less heat and brighter fires in her hearth. But none of that was what she dreaded. She hated the death count that came with it.

     With less heat, the Outer City was essentially a graveyard. During the warmer seasons, the Light's heat could reach the Unnamed people. When Winter came, the warmth left. Children were always the first ones to succumb. Ghost could see the funeral piers from her window—she could smell them too. Deceased infants were torn from their mothers and thrown into a heap of bodies. She'd heard a mother's heartbreak more times than she could count. In the darkest of Winters, one mother had even followed her child into the fire, insisting that her child would not go into the Light alone. Winter brought sickness and death, yet the Onyx Palace, in all its glory, was untouched by such misfortune.

     Built directly beneath the Light, it was the warmest, brightest place in The Under. Parts of the palace had glass ceilings to let in a little extra Light. The palace gardens were always lush and in full bloom. Vegetation of all kinds grew within the countless green houses built throughout the capital. Animals were fattened on the grass and butchered to feed the nobles. The capital lacked nothing and had food and provisions in abundance. But still the funeral piers of Unnamed men, women and children burned unceasingly throughout Winter.

     How many of them would have killed to be in her position? If she were hungry, she could ask, and Martha would bring her food. If she were cold, she could light a fire. If she were sick, the Graycoats would bring her medicine. She knew that she didn't deserve what blessings she had now. She'd done nothing to earn them and only had access to such amenities because the Silver Prince had happened upon her in the gardens.

      She wasn't surprised when the door to the bathing chamber opened behind her. Martha had probably returned with more hot water for her bath. Her water was becoming a bit tepid.

     "You've certainly grown into your features."

     Ghost paused. The voice was familiar but distant as if she'd only heard it in a dream. She hoped she had fallen asleep in the bath and the male's voice was a result of too much herbal tea. The sound of the door clicking shut had her entire body on edge. Who had just shut themselves in the bathing chamber? Who had caught the Ghost at her most vulnerable? Had an assassin come in to rid the Onyx Palace of an unnecessary mouth to feed? Maybe Queen Laena had learned of her plans to attend the ball and decided she had overstepped her bounds. Whoever had entered the bathing room had found the Ghost alone and naked. She would not be able to defend herself even if she wanted to.

     Footsteps came closer from behind and she felt a hand grab a strand of her wet hair, holding it for a moment before allowing it to fall back into the steaming bath. She silently thanked the Light that Martha's soaps and bathing oils had clouded the water, hiding the most intimate parts of her body. There was some kind of refuge to be found in the lukewarm liquid.

     "No need to be so tense. It's not like we're strangers."

     When the stranger walked into her line of sight, she felt her heart plummet. The Golden Prince was smug, his eyebrows raised in amusement as his emerald eyes scanned the Ghost. His gaze was piercing, and, despite the clouded water, Ghost couldn't help but think that those green eyes could see every inch of her body. He studied it—studied her with an arrogance fitting the heir to the Onyx Throne. His brunette hair was cut short on the sides, the top long enough to be combed into a neat style. A single, wavy strand had managed to escape the styling, now freely handing over his forehead. He was as beautiful as she remembered.

     Ilios' features had matured as had his body. After that night in the kitchens, they'd never run into each other again. But Ghost could see just how much the years had blessed him. His skin was the same shade as hers, his hair so dark it would be easy to mistake the color for black, however the light of the candles behind him illuminated the chestnut color. He was more muscular now—a stark contrast from his lean cousin. The Golden Prince seemed to recognize his fine physique as he had opted to leave the first few buttons of his white, cotton shirt undone.

     "You're staring, Ghost." She was. She nearly fainted when he leaned towards her. He was close enough that his lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

     He barked a laugh at the white-haired woman's flushed face. He was playing with her—enjoying torturing her. She couldn't understand it. As far as she knew, Ilios wasn't due for another week or two. How had he come back so early and why in Light's name had he come to see her? They were not friends. They had never even had a conversation with one another. If the Golden Prince had come to request something of her, would she be able to give it to him? She swallowed. What would he ask of her?

     The prince released a huff and dipped his hand into the murky water. "Seems like you're still an idiot mute." He frowned, displeased with the water's temperature. "I had hoped you would take initiative after our last encounter. I've heard that speaking with someone of my charm and status could motivate lesser people to better themselves. Seems as though my presence did not make the impact I had hoped."

     Ghost chewed her lip. Had this royal come all the way here to insult her? Well, she didn't put it past him. He did seem like the type.

     A towel was thrown in her face. "Get dressed and come out. We have some things to discuss." The green-eyed Blackcoat left Ghost alone in the bathing chamber.

