Two days later, M'yu awoke with a shadow hovering over him. His muscles tightened, but he kept his breathing even. Air puffed softly against his face. Mint was a weird scent for an attacker, but that didn't stop M'yu from rolling and throwing himself to the opposite side of the bed. The blankets tumbled to the floor, and M'yu sprung to his feet in a fighter's stance, flicking out his pocket knife.

The Ghost of the Gold House gasped, hand flying over her mouth. M'yu sagged in relief. "What are you doing?"

Her lip quivered. "I was waiting for you to wake up. I thought we might play before you ran off to school."

M'yu raked a hand down his face, then glanced outside. The sun hadn't even come up yet. Between errands, Aevryn's lectures, and Ghostie's puppy-dog eyes, M'yu hadn't had a moment of respite. Then after dinner, Aevryn had kept him up late, cramming do's and don't's down his throat. M'yu had hoped to have at least one good night of rest before traipsing into the herd of killer kittens sharpening their claws at Scrollschool.

The way his nerves were jittering now, that wasn't going to happen. "Why don't we play hide-and-seek?" he obliged, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"That's too easy." She pouted. "I'll win."

He peeked out underneath his hand. "Is that a challenge? Because I've got this building memorized pretty well now."

She giggled and ran off. M'yu shook his head and closed the door after her, shouting counts as he pulled on one of the outfits Aevryn had bought for him yesterday. They fit better than anything M'yu had ever worn before, but the man had still grumbled that they'd need to get them taken in. A draft through the window shifted the hairs against M'yu's ears, but he knelt with his shoes in front of the fire and let the heat dispel the chill.

"...fifty-one, fifty-two..." he said, tying the last of the laces. Standing, he stuffed his knife in his pocket, then kneeled to recover the lockpicks from beneath the rug and added those too. He considered the witchcandy he'd shoved beneath the nightstand, but shook his head and popped to his feet. "...fifty-eight, fifty-nine..."

M'yu opened the door and drew short. Aevryn filled the doorway, glaring down at him. "Ready or not, here I am."

M'yu stepped back, swallowing. "Morning, Aevryn."

The man didn't come in. "You're up early."

"Big day, right?"

"You'd best not sound that nervous when you arrive."

"I'd be less nervous if you'd tell me what you were here for...?" M'yu's fingers twined together.

"As you wish." He stepped in now, but just enough to loom over M'yu. "You are not to bother Lady Ashya."

"Bother?" M'yu sputtered. "She—"

Aevryn raised a brow.

M'yu clamped his mouth shut. Biting back a string of much less savory words, he finally grit out, "Yes, sir."

"Good." Aevryn turned to go. "If you're up already, we might as well get a headstart on the day. The hover is waiting at the front. I will meet you there."

He swept away, and M'yu sighed. And here he'd been thinking they'd made progress. Rotting Caps. He glanced over his shoulder to the nightstand once more, then shook his head and left the room.

Evriss waited for him by the door with a biscuit in a napkin. "Stay out of trouble, sir."

M'yu's head quirked, taking the food. "Most people wish someone luck."

The old man chuckled. "If you have half the talent the prince says, you need wisdom more than luck."

M'yu flushed. "Thanks for the biscuit," he murmured, and slipped out to the hover. By the time Aevryn arrived, M'yu was licking the crumbs from his fingers.

Aevryn rolled his eyes. "Trust Evriss to give you something you can only eat like a child on holiday."

M'yu shrugged. "Hey, what's the story with the girl? Sir," he added when Aevryn leveled his piercing stare at him.

"Are you always this polite, boy?"

M'yu watched him innocently, and Aevryn sighed. He keyed their destination into the hover. M'yu watched the sequence closely, then glanced away when Aevryn looked back up. "It's no secret, but I'd prefer you not to talk about it at school."

M'yu nodded. The hover whirred into life, and Aevryn looked out the window as they passed through the gate. "Ashya is my daughter." His finger tapped against the seat. "She was poisoned as a child."

"What? What kind of monster would—" And then he broke off, eyeing Aevryn.

"Don't you dare." Aevryn's voice cut colder than night wind howling through the alleys, mourning for the sun. M'yu's head dropped, eyes intent on his own hands. For a second, he swore he saw red there, but the phantasm broke as Aevryn spoke again. "Officially, it was an accident."

M'yu swallowed. It was an accident, he'd told Karsya the first time they'd met after he left home. They both knew better, he thought, but they'd agreed to believe it anyway because it was easier. It was an accident, and it'll never happen again. "What about unofficially?"

