The candles are extinguished, and my curtains are drawn. My hands hesitate on the open travel bag on my bed, filled with my changes of clothes, casting materials, and rations.

If I get caught leaving... I'm terrified to imagine what Mother will have to say.

What Agraund will do.

I shiver. Being late autumn, the castle is drafty, only adding to my chill.

If I leave, I'll be counted as a traitor. Sela will have to admit her once-dear brother has abandoned his country. Ren will have his justification in thinking me a weak coward. Father will finish forgetting my existence. Mother will be more worried about spinning my disappearance into a story that paints her in a positive light than about my actual wellbeing.

And Agraund... He'll search and not give up until he finds me. When he does manage to drag me back, he'll be the one in charge of delivering the proper recompense.

My skin crawls at the thought.

But no matter what they think, I won't be abandoning or betraying them. Morineaux is the embodiment of everything I stand for, everything I love. No country will ever be her equal or deserve my loyalty more.

Nothing will ever deserve my loyalty more.

"I need to improve," I say to the empty room, "and I will not let myself fail my country."

The people of this land trust the line of Jacqueline to wisely and lovingly lead them. They trust me to lead them. As Second Son, I'll be responsible for all the country's wizards. I'll be the one everyone turns to when some non-military plight ravages the nation. I'll be the one they expect to foresee disasters, to find magical solutions to impossible problems. If some upstart nation is to ever threaten our borders, I'll be the one everyone looks to for intelligence. When the army makes a mistake, I'll be the one they expect a miracle from. When all else fails, I'll be the one sent with a dagger and a spell Book to protect our country's secrets.

If I cannot, there is no one to take my spot. So I have to go. I don't have a choice. My Morineaux needs me, and I can't let her down. My attempts here to improve clearly aren't adequate. Perhaps this academy holds some secret I've not yet found, some trick to help me unlock what's been hidden to me for so long.

No matter the consequences, no matter what punishment I'll face, if there's even a chance I can become stronger, I have to take it.

I snap shut the button on my bag. "It's my duty to my country to do everything I can to be the best I can."

Worry and fear congeal into resolve. I'm going to do this. I'm going to improve. For Morineaux.

For that cause, I know I can do whatever I must.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and, for the last time until I'm the caster Morineaux needs me to be, stride out of my bedroom. I drop a note to my family on the coffee table and pull on my cloak.

I leave.

Cowl up, I slip through corridors I've known my whole life. I've only ever left N'veauvia, the capital of Morineaux, for exercises with Agraund. I've only ever left in hopes of serving Morineaux; I leave it now for the same reason.

I can't leave through the front doors or the castle gate, though. The guards will have too many questions, things I can't answer in a way they'll understand. So instead, I make my way toward one of the servants' exits. No one should be walking through there at this time of night. The minutes pass slowly as I catfoot through corridors rarely traveled by the nobles of the castle. In these passages, sporadic torches leave the darkness mostly untouched.

Nearby, the clank of a night guard's armor echoes from a hall, and icy nerves shoot through me. His footsteps thud closer, and I glance around for cover. There's nothing but a long, empty hall and a stretching side table.

The glow of his torch seeps into the darkness of the corridor.

Heart racing and feet making only the ghost of a whisper against the stone floor, I slip through the supports of the table and fold over. My caster's cloak flows shapelessly around me, blending into the darkness. As flush to the wall as possible, I slowly pull in one, long breath and hold it. My body goes still.

Light floods the hall as the guard marches through. He's ten paces away. Only the faintest light comes near.

Five paces. The safety-ensuring darkness scatters from the torch. I can only hope the shadow cast by the tabletop is deep enough and wide enough to cover me.

He's directly beside me. My burning lungs beg to release the breath I've so carefully pent, but I refuse to let go. If I move now, it's over.

He keeps walking, but I hold my position. I can't afford to relax now only for him to turn and catch me.

Only feet away, he pauses. Panic claws my thoughts. Why is he stopping? Did I make some sound? Did I move? My protesting muscles assure me that I haven't. They tremble lightly as my body urges me to take a breath.

I steel myself; I'm not going to let him notice me.

He resumes walking. My head becomes light, heart rapidly thumping.

I hold still.

Reaching the end of the hall, he turns, the light leaving with him. Still afraid of making some slight noise, I let the air out slowly. Then my lungs greedily drag back in what I deprived them of. Only when I can no longer hear his footsteps do I let myself unfold from my hiding place.

