Aix dipped his head at the pair of Electi guarding Domi's door and then smiled as he recognized the shorter one. "Good afternoon, Alumna."

Sidus smiled back, but the young starholder looked uneasy. Aix could not blame him for feeling worried after Domi's most recent blunder. Until a new captain of the Electi could be found to replace the youth's re-assigned father, Sidus carried the nerve-wracking responsibility of keeping Domi safe.

A responsibility that had just become far more difficult.

"Hello, Aedificanti," his student said. Sidus reached out and opened his young friend's blackwood door. "Please talk some sense into him."

Sighing, Aix strode into the bedchamber and eyed his royal pupil.

Domi darted up from his bed and crossed his arms, giving the older worldholder a sullen look. "I'm not in the mood for tutoring right now, Aedilis."

Aix lifted a brow. The boy sounded exactly like a spoiled Lightholder royal, but his displeasure came from a very different place than highborn ego. Aix doubted the former Pullatus enjoyed being locked in a stuffy room after being subjected to the embarrassment he'd no doubt felt trying to read in public. But the uncanny resemblance to a spoiled Princeps amused Aix, given the current difficulty getting the boy to play the role convincingly.

"I am sure, Basilicus," Aix said, dropping the contractions from his speech as Comitas had requested all staff do around the boy. They needed to train him to sound more like his twin, and quickly. "But someone needs to discuss what just happened in the odeon with you, and Comitas selected me." Better him than Valens, certainly, who had not been able to stop laughing every time the irreverent man recited his Alumna's final, dangerous remarks.

And they called Aix a heretic.

"Just happened?" The boy flopped down into the chair at his desk and threw slippered feet atop its mahogany surface. "That was two hours ago!"

"I apologize heartily for the delay, Basilicus." He did not often have to drag himself to Vola Apertus for family business, but the courtly manners came back to him, as they always did. "Comitas has had all your staff working hard to get ahead of the situation as much as possible, and I am only now free to speak with you."

The boy nibbled his lip. "What situation?"

Aix lifted a brow at the youth's slippered feet, then spoke when, sighing, Domi lowered them to the ground. "The situation we fear may develop as a result of your sermon, Basilicus."

The youth wilted. "What did I do wrong now?"

Sympathy pricked deep. Aix had avoided court life for most of his eighty-two years, but as a member of two royal families and a distant heir to the Throne of Sorrow, he knew something of the pressure Domi now faced.

A royal's life was an intricately choreographed dance between the roles of ruler, priest, and sorcerer. Domi, a child of the slums, did not know the dance steps. Could not know them. He did not even know to point his foot. Aix knew not to expect more than stumbles yet. Everyone in Domi's household staff knew their job was to enter the dance with the inexperienced royal and ensure the inevitable stumbles did not become falls.

But the boy seemed to believe he ought to already know all the choreography without help. And today, Domi had tossed that help out the window and then found himself dismayed to have nearly sprawled flat on his face on the dance floor.

Ah, to be young again. Aix missed that sense of boundless confidence in his own capabilities, that righteous rush of assurance in the wisdom of his own actions. He did not, however, miss the crushing disappointment of discovering his own limitations. That disillusionment thankfully lurked far in the past, behind youth's gilded gate.

He offered the boy a smile, hoping to help the royal relax. A tense mind was a mind unready for learning; that was why Aix found the serenity and fragrant air of the greenhouse the best learning environment for young intellects. When Germinating faded into the season of Sowing, the palace garden might make a fine place to teach his royal charge.

"We all err, young Erus, with each breath of air we draw," he said.

The boy frowned at the wordplay, more tension leaving his slight body even as confusion filled his face. Surprise also made a fine teaching tool. Did not Demirandus Anites counsel to keep your students on their toes to keep their minds swift?

"You erred in your theology and politics," Aix went on, trying to think how best to explain matters to his most interesting student yet. Well, his second most interesting student, he hoped, if the other Pullatus was as intelligent as he was beginning to suspect. "You ought to have delivered poor theology with sound politics, Basilicus. Instead, you delivered sound theology with poor politics."

"What?"