"Are you a gossiper, boy?"

M'yu shook his head quickly, and Aevryn hummed. "I suppose we'll see. And it's best that you know anyway."

M'yu wasn't sure he liked how Aevryn parceled out information like breadcrumbs leading a bird to a cage, but he leaned forward.

Aevryn's shoulders rolled with discomfort. He told the story to the window. "My wife invited the Tsaright to the Golden House for dinner. I was in the Gloam for work; I could have sent someone to do the legwork, but Kyndsha insisted that she and our daughter would be fine for a few days." His throat bobbed, and he cleared it. "I didn't know of her dinner plans. I imagine that's the way she wanted it."

M'yu's brow drew together. "Because she..."

"Because she was trying to poison him." Aevryn's eyes cut to him. "Du'chirep, in a large amount. I'm not sure what her end was—to intoxicate him, catch him on camera or get him to admit something we could use against him, perhaps."

M'yu shook his head, drawing back. "And the servants gave it to Lady Ashya instead?"

"The Tsaright switched their plates."

His eyes scrunched up. "How?"

"He told Kyndsha to swap his and Ashya's plates as a courtesy to 'assure his safety'—the implication being he'd charge her with treason otherwise. She caved. Our daughter was five."

M'yu's gut tingled, the biscuit weighing there like a stone.

"After Ashya got sick, Kyndsha was tried and found guilty of treason. They waited the twelve hours lawfully required for me to request a Last Meal, but I was in the Gloam. 'Unable to be reached,' they apologized." Aevryn's fist clenched. "The Tsaright executed her before I set foot back in the city."

He wanted to break Aevryn's gaze, but he couldn't. Air caught in his lungs, and all that left his lips was a muttered, "I'm sorry for bothering your daughter."

Aevryn's eyes dropped to his hands. "Unfortunately, she seems to have taken a liking to you."

"I would never hurt her, Aevryn," M'yu swore.

Aevryn's gaze flicked up. M'yu held still as stone, trying to convince him with his eyes. "You'd be surprised," Aevryn said, "the things you do sometimes that hurt people." The hover slowed, and M'yu shoved his hands into his pockets. His conversation with Lania the night she died, the way he toed her boot and teased her like everything was going to be alright—it played on a loop in his head, like a routine he just couldn't shut off.

"I shouldn't have been so harsh with you," Aevryn said. M'yu startled, blinking up. "You can talk to Ashya. A little company... a little company is probably good for her." The hover stopped, and Aevryn cleared his throat. "Ah. We're here. Are you ready, boy?"

"Am I?" he asked Aevryn.

"Some people say we never are, and yet on we march. Here now, come." He opened the door to the hover, and they stepped out into the cold.

Scrollschool towered before them. It was carved directly into the rise that the Prav'sudja rested upon, composed entirely of the black rock of the mountain itself. Its jagged spires and gaping openings left M'yu feeling as though the place wished to cut him up and swallow him entirely. M'yu hurried after Aevryn, breath puffing in the cold. As they passed beneath the arched entrance, the cheer of the morning was replaced by stony gloom, held back with electric candles inset to the walls. Thick carpets and tapestries covered everything. On them, nobles' features were depicted in sharp clarity, standing tall above crowds of faceless citizens. M'yu's fist tightened.

Aevryn led them beneath an arch labeled HONORABLE OFFICES and into a reception area. The man stiffened, and M'yu peered around.

To the left of the secretary's curving desk sat three people: Sviya with a book in hand, her russet dress fluttering around her gently kicking feet; Nose-in-the-Air, a smirk plastered across his pinched face; and the hulking Dymtrus, smiling. Dymtrus rose. "Ah. You're finally here, Aevryn. I was beginning to think we'd both be late for work."

Sviya scoffed. "Late? It's unreasonable to be up at this ghastly hour. Class won't even start for another two."

"Oh, but Aevryn likes to get things done quick, you know. Not bother people. Fly under the radar." His eyes glittered.

Aevryn walked up to the secretary's desk, greeting her with a nod. Without looking at Dymtrus, he said, "I didn't realize a single boy's registration was an event worth spectating. Ms. Parra, is the counselor ready for us?"

"Oh no, Duke z'Daras," she replied, wide-eyed. "Duke Dovalenko already took care of his class schedule. He... said you had discussed it?" Her eyes flicked between Dymtrus and Aevryn, then quickly away. Her face paled and she rifled through her files. "And the tuition came from Magnate Tam, so I thought this was just a scholarship student. He... he is just a scholarship student, isn't he?" She glanced up from her files, half-hidden behind the rise of her desk as though it were cover.

