Matilda forces me to take a full bath, which wastes the rest of my free time. I don a clean dress for dinner, and afterwards, join Sigvard and Benno on the darkening courtyard steps. The dusky light shows that dust still clings to my brother's jacket and pants. I can't believe no one noticed and made him change.

"Where have you been? We've been waiting to open the letter," Sigvard says. He starts to flip through the diary, holding it close to his face due to the dim light.

"Ran into Matilda," I say. "She insisted I take a bath and change. How did no one notice your dirty suit?"

Sigvard shrugs. "I've been in the West Wing this whole time, reading Odeia's diary."

"No one came looking for you?"

"Nope. By the way, look what I found." He points at a floral drawing on a yellowed page. "It's an entry on poisons. There are several others like it."

"I found two volumes on poisons in her desk, too," Benno says.

Based on the snippets I skim, Sigvard's right. "So the court did have some evidence to justify their decision. Admittedly, it is a little weird that she was researching poisons. Though it might be important for a monarch to know about them. Could save a life or prevent an assassination." I stop, my mind circling back to the two deaths that already occured. If Father and Mother had done the same research, would they still be alive today?

I quickly fill the ensuing silence. "I can't believe they clean Odeia's room, but not the antique lounge."

"So much for no one going in there," Sigvard murmurs, frowning my way.

"How was I supposed to know?" I say.

Sigvard responds by shuffling through the diary again. He finds the letter wedged inside and holds it out to me with both hands. "You open it, my hands are full."

The paper tears in one cohesive line, and I remove a sheet folded into three. We crowd around to read it silently as if they're forbidden words that can't be spoken aloud.

My dearest Odeia,

I wish you could read this letter, though it's probably better that I can't reach you. Such knowledge would require a betrayal of either the court or you, the only child born unto me. I do not understand what happened to Diane—how she died or who is responsible—but I do not believe you are a murderer. My daughter, I believe you were framed. I believe your testimony before the court. I believe you.

The court and I have failed to find the guilty one. We checked and double checked the evidence. It doesn't point to you, it doesn't point to anyone. But that answer isn't good enough. Please forgive me for accepting the court's conviction. I can't override their judgment, for doing so may endanger our kingdom. But you are still innocent and don't deserve to die.

I doubt I will ever sleep soundly at night again knowing that Diane's murderer won. Whoever it is walks free in Saursi, perhaps even in the palace. Sometimes, I feel surrounded by murderers, people I can't trust, someone who betrayed both you and me. I don't know what the aim was, but I suspect it has to do with you, my dearest Odeia. I hope that somehow, you can start a new life where you are hidden away. But you must always remember who you are, the true heir of Saursi, no matter who ascends to the throne.

With deepest love, sorrow, and regret,

Father

Words fail to form on my tongue. The stillness remains long after I've finished the letter. No one dares disturb it, no one knows how.

"She isn't dead." Sigvard's quiet statement dissipates in the air, but the weight of it hangs heavy around us.

"So where do we go from here?" I finally say.

"I don't know."

If we weren't stuck before, we're really stuck now. It changes everything in a way that I can't express. I can only feel its implication deep inside me. Perhaps if I keep prodding at it, turning over the situation in my mind, I can figure it out.

"To think that all these years, we thought she was dead," Sigvard whispers. His eyes meet mine, a fire lit in his brown eyes. "We have to find her. Once we do, she can claim the throne as the true heir."

A high-pitched giggle rings through the air. Sigvard snatches the letter from my hand and shoves it inside the journal. He sticks it inside his jacket the same way Benno did. A puffy pink skirt passes under the leafy arbor, coming from the front of the palace. Who else could it be but Clemaina and Sewale.

Clemaina's bright red lips fall when she sees us. "Oh, it's you three. What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Sigvard retorts. His voice drips with animosity.

"It isn't gentlemanly to always sound angry, especially when addressing the future Queen of Saursi."

"Not my queen," Sigvard mutters. I elbow him and shoot him a glare. We have more important matters than getting Clemaina riled up.

Clemaina freezes, her mouth ajar. She snaps it open and closed as she enunciates: "What did you just say?"

I jab my elbow harder into Sigvard's ribs. He doesn't flinch, but he does hold his tongue.

"I'd watch what you say if I were you," Clemaina says.

"Well, you're not me," Sigvard spits out.

Clemaina's eyes narrow. "One wrong word, and you could be charged with treason."

The two lock gazes in an icy stand-off.

"Why did you visit the king's study the night he died?" Sigvard blurts out.

"He asked to see me," she replies indignantly.

"Why?"

"None of your business. Come, Sewale." Clemaina storms toward the front courtyard she came from, yanking her beau behind her. I wait three seconds before turning on Sigvard.

