Griffin shifted uncomfortably beside me. The two of us sat on the cherry-red settee of the royal family’s lesser salon, where less formal guests were entertained. I chanced a glance, but he’d turned his head away.

  Fitz stood behind us, hands folded, beside a display of teapots in the corner. A serving boy, maybe fourteen, awaited command by the door. As much as Wesley would have loved to attend an audience with the crown prince, his name was not on the invitation. Neither was Fitz’s, but as he wasn’t a noble, his presence was insignificant.

  The door opened. Griffin and I both rose to our feet, but it was only a maid carrying a tray of tea. The maid was a petite girl in her early twenties with light hair and delicate features. The prince’s preferences were obvious.

  The chosen tea set was emerald green, no doubt out of respect for the Mauralus crest. She handed each of us a cup and saucer. The steam carried the aroma of rose petals.

  The maid curtsied at the door and said, “The prince thanks you for your patience. He will be here shortly.” With the door’s soft click, we were back to listening to the hum of street traffic below.

  If only he would say something. Griffin loved news, stories, and puzzles. He would spark a conversation with questions about my work or retellings of his readings. I looked for something to spark his interest: the fresco of ancient hunting parties, the cloudy skies outside the floor-to-ceiling windows… Every topic was minuscule next to the lie that took up so much space.

  I set down my cup and saucer on the ivory table and stood up. The rustling of my petticoat was unintentionally abrupt, every movement a sentence in an argument I did not mean to have. Griffin remained unmoving with his eyes fixed on the door. My fingers fiddled at my silver earring, twisting it and feeling for the sharp edges.

  I went to the window. Frante was built like a mathematical equation. Uniform buildings with rectangular marble paneling ran perfectly parallel in a grid formation to the tall stone walls of the inner city. The royal palace with its bright, rounded architecture and the people’s temple with its jagged spires formed the city’s core.

  Outside the window was Cormelle Lecture Hall. I used to audit the lectures there as a teenager in my first thread. Scholars from all over the country would share discoveries and debate scientific theories as concentric rows of onlookers scribbled notes. Those memories were a fading dream now.

  The clasp slipped from my fingertips, and the earring fell to the ground. I bent down, as did Fitz, both of us reaching for the earring. Then he halted in place. His muscles tensed and his jaw clenched. I glanced towards Griffin, whose hand was casually outstretched towards Fitz. His hazel eyes locked on me with a cross between fury and something else I did not recognize.

  Fitz’s expression betrayed that spark of defiance. I begged him in my heart not to betray his skill, especially not here in the palace. I shook my head ever so slightly.

  Griffin stood up, knelt before me, and picked up the earring. All the while, his right hand remained locked on Fitz’s direction. “Your earring, my lady.” I held out my gloved palm, and his fingers grazed my wrist as he placed it inside.

  The door opened. “His Royal Highness-”

  Prince Elytra brushed past his aide. “Griffin, my good man! Look here, am I finally meeting your bride? I see you two are already getting along.”

  Griffin pulled his hand away from mine and dropped his control of Fitz’s body. “What do you expect of a marriage you arranged?” His voice was jovial.

  The prince’s golden locks rippled down to his shoulders, and he wore stark white silk. Even in the daytime, the magical light that radiated from his skin brightened the room. This brilliance was what marked a member of the royal family and gave Lightera its name. Only inheritors of this divine light were considered for the throne. No matter how many times I saw it, it was still awe-inspiring to behold. Even more so, his active skill seared into the minds and souls of all who witnessed it.

  Behind him was Seraphina. She was in silk of her own, layers of butterfly-thin material that fluttered at the slightest breeze. She was tall and slender with midnight-black hair, which she wore up, exposing her neckline. The very sight of her familiar face soothed my heart.

  Griffin bowed. “Your Royal Highnesses, allow me to formally introduce Cassia Derullia, the future baroness of Fesserton.”

  I curtsied deeply. When I lifted my head, Seraphina was before me. “Oh, Griffin. She’s beautiful.” These were words I’d heard before, but my chest still filled with butterflies. To me, she said, “You know, he talked about you. He spent so long in my library looking up poems to improve his writing.”

