"We'll start a new schedule. One more complex. Something I can keep track of," Gustus says as we round a sharp corner in the palace, shoving to the side to make room for a cluster of guards preparing to start their next shift. At the sight of the prince, they stand to attention, stiffening their spines to the point of snapping, but my companion doesn't offer more than a passing glance.

I listen to the rhythmic clank of their armor behind us, the jostle with each step and whine of iron plates scraping together. "You have kept track of my releases from the start. This is no different," I contest. "That was a one-time mistake is all. Nothing to worry about."

Gustus arches a blond brow at me, craning around to meet my stare. I roll my eyes at the lecture I know is coming. One time mistakes can cause further complications, like a more difficult time gaining a hold on keeping my Luminary form quelled. After scouring hundreds of library shelves, risking the climb on wobbly ladders to discover Luminary history, I finally found a faded piece written by a man that once took on a second form when granted the power. At the time, the people of Rivian didn't understand what a Luminary was. They set themselves apart, lived their days in isolation, and wrote down everything they experienced.

Useful tools for me to study today. I spent hours reading through what he had written, analyzing every word and trial he faced in his beginning days as a Luminary. Eventually, he drove himself mad and hanged himself. The entries stopped there. I focused on how his Luminary form became more potent the more he used the magic—its desire spiraling out of control.

Like a fraying rope, he described it. The more use, the more wear, and the rope frayed. Our hold on second beings becomes harder to control. Once the rope snaps, there is no way to control it. We're stuck in that Luminary form forever, unless we can find a way to avoid using the power that crawls along our skin at night.

My stomach curdles from the thought. Keeping my second form hidden presents trials of its own make; not using the power entirely would drive me as mad as the Luminary that detailed his experiences.

"One time turns into more than that, Marie," Gustus warns. "What if you're surrounded by people that don't know who you are? People like Cloak."

"That won't happen. If I'm around Cloak, I'm not using my abilities for anything."

He raises a gloved finger. "That's not true. You heal him, don't you?"

I raise my hands in exasperation. "What I experienced today happened because I was enjoying myself. I know how to keep a tight leash on my power, but I just...relapsed. I wasn't paying close enough attention, and it won't happen again." My tight chest loosens with a much-needed sigh. "That, I'll make sure of."

We skip down a flight of stone stairs, met by another sharp corner that leads to a lower hallway. Stone pillars sunk into the walls hold up the stone ceiling, intricately layered with carvings of old Rivian culture, tradition, and tongue. Most of the artwork is too faint to work out, and I don't plan to spend an entire day craning my neck and staring up at a too-tall ceiling that will heed no reward. Besides, Gustus told me that the previous leaders of Rivian were loons. Anything they depicted was false lore.

Gustus links his arm with mine. "Until then, I'll craft you a new schedule," he says. I open my mouth to retort and prepare myself to gesture about. "You'll spend more time in my chambers with the door locked." His words come fast, like lightning striking over a river. "Use the magic when you're taking a bath, reading, or partaking in simple tasks. Even the smallest of releases can keep your Luminary form from acting on its own terms."

"I hardly find time alone for such things. If I'm not here, then I'm in the capital with Castiel. There is too much to worry about at this moment, and I can't add a rebelling power to the mix." I rub at my forehead. A faint ache remains from slamming a lid over my power too quickly at the pond.

After all the times I had to hide my power in fear of being caught by Rylan, Cloak, or anyone else that dares impede on my privacy, I can't come up with a safer way to hide such a dangerous power quickly.

Rylan Aubenet. The thought of my dead husband wraps a shivering snake around my spine and I try to shake it off, only to feel the guilt I've carried around like a sack of grain since I discovered his lifeless body in our kitchen. Cloak had taken his life, and I forgave him. Enough to be around him, at least. I suppose I'll never forgive the prince for that, for acting out of turn after I strictly told him not to take matters into his own hands.

"You mustn't worry about your brother." Gustus pats the back of my hand. "He is in the safest hands possible with the finest healers in the kingdom. Much safer than Gudgeon."

I can't contest to that. I practically jumped at the chance to leave the place I called home since my mother birthed me into the world. My first steps took place right outside our cottage, near the docks. I hardly noticed the fish cleaners. So many of my adolescent years were spent learning a task that wouldn't translate to the capital, and now I'm left with these abilities that'll never see use in a palace kitchen. They receive their fish already cleaned.

We're too far inland to smell the salt of the ocean. In the deepest hours of night, I wake and think I hear waves crashing against slick, barnacle-riddled rock but the illusion fades and the crackle of a fire across the room reminds me that I'm at the palace, not in the village.