     As she got dressed, her mind raced with the countless questions that had plagued her since the prince had first entered the room. She had no idea what he could possibly want to discuss with her. They hadn't spoken to one another in three years and now, after his Pilgrimage, he decides that whatever he has to say is so important that he had come to see her in the middle of her bath. She almost wondered if he hadn't planned it all out. Maybe Ilios wanted to find her in a vulnerable state. He was used to power. Maybe he just wanted to remind her of her position in relation to his. He had all the power, and she was defenseless against it.

     Martha had left out a blue, satin nightdress for her to wear. Ghost stared at it for the longest time, trying to decide whether or not she would be better off facing the prince stark naked. The nightgown was innocent enough, but far too high-class for her taste. The material was thin and soft to the touch. Flowers were embroidered on the cuffs of the long sleeves. A gown like this was meant for royalty not a nameless ward. Ilios would surely point that out.

     Deciding against a nude confrontation, Ghost changed into the gown. She took a few deep breaths and readied herself for the attractive antagonist that waited on the other side of the door. Her bedroom was cooler than usual, probably because of the approaching Winter. She would need to start wearing thicker clothing starting tomorrow.

     Ilios sat at the foot of the bed. His right leg crossed over his left, ankle touching his thigh. He was holding one of Ghost's numerous history books that she'd left scattered throughout her chambers. The firelight illuminated his features and he looked handsome enough to take her breath away for a few brief seconds.

     When his eye raised to look at her, something unfamiliar flashed over his features, but was gone as quickly as it came. He closed the book and placed it down on the bed. His eyes scanned over her figure was enough to have her crossing her arms to cover herself.

     "You look nervous, Ghost," The Golden Prince purred, "Don't worry. I couldn't be less interested in whatever is beneath that nightgown." Despite the insult he had intended, Ghost found herself being relieved by those words. At least she knew he wasn't here for anything unspeakable. "Don't you want to sit?"

     The Blackcoat patted the blanket beside him, a noiseless invitation. Ghost only shook her head at that. The quicker this was over, the better. "Suit yourself. More room for me." Ilios scooted around, laying his head on the pillow and sprawling his legs out. He placed his hands behind his head and sighed out. "It's been a long time since I've laid in a bed." He looked at her. "Don't look so cross. It isn't like you're using it."

     Hitting royalty was treason. Ghost had needed to remind herself of that a few times. Just how much did he know about her? Only two people knew of her sleeping beneath the bed; Martha and Feng. Fengari wasn't one to go about telling people of his ward's habit. Although it was possible that Martha had complained about it to the other maids a few times. Maybe Ilios had heard it from one of them. He must have been trying to get a rise out of her. Well, if teasing her was what would get the pompous royal to the point of his visit, she'd endure it for a few minutes.

     "You can't imagine how surprised I was to see the amount of books in here. I had no idea you could read. Though, I suppose, you could always just be pretending so as not to appear so hopelessly ignorant." Don't hit him. Don't hit him. Let him have his fun. It would be over soon enough.

     The brunette man smirked at her. The action strangely annoyed the white-haired girl more than it should have. "Shall we test my theory? I've read The Magi History countless times. Perhaps I could quiz you and see whether or not you truly are a liar." Ghost clenched her jaw and stalked to her bedside table, snatching up her parchment.

     What did you need to speak with me about, my prince?

     Ilios snorted at the question, turning back to look at the bed's canopy. "No time for pleasantries, then? Why? Have you a dark corner to stand in?" He closed his eyes. "I've just come back from a long journey. I think I should like to sleep a while first."

     In her chambers? That was not acceptable in the least. She shook his shoulder to get his attention. Begrudgingly, the prince opened his eyes and read what she had written. Would his highness not sleep better in his own room? He glanced at the parchment, then back at her, then to the parchment again. "You are exceptionally dull." He sat himself up, stretching his arms over his head. "Though, I suppose you are right. After all, my bed has a pretty, little handmaid in it." That was too much information. She had no interest in his nightly exploits.

     Ilios straightened up and slapped his hands on his knees. "Well, Ghost, I have come with an offer that will change your life." She wondered if he meant for the better or worse. The princeling leaned closer. "I am going to teach you to speak."

     She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Had she misheard? He wanted to teach her how to speak? Her? The nameless, titleless ward that he had done nothing but insult since arriving back in his palace? Surely, this was another prank. He'd only come here to mock her dumbness and make her feel even more insignificant than she was. Her hands shook when she wrote her single word reply.

     Why?

     The green-eyed royal was smiling widely now. "The Empty is a hellish place, you know," He began, "It's cold, food is scarce and there is always a vile stench in the air. I would not wish such a place on my worst enemy and I have been told that I can be quite the cruel-hearted person." Obviously. "The point of Pilgrimage is to prepare one for the responsibilities that come with the throne. You're sent there to clear your mind of selfishness—to feed your better man and so on." 