"What was that all about?" I demand.

"I've always thought there was something weird about Clemaina," Sigvard says. "She even admits to being in Father's study the night he died."

"You think Clemaina poisoned him?" I tried to keep my voice down, but it was hard with all the emotion charged in the air.

"Remember the ribbon under his desk? Why on earth would Clemaina's ribbon end up there if it was just a casual visit?"

"How does poisoning Father mean that her ribbon would fall under the table?"

"I don't know." Sigvard sits on the courtyard steps, resting his chin in his palms. The journal slides into his lap, and he stares down at the cover. I sit beside him, Benno beside me. I take a moment to breathe and collect whatever I'm going to say.

"We can't be so jumpy in our conclusions," I whisper. "There's a murder on the line. Clemaina isn't my favorite person. She doesn't deserve to be queen, either. But that doesn't make her a criminal. Don't forget what happened to Odeia due to circumstantial evidence and rash decisions."

"Yeah, yeah," Sigvard says. "I still don't know where to go from here."

"Maybe we need a day away from the investigation," Benno says. "Like a day to relax?"

"When?" I say with a puff of humorless laughter. "Every day, we—or shall I say I—have lessons."

"Don't they still give you Saturdays off?" Benno asks.

"Not so far. The amount of work they've given me is insane. Lady Nyoko is literally having me read a thousand pages worth of palace finance logs. Do you know how unbelievably dull that is?"

"That bad, huh?" Benno lets out a low whistle.

"And that's not even talking about the tea lessons with Lady Avrilaya and Clemaina."

"It wouldn't hurt to ask about a break day, even if they don't give you one," Sigvard says.

"True. I guess I can ask after my lesson tomorrow." I pause to formulate a plan. "Maybe if I work really hard, Lady Nyoko will give me Saturday off. Though it feels wasteful to not work on the investigation during that time."

"The brain cells need a break sometime," Benno says.

Reluctantly, I nod. "Fine. As for tonight, let's get some rest."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☀. :☆ﾟ｡･ ───

The next day, I worked extra hard during my lessons. Every time my mind wandered from my textbooks or Lady Nyoko's lectures, I pinched myself—yes, physically pinched myself—to force myself to pay attention. Also that afternoon, I struggled through the remaining one-hundred pages of the giant finance log.

"Finished," I say, shoving aside the multi-thousand page volume.

Lady Nyoko looks up from her book. "Ah, excellent. You will begin the next one tomorrow. As for tonight, make a replica of the finance log to the best of your ability. I need to evaluate your progress."

My mouth gapes. There's more? All the effort I put into reading the logs feels wasted.

"You may take your break now."

"Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you." I summon as much courage as I can muster. "May I have a break tomorrow?" Lady Nyoko's long lashes blink at me, and I continue. "I'll do extra work today if need be. But after all the lessons and work I've been doing, it'd be nice to have a free day."

"Well, I suppose," Lady Nyoko slowly agrees. "In that case, we'll start the next history chapter after your tea lesson. You'll probably finish around supper time. And I still expect a copy of your replicated finance log tomorrow morning."

"That's fine," I say.

"Alright. Go to your tea lesson now. You grab your book later."

I leave the room, my lips inching upward. That wasn't so bad. Lady Nyoko is more understanding than I anticipated. Lady Avrilaya, she might be a different story.

Lady Avrilaya sits alone at the dining table in the West Wing's parlor, cooling herself with a white lace fan. I curtsy as I enter, smiling genuinely.

"Good afternoon, Lady Avrilaya," I say.

"Good afternoon, Princess Aylo." Her face is brighter than usual. Perhaps my pleasantness surprised her.

I sit across from her. Sunlight taunts me from the open window. I won't get to enjoy the outdoors today, but it's worth it for a day off tomorrow.

"Lady Avrilaya," I begin, "Would you mind if I have a day off tomorrow? Lady Nyoko granted me a break from my main lessons."

She halts the fan. "I think not."

"Oh. May I ask why?"

"We want you to be a gentlewoman," Lady Avrilaya trills. "The only way to achieve that goal is daily immersion in etiquette."

"Could we perhaps move our etiquette lesson time, then?" I ask.

"Tea time is always in the late afternoon." Lady Avrilaya resumes fanning herself, her wrist flicking back and forth as if to dismiss me.

Not always. My tutor is being difficult on purpose. I summon my most pleading voice.

"Please Lady Avrilaya. I've been drowning in schoolwork the past few weeks. I really need this break."

Once more, the fan pauses. Lady Avrilaya stares at me, investigating my plea. For the first time, her flamboyant exterior softens.

"I suppose one day off won't hurt," she says. "But only one."

"Thank you so much." Sincerity shines through my voice. Maybe Lady Avrilaya isn't so bad after all.