The windows did, in fact, afford him a spectacular view of the sea the next morning. He was up before the sun, and he watched as the light from the north stretched across the sky, banishing the darkness and leaving him breathless at the array of colors the sky traveled through.

Velvety blue with a few faint stars to palest grey. Then white, fading into a pearly pink streaked with weak yellow. Light red clouds danced across the sky, which rapidly turned to an astonishing blue, brighter than he'd ever seen before.

And that was just the sky.

The ocean itself had gone from pitch black to a silver that would make even the most pious man greedy, then a breathtaking cobalt, the waves creating foamy white lines that he wanted to touch. 

He'd been unable to tear himself away from the sight. This was the first time he'd ever seen the ocean.

Once the sun had risen properly, he'd explored his rooms a bit more, having been too tired from the events of last night to do it then. He found a small door that led to a bathing room, but that was it. The books were a little more interesting. Stories as far as he could tell, nothing with history or fact within them, and Naqam couldn't stop himself from wondering if he really was allowed to read them.

After another moment of hesitation in front of the bookshelves, he'd turned back to the bathing room and cleaned up, finding a fresh set of dark clothes in a wardrobe near the windows.

He dressed with a small frown of distaste, resigned to the fact that he would have to wear dull black for as long as he was here.

A clock nestled amongst the books chimed out the hour, telling him it was now seven in the morning, and Naqam looked expectantly at the door to his room. Several slow minutes ticked past, his frown steadily moving down into a scowl.

After another ten minutes, he threw himself into a comfortable armchair near the bookshelves, grumbling to himself. The urge to open the door was unforgiving, and Naqam shook his head, wondering if this was another of Hatter's strange tests.

Well, if it was, he had no intentions of failing.

He stared out the windows for a few seconds, but the colors had long since stopped changing, and the view didn't hold his attention quite as well that way. His eyes flicked over to the books, then away.

Naktis had long ago convinced him that the only books worth reading were those that could teach him something valuable about defeating the Spades. The Jack had made him help burn every other kind of book present in Old Heart Castle to drive the point home.

Still, the various colors of the spines, lined up as neat and orderly as soldiers, continued to draw his eye.

Boredom had crept up on him long ago, and his fingers drummed an inconsistent beat against the arm of the chair he was slouched in.

Before he even really knew what he was doing, he had snatched a book off the shelf and held it carefully in his lap, staring suspiciously at it. It was red, which had probably been what drew his eye, with silver words embossed upon the cover.

The Raven and the Writing Desk

Naqam frowned, wondering what those two things could possibly have to do with one another. But his curiosity had been piqued and was rapidly becoming undeniable. Fingers trembling just a little, unable to shake the absurd notion that Naktis would come bursting through the door just as he began to read, he carefully opened the book.

The first page consisted of nothing more than a beautiful, intricate drawing of a raven perched upon a writing desk with a few bare sheets of paper upon it. A closer inspection revealed a writing quill made from the raven's feather, and an upset ink pot, the contents of which spilled from the edge of the desk.  

It captured his attention for a moment, and he found himself wondering if it was the raven or the missing writer who had spilled the ink.

Eventually, he was able to turn the page to start the story.

Spilled ink was like spilled blood, the Raven thought. Once it had happened, it could not be undone or hidden. It could only be mourned.

Naqam's lips parted at the first few lines of the story, instantly enraptured. Eagerly, he continued, not sure exactly what was so enchanting. They were just words on a page. Nothing all that special.

Still, he swore when he made it halfway down the second page and his door opened. He cast a withering look over his shoulder, then shot straight to his feet when he found not only Hatter at his door, but the princess as well.

His heart thudded uncomfortably against the back of his ribs, and he discreetly dropped the book into the chair. With a forced sigh, he asked, "Is the King finally ready to see me? I've been up for hours."

"Killian's got a few other things on his plate, kid," Hatter said, giving him a dark look.

Naqam fought the urge to bare his teeth at the Real Worlder, instead just giving him a nod, trying not to look as sulky as he felt. His eyes flicked to the princess, who was looking suspiciously at the bookshelf, and he hurried forward, hoping she didn't notice the gap where one was missing.

Hatter turned on his heel and started back down the stairs, letting out a short whistle that made Tarian jump and scamper after him, her dark hair in a thick braid today. She wore a summer dress that fell just to her knees with short sleeves and was the same blue as the sea.

Naqam tried to keep his eyes on the stairs as they traveled down to the main castle, but he couldn't stop himself from stealing a glance at the princess every now and then. He didn't know what it was about her exactly that captured him so, but he thought that he needed to just forget about it. The thought was sour, but faded away when she looked over her shoulder at him.