Still jittery from the close call, I ghost toward my goal. The proud stone walls stand tall around me. I can't decide if they're judging my choices or kindly condoning them. The floors have switched to worn-down wood.

A flight of servant's stairs rises before me as I turn another hall. I crouch on the lowest step, digging my nails into a small gap between the base of the stairs and the floor. My fingers work around the thin trapdoor, and I pull up.

Dust showers from the edges, and a creak echoes up the stairs. I dart a glance over my shoulder. Someone could have heard that.

I hasten to lift the trapdoor. Beneath, a short, cobwebbed staircase lies. I hurry down, pulling the hatch closed over me. The low-ceilinged corridor forces me to stoop, and cobwebs trail against my face. I brush them away.

When I was a boy, this corridor stayed clean; I walked it almost every day. The Great Records Fire of centuries ago fascinated me, and I had the fanciful idea I'd be the one to recover all the hidden passageways we lost record of in the blaze. I wanted to impress my family with my dedication and success.

A bittersweet smile tugs my lips. That was back when I believed blood was thicker than water and marriages were made for love.

I never did tell them. Originally, I wanted to reveal it all in one fell swoop, but I quickly realized that none of them would care; they only wanted my dedication and success at magic. So I kept the secret halls as they were and stopped pretending that my unrequited affection would change my family's opinion of me.

I travel the maze of hidden servant passages until I'm under a hall that leads out of the castle. I rest my ear against the hatch. If someone's up there when I come out of the tunnel, I'm caught.

It won't take Agraund long to find out after that.

Only silence greets me, though, and I push the platform up. The hall is empty. Surrounded by tall stone walls and the last fizzling reaches of torchlight, I can finally stand up straight. After closing the trapdoor, I quickly exit the castle.

Outside, the chilled air plays with the edges of my cloak, and I tug my cowl closer around my face. In the expansive grounds, I feel exposed. Before I can leave, though, I need a horse. In the trek facing me, walking could take up to half a year. Even on horse, it'll be about a month.

Crossing through the shadows of the castle grounds, I make my way to the stables and lead a black mare out of its stall to saddle it. It whinnies softly, and I stroke its nose, shushing it.

Motion stirs in the corner of my eye. I spin that way, fingers automatically digging for arcanum powder.

From atop a pile of straw, a boy scrambles up. He pushes his too-big hat out of his eyes. "Hey! You can't take that. Horse thief!" he calls to the air around. "H—"

I shove my hood back. "Hey, hey, calm down, Collin. It's me. It's Aster."

Eyes wide, mouth gaping, he stops shouting. Then, look turning skeptical, he takes a step forward and inspects me.

I kneel, smiling. "Hi, there."

Seeming to be satisfied I'm not some vagabond, he stands up straight and smiles back. "Hi!"

Heart racing and hoping that somehow no one heard him, I say, "What are you doing here tonight, Collin?"

"Oh! Well, Mirá cracked a hoof yesterday, so Mister Thamas told me to stay here with her." His brows draw together and eyes squint. "Wait... why're you here, Prince? I mean, it still looks like you were thiefing Calista."

I laugh softly. "Why would I need to steal a horse? I just didn't expect anyone to be here."

He nods, brown eyes wide and voice excited. "Yeah, that makes sense. But why do you need a horse? It's the middle of the night!"

If he keeps being this loud, someone's going to hear him, but I don't know how to quieten him without sounding any more suspicious than I already do. "I'm on a mission," I whisper. Perhaps he'll follow in kind.

He leans forward. "Yeah?" His voice drops.

I relax slightly. "Yes. You see, Prince Agraund needs me to go..." I trail off, desperately thinking of an excuse. "He needs me to take a very important message to a town very far away."

"Really? Why?"

"It's a secret." His mouth 'o's at the seriousness I imbue into my voice. "But I'm going to be gone for a few months."

"Oh, no!" he breathes.

I nod sadly. "It's very important, and I'll be back as soon as I can. When Thamas asks you tomorrow why Calista is missing, though, you can tell him that I took her, needing to go serve Morineaux. Okay?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Okay!"

Relieved, I smile at him and set to readying the mare. Somehow, despite already having talked myself out of a problem with Collin and dodged a guard, and despite having resolved to leave and packed my bag, preparing this horse makes it seem real.

