Dedicated to Pup for writing an adorable little angst bby.

 The hard set in her face breaks away to reveal a pleased smile, and warmth buzzes in my chest. Then I turn and resume walking, guilt pinging in my mind. If she's my page, then I'll be seeing her every day to pass and receive messages. Which is the exact opposite of only making sure she's okay and then avoiding her.

At the same time—Leavi's here. She's here, and she's willing to fill a role I need filled. And it would be nice to finally have someone on my side.

Guilt creeps in at the thought. I'm not on an opposing team from my siblings or wizards.

We push into the infirmary. Shelves full of tinctures line one wall, bookshelves fill the other, and a counter divides the space between. Over a small fireplace on the left wall hangs a boiling pot, and nearby is a round table I've sat at too many times to count. To my right is a much larger examination table. The skin on my back prickles; I've sat there too many times too. Three doors lead out—sick bays to either side and the physician's apartment up a flight of stairs. A cot in the corner tells me he's not been sleeping up there, though.

Illesiarr stands at the counter, mixing some sort of thick green paste. He looks up. "Prince Aster!" Leaving the mixing stick in the jar, he comes toward us and takes my shoulders. "I heard rumors that you had finally returned. I'm glad you made it back safely."

The old man's hands and voice are warm, and I smile. "I'm glad I'm back too."

He releases me, turning to Leavi. "And who is this?"

"Maedimoielle Leavi Riveaux. She's a refugee from the city." I feel bad for forgetting to warn Leavi that we would need to change her name. Riveirre is obviously foreign, but without that tip-off, people don't tend to think things are something other than what they expect them to be. Get her out of the peasant's trousers, and soon, no one will look at her twice.

"Ah, of course." He offers her a warm smile before turning back to his work. As he goes, facing away from her, he flashes me a questioning look.

"Do you mind if she goes upstairs for a moment while we catch up?"

Leavi glances at me, but he says, "That sounds fine. Elénna!"

"Coming, sir!" his apprentice calls from one of the back rooms. A moment later, she pops into the room, sand-colored hair starting to flop out of her bun. "Yes, Illesiarr?"

"Take Maedimoielle Riveaux upstairs and put on some tea."

"Yes, sir." She smiles at Leavi, and after one last glance at me, they go up.

Illesiarr clears his throat, drawing my attention away from the stairs. I turn toward him, trying not to look guilty and not quite sure why that's my instinct.

He watches me, one eyebrow lifted.

"It's good to be home, Illesiarr."

"I'm relieved you are. When I heard that the Kadranians were sweeping through and had already marched across Draó, I was... very worried," he settles on.

"You knew where I went?" I'm shocked he had any idea I'd gone farther than the border. Before I snuck out, I wanted to tell him where I was going, but I didn't want to force him to keep my secret—or to get in trouble for it.

"Your sister told me."

I nod, lips pressed together. "I ran across some deserters, but never the army. Draó is large, even just the northern lands. And I wasn't so far east as that."

He adds a powder to his paste. "I'm sure everyone's glad you're home."

I wince, then move closer to watch him work. I see him catch the look, but he doesn't press me. Instead, he glances toward the stairs.

I lift my hand to run my fingers through my hair and stop with it halfway up. I don't want to knock my circlet off again. "I understand if it's too much trouble. I might be able to find her a room elsewhere in the castle, but—"

"She needs a room?" He watches me.

I bite the inside of my lip, then say, "She wasn't able to find one and never got placed." He continues watching. "Because she's not part of the aristocracy," I supply.

He turns back to his paste, tipping in a little bit of water. "My boy, I hope you're better at lying outside the infirmary than in."

I blush.

"How do you know her?"

"Oh, Illesiarr, please, I..." I collect myself. "I don't have answers I can give you. But I would really appreciate it if you would let her stay here. She won't be any trouble, I'm sure."

His face creases.

"If you can't, I understand. I was just hoping you might house her. She doesn't know anyone here, and she's not used to castle ways."

"Your word about her lack of trouble is nice to have, but this isn't exactly a refugee room. I have other responsibilities."

My spirits fall, and my words are quiet. "I know. I wasn't trying—"

He raises a hand to stop me. "I know. You're just trying to take care of someone in need, like you always do. And I'll try to house her unless she becomes a problem." I look up, surprised. "But I want to make sure you know that if this doesn't work, I will ask you to find her another place to stay."

I nod. "I know. Thank you." It may be small, but I welcome even one bit of good news during all of this.

His head tilts as he considers me. "What makes this girl so deserving of special attention, Aster?"

My tongue stalls. My first instinct is to offer a quick 'nothing,' but I know Illesiarr won't accept that. I really don't want her to get stuck in a random hall of rooms—if there are any left. And if her wild magic does trigger here... Well, he wouldn't be happy about it, but I trust Illesiarr. He'd try to protect her.

He watches me, waiting for an answer.

