She seems surprised for me to have spoken but says, "Let the Table hear Crown Prince Aster."

Nerves jitter in my veins the way they do before casting a hard spell. "I have listened intently to the Table Arbitrate and am impressed with the zeal for which you, as we all do, seek a quick end to this war." My voice carries easily over the room, and I thank Jacqueline that it doesn't shake. "However, the quickest end might not be the end most likely to lead to our victory."

Some of the Table members murmur at the implication in my words. Aselle appears to be watching me respectfully, but her eyes tear away at the thin facade of confidence I wear. I pan over the other women and catch Solitaena's steady, serious gaze. She nods almost imperceptibly.

I continue. "They easily outnumber us. For every barbarian we knock down, ten more climb up. They tower over us, a head and a half above. But on the wall, we have the advantage. All ten can't come up at the same time, so they can't surround us. Before they even get to the wall, our archers are picking them off. They lose men, every time they decide to rush us. And as long as they're climbing up our wall, we stand head and shoulders above them. We can protect this castle, but not if we throw away our every advantage by meeting them on the ground.

"As for your other suggestions, we need our pitch for lighting torches and arrows. We only have so much at the castle, and pouring what little is left down the wall only works once. Some illusionists are at the wall, casting on individual barbarians, but the type of large, realistic distractions you're suggesting, affecting an army of Kadranians, is no parlor trick. It would likely kill our casters. And as for sending anyone sneaking into their camp—" Heart pounding, I spread my arms and meet the Table's eyes one by one. "Are we a people of bloodied daggers skulking in the shadows? In the daylight, we protect our home from barbarians, but on that night, we would become the barbarians." Certainty settles over me, as real as the cloak on my shoulders. Agraund may have taught me how to carry that dagger in the shadows, but I will not be the one to bloody it. "The favor of Jacqueline will never shine on a people who resort to the tricks of the Shadesnare.

"Let us take heart in the courage and purity of our men. The army and wizard corps are developing new strategies every day. We're getting better at killing barbarians, every day. We even have a new caster placement strategy to present to the Table this morning. But we need to hold fast and hold hope until reinforcements arrive."

"What's the new strategy?" Lady Solitaena asks.

Grateful for the opening, I launch into the tactic Reyan and I hammered out this morning. The women of the Table nod thoughtfully and murmur among themselves. Afterward, Selenia calls three votes: one for the relocation of the telekinetics, one for the Table's list of offensive measures, and one for my proposal to wait on reinforcements.

The first passes with no complaints.

Aselle's measures receive an equal six to six votes: Reyan, Emmavinne, Misanette, Solitaena, Valaecití, and me against; and Aselle, Riletta, Naminia of Laq'tarra, Isaeda of Noirbré, Mallaví of Muer, and J'lisnia of Barriaen for.

The vote to wait for reinforcements falls on exactly the same lines.

I watch Selenia. For just a moment, the calm waters of her face crash with conflict. Then her lips part in the beatific smile of every Jacquelinian Queen. "I have taken the counsel of the Table Arbitrate into consideration. As it seems to find itself conflicted, I see no reason to rush into judgement. We shall reconvene two mornings from now with further thoughts and open minds. With the blessings of Jacqueline, you are all dismissed."

People begin to trickle out, and I bite my tongue. How much more do Reyan and I have to give her before she'll trust us?

The Ladies, Lieutenants, and High Mages finish filing out of the room. Selenia turns to me. "Why didn't you two warn me that you actually had ideas this time?"

An indignant "Excuse me?" escapes before I can tether my tongue.

Her arms cross. "If you two had told me that you had real plans, then maybe I wouldn't have needed to ask the opinion of the Ladies, but now if I don't give their advice real consideration, I'll look like a fool!"

I stare at her.

"You already look like a fool," Reyan says. "Your people are dying, and you're too busy playing politics to help save them!"

She whirls on him. "I'm doing the best I can!"

Reyan opens his mouth, but I cut in. "Sister."

"What?" she bites.

I keep my voice soft. "That's all we're trying to do too. And if the three of us work together, I think we could accomplish great things for this country and end this war." The words are a little prettier than what I mean exactly, but she seems to appreciate that kind of speech more than she used to.

Her arms unfold and hands clasp as she regards me. "I can't just cut the Ladies out of the discussions."

"And no one's trying to make you." As much as I don't like it, if we started completely ignoring them, we might have a revolt on our hands—provinces refusing to send their tributes of soldiers and wizards, declining to pay taxes, ignoring federal laws. And most pressingly, delaying their armies' arrival. Then again, considering N'veauvia couldn't mobilize its army fast enough to go help Solitaena's people before the Kadranians swept through, perhaps the crown isn't doing as much for the provinces as it claims it is. That's something we'll have to look into after the war.