"I understand that," I console the prince. He gives a terse nod. "But I still must be there for him at all times. I spend nearly all day here, then I must visit him, then come back so I can sleep in my own bed." Tipping my head back, I groan. "Why can't I have a dragon that carries me everywhere?"

Gustus laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. His sharp fangs jut out from behind pale lips. "As much as my husband may love his beasts and wish to see their use, I don't believe he would enjoy watching you fly a dragon for such a short stretch. Besides, the beasts are clumsy. Messy. They'd take down the entire street and every passing merchant wagon with it."

I pucker my lips and stare at him sidelong. "Or I could just...teleport to where I wish to go."

His mouth tightens into a deep frown. I know I've lost before he even utters a word. Here comes the lecture. "Teleportation takes a large amount of a Luminary's energy. Using that energy means you're using the power more, and that leads to..." Gustus's voice trails off and he waves his hand in front of us, urging me to finish the sentence.

We pass by the busy banquet hall where a class is undergoing training on how to properly dance with their loved ones or assigned dates. Preparing for courting that eventually leads to marriage.

"That leads to my Luminary form taking over," I finish in a deadpanned tone.

Gustus snaps his fingers. "Correct. Until we can figure out how to monitor your power's intake, we'll keep a tighter hold on the illusion of your natural features. We'll—"

A large figure tears around the corner, his palms slamming into the wall as he slides, then takes off into a sprint. I whirl and Gustus throws a hand in front of me, but that familiar rattle of armor matches those of the guards we passed when first arriving at the palace, thawing from being outside for too long.

Relief flashes on Lyndel's features at the sight of me. Not the prince. Me. The personal guard to Cloak's chambers comes to a panting stop, the fur-tipped ears framing the sides of his head lined in a sticky coat of sweat. "There you are," he breathes.

"What's wrong?" I demand. My thoughts fly, swirling in a spiraling tornado. Cloak. Something has to be wrong with Cloak for Lyndel to go on such a mad pursuit to find me. I offer no other purpose in this palace that the prince taking refuge in a soft heart.

Instead of answering my question, the fladline's face hardens. As much as he can without giving too many human elements to his cat features, he scrunches his brow. The sharp bridge of his snout dropping down from his eyes crinkle, the thin layer of fur seeming to rise and stand to attention. "Where have you been?" he snaps, still out of breath. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Gustus and I exchange a worried glance. Never the truth. "We were in the courtyard, strolling through the gardens."

The fladline brings himself to a standing position. His chest rises and falls rapidly. "I checked there."

Meaningful thoughts elude me. Nothing in my mind will save us in a moment like this; confrontation has never been my strong point and neither has lying. Castiel was always the quick thinker, not me. I stuttered and mumbled until instigators grew bored of me and chose to focus their oppression on someone else. If my brother wasn't around, I didn't stand a chance.

"Never mind that," Gustus snaps. He saves me from spiraling into an abyss of fear. "What is going on? Why the rush?"

Lyndel slaps himself internally. A sharp breath skidders from beyond his fangs as he realizes that his attention fell too far elsewhere. There are more important matters at hand than his pissed-off nature at not being able to find me anywhere on royal grounds. If he had searched the woods, he'd know where to find me. Also, he would have discovered that I am more than a healer.

"The prince's terrors found their way into his sleep. He can't breathe—he's panicked and unstable. I do not know what to do; he won't respond to my efforts."

I turn to Gustus quickly. "I'll come by later, I must tend to Cloak."

Breaking into a run after Lyndel, Gustus grabs onto my arm and nearly yanks it out of its socket. I stumble back, wishing to pry his fingers away. Cloak needs my assistance, and if doesn't get it soon, these terrors will evolve into something worse. Something out of control. "Do you require support?" A sudden wave of fear has swallowed Gustus's stare.

"No," I respond quickly. I pry myself away, nearly yanking my body towards the fladline guard that will begin dragging me back to Cloak's chambers if I don't hurry. "He doesn't deal with these matters outside of me. He won't respond to your presence."

Before the prince can respond, I turn on my heel. The last thing I see is the worried push of his brows, the softening of his frown. His brother, a man he has come to love because of their forced relation to the queen of Rivian, is not well. Cloak hasn't been stable for a long time. Some days are better than others, but every recovery suffocates under relapse.

No one can protect themselves from horrors plaguing the night. They're brought on by the day's happenings and the bright sun is not all it seems. Evil can attack in broad daylight too.

We round the corner, and I catch my last look at Gustus. He turns slowly, his mouth quirking to the side in disappointment. The prince takes slow, calculated steps that don't wish to head back in the other direction. He wishes to follow me, to his brother, where he wants to be needed. But nothing will help here. Nothing but me.