Quickly he looked down at the stairs, not about to do something ridiculous like miss a step. He very much doubted he would fall, but didn't want to risk accidentally knocking into the princess, or worse, Hatter.

They walked in silence, Naqam sighing in relief when they came to the last of the stairs. Hatter strode through the corridors, hardly letting him take the time to look at the few paintings and tapestries that had survived and were hung proudly upon the dark walls.

He knew most of the Spades' history had been burned by Mavros, and wondered why these had survived.

Every time he slowed down even a little, Hatter would make a small hissing sound, reminding him to keep up. Naqam did so without complaint until they came to the doors of the throne room, then swept right past them.

"Aren't we--"

"No." The answer was short, Hatter's tone surly and discouraging of any further questions.

He shared a curious look with Tarian, who just shrugged her shoulders and fell into step with her uncle, hands clasped behind her back. Muttering under his breath, he continued to follow the two out into the very gardens he had snuck into the other night.

Then he frowned, wondering if it really counted as sneaking considering that he'd come with Lady Adira. It had kind of felt like sneaking. He shook his head, rolling his eyes at himself. What did it matter?

A small snickering sound dragged his attention forward, and he found Tarian watching him once again. She slowed a bit, falling into step with him instead, and an uncomfortable sensation swept through his stomach as she smiled up at him.

"What were you just thinking about?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet.

Nervously, Naqam looked at Hatter, but he didn't seem to care as he finally came to a stop upon a path different from the one Adira had taken him on. Large trees created a living canopy above their heads, glossy green leaves and purple blossoms rustling in a light breeze that always seemed to be blowing around the castle.

He wondered if that breeze turned cold in the winter. Then he frowned again. He wouldn't be here by the time winter fell. In fact, if the Hearts had their way, no one would be here come the colder season.

The princess nudged him with her elbow, making him jump.

"What?" he said blankly, turning to look at her.

She laughed, covering her mouth with a hand to stifle the sound. Then, she said, "What were you thinking about?"

"Um... nothing?" he tried, which only earned him an eye roll from the princess.

"Fine," she said airily. Looking up, she called down the path, "Does he often have nothing on his mind, Uncle Mad?"

Hatter, who was leaning up against one of the purple-flower trees at the edge of the path smiled toward the ground, his face mostly hidden by the brim of his hat, which had been pulled down low. With a shrug, he said, "I don't pretend to understand what kind of crazy is going on in his head."

Naqam bristled as Tarian laughed, the sound seeming to chime through the air and widen Hatter's grin. Once he realized that Hatter was merely joking, he felt a small, grudging smile tug at his mouth.

"What have I told you, Tarian?" the King's voice suddenly growled from behind them, making both the Ace and the princess jump and whirl around.

Naqam's hands accidentally went to his belt, searching for a weapon. He knew the King saw the action before he could stop it. Tarian, meanwhile had seemed to shrink slightly, looking over her shoulder toward her uncle. 

The Real Worlder sighed deeply before pushing himself away from the tree, coat flaring around him as he walked past the two of them to go stand by the King, who was still glaring daggers at Naqam. Tarian, for her part, shifted nervously on her feet, but didn't move away from the Ace.

He kind of wished she would, just so the King would stop looking at him.

"I didn't see the harm in Tarian understanding what he can do," Hatter said, his voice low.

"And what if there is harm?" Killian hissed. He looked tired and drawn, though the anger in his eyes was anything but. "What will you say then?"

"If he were to kill anyone," Hatter said calmly, "it would be you or me. Besides, he knows that would be the very last thing he ever did."

They both looked at Naqam, whose mouth had gone rather dry. When Hatter raised a dark brow at him, he hastily nodded and said, "I have no intention of hurting anyone here today, your majesty. Unless... there is someone you would like me to hurt?"

Tarian made a small squeaking sound, but still refused to move. Hatter just let his head fall forward, shaking it slowly. The King was staring at him, eyes cold now.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

"Tarian," the King said finally, never taking his eyes off Naqam, "don't you have a lesson or... something today?"

"Uncle Mad was going to help me with my riding. He says it's become rather sloppy, and I told him that was because he hadn't been here to make sure it stayed nice."

Hatter made a sort of choking sound that Naqam recognized eventually as a laugh, and the King sighed, lifting his eyes to the sky. "Gryphon help me, she's as bad as her mother," he muttered under his breath.

"So..." Tarian started hesitantly. Then she stopped and glanced sideways at Naqam. "Can I please stay? I've just... I've only heard stories. I want to see it."

Naqam frowned, wondering what she was talking about.

She cast a pleading look at her father. "Aces were supposedly the greatest warriors in our world. Nearly invincible, faster than normal, stronger than normal. With the ability to master any weapon they touched!"

