A weird tension lingers in the forest air, a game of tug of rope between us in the treetops and Wolfgang down below. His gaze doesn't waver from us, so we're reduced to three birds, afraid that the slightest squawk will give us away. Because the only reason we come out here is to discuss Odeia, and the ever protective Wolfgang is foiling our planning. Why did he have to spot us walking to the palace courtyard this afternoon?

"I have got to get out of the palace," I murmur, trying to move my lips as little as possible. I wouldn't be surprised if lip reading is one of his only pastimes.

"You are out of the palace," Sigvard says.

I roll my eyes. "I need to leave the palace grounds."

"Why, so you can get in trouble again?"

I thought that removal from Lady Avrilaya's lessons was an act of mercy. Now it feels more like torture. For three days in a row, Lady Nyoko forced me to attend real tea parties, not the same plain-old etiquette lessons. I have to smile through court ladies' chatter with diplomats and royals of other kingdoms. They ask me questions about what I'm reading in literature or what I think of the latest news from town. And yesterday, Clemaina and Lady Avrilaya attended the social gathering. Looks like there's no escaping them.

The worst of it is the proliferation of guys roaming the palace halls—guys my age, who think that the politest greeting upon meeting me is to kiss my hand. I resorted to wearing gloves at all times, but the warming weather makes my hands sweaty and itchy.

And after three days of searching the palace library, a desperate attempt to find a single book on poisons, we were no closer to answers regarding caquile extract. I can't take much more of this.

"We should go into town," I say.

"We most definitely should not," Sigvard replies pointedly. "Not until after the ball."

"But there might be a clue we're missing, just like with Mother's poison."

"We'll have to wait until after the ball." Sigvard leans back against the tree, arms cupping his head. I don't see how he can be so relaxed about this. The palace has become a prison that I'm itching to leave. I need to do something useful to further the investigation.

"There's got to be a way out," I say again under my breath.

"Princess Aylo?" A voice echoes through the forest, accompanied by a slight crack on my name.

I duck behind the tree trunk, pressing a finger to my lips. Sigvard gives me a confused look, but I have already shifted from view before he says anything. The voice isn't deep enough to be an adult male, not high enough to be a woman or girl. Which leaves only one option...

I peek through the twisted boughs at a boy in royal attire making his way through the woods. His eyes search the treetops, and I duck back. If I can't see him, he can't see me.

"Ah, Wolfgang. Have you seen Princess Aylo?"

I nudge Sigvard's side. Fortunately, he gets the hint.

"Um, excuse me," my brother calls.

"Ah, Prince Sigvard and Prince Benno. So pleased to finally make your acquaintance."

"May I ask whom I'm addressing right now?" Sigvard asks.

"Prince Friedrich the Eighth of the Central Isls."

So that's who it is. I met him yesterday while traversing the short distance between my room and the West Wing. I'm lucky he didn't follow me to the Salon, otherwise Clemaina might've invited him to breakfast.

"We are pleased you could stay with us during this time," Sigvard says. There's a slight pause. I cross my fingers, hoping he'll go away.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Princess Aylo is, would you? I was told she was out here."

"Sorry, I'm not sure."

Faintly, I hear someone's throat clear.

"I believe the princess is up there with Prince Sigvard and Prince Benno."

Darn it. Why did Wolfgang have to give me away?

"Oh, Princess Aylo!" Friedrich yells. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you up there."

I scowl in frustration, but quickly wipe any emotion from my expression. I poke my head out from behind the tree trunk. "Hello, Prince Friedrich." My voice comes out cooler than usual.

Prince Friedrich's eyes roam the branches until they land on me. "There you are! I was hoping to speak with you. We didn't get much time to talk yesterday when I saw you."

"No, we didn't."

The space between the prince's overgrown eyebrows narrows. "I'm sorry, I must admit I'm a little confused right now. Aylo, what are you doing so high up in the tree? And Sigvard..."

"We were playing hide and seek," I quickly say. For a split second, Wolfgang's gaze flashes to me. He doesn't object to my explanation, though, to my relief.

"Ah, I see. Well, when you do come down, I'd be honored to escort you around the garden."

"Of course." I guess I just won't come down from the tree for a very long time. My back leans into the trunk, while my feet anchor on a branch. I close my eyes, basking in the sunlight that trickles onto my face. Once Prince Friedrich leaves, we can continue in our whispered planning.

A few moments later, a series of grunts destroys the peace. I twist my head around to see Prince Friedrick climbing up. Irritation surges through me, and I fight to keep a neutral expression. Part of the reason I came out here was to escape the gentlemen milling about the palace. But they're like insects invading the forest, the last place of solitude left.

Prince Friedrich sits beside me. His arms wrap around another branch in a death grip. "It—it is rather nice to be up in a tree. D-do you enjoy getting out in nature?"

"Sometimes," I reply.

"Me too." His gaze drops to the ground for an instant, lips pulling back in a grimace. "I enjoy a healthy b-balance of both."