     The prince picked at his fingernails. "Well, I spent quite a while wondering how I could become a king better than my predecessors. How could I make my kingdom thrive in ways it did not already? I labored over the thought for months and that's when I remembered our chance encounter three years ago." Ghost frowned in confusion. Where was he going with this? "Here I had been, searching for some giant way to impact The Under, when, in all reality, if I am to change my kingdom, I must start small. How can I expect to rule a people when I cannot even teach an imbecilic mute that lives beneath my own roof?"

     So, that's what all of this had been about. The Golden Prince didn't want to help her at all. He wanted to make himself look better—wiser from his Pilgrimage. She supposed that made sense. It would have been more shocking if he had told her that he'd genuinely wanted to make her life easier. No, him wanting to claim praise for taming the idiot was much more believable to her.

     "Everyone knows of Feng's mute ward sucking up resources and living without much responsibility. If I could teach you to get over your awful stutter and teach you to be a proper lady of the Onyx Court, maybe we could marry you off and make you an honorable member of society. Then, I would be seen as the patient, loving, wise prince that I am, and you would finally stop darkening the palace doorways and scaring the Blackcoat children." Ghost stopped herself from scribbling down a less-than-appropriate word. Giving into his insults would only make things worse. Besides, it isn't as though everything he said wasn't true.

     She let out a gasp when his palms met her cheeks, squishing them together. He moved her head around, green eyes studying her features from all angles. "With the right lighting and style, you could be presentable. I'd say we could find you a Redcoat general, at least. If I'm in a good mood, I could be swayed to find you a Graycoat." Against her better judgement, Ghost jerked out of the Blackcoat's grip, her eyes narrowing.

     He gave her a cat-like grin. He wanted this. He wanted to see her upset—angry. He wanted to push every button he could until she snapped back at him. A Blackcoat who found joy in torturing his subjects. What a king he'd make. "You seem angry," He mused, "Do you not know what people say about you or do you simply pretend not to?" She knew what they said. She'd heard their slanders unceasingly for the past five years. She was no one of any importance and, thus, should be of no consequence. But whispers of her were always on people's lips. Maids. Guards. Blackcoats. They all spoke of her wordless existence with such disdain that it turned Tamera's stomach. They'd all spread stories of where she'd come from—who she'd come from. Some said she was Fengari's plaything, others said she was Heron's bastard daughter. Ghost couldn't utter the words to defend the Silver Prince or herself, not that she'd ever even thought to.

     "An idiot is hardly a useful tool in the arsenal of a king," Ilios spoke the words as though he were swatting an insect, "Best to teach you while I am still only a prince and have time for such efforts."

     And if I say no?

     She'd written the words before she could think any better of it. She hated the way he looked at her. She hated the way he spoke to her; as though she were nothing more than a child. Ilios' grin fell and he tilted his head to the side, studying her. "Then, when I am king, your tedious existence will no longer be tolerated."

     The prince's words were ice water to her face. She'd never thought of that—never allowed herself to. She was in the palace because king Solomon had given Fengari permission to take her in. All it would take is a disdainful look from him and she would be an Unnamed girl, stripped naked and thrown into the Outer City. She would have nothing to her name. Her body would be on the burn pyre within the month. Once Ilios was king, he could snap his fingers and be rid of her within seconds. He did not have his father's kind spirit or life-loving convictions. Refusing the Onyx Throne's heir would be signing her death warrant.

     Ilios gave her a smug look. "Seems like you're realizing the gravity of your situation. Good. We will meet in my chambers at The Early Hour every day starting tomorrow. Hopefully, you'll be able to string together a sentence by the Solstice ball."

     Ghost could feel her stomach turning. She'd have to spend every morning dealing with the pig-head prince. How would she manage without beating his head in with a rock? The white-haired woman was sure that these "lessons" would only end in disaster. His attitude and snarky demeanor would either be the death of him or her. One of them surely wouldn't survive the other.

     Ghost couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to say a word without stuttering about like some idiot. Fengari had tried teaching her to speak once but ended up gifting her parchment and charcoal by the end of it. It was easier for both of them that way. Despite his best efforts, Ghost was almost certain that the Golden Prince would end his teaching career in the same manner—Failure. She didn't know why he'd chosen her to be his plaything. He had so many other options when it came to making a name for himself why he'd decided to "start small" Ghost would never know. She did, however, know that whatever "lessons" the Blackcoat had planned for her would be a living Hell and, even if she still couldn't speak by the end of it, she was certain to scream.