I've never been good at keeping secrets from him. And if he doesn't understand why I want her here, then he'll be more likely to kick her out. As I step closer, relenting, I'm surprised to notice how high above him I stand. I either haven't stood this close to him in a long time, or I've grown in the months I've been gone. "I'm not supposed to say anything to anyone."

He keeps my gaze, softly inquiring but not pressing.

"But I trust you; you know that. You've always taken care of me."

He nods.

My already low tone drops to a whisper. "She saved my life. While I was out there. I would be a prisoner, wasting away in the cells of people working with the Kadranians if not for her."

"She's a foreigner?" he mutters.

I nod. "If she's here, maybe she can learn to blend in a little."

He steps back, looking thoughtful, and nods in return. "I'll do my best to care for her. Do your sibl—"

"Yes. It's been sorted out."

"Good. Well." He turns back to his paste. "You know I would love to keep talking to you, but I'm sure you have things to tend to, and—" He gestures toward the sick bays. "So do I. Perhaps later, my boy."

I offer a bittersweet smile. I wish I could sit at his little round table and unload everything that happened, like I did as a child, but he's right. "I'll go tell her that she'll be staying here."

He nods, and I go up. Leavi and Elénna sit around a small tea table in a cramped living room. "Maed Riveaux," I say.

She looks over.

"The physician agreed that you could stay. He has an extra bedroom up here—I'm sure Elénna can lead you to it." I glance at the girl. "If you don't mind."

"Of course, milord."

Leavi stands. "When should I report for work... milord?"

I manage not to wince at the contrast between her words and speech patterns. She really does sound like someone highborn speaking a servant's vocabulary. At least when she kneeled in front of Sela instead of curtsying, the only ones who saw were those who already knew she was a foreigner.

"Get directions to the Mage Room and be waiting outside by seven in the morning, two days from now. Thank you for showing such motivation."

She nods, and I descend. It feels unnatural to speak with her so formally, but anything less would be cause for suspicion. Not scandalous, but certainly questionable.

I raise a hand in farewell to the old physician as I go. The halls may be empty and lonely, but I know I have two confidantes in the infirmary.

In the Mage Room, I call Averí to the office again. She pulls the door to behind her.

"Have you managed to get eyes on the shamans?"

"The northern casters?" I nod, and she continues. "I've seen them. They stay close to the middle of the camp, but I'm not sure what they're doing."

I shift. "What do you mean?"

"There's this rock."

"What?"

She nods. "They have a large rock, and it's like they're guarding it. They never all leave it at the same time. At least one of them is always with it."

Chills steal across my skin, but I nod. "Alright. Did you manage to see them during the battles? What were they doing?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm sorry. I wasn't able to get good surveillance up until after the fighting."

I bite my lip. "That's all, then. If they attack the wall again, look for them. Find out what they're doing, how it affects the battle, if you can."

"Yes, my lord."

We step back out, and I leave to visit the wall again. As I go down the twisting staircase to the second floor, I nearly collide with Reyan stalking up.

"Aster!" he says, stepping back. "There you are. How are you never where we need you to be?"

My eyebrows shoot up, but I school my expression. "What do you need?"

"We need to talk about your prisoner." He turns, starting down the stairs again, and I follow.

"My prisoner?" Frustration bubbles, and I fight to keep it down.

"Amarris."

"What makes her my prisoner?"

"You saw fit to take her into custody, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry. Would you rather I had let the traitor continue waltzing the countryside?"

I can feel the scowl radiating off him. "Either way, you need to talk to her."

"I thought you said we needed to talk about her."

"What we need to talk about is that you need to talk to her."

"Reyan." I grab his shoulder. He turns, and my arm drops. "Can you please be plain? Why do I need to talk to her? I thought you already took care of that."

His scowl deepens, and he fingers his sword hilt—from him, not a threat but a tic. The words drag out of him. "She won't talk to me."

"What?"

He meets my eyes, exasperated. "I tried, more than once, but she won't talk to me."

I stall, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. After a pause, I say, "What makes you think she'll talk to me?"

"Because she mentioned you specifically," he growls. "Look, are you going to help or just stand there?"

I swallow, mustering my resolve. "Of course."

He starts off again, too caught up, I suppose, in his injured pride to notice my disquiet, which is just as well. The walk to the dungeon gives me time to compose myself.

Agraund's old advice whispers through my mind. I'm not saying you can't be afraid, Aster. A little bit of fear keeps you from being reckless. I'm saying you can't let it control you. Know your fear; understand it, internalize it, then offer it its own little box in your mind to reside in.

Grief crawls in my throat, but I push it away, ball it up with my unfounded worries about Amarris, and force it into a little box. Dwelling on darkness only invites it to live in me. Fear of a bound woman is pointless. Reyan and I are the ones in control here.

Then why are you allowing her to decide who she'll talk to?

I push that thought away too. I'll learn what I need to, and then we won't have to deal with her anymore.