"He is my personal apprentice, and my heir. Lawfully adopted." Aevryn withdrew a file from his coat.

Parra cringed. "I'm so sorry, sir, but I already canceled your appointment with the counselor. But—" She scrambled around her files. "But I could slot you in at—well, not then," she muttered. "Well, at... four o'clock. Today?" She looked up hopefully.

Dymtrus clicked his tongue. "Aevryn, I thought we had that big trial scheduled this afternoon. Surely you can't trust my judgment so badly as to throw justice out the window."

"Oh, it's a good schedule," Parra enthused, producing it from her mountain of papers. She thrust it at Aevryn proudly. "I even pulled some strings to get him in the same group as his friends. It's not done, you know, letting first-years guide a first-year, but since there are two of them and they're both half a semester ahead, it almost adds up—"

Aevryn's only sign of displeasure was the tic of his jaw. Warmly, he said, "It's perfect, Ms. Parra. Thank you for your work."

Dymtrus clapped Aevryn on the back. "See? You should trust me more often. Shall we leave the students to it then and get back to the world of adults?"

Aevryn handed the schedule to M'yu. Written across the top was his fake name: MYKTA Z'DARAS. And below that, 1ST YEAR GUIDE: SVIYA TAM, RUSLAN TRUSKA. M'yu's eyes flicked up. Sviya twirled a lock of hair around her finger, eyes glued to her book. Nose-in-the-Air—Ruslan—locked eyes with him, a dark smile creeping at his lips.

"I'll meet you at the Prav'sudja," Aevryn said to Dymtrus. "I want to give my apprentice the tour."

"Let us do that for you, sir," Ruslan said. "Your work is far more important than ours, and as Miss Tam said, class won't even commence for another two hours."

"If you can't trust him to his upper-class guides, Aevryn," Dymtrus said, "who can you trust him with? You might as well stay the afternoon and throw away the lovely schedule Ms. Parra made."

"Yes," Aevryn drawled. "I'm sure he's in very capable hands. Come, boy. You'll walk me out, and then begin the tour with your friends. Ms. Parra." Aevryn nodded cordially to her, then turned on his heel and left.

Once they were back in the cold, M'yu hissed, "You can't be serious. You said yesterday you were going to get me a guide you trusted. Those people hate your guts."

"Which is exactly why you're going to do everything I told you to. Do you understand? You are to stay in the lines—exactly within the lines. No sneaking around, no hacking, no fighting. They want to see you fall; make sure they don't." They reached the hover, and Aevryn turned and leaned close. "And if they give you a chance to catch them—" Aevryn's breath was warm against M'yu's ear. "You be sure you take it and tell me."

Straightening, Aevryn climbed into his hover and sped away before M'yu even had a chance to say his name.

M'yu's fist tightened. He thought about kicking the ground, but restrained himself. Anymore, anyone could be watching. It was like being on the streets again, except instead of having to worry about people finding out where he hid his food, he had to worry about where he hid your secrets. But M'yu knew how to lie with a smile. He wore one now, a lucky streetboy glad to be picked up into the halls of the nobility, and marched calmly back into school.

Ruslan was waiting for him. "Shall we begin our tour?"

"Of course." M'yu said, Cap accent at the ready. "I've been beyond excited to get a look at the establishment."

Ruslan rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to the library," Sviya said, peeling off from the group.

"Ah! Yes, a wonderful place to begin," Ruslan said and followed her.

She turned and held up her hand. "Alone, Ruslan. If you want a pet, then you can show it around. But I've no interest in this."

"A pet? How could you speak so little of our sweet charge, Sviya?"

M'yu stepped up. "Actually, where are the bathrooms?"

Ruslan snorted. "You can't hold it half an hour?"

M'yu cocked his head at him and shrugged.

Ruslan scoffed, then turned to Sviya only for her to be gone. He rolled his eyes. "Come on."

M'yu followed Ruslan down twisting halls, building the map in his head as he went. In his experience, you could tell a lot about a place in the way its bathrooms were made. Derelict houses that you squat in, of course, don't always have bathrooms, but if you're living there, you make one. It wasn't hard to extrapolate the security and privacy there to how much the group as a whole viewed security and privacy. Bathrooms and bedrooms were the places you were the most vulnerable. If there was no safety there—

Then there'd be no safety anywhere.