That wasn't quite what I meant by saying "sometimes," but I don't clarify myself.

"Speaking of getting out, I was wondering if you would do me the honor of going into town with me. This is the first time I've visited Saursi, and I'm eager to take in all the sights, especially with a guide as knowledgeable and lovely as yourself. Perhaps you can even show me your most favorite spots."

I think for a moment. Although I cringed at the idea of being alone with him, I did need to see the poison books again. Perhaps one of the spots I show him can be the town bookstore.

"Alright," I say.

"Wonderful! Shall we go tomorrow?"

"Sure." Better to get it over with. The only problem is that I'm not supposed to leave the palace. I wonder if Prince Friedrich knows. I don't say anything, though, because maybe a matter of diplomacy will force Uncle Rothbart to loosen his policy.

Time drags out as Friedrich attempts small talk with me. He doesn't leave me alone until the sun descends and it's dinner time. When we enter the palace, Uncle Rothbart crosses our path in the foyer, coming from the Imperial Palace Wing.

"Princess Aylo," he says, deferring to my title in the company of the foreign prince. "I've been meaning to talk to you. Didn't you wish to speak to me about something?"

My brow creases only to relax again. It's been a few days since I've seen Uncle Rothbart—he's been so preoccupied with palace matters. The guards must've mentioned that I wanted to speak to him the day I snuck into the Royal Wing of the Palace.

"Yes, actually I did." I cast a meaningful look at Prince Friedrich. He smiles and clears his throat.

"Ah, yes. Duke Rothbart, I would be honored if you would allow Aylo to accompany me on a tour of the city tomorrow afternoon. I hope you will make an exception for her to leave the palace this once."

Of course he knows about my palace-arrest. Slight heat warms my cheeks, but I tamp it down. I shouldn't care if he thinks ill of me. And any stories told about me couldn't have tainted his perception that much if he's asking me to town.

"That should be fine," Uncle Rothbart replies. "I shall send Wolfgang to accompany you two."

"Thank you very much," the prince says. He bounds up the stairs, the heels on his boots echoing on the hard floor.

I stare at my uncle for a moment. It was so easy, no prodding necessary. I guess diplomacy conquers all.

"I shall see you at half past six," Uncle Rothbart says, taking the same route as the prince at a much slower pace.

"If I had known leaving the palace was that simple..." I begin to murmur once he's out of sight.

"You what?" Sigvard asks. "Would've gotten a prince to take you out before?"

"No," I snap. I don't really know what I planned to say. But I know for sure I don't want more attention from our guests. My gaze narrows, and I focus on the guys. "Something weird is going on. Is that just me?"

"Just you," Sigvard says.

"But all these people..."

"Are invited for the queen's coronation. We may not think it's special, but other diplomats do."

"I don't know what it is, but something's off with all these guests," I say. "I can't put my finger on it."

"Maybe the problem is you," Sigvard jokes. "Benno, are you bothered by all these guests?"

Benno blinks. "No..." I'm not convinced. He tries to sound casual, but his pitch trails upward at the end. A thought comes to mind from the day he first arrived.

"Benno, wasn't your family planning to stay here for a month after the Festival of Fallen Roses?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there was no ball scheduled then."

"No, there wasn't," Benno agrees. He keeps a straight face, perhaps slightly inquisitive.

"So why were you staying?"

"We were on holiday."

The answers come too easily. Either they're true or practiced. But I'm not in the mood to drag more information out of him, so the subject drops, though I guarantee it will come up again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☀. :☆ﾟ｡･ ───

The next day, Matilda dresses me in an olive colored silk skirt and white ruffled blouse before sending me to Prince Friedrich's arm. He drags out our walk to town, each step deliberate as if we walk on bubbles instead of a dirt road. It doesn't help that I feel like Clemaina hanging off Sewale's arm. The trip becomes so laborious that I can no longer wear a fake smile and Wolfgang's fingers twitch with frustration at his sides.

The prince's attempts to engage me in conversation fail, and he resorts to speaking about how wonderful the kingdom of Saursi is. When he runs out of things to say, he talks about his own kingdom. He rarely speaks about himself, though, and I can tell he's trained to not speak disproportionately about himself during conversations.

Only the delicious smells of the marketplace can quell my annoyance. There's nothing like the scent of spices, grilled meat, and charred wood. Vendors cooking vegetables and proteins form pockets amidst the swarm of men, women, and children. Open flames flare up in the air, earning gasps and whoops from onlookers. Pockets of stuffed bread pass among them in exchange for several coins. Prince Friedrich loosens his grip on my arm, and I pull free, swimming against the crowd. Though I'd love to stop for a bite, despite having tea and cookies before coming, we've wasted enough time.

But when I reach the end of the marketplace, Wolfgang at my heels like a bloodhound, Prince Friedrich is nowhere in sight. I growl in frustration, and a few women turn their heads. Naturally, they curtsey and move along when they recognize me.

"May I make a suggestion, Princess Aylo?" Wolfgang asks.