Aix wondered if Domi's little redhaired friend had absconded with Ecclesiology and Polity. The stack of books atop his desk grew shorter each day the kid came to dust and sweep. He could not understand how a Pullatus without starholder blood had learned to read so fast, let alone at such an advanced level. But if they had the book, perhaps they could read it to Domi. The classic tome might teach the young royal a thing or two.

He shook his head; the puzzle the other youth offered was for another day. Aix had always been prone to distractions and he dragged his mind back on task. "Forgive me, Basilicus. I mean that while what you said to the people today was soothing to the heart and more consistent with who we claim the Eternal Radiance to be, it was, if you will forgive me for saying it so bluntly, stupid."

Domi glared at him, but as Aix suspected, the youth was listening carefully now. Years of working with the Pullati community had long since taught Aix they were candid people who did not respect efforts to sugarcoat the truth. "Why was it stupid?" the Princeps asked. "What was stupid was blaming people for something they didn't do."

"No, it was morally wrong to blame them, but smart. That would have been the safest, most satisfying explanation for the terror they just experienced. Instead, you told them something morally right that was also foolish. As a result, some people may want to harm you."

"I think you people know now that I don't care about my safety." The boy's voice dripped with derision, a tone he was likely learning from his aedificans if he had not already picked it up from his sharp-tongued Ma.

Aix winced, nodding. That particular alarming fact about the boy's character was one he well knew. It had been less than two weeks since Domi had tried to sacrifice himself to protect his brother and the world. But one month ago, Aix had seen the first glimmers of that reckless willingness to endanger himself to aid others when the boy had walked into his dye-house. The young fool had tried to purchase a false laurel so he could break into the collegium and steal an artifact he believed might cure his mother.

Not that Aix had known those particular details of the boy's plans at the time. He just knew Merula Nocticola's own son was going to get himself hurt, jailed, or killed trying to fake being a Lightholder for some foolish stunt. The Rex Pullati paid him good coin to keep any Pullatus from accessing the means to do anything too dangerous and the Praetor commanded him to keep an eye on the Pullati and keep them from doing anything to harass the city. So he'd raised his prices tenfold and sent the boy on his way, thinking the child would never be able to raise the coin and he'd never see the youth again.

The next day, shouts rose in the collegium basilica about theft, lightning crackled in the cloudless afternoon sky, and Valens delivered the world's most unexpected feral Trueborn into Arbita's infirmary.

"Yes, Basilicus," Aix said, forcing a chuckle, "I am familiar with your reckless disregard for your own life. But I would like to remind you that as Princeps if you endanger yourself, you endanger the whole world."

Domi crossed his arms, sulking now. But Aix's words appeared to be sinking through his skull. "Just by telling people they're not to blame?"

"Yes. And by suggesting that the blame lay elsewhere."

The boy frowned at him, confused now. "I didn't tell them to blame anyone. I told them they weren't to blame."

"Yes, Basilicus, but you must understand that responsibility must always fall somewhere. The people need an explanation for what just happened."

"They have one," the boy said stubbornly. "The Trellis malfunctioned because of the Blightlands. That's the lie Peritia told them."

"That is only what Peritia told the Rex and your fellow Principia. The threat of the Blightlands is still a state secret, Basilicus." And thank the Eternal Radiance the boy had not accidentally shared that dangerous truth. "No, the sermon today was crafted to provide the people with a satisfying, familiar explanation for the terror they just went through. One that they already know how to cope with. They are accustomed to believing their suffering is the will of the divine and praying, attending observance, and working harder at their duties to restore divine favor. But you took that away from them because, well..." He shook his head. "Well, who are you, Basilicus?"

Brown eyes narrowed up at him, surly. "You know who I am."

"I do indeed. But I don't think you do." He sighed as the boy scoffed. "You are the Princeps Worldholder, young Erus." The familiar title made the boy relax, a little, eying him hesitantly. "The Keeper of Heaven and Earth. You speak the Eternal Radiance's own truth. You are the dignity of the Promethidae race, the living embodiment of the holy light that the Divine Light placed within Lightholders."