  The corner of Griffin’s mouth pulled up in an awkward smile.

  “Please, dear. Leave him some shred of dignity,” the prince said.

  “It’s endearing,” she said, “These kinds of things, not strength or looks, are what win ladies’ hearts.”

  “Please have a seat, my lady,” said the Prince.

  Before I could comply, Seraphina took my hand in hers. “You boys can’t have her. I’ve decided that she’s mine.” She guided me toward the door. “I’m showing her the palace.”

  Prince Elytra waved his hand in acceptance, and Fitz trotted along behind Seraphina and me. Griffin looked like he wanted to say something, but held his tongue as we left the parlor.

  We paced the halls, arm-in-arm. “You’ll see why I rescued you. When those two get together, they talk incessantly about the dreariest topics. Government reforms, crop reports. I’m sure you’re dying to see the grounds. I can’t believe you’ve never visited the city.”

  “I’m a homebody and I hate traveling by boat,” I said.

  “Still, it’s a shame. Now that you’ll be close-by, I insist you come to call on me often. You’ll be attending the hunt, is that right? You arrived just in time.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Perfect. I have some truly exceptional events prepared.” She squeezed my arm and grinned mischievously.

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  As we continued, Seraphina introduced the familiar rooms of the palace. I tried to summon a sense of awe in response. While Seraphina’s active skill subtly influenced the emotional atmosphere was relatively minor, her passive skill offered more risk. If I didn’t feel the right emotions, she would hone in, magically sensing my true feelings. At least I knew how to find new little wonders in a tapestry depicting the starlight-bright first king who united the fiefdoms at the country’s creation or the spiralling stained glass of the Sapphire ballroom.

  The throne room was our last stop on the tour. Before we entered, she took a gas lamp from an attendant waiting outside. The room was dark, with no windows or candles. Seraphina’s lamp illuminated the curved rows of stone seats and cast faint blues and reds as the light passed through prism lamps.

  “It looks gloomy now, but once the King arrives, he serves as the beacon. Come, the throne is where you can see it best,” she said.

  As we reached the inner circle, the stone seats became adorned with pillows and papers of the bureaucrats and noblemen who frequented the court. A glass throne was at the center. Its shape curved on itself as though trying to grasp the king who sat there.

  Seraphina held the lamp inside that space. Rainbows scattered from the throne to the walls surrounding and on the tall ceiling, an image of the cleansing blade watched over the court. I knelt before this throne on that day in another life when I became Special Counsel to the King. I marveled then at the scattered lights, along with the shadows they cast, radiating from the throne.

  I looked back towards the entrance. Where was Fitz? I needed his reassurance. But he was nowhere to be found. I jerked my head back to Seraphina, hoping she had not caught my worry.

  “I’d like to see it one day,” I said, keeping my voice level.

  Seraphina took my hand. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” I squeaked.

  “In the parlor, I saw the colors of your emotions. I know that you’re in love with him,” she said.

  I dared not move an inch, my hand frozen beneath hers.

  “His aura pulls toward you, like iron shavings drawn to a magnet.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Her silver eyes looked past me, tracking something invisible. “I don’t know what your quarrel is, but he cares for you already. I have known Griffin since he was fifteen years old. The colors of his heart are strong and do not waver.”

  The lightest blanket of calm settled over me. Her gift eased that buzzing beneath my chest. I relaxed into the feeling.

  “He knows me only from letters. I’m scared that without the pen to give us time, we’ll discover sides of one another we wished we did not know,” I confessed. In our previous marriage, we were careful. I did not press him beyond his comfort, and he yielded to his trust in me. This time, that was not enough.

  “Then ask me your questions. I will show you that the two of you are meant to be.”

  This was my chance to find something new. “I know he’s hiding something from me. He would never have agreed to a political marriage if he didn’t have a reason.”

