After sending a page to notify Aselle that we can lunch in my suite, I track down a maid so she can make sure that the room is straightened and another to ensure we'll have food.

I really need my own man. I draw up short. Sela can't arrange it, and I wonder when she'll be able to arrange anything at all.

Forcing myself forward, I head back to the Mage Room and approach Solus. It seems odd that the one person I started out staunchly against is the only one who seems to have my back now. After I make sure he hasn't come across any new tasks that need my attention, he tells me the matters he's taken care of. I'm amazed by how efficient he is when we're not at odds.

Instead of getting to stay with him and learn, I head to my suite, where Aselle should soon be. If I'm lucky, she won't simply ridicule me the entire time.

Disapproval flits to the top of my mind, and I bite the other side of my lip. Bitterness does not become me. The door is already open when I arrive, and two maids inside are setting the table for lunch. They see me and curtsy. I nod, greeting them by name, and they duck their heads with a tight smile. The tension of the siege feels like an infection, slowly spreading even to those who should know little of it. When they finish settling everything, they step back to the walls. I walk to my bookshelf, but no sooner have I reached for the strange book of dooming poems than Aselle sweeps in.

"Prince Aster," she says, smiling. "How kind of you to let me eat with you."

My hand drops. I smile back, and knowing it looks genuine feels like venom. "I'm always glad to host you when I can."

Revelation washes over me like shockingly cold water. It's as if my compounded lies beat at a door in my mind until it revealed a shining pool of truth that I should have known since childhood. I struggle to keep my face steady.

It doesn't matter what cruelties the Ladies impose, what double-standards they hold, or how much they ridicule me. They are my people, just as much as the maids standing against the wall. I shouldn't have to pretend to be happy to see one of them. Lying and manipulation should not be my mode of operation simply because it is theirs.

I should not hate them.

Underneath my exhaustion, warmth flows through me. She and everyone else that seek to use me are misguided, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what wrongs they do me any more than Morineaux forsakes me for the wrongs I have done her. They are my people, and I love my people.

The venom drains away, and I take her hand, my palm-up, and raise it to my cheek. "I really am glad to have you here."

She seems surprised, but her own political smile softens some. "And I'm glad to be here."

I gesture to the maids, and they step forward to uncover our plates and pour our drinks.

"So," I begin, not bothering with pleasantries. Not because I'm too tired or frustrated or self-centered for them this time, but because I don't want to play games with her, or let her play them with me. "What is it you needed to speak with me about?"

She regards my open expression, and appears faintly unsettled. She masks it with a smile, though, and says, "There were a few things, of course."

I nod for her to continue, raising my fork to my lips.

She pauses, then forges on. "Naturally, I am worried for the Queen. Has there been any improvement?"

I wonder if my lack of tension, my sudden real self-assurance is what's throwing her. Perhaps by fearing she was a viper that might bite me at any moment, I was giving her the exact power to do so. My behavior before feels so pointless now, and I wonder if this is the attitude Agraund was alluding to when he told me not to fear contradicting the Ladies.

"I'm afraid there hasn't been. However, the physician assures me that she will recover." Lying motionless in bed doesn't exactly seem a promising sign, though.

She nods, looking appropriately bothered, but offers a small smile. "Well, that's something at least."

I nod, and we both eat for a moment.

Then, "And how have you been, Prince?"

The question catches me off-guard, and I look up at her. It wouldn't have been so strange if we were still in pleasantry territory, but her voice is soft and worried, not casual.

I set down my fork. "Everything has simultaneously moved very quickly and felt like nothing is happening fast enough." My lips twist. "It's a strange position I stand in." I offer her a rueful smile, picking back up my fork.

She seems to be considering. Her gaze slips down, and she says, "I remember when my mother died. I was convinced I could never fill her shoes."

I watch her, surprised at the openness. I'm still aware that her every move could be calculated, but she can think me under her thrall if it pleases her.

She looks back to me, pulling up a somewhat brighter expression. "But I have grown and learned, and with age you'll see that even in crises, a day is not so drastically different from another, nor a year as disparate as it appears. We carry on and do our best." She smiles, a nearly motherly thing, and I'm struck by how similar her speech is to things I've thought myself.

"I think that is good advice."

She sips her drink. "May I offer another piece, then, my lord?"

I smile, amused by the segue, but nod. "What is it?"

"The duties of the Queen must be carried out by someone while she is recovering. You and your brother should come together to appoint a signet bearer for her."

My smile widens. "May I assume that you are offering your own services?"

She blushes, whether at my bluntness or something else, I'm not sure. Finally, she musters, "I would be happy to serve should my lords choose so, but I do not presume to say that you will."

I wave the matter. "And if you had the option of suggesting other candidates, who would you put forward?"

Conveniently, she takes a bite at that moment and affords herself a few seconds of silence. It's funny how confidence lends me better responses.