"Enough!" the King snapped, making her flinch. "Aces aren't heroes, Tarian. They're vicious and cruel and will kill without a second thought or a shred of mercy."

Both the King and Hatter now wore dark looks, and the princess finally faltered, making a small sound in the back of her throat. Her shoulders drooped a little. She let out a soft sigh and walked toward her father and uncle.

When Killian reached for her, she shied away, then skirted around the two of them, running back into the castle. They all watched her go, Naqam looking down when she disappeared from view.

"What the hell were you thinking bringing her?" Killian snarled, suddenly turning on Hatter. 

"I was thinking if she could satisfy that damned curiosity, she wouldn't bother with him," Hatter returned sharply, though his voice never raised. "She would see what he's about to do, and she would be done with it. Done with him."

"I told you she was to be kept away from him, Mad. That was not a suggestion, it was an order."

A deep silence suddenly descended all around them, hushing even the birds and the flowers. The wind itself seemed to be holding its breath as Hatter slowly turned to look at the King. Killian was staring hard at the ground, mouth pressed into a bloodless line, fists clenched.

Hatter's jaw tensed for a moment, and he said, "I'll let it slide once, kid. Once. Because I understand the pressure you're under."

The King's dark eyes flicked up, then returned to the ground.

Tugging at his hat again, the Real Worlder gestured at Naqam. "You're gonna show us what you can do. Then Killian will decide if you can stay. I would advise not doing anything exceptionally stupid. Think you can manage that?"

An uncomfortable weight seemed to cling to them still, but Naqam nodded quickly, just eager to get away from these two.

Hatter glanced at the King, who just turned and started to walk through the gardens, leading them to the western side of the grounds. Naqam followed quietly, surprised when the Real Worlder fell in step beside him, rather than the King.

Cautiously, he dared a peek at the Real Worlder, who was frowning fiercely. Once again, he was caught looking and he snapped his gaze forward, making Hatter sigh.

"That wasn't about you," he muttered. "Well," he amended, "you're part of it. Just... stay away from the princess from now on."

With that, he lengthened his stride and caught up with the King, whose shoulders tensed as he cast a wary look upon the older man. Hatter placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice low enough that all Naqam could hear was an unintelligible mumble, and Killian relaxed slightly, shaking his head.

Naqam struggled against the urge to call after them that it was the princess who couldn't seem to leave him alone, but was smart enough to realize that would most likely be an unintelligent course of action. 

So instead, he turned his attention to wondering what they meant by 'seeing what he could do.'

He quickly got his answer when the trees around them gave way to a flat field that led to barracks and what appeared to be an armory and, by the sound of it, a blacksmith. Designed much like the one at Heart Castle, Naqam recognized a training ground when he saw one, and now knew what Tarian had been talking about.

The sleeves of his shirt were fairly loose and he had nothing with which to bind them, so he undid the ties near his throat and pulled the shirt over his head. Killian and Mad had stopped in the shade of an old oak tree. Naqam stood patiently, eyes trailing over the various obstacles and the weapons that had been laid out, everything from throwing knives to rifles.

His heart fluttered with excitement and joy at the idea of showing them what they should fear.

"General!" Killian suddenly yelled.

Naqam swore under his breath when a slim, dark figure disengaged from a group of men and women standing near the entrance to the barracks. He should have known it would be her.

Adira walked swiftly across the short grass of the field until she was standing in front of the King. She bowed, then turned her gaze to Naqam.

Smiling, the expression enough to make a little concern stir in his gut, she nodded at him and said, "Let's see if you're as impressive as you seem to think you are."

With a scowl, he glanced at Hatter.

"Don't screw up," was the only advice the man offered, which only served to deepen Naqam's scowl.

"Come along, Ace," Adira called over her shoulder, already walking to the far side of the field. "Time to show me what I'm dealing with."

Naqam sighed, then ran after her, easily catching up. Rolling his neck to loosen the muscles, he asked, "What's first?"

She pointed to the far wall, and he looked up at the top to find something glimmering there.

"Let's see how you climb," she said with a faint smile. "Shouldn't be beyond you to get up there without anything to help you."

His heart sank slightly as he looked at the slick stone that made up the castle wall. With another muttered curse, he started toward the wall. He paused when Adira whistled.

Turning back to her, he frowned when she laughed.

Still with that serene, lovely smile, she said, "You can't break the wine glass on the way down."

He blinked once, then nodded. Adira made a small shooing motion at him, and he once again started toward the wall.

When he got to its base, he took a moment to look up, judging it to be every bit of seventy feet. Apparently the Spades had made some improvements to the castle's fortifications since Mavros' siege all those years ago. He took another moment to sketch out a likely route up the sheer face, rolling his neck one more time.

He resigned himself to a day of being tested and watched and taunted.

And then he climbed.