"And so, although we return King Ivandor's body to the ground, let us never forget his great sacrifice to our country."

Four guards lift the sides of my father's casket. Slowly, the wooden box is lowered into a ditch, and with it, a tear slides down my cheek. One more tear, the last one remaining after three and a half days. I always think that I'm done, I've released all my liquid grief. Then another drop breaks free, and I discover a fresh well of sorrow. But I think this tear is my last, at least for now. Excess water inside my body is being allocated to sweat. I stand under a gap in the leafy awning overhead, and it gives the sun's heat a direct shot. With barely a breeze to stir the surrounding trees, it's no wonder my hair sticks to my neck.

Movement ripples through the crowd of servants and officials, the only people permitted at royal funerals. The outer edges filter away from the gathering, while others pay their respects by tossing flowers into the grave. I steal another look at Sigvard. His eyes remain down-turned, focused on the grass between the grave and his feet. I wish I could lean over and talk to him about the journal. It was all I could think about during the funeral proceedings.

An eternity passes as my gaze flicks from Sigvard to Wolfgang to the guests, then back to Wolfgang and my brother. Finally, after at least two-thirds of the guests have dispersed, Wolfgang gives a single nod. I lift the hem of my black dress and start through the trees. A few paces forward, I find Benno leaning against a tree. He straightens when he sees me and clears his throat.

"How are you, uh, doing?"

The tingling sensation returns to my nose, and I sniff to hold in my emotions.

Journal. Odeia's journal.

"We need to look for Odeia's first journal," I say.

"Where next?" Sigvard appears at my side. Crazy how I didn't hear him coming. Am I that absorbed in my own head?

"I... don't know," I admit. With canceled lessons and events, we've spent the past few days searching all available rooms in the castle—ones that are kept open or that we have a key to. "Can we snag a keyring from a guard?"

"Why?" Benno asks.

"We need to start searching the locked rooms in the castle," I say. "We can't get in without a key."

"What if we make a key?" A beam of sunlight glimmers on Benno's dark eyes.

"You do metal working?" Sigvard says.

"Not quite..." Sigvard dips his hand into his suit jacket's pocket, supplying a wire strand. "Let's just say I have a couple interesting hobbies."

I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "And you can open any door with that?"

"Just about."

It's almost too perfect. The entire castle has been handed to us on a silver platter. Now the question is which room comes first. Without another word, I grab the edges of my skirt and hurry for the castle.

As Sigvard, Benno, and I sneak up the staircase leading to the second floor, I'm struck again by how much larger the castle is than I remember. I suppose it's a good thing that less people are bustling about. It means there's less chance of getting caught. But that doesn't erase the uncharacteristic silence, the void, that's moved into the castle.

At the top of the stairs, Sigavrd and Benno turn to the left, starting toward the West Wing. But my eyes catch on the hallway leading to the right, and I pause.

"What are you doing?" Sigvard hisses. I motion for him to come back, and he reluctantly returns to my side.

"Look, no guards." I point at the doorway arching to the right. Beyond, all I see is a labyrinth of white walls. "Let's search the Royal Study."

"Are you crazy? We can't go in there."

"We may have to at some point. Now's the perfect time with everyone distracted and fewer guards around."

"Wait, you want me to pick the lock of the royal study?" Nerves flash across Benno's face.

"You want that journal, right?"

Sigvard goes still, staring into space like conflicting signals have shut down his brain.

"The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out," I continue. "We'll only be a moment."

"This is a bad idea," Sigvard says at last. It can't be too terrible, though, since he walks toward the Royal Wing. I grin and follow.

After a few twists and turns, the study's ornate wooden door comes into view, framed by two guards in red uniform. We duck behind a wall before the blank-faced guards spot us.

"I thought you said there wouldn't be any guards," Sigvard whispers.

I poke my head out to get another glimpse of King Ivandor's study. His former study, that is. "Well, there are less guards than usual. All we need is a distraction." I turn to Sigvard, and he rapidly shakes his head.

"No, no way. Not possible."

"Come on, you're smart. You've got to think of something." A little flattery never hurts in situations like these.

"Show him the journal," Benno murmurs. "That'll get his attention."

"Seriously, what gets a guard away from his post?" Sigvard says.

"Food?" Benno suggests.

"No, it needs to be an emergency," I say. I think hard for a minute. "How about you tell them that something's wrong with your room?"

Sigvard rolls his eyes. "Why would I come all the way over here to tell someone? And what could be wrong with my room?" No one responds. Seconds pass, then a smile breaks on Sigvard's face. "But maybe I could fall? I'm a prince, they'd have to do something. When they ask why I was walking down here, I could say that I was looking for Uncle Rothbart."

"Good thinking. We'll wait here. Benno, you better take your shoes off so they don't here us running."

Benno slides his shoes off and holds them out to me. "Can you carry them? I need to pick the lock."

I take his shoes into one hand. I suppose it isn't a good idea to leave them stranded in the hall, just in case we forget them.

"I'll come in through the other side," Sigvard says. He slips away, disappearing behind a curve in the hall. His path will take him past the Royal Dining Room, where we gathered more than a week ago. We were all together then, including my father.

I press my back into the wall. Now's not the time to get sentimental. One sob could give us away. I barely move, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest, my heart pulsing in my chest.

Minutes later, there's a thump followed by a yelp. My head whips around the corner as the guards disappear down the hall. Benno and I race to the study. I glance over my shoulder at Sigvard. He chose the perfect spot to fall - the angle of the curving walls obscure the view of him, and us should the guards look back at the door.

"Darn it," Benno breathes.

I turn back to Benno as he fumbles with the wire, shoving angles at various points, straightening it at others. The guards help Sigvard to his feet. They're turning around, turning toward us. Sigvard says something to them, pointing to his leg. I look again at Benno. His shaking hands jam the wire into the lock, and it makes the tinniest click. I twist the knob open, then quickly press the door back into place. My lungs take a few gasps of air before I'm certain I can silently release the handle. I stand against the door for several moments, allowing my heart to slow.

"We made it," I whisper.

"I never knew a door... could close... so quietly," Benno gasps.

"I've had a lot of practice." My eyes focus on the two bookcases framing the king's desk. They reach the ceiling, too high for me to reach. "I'll take the bottom half, you take the top half."

Benno turns around. After a second, he lets out a soft chuckle. "I'm not that tall."

"You can use a chair."

"Do you think it's okay? I mean, these are antiques. What if I break it?"

"It's fine. If it were that special or breakable, it'd be in the antique lounge."

I approach the massive chair behind my father's desk. With all my strength, I tug on its gold frame, dragging it less than an inch from its initial position.

"Here, let me help." Benno joins me on the other side, and together, we heave the chair to the bookcase on the right.

"Thanks," I say, winded. "By the time I would've gotten here, we would've been caught by someone."

Benno doesn't look up from the chair. "Seems like we're not the only people who've moved it."

I look at what he's referring to. Two dusty footprints mar the velvet seat.

"Weird." I stifle a giggle that wells inside me. "Imagine if my father used it as a stepping stool."

"Perhaps..."

I begin my search on the opposite side, pulling books from their places, then shoving them back. I'm three rows up from the bottom when I find a black, leather book with a blank spine. When I flip it open, letters loop across the inside cover to read "The Journal of Odeia Sophfeu."

"Benno!" I hiss. "I found it!"

Benno startles, nearly falling off the chair. He grabs the bookcase to steady himself, then steps from his make-shift ladder. "Good. Let's get out of here."