  Our footsteps reverberated against the walls of the empty room. “He’s too proud to admit it,” she said, “but when his father died, the Mauralus family fell to Griffin. He was too young to run an estate, so until he turned eighteen, he needed a guardian. Lady Besalt, his aunt, was Griffin’s closest relative. What do you know of the Besalts?”

  “They are a smaller house with property in the northwest.” They hadn’t attended the wedding.

  “The Besalts saw the death of Lord and Lady Mauralus as an opportunity. Provincial nobles don’t often have the opportunity to establish a presence in Frante. They attended every party and invested in every chance at success. In three months, they had squandered the Mauralus fortune. In two more years…”

  “He’s trying to buy himself out of debt?” I asked.

  “He’s smart. He plays his cards close to his chest, but I know that buying his worst debts was a condition of your brother’s agreement for the marriage,” she said.

  “Then I am his creditor?” I asked.

  We turned and continued back toward the entrance. By the door stood Fitz, standing at attention as though he never left. His shoulders hunched from the fatigue of heavy skill use.

  “Hardly. The terms favor your brother heavily, but you will be a member of House Mauralus. You will be the debtor,” she said.

  No matter the cost, whenever I had asked for anything, Griffin had granted it without a second thought. Was that merely guilt for dragging me into his family’s debt?

  “Where are Lord and Lady Besalt now?” I asked.

  “They’re back at their estate. The debt is under the Mauralus name. The Besalt name has its own troubles, but how can a house be blamed for graciously supporting an orphaned relative?” Sarcasm colored her voice.

  “Can I ask you another question?”

  Seraphina smiled, inviting me.

  “Griffin’s sister, Diana. Why didn’t she help him? She was older. She could have acted as a steward.”

  With a wave of her hand, Seraphina commanded Fitz to open the door back to the hallway. “House finances are not strictly her responsibility, as she will not inherit. She likely didn’t even consider stepping in. Understand, Diana’s emotions are muted, intermediate colors that arrange themselves in rows of hexagons. It is only in medicine that they flare. To someone like that, the fall of her house may be nothing more than an inconvenience.”

  We wandered back through the halls of the palace. The conversation turned to the King’s hunt, which would happen the next morning. She ran through the familiar names of the guests: the dashing Pan Fellarre… the mopey Pearl Dubasque… before long we were back at the parlor.

  “This is where I’ll have to leave you,” she said as she refilled my teacup with a fresh brew. “I am expected at a naming ceremony and need to change my dress. His Majesty and Griffin will be along shortly.”

  Fitz took up his position in the corner.

  I stood and curtsied. “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.”

  “Please, I married into the royal family. I am not divine. Call me Seraphina,” she said.

  “Princess Seraphina.”

  She sighed. “Well, we’ll work on that.”

  The young manservant opened the door for the princess’s retreat. With the princess gone, I allowed my anger to seethe.

  “Boy,” I said to the manservant. “It’s grown quite chilly. Would you fetch me a shawl?”

  He folded his hand over his chest and bowed. He maintained the bow as he grabbed the handle and retreated from the room. Now it was just me and Fitz.

  “Are you looking to get strung up in the public square?” I asked.

  Fitz raised his hands in defense. “You wanted to know the truth of who caused the assassination, didn’t you? Isn’t that why you brought me?”

  “No, I brought you to help me control my skill.”

  He clicked his tongue. “Anyone can talk you through it. Teach that pretty fiancé of yours.”

  “No, it has to be you.”

  “I’m not your cure, Cassie. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have this problem to begin with.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “You’re scared.” He crossed the room until we were only feet apart. Then he thrust his finger in my direction. “You brought me because you were scared to take the risks yourself.”

  “No, that’s not true.”

  “That’s what you never understood. You have to risk to gain, Cassie.”

  I balled my fists. “You’re reckless.”

  “And you’re a coward,” he spat.

  A turn of a knob and Fitz pulled back, retreating to his corner. Griffin stood in the doorway. He glanced from me to Fitz and back again. Then the Prince glided in behind him, brightening the room with his presence.

  “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting long,” said the prince.

  I faked a smile, my heart still pounding in anger. “Not long at all.”