Cercitis thought, I just can't believe Callide is dead.

Evenings like this one were the hardest. She became Daedalus's foster mother when the boy was only a few weeks old and Callide inherited the Throne of Solitude so unexpectedly. Cercitis had cared for him every day of his life. Raised him herself, with Astricus at her side. But though royal duties had taken Callide away from her son, the Princeps Worldholder had still been his mother. She had always found a way to come to him when he worried about something, suffered a difficult day, or fell ill.

Sometimes a boy, even a Princeps, just needed his mother. His real mother. But his mother was dead, and Cercitis felt like a poor replacement.

"I do not understand why this is happening to me."

Daedalus lay abed, propped up by mounds of clivia-silk pillows, where he retired early that afternoon when the migraine started. She hoped he was not coming down with something. She had not sensed an infection in him, but sometimes promenia missed the earliest stages of an illness.

It was likely just stress, however. He bore enormous responsibilities for someone his age, was still grieving, and no doubt felt guilty and afraid about the issues he had been having controlling the Trellis. No wonder he suffered a monstrous headache.

"I don't understand yet either, Basilicus," she said, and he sighed at the title. The awkward distance it created grated on her as well. They had dispensed with many such niceties in his childhood, but those days were gone now. She wrung out a cloth and placed it on his forehead, wishing she could spare promenia to ease the pain. However, the migraine was not life-threatening, and Peritia insisted the boy needed to learn to control the Trellis despite such discomforts. "There is no use fretting over such at the moment. It will only wear you out. There will be plenty of time to worry about all kinds of things when you're well again."

"You are treating me like a child," he said, voice wistful. She opened her mouth to remind him that, almost fifteen or not, he was one, but he offered her a faint smile. "Do not worry, I like it. It reminds me of... before."

He had always been a sweet boy, caring and considerate. A bit reserved and overly formal, qualities she blamed on Comitas, but it was the protocol handler's duty to reshape him from a quiet and gentle boy into a true Princeps.

An attendant clad in Daedalus's colors, the black and silver of the Penna Igneae curia, opened the door and stepped into the bedchamber. "Pardon me, Basilicus." The Lightless woman turned to Cercitis, a flat black Caeles stone held in her hand. The polished promenia artifact glittered with a golden sheen. "Prome, a message arrived for you. From your son."

"Epileus?" she asked, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. He and Gemma had been under the part of the Trellis Daedalus brought down yesterday. Epileus sent word to Daedalus to report the clivia incursion and let him know he and Gemma were wounded but safe. Then nothing for a day. It had been the scariest day of her life since her two older children had been Empowered.

"Yes, Prome." The Lightless Promethides glanced at the stone and extended one hand. A ball of rainbow-touched gold light drifted through the air toward Cercitis.

She held out her hand to accept the promenia and reached her thoughts out to brush its shimmering surface. The Caeles expanded like a vast garden in her mind's eye, the message rooting in the mental environment's rich soil and opening like a rose in her awareness.

Epileus's face hovered before her, a combination of her recollection of his appearance, his own perception of himself, and his imprint within the Caeles after countless interactions with promenia throughout his life. His color looked a little off, grayish, and she sensed he felt unwell and sore from some injury to his arm but was otherwise healthy. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello, Mother," her son said with unusual seriousness. His voice held a strange note, as it sometimes sounded when he wanted something from her and expected her to be difficult. "This is confidential, so please view it when you're alone. Emphasis on alone." He gave her a pointed look. "Really."

She arched a brow but halted the message with a nudge of her mind and turned to her foster son. "Excuse me, Basilicus," she said, patting his hand. "I'll be right back. You rest."

"All right," he said, appearing more amused than curious at her expression. After a moment, his face fell. "Tell Epileus I hope he and Gemma are feeling better, and that I... I am sorry."

"I will," she assured him. The poor kid bit his lip, brows clenching, but she was relieved Daedalus now knew his foster siblings were well. Or well enough to send a message again, at least. "No fretting. Get some sleep, Basilicus."