He chuckled at the boy's scornful expression to show he didn't believe it either. Not that his belief, or the boy's, was what mattered.

He shook his head as he continued. "And you just told the world that the terror they experienced was not an act of the Eternal Radiance and the consequences of the people's transgressions. So who is left to blame?"

The boy gulped as understanding dawned. "Me."

"That's right," Aix said, heart aching for the child. "You told them it was not the Eternal Radiance who caused the disasters, and it was not them, the people, who are to blame either. The only one left to blame, then, Basilicus, is you. The Priceps Worldholder. The one person in the world they are supposed to be able to trust to keep them safe."

"But it was me," Domi pointed out, young eyes anguished. "I did it."

"You did," Aix agreed, gentling his voice. "And it was not your fault."

"Yes it was!" The boy's eyes were welling with tears, and the sky darkened outside the window as wispy clouds began to gather. "I did it! I caused that hurricane, and the tsunami, the flooding, the frost, and fires. That Praetor in Provincia Veracis is blind from the flare I caused and--"

"No, Basilicus." He took a step toward the desk, wanting to embrace the youth. But very few people could offer that kind of comfort any longer, and he was not one of them. He folded his hands before him instead. "I am known for my interest in... unusual research. And what my studies have shown me is that you are not to blame."

"But--"

He held up a hand and glanced at closed door, lowering his voice. It was not illegal to say such things, but it was still best not to be overheard. Comitas could remove him from Domi's staff as easily as she had added him. Few palace Pyrrhaei tolerated heresy, especially from their Lightholder charges. "We must not speak of this outside this room, Basilicus, but you need to understand that the Trellis is a monstrous artifact some fool of an Ancient designed to rely upon a worldholder's body. The human body is fallible, Basilicus. And your body was not ready for the Trellis when it came to you. You are no more to blame for what is happening than a raped child would be for miscarrying a babe they are too young to carry."

Domi's lip wobbled, tears spilling over. "B-but the Trellis can be controlled. I should have--"

"It can be controlled, but not by you," Aix said firmly. "Not yet." He should not interrupt his Princeps, but he needed to prevent the boy's thoughts from spiraling. Already thunder was rumbling outside, and the soil was so weary of rain. "You are just starting your studies, Basilicus. And it is not your fault that you were never allowed to learn before now. That is the fault of your birth parents and the horrific custom of killing younger twins that forced them to suppress and abandon you instead of teaching you. But now you have started being taught. And in the future, you need to trust those who have more experience than you. Read Fons's terrible sermons. Listen to your advisors. Attend to your studies. Speaking of which, you have been learning to control the rains, yes?"

Domi's gaze followed his own to the window. "Yes," he said, nibbling his lip.

Aix dipped his head. "Then you know what you must do. Do you need your handlers? Answer honestly."

"No." The Princeps brushed tears from his eyes. "The learning trance has been helping me figure stuff out faster. I can do it."

By the time the knock sounded at the door, the clouds had started to clear.

"C-come," Domi said, sweat-glazed as he opened his eyes.

Peritia and Comitas stepped within the chamber, Bellus trailing behind the pair.

"We came to help you with the rain, but I see that you already have it in hand, Basilicus," Peritia said, beaming like a proud mother at the golden light glowing through the window.

Comitas eyed the boy, scowling. "Were you crying?" She shook her head as he wilted. "You are far too old for tears, Basilicus. In the future, shed problems, not tears."

Bellus cast her a scornful look. "What my Aedificanti means to say," he said with more delicacy, "is that we have found a solution to your difficulty reading. Next time, I will establish a mind link between us, and you will just need to repeat after me."

"That is not what I meant," Comitas said, her voice clipped, lips pressed in a thin line. Aix could not entirely fault her for her irritation; she had been working furiously the past two hours since the sermon to control the damage Domi had done to his own throne. Her eyes settled on him. "Did you explain to the Princeps, Aedilis Aix? Does he understand why he cannot just change the sermon without consulting with us first?"

Aix nodded, catching Domi's eye and offering the boy a reassuring smile. The youth did not smile back but did relax a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of a shaky hand. "I did, Erus, and he does."