Finally, she says, "I don't want to be my brothers' enemy."

I offer a small smile. "And we don't want to be yours." Guilt crawls in the back of my mind. I'm manipulating my sister, my childhood friend, just like one of the court Ladies. I wish Mother were here. She wasn't perfect, but she would have done whatever was best for her people. Only what was best for them.

"Maybe..." She pauses. "Maybe tomorrow, you can come explain the reasoning behind your plan some more."

I nod. "Of course."

"For now, though, I have other things to be doing. You may be dismissed."

My head inclines, and I leave, grateful she's willing to listen. It would have been nice had she agreed to call off the Auditorium meetings, but since she had already announced it, I suppose I understand why she would hesitate to. I just hope that our conversation tomorrow will be more persuasive.

I move through the rest of the day, still feeling as though there are more things that need done than can be accomplished at any given moment. I spend the entire time in frustrated social exhaustion. It's hard enough to pay attention to and interpret the convoluted double-speak of the Ladies. It's even worse to maintain the mask of the perfect courtier-prince. Wearing it, I feel like a liar, trying to manipulate everyone into what I believe needs done, and feeling as if I'm failing about as much as succeeding. What makes me any better than the women I call vipers? Even Reyan said I'm one of them, as positively as he may have meant it.

The thought echoes around in my head throughout the afternoon, slithering out of some hole in my mind to occasionally bite before slipping back to that dark, dreaded place from which it came.

Without the mask, I would be the weak, failure of a leader I've always feared to become. Even in front of the maids alone, when I no longer must contrive double-meanings of my own, I cannot succumb to the urge to drop every wall. Before—before Agraund died, before the Kitten, before Amarris, before I turned seventeen and the weight of responsibilities I would one day, and now do, have thrust upon me settled heavy in my heart—I never felt the pressure of this mask so heavily. It was armor to pull on when I had to confront the Ladies, sometimes with the other wizards, but never was it so thoroughly pervasive.

The shield for any given situation is different, and it only grows thicker. When I could no longer rest beneath Jeanna's wing, and then when I was no longer a child that could play with his sister, the mask of a dutiful student and near-son that I wore around Agraund was the thinnest I allowed myself to carry. Even with Illesiarr, my most treasured friend, there were many things I could not tell him, things I would dare say around none but empty silence. I never even dared tell Illesiarr what the injuries on my back were when he treated me, or where they came from, or why they repeated themselves so often. That is a secret that shall remain a mystery, and the doctor shall be the only one not present for their occurrence who will ever know they happened.

A strange pang echoes in my chest. I suppose my eventual wife will know when she sees the scars. She will know, but, being the daughter of some foreign dignitary or some Lady, she will not care, for she will never have cared for me from the start. But it doesn't matter. In that regard, my opinion never has and never will.

I try to give my whole to the castle.

Guiltily, I look forward to Leavi's report this afternoon. I chew my lip. I shouldn't look forward to it any more than anything else. She knows it's only politics and that that's all it can be. Either way, when she knocks on my door as I finish my dinner, a spark of relief hits me, and I hurry to let her in.

She hands over her notebook, but worry overcasts her usually warm expression. We sit, the door wide open so I can see any potential eavesdroppers.

"What is the matter?" I ask, trepidation dampening my spirits.

Her voice is low. "I overheard something."

* * *

The other mages have already left the Mage Room, likely curled into their beds hoping as I do that this would all end. I wince. Some of those beds are the ones in the guard tower barracks. Some of my mages are fighting this war, seeing it up close, and here I am, safe in an office, complaining. I push up from my seat, cloak sweeping in the air behind me as I stalk around the desk to the door.

After Leavi's report, I immediately left to set investigators after anyone that fit her descriptions. Red hair is so uncommon in the castle, it shouldn't take them long to sort through the maids. The man's description is useless, but hopefully, we'll find the girl, and she'll reveal him.

Even with that, though, what have I accomplished? Organizing investigations into threatening conversations, sweet-talking Ladies, and manipulating my Queen are all well and good. But what am I really doing? Putting on a polite face and saying nice words. That's no better than Reyan's Lieutenants, who refuse to come close to the battle.

I stride down the stairs and shove into my training room. How have I only spent a single night here since my return a week ago? Disgusted with myself, I throw down my cloak in a corner, pull out various materials, and begin casting.

I cast until my head hurts and my stomach twists. Then, knowing I have reached the extent of my stamina, I draw from the innermost depths of my ability, fortitude, pure fire of will, and continue casting. If I can learn to cast twenty weak spells where a skilled caster could only cast five strong ones, perhaps my endurance will make up the difference. I have been taught to endure pain.

I will learn to be what my country requires, one way or another.