My chest tightens. I'm leaving. Only for a short time, and only to improve myself for my Morineaux, but I'm leaving nonetheless.

I walk Calista to the wall that surrounds the castle grounds, stepping from shadow to shadow. When I reach it, I search for the spot I'll exit from, marked by a small rune carved into one of the stones.

My eyes catch it; it's about a quarter of the wall away from the gate. I'm suddenly thankful that the guards only watch for intruders, not people leaving. Out here, with only the thin darkness for cover, I feel like I'm going to be spotted any second.

I pull a singed and yellowed paper from one of the many pockets of my cloak and unfold it. Straining my eyes to search its faded instructions for the ancient phrase, I breathe, "Airesë asjault erræ!"

My horse dances nervously when a low rumble echoes from the wall. As I back away, I glance at the gate. Surely, it was too quiet for them to hear that far away.

Bits of moss and crumbling rock fall as a portion of the wall begins to separate, swinging open on some invisible hinge. The city lies beyond, inviting me to leave.

I pause.

This is it. This is my last chance to turn back, to stay home, where it's safe, where I won't be taking a risk. This is my last chance to refuse the academy's invitation before I'm counted a traitor.

But the importance of my duty outweighs the importance of my image. If I've improved, they'll learn to forgive me when I return.

I walk Calista through the opening, then speak the words to close the section. It swings back into place, still quietly protesting. I turn, relaxing slightly, to face the Great Park that surrounds the wall.

I've made it out of the castle. Now I just need out of N'veauvia. I should be in the clear after that, unless they scry me.

Wait.

All that stands in the way of them seeing where I am, at any time, is a bowl of water, a pinch of arcanum powder, and the will to cast the spell. Agraund has access to all of that before he rolls out of bed.

Worry shoots up in me again, and I scramble onto the horse. I need to find out how to stop them from scrying me, but I can't do anything until I'm in a more secure position. I gallop through the Park and duck into the streets of the first district. Again, I thank the stars that the guards are looking for people coming toward the castle, not leaving the area; a horsed man hurrying away from the wall should be little more than a curiosity.

The brightly painted faces of healthy businesses and wealthy houses blur as I ride past, every clack of the horse's hooves feeling like the crack of a breaking blade.

Halfway through this sector of the city, I turn onto a side alley. As I tug my small Book from my cloak and unwrap it, whispers fill the air around me.

"Hello, Prince..." the myriad Voices of the Book breathe, each out of sync with the next.

"Hello," I murmur, glancing around. "How do I keep someone from scrying me? It's important."

"Why?" they draw out. They make me feel like a child again, as if they're Solus looking down his nose at me.

I shift in the saddle. "I need to reach a casting academy."

I fear them pressing for more information, but instead, excited chatter rises up. "You are leaving the castle?"

A chill wind blows through the alley. Unsettled, I answer, "Yes?"

The Voices quieten, as if pulling away and turning to one another to converse, excluding me. After a moment, they increase in volume again.

"We will give you whatever it is you need to go. We won't even tell your uncle." I wince, having forgotten he might consult them using the other Book. "Go swiftly. The road is long, and it begins now..." The last word echoes over crosstalk. I've never heard them not say the same thing, and the phrases I catch startle me.

"We don't know that—"

"—lost roads to walk—"

"—oh, we do hope—"

"—keys to unlock—"

"—might not be the—"

"Oh, hush, hush, hush!"

They fall into a guilty silence, as though they've given away too much. "All that is beside the point, young prince. Here."

Knowing the only questions they answer are ones concerning magic, I stay silent. The pages of the Book flip, opening to a sheet covered in black scrawl. I envy the occasional legendary wizard that could understand the language of magic but take comfort that I can speak the words without knowing what they mean.

"What will it do?" I mutter, slipping off my horse.

"It makes it impossible for the focus of the spell to be directly scryed. It is relatively easy to put into place but must be renewed daily. However, if you're around someone else that gets scryed, the view will still show you."

"Thank you." This is exactly what I need. Unease rattles within me that they're being so cooperative; they must be leaving something out. But I don't have many choices other than to trust them.

The Book whispers the instructions of the spell, and the words glow gold as I speak them. When I'm done, I swing onto my horse. I'm lightheaded, but not enough to impair my riding. Cowl up, I canter through the city, my horse's hooves first rapping sharp against cobblestone, then dully thudding against the dirt road of the outer parts of the city.

It smells like rain.