She swallows and offers the names of a few of the Inner Council. It makes sense that she doesn't suggest the other High Ladies, even if they normally heed her. While the Inner Council women are certainly not without their own motives, at least they don't own a swath of the country.

I nod thoughtfully. "We'll take your suggestions into consideration." She's right that we need someone doing it; the question is whether we really ought to hand the work out.

She smiles politely. "Thank you, my lord." Something about the air around her proclaims that this did not go as she had planned. She pleasantries away the rest of the conversation, and we finish eating. Pleased with myself, but trying not to be too much so, I bid her farewell, and she goes.

I leave as well, hand dipping into a cloak pocket to fiddle with my set of keys. They might open several important doors, but they don't give me access to Selenia's study. I send a note to Reyan asking him to meet me there, and I acquire her keys from her bedroom, doing my best to ignore my bedridden sister and her caretaker. By the time I arrive at the study, my brother is already standing there, looking dour. Fantastic. He's upset before we even start this.

I bite my cheek. If I can offer grace to the woman who spearheaded my smear campaign, surely I can offer some to my brother. For some reason, that logic doesn't seem to want to take effect.

I raise Selenia's key, and he steps out of the way. After letting us in, I close the door back behind. "I was just talking to High Lady Aselle," I say, "and she raised a good point—not that I think we should go about it the way she intended."

He leans against the desk. "Did it have anything to do with signet rings?"

I regard him. "Yes."

He nods, looking relieved. "Does that also mean you have an idea? Because Lady Irrianet was badgering me about it too."

I raise an eyebrow. 'Badgering' isn't an action I would have ever associated with the slick, close-tongued woman. "I think you and I should familiarize ourselves with what Sela was doing, then appoint someone to oversee daily affairs until she recovers."

He scowls, pushing off the desk. "And at what point does 'overseeing' transition into ruling?"

My lips twist. "I don't know about you, but I can't handle all her responsibilities and mine." My hands slip into my pockets. "If you want to discuss it, we might be able to split them up between us, but even then... I don't know how it is with the Army, but my days are already full." He hesitates, and I add, "But I would be willing to try it if that's what you thought was best."

He rubs his face. "No. No sense wasting any more time with paperwork and tea than is absolutely necessary." He leans on the desk again. "We'll have to be careful, though. Whoever we pick."

Clearly. Then I light up. "What if," I say, "we chose two Ladies that are usually at odds? And said they had to work together?"

"Oh, yes, that's brilliant. Maybe next we can start cuffing our wizards to our soldiers."

I look at him, unamused.

"What about Solitaena?"

My arms cross as I consider. She does seem more strategic than the others, logical, and fair-minded, but... "That would cause even more discord from the other High Ladies. What we really need is—" I snap my fingers. "Inner Lady Janeaulí." I watch him triumphantly. She's clever and seemingly clear-minded and, more importantly, not a High Lady.

"Solitaena's more direct." He regards me. "You really think Janeaulí would do better?" I nod, and his lip curls. I watch, waiting for his rebuttal, but he only says, "Then let's get to it, I suppose. We can bring Janeaulí the ring later."

Pleasure fills me that he trusts my word, even after the botched Auditorium meeting. We start sorting Sela's papers to get a feel for the current situation. Most of it seems outdated, though, some of it even from before the siege.

After a while, Reyan holds up a piece of paper. "This looks like a letter." He glances down at the drawer. "Several letters, actually."

I look up. "What do they say?"

He unfolds the signature at the end and pulls it closer. "Strange."

"What?" I pick up one of the others.

"They're signed by Ska-min-Viy Kiyriza."

I try not to wince at Reyan's butchered pronunciation of the Retran queen's title. I'm a little surprised he bothered and didn't just switch it for raena, the generic word for a foreign ruler. Glancing back down at my letter, I frown. This one's from her too.

"What was Selenia doing corresponding with the Retrans?" Reyan mutters as he thumbs through the letters. They're all addressed to Mother, but the latest one is dated recently enough that Mother would have been unable to respond. Surely Sela did.

I skim the letters. Evidently, Mother had been in conversation with them for years, the Retrans angling for a royal marriage to unite the countries in peace and trade. It's a little awkward reading only half of the conversation, but finally, it sounds as if Mother agreed to the marriage if the Retrans would send a force to help us root the Kadranians out of our land. A small Retran convoy is coming here as a token of trust.

The Retrans want me.

The convoy is already on its way, set to arrive in less than a week, assuming nothing has befallen them. My fate, along with some Retran raenette's, is sealed. They agreed that once they arrive, we'll conduct the ceremony here. A message will be sent to their forces waiting on the border, and then they'll swoop in.

But the marriage isn't what chills me, even as much as I would rather pretend that I have more years as a bachelor. In the last letter, it's clear that Mother finally ceded the one condition that she had argued against the entire time. Not that I would be the one to be married, and not anything to do with the trade either. In interest of ending the war, she agreed that when it was over, they could have their wish.

I'll have to live with them in Retra.