She left Domus Onychini's royal wing and walked through the Onyx Palace's halls to her bedchamber. After closing the door, she sat on her bed and allowed the message to unfold within her once more.

Now Gemma stood with Epileus. Cercitis drank in her daughter's face, as she had so often done these past weeks since Gemma graduated and could, for the first time in four years, have contact with family. The headstrong fourteen-year-old in Cercitis's memory was gone now, replaced by this confident young woman. She studied her daughter, frowning. The girl looked a little worse than Epileus, still a touch feverish, and the lifeholder felt a faint throb of pain in Gemma's calf and side. What happened to her children?

Epileus leaned toward her and crossed his arms as he fixed her with a sharp and determined gaze. He could not see her, not truly—the message was more like a letter with thought-imprints painted atop it, not a true conversation—but her son's face made her still.

"So, Mother," he said. "I would love to know why I'm here in Provincia Sicarii, over four thousand miles away from Vola Apertus, and looking at a newly-kindled boy who looks exactly like an under-fed Daedalus."

Cercitis gasped as dread bit deep. She jerked to her feet.

"And Ma," Gemma said. "Don't play stupid." Her eyes narrowed. "We are not talking about him sort of vaguely resembling Dae. This isn't just an uncanny similarity. They're identical."

"Well almost," Epileus said. He glanced to the side, his voice hushing. Behind him, she made out the dim outline of a doorway, a hallway beyond, and a room full of cots where a shadowy figure slept. "This kid has the worst haircut in the world, and he's a bit scrawny."

Gemma nodded. "And he's tanner than Dae. No doubt spends a lot of time in the field with his aedificans or something."

"Oh, and did we mention he's a Trueborn worldholder with partial dominance?" Epileus gave Cercitis a flat look. "I'm sure you know what the secondary lineage is."

"Seriously, Ma, what the heck?" Gemma exclaimed, throwing an arm out toward the sleeping shadow figure.

"You know about this," Epileus said, his voice sterner than his sister's. "Don't pretend you don't. You delivered Daedalus yourself. So why did you never mention he had a twin? And why the heck is the other kid all the way out here in Provincia Sicarii?"

She swallowed. Of course she delivered Daedalus herself. She had been Callide's best friend since their schoolgirl days, long before anyone realized the young worldholder would one day inherit the Throne of Solitude. She had helped Callide hide the presence of a second fetus, delivered the twins in secrecy, and left the younger babe on the streets of Urbs Hostiae to begin his new life. And she had suppressed his prometus herself to ensure he would never, ever develop sorcerous gifts.

Eyes devour him, how did he gain his powers? Cercitis began to pace. This was not good. If magic flowed through his veins now, he presented an even greater threat to Daedalus than before. Now, he endangered the whole world.

"Does he know who he is?" Gemma demanded. "Do you want us to tell him?"

"Should we bring him to the palace?" Epileus asked, then shook his head. "Of course we should bring him there, right? I mean, he's next in line for the Throne of Solitude, and he's waltzing around the wilderness without any guards. I realize Dae hasn't made many public appearances yet, but it's only a matter of time before someone realizes there is a boy with the exact same face as him."

Gemma nodded. "And I don't think this kid has any idea what he's doing with his magic. Like Leus said, we overheard he kindled his prometus a week ago, and today he got hurt fighting clivia or something. They said he had a stroke. He doesn't belong in the field, and these idiots are endangering him. What do you want us to do?"

Cercitis dispelled the promenia message with a slap of her mind. She couldn't deal with this now.

She chanted curses under her breath as she returned to Daedalus's bedchamber. The older twin stirred with a sleepy question at her arrival.

"It's nothing, Basilicus," she said, nausea curdling her belly. "Go back to sleep. You'll feel better in the morn."

And he probably would, unless his brother's foolish actions reverberated back to Daedalus again.