"What?" I sigh.

"Don't make a scene."

I inhale a breath to calm myself. Of course I don't want to make a scene, Prince Friedrich is the one causing problems. Now he's gotten himself lost. Trying to track him down in a timely manner will be nearly impossible.

"Princess Aylo!" Prince Friedrich emerges from the crowd, panting and carrying two pieces of stuffed bread. He presents one to me. "Here you are. I am sorry I couldn't buy one for you as well, Wolfgang. Unfortunately, I only have two hands." He gives a slight chuckle at his attempted joke. "Would you like us to go back?"

My eyes go wider than the circular bread pockets. But Wolfgang is quick to put me at ease.

"No, thank you."

I'd offer him part of mine if I didn't already know his answer. I crunch through the lightly crisped dough, sinking into smoked, spicy chicken and limp peppers that perspire caramelized juices. Slightly crunchy onions accompany the next bite. The fire purged the acidic bite of their raw state, leaving behind char and a hint of sweetness.

"This is quite delicious," Friedrich says. "I wasn't sure what your favorite food to get here was, so I just guessed."

"The dishes change on a regular basis," I tell him. "There's no way of knowing what you'll find. But I can guarantee no matter what you get, you won't regret it."

Fewer people populate the town streets. Silence lurks around shop corners, disturbed solely by wisps of conversation from passersby. The tranquility is enough for Prince Friedrich to murmur his compliments of the old cottage-style architecture and unique items on display in windows. I think his reactions are sincere, but his enthusiasm starts to sound fake after a while.

A pudgy blob of a store parks itself at the intersection of two roads. White crusted mortar holds the sandy blocks together, very similar to the size and shape of books that might be found inside.

"Do you like books?" Friedrich asks. "I enjoy reading a lot, actually."

"Depends on the book," I reply.

"What's your favorite genre?"

"I'm not sure."

Wolfgang holds the door for us. Somehow, it's even quieter here than outside. I spot only one woman browsing the shelves.

"I enjoy historical novels the most," he says. "Though I do enjoy the occasional mystery."

"The historical section is over there," I say, pointing to the opposite end of the store.

"Really? Shall we check it out?"

We cross in that direction, weaving between bookshelves and miniature rounded stands. Prince Friedrich picks up the first historical novel his eyes land on and reads the back cover. He flips it open, and just like that, whatever the first page captures his attention. I slowly back away, relieved that we lost Wolfgang in our journey across the store, then crouch down in the nearest aisle.

I peer out from behind a shelf. Wolfgang stalks the classics section, no doubt in search of us. Thank goodness this store is a maze. My eyes rove the signs until I spot the medical section. I creep toward it, ducking behind the huge shelves and not daring to leave unless the path is clear. I reach the medical section unspotted and rapidly remove and replace the line of thousand volumes collecting dust. The amount of titles I read before I hold one on poisons is uncountable. It has a green and black cover that is surprisingly in good shape, no frayed edges or discoloration. The same goes for the pages inside, so new they stick together. My eyes scroll through the table of contents, and my lungs nearly cave with relief. Caquile extract is on page two-hundred seventy.

The poison derives from the seeds of the caquile flower, which are pressed to create a concentrated oil, much like essential oils, except caquile extract is deadly. The only reason for its production is to sterilize medical utensils. One or two drops in several ounces of water is effective in this application.

It is responsible for quick, but painful deaths. A person may experience a burning sensation wherever the poison touches. If ingested, that would be the mouth, throat, and internal organs. If touched, it would be the skin. Death may ensue five to ten minutes afterward.

Two details jump out at me. First, if the extract comes in contact with an absorbent substance, such as cotton or silk, particularly in large quantities, it can never be cleaned. The risk of a toxic residue is too high. There goes our idea about Clemaina's scarf.

Second, the poison may be cleaned from a non-absorbent surface using an anti-toxin. In the list of non-absorbent surfaces, one in particular strikes a chord.

Leather.

"Ah, there you are, Princess Aylo. Say, what have you found there?"

I fly around, biting back a startled cry. Prince Friedrich stands there, book in hand.

"Sorry if I startled you," Prince Friedrich says.

"It's alright," I say. My spiked pulse disagrees. "What book do you have?"

"It's a novel set back in the Phenoa Era. It seems very good."

"Do you plan to buy it?" I slide the poison book back as Wolfgang rounds the corner. His eyes blaze and mustache twitches as he stifles a chastisement.

"Yes, it'll be a nice souvenir," Prince Friedrich chirps. "What were you looking at?" He scans the shelf, and I'm grateful that no titles adorn the book spines.

"Just some giant volume," I say. "I barely understood what it was about."

Prince Friedrich purchases his book, then we return to the cobblestone streets. Based on the clock I glimpsed inside, I'm stuck here for another half hour, then when I return home, I'll be trapped at dinner. I burn with agitation. All I can think about is revealing the information I found out to Sigvard and Benno. We were wrong about Clemaina's scarf. The actual clue is leather.