"Don't you think it's time to head back now?"

My eyes peer through twisted boughs, sprouting green leaves and tiny blossoms, until they find Sigvard many branches below me. He rests in the crook of two branches, his hand lodged in the journal to hold his place.

We've climbed trees since noon, or in my brother's case, sat halfway up with his nose stuck in Odeia's musings. Every so often, I hear the crunch of leaves and twigs, and I wonder if Wolfgang has found us. But he never appears, probably engaged in his preparatory duties for the festival.

"He might need to talk to us about something important," Sigvard continues. He shifts his feet from their perch against the trunk. "Besides, I think we've made it abundantly clear why he couldn't find us earlier."

Coming out here was an alibi, a reason for why Wolfgang couldn't find us inside the palace. It's better he assumes we were climbing trees, not snooping in the Antique Lounge.

I gaze at the pink-tinged sky. I'm near the top of the tree's green awning, yet still so far from the few fluffy clouds.

"There's a little more light left," I say. I turn back to Sigvard just in time to see him throw his head backward. Not his smartest idea. Sigvard, skinny as an arrow, slips between the branches. His arms flail, wrapping around a woody offshoot. The journal plummets to the ground and lands with a faint thump.

"Ugh!" Sigvard glares at me. "You made me drop it!"

"You should know better than to throw your head back in a tree. Seriously, you ought to think a little before you do that. Otherwise, you may end up like Uncle Vonimir."

Uncle Vonimir, my father's elder brother, suffered the unfortunate childhood accident of falling out of a tree and into poisonous brambles. The combination of banging his head multiple times and the toxic chemical compounds from the bush rendered his brain to a barely functioning state. Sure, he can do basic tasks, but his brain doesn't function at a normal, cognizant level.

"I don't need two Clemainas for sisters, thank you very much. I'm climbing down, and you should too."

I glance at the horizon one more time. He may be right. If we don't head back soon, Wolfgang may send a search party out for us. And I have quite the distance to descend. I grip the rough bark, feet swaying on flimsy branches. They feel like they can break at any moment, so I don't linger on a single one for too long. My hands and feet form a rhythm, reaching and stepping in practiced succession. A breeze whistles through the leaves like bells, the music to my sequence. The branches grow thicker the lower I go, reducing the risk that one may snap. I slow my pace, inhaling a deep breath of the blossoms' perfume.

A new sound reaches my ears, the sound of animated chatter. I search the forest floor until I spot Sigvard. Another boy speaks with him, a brilliant smile stretched on his dark brown face. His black, almond-shaped eyes shift to me, and he waves.

"Benno!" I exclaim. I hurry down the remaining branches. Once I'm close enough to the ground, I leap from the tree, landing in a crouch before standing tall—relative, of course. Both Benno and Sigvard tower over me.

"How are you, Aylo?" he chuckles.

"I'm good. Nothing much happens around here."

"You didn't hurt yourself by jumping from that tree, did you?"

"Of course not!"

"The only way she'd get hurt is if Wolfgang sent the cavalry after her," Sigvard says. "Even then, I'm not so sure." Sigvard looks at me. "Benno was just telling me why Wolfgang wanted to see us. He got word this morning that Benno and his family are staying with us for the next month."

"That's great!" I say. "What's the occasion, and why so sudden?"

Benno shrugs. "Nothing in particular. My father decided we're long overdue for a holiday. As for your second question, news travels far too slowly across seas, especially with the rise of spring storms."

Benno's father is the King of Riaca, one of the more distant kingdoms Saursi allies with. It's more than a week's worth of travel, half of which is by boat. We rarely see Benno as a result, twice a year at most, and usually for only a week. His three older brothers visit even less. In fact, I don't know if I've even met them all.

"I wish we could take off from the palace like that," I say. "And for an entire month, too!"

Benno shifts his stance. "We're not all leaving, just Stefan and I. The two eldest need practice running the kingdom." His eyes drift to Odeia's journal clutched in Sigvard's hand. "What have you got there?"

Sigvard looks at the journal and forces a laugh. "What, this? Just an old notebook."

Benno's head tilts to the side, but he nods anyway.

"Maybe we should head back," I say. We start toward the castle, weaving between the soaring trees. "You wouldn't happen to know when dinner is, would you?"

"Actually, I do," Benno says. "It's at eighteen o'clock in the Royal Dining Hall."

"Father invited us?" That's his private dining hall, one used for the most special small gatherings.

"He invited all of us. He said it's celebrating the upcoming festival and our arrival."

A tingle of excitement rushes through my veins. "Did he mention anything about gifts?"

"No, but you can be sure there will be some." Benno's eyes twinkle in the waning sunlight. "We brought some for all of you, as is festival tradition."

"I hope you got Clemaina a dead fish," Sigvard mutters.

Benno and I laugh, though mine dissipates quickly.

"I wish I knew you were coming," I tell Benno. "We don't have gifts for any of you."

"Don't worry, your father probably already accounted for that. Besides, there are still a few more days until the festival for you to find something." My friend finishes with a wink.

As we approach the castle, laughing and catching up on the latest news, I notice someone standing on the backyard veranda. It's Wolfgang, I realize, deadpan as he watches us. Once we pass the outdoor pools, built into the terraced steps leading to the castle, Wolfgang clears his throat.

"And where have you been?" His voice is monotone, yet a thousand daggers emanate from his words.

"Just in the forest," I reply. "Why?"

Wolfgang doesn't respond at first, just examines us with his eyes. We have broken no rules, at least, not to his knowledge. The forest isn't off limits.

I remember the journal with a jolt and steal a peek at Sigvard. His hands are clasped behind his back, hiding the journal from view.

"Come inside and wash up. Both of you need new clothes," he declares at last.

A twinge of indignation sparks inside me. "What's wrong with my dress?"

"It's dusty, dirty, pilled, ripped, and most importantly, too plain for dinner."

My jaw gapes. This is one of my favorite dresses, not excessive in frills or lace, but it's still graceful. I glance over it and spot two rips, one on my side, the other on my skirt, though pulled bits of satin frizz in other spots. Dirt and dust cling to the bottom along with a few cobwebs, remnants from the antique lounge. Wolfgang must've thought that the great outdoors caused all that soilage. Either that, or he didn't want to argue with two royals asserting they were in the forest all day.

"He's got a point," Sigvard states.

I whack his arm. "Hey! You're no better!" Dust clings to the back of his shirt and pants.

"I wouldn't say it if it weren't true. No use in getting annoyed." He clamps a hand on my elbow. "Come on, let's go inside."

I twist away from his grasp, but follow him into the palace.