Now that the pleasantries have all been made, I ask them details about their proposal. Under the guise of wartime measures, they offer a slew of revisions to tradition and existing laws that effectively put the Corps under the control of the Table Arbitrate—so under them. The ideas go from mild, like a lower price ceiling before Corps expenses must be passed before the Table, to frustratingly ridiculous: the High Ladies deciding which wizards to accept from their own yearly tribute to the castle, imposing an observer in the Mage Room, having a say in the stationing of wizards.

I try to keep a friendly tone when I point out the inefficiencies of such ideas. They drop some of the more extreme measures, and I suppose they may have included them intending just to cede them. Proposals like this never pass without losing some points. They seem rather convinced of the document, though, which irks me. There's a reason the branches of our government are separate—so the people that best know what they're doing are the ones doing it, not so power-thirsty Ladies can drink their fill of a Corps struggling under the weight of their bureaucracy.

The women have this easy, gentle confidence, this slick, natural self-assurance that says, We know you do important things too. Us Ladies just know better what should be done than you... wizards. Even High Lady Riletta, a woman that seemingly cannot generate an original thought, appears to pity the wizards for their lack of noble heritage—which she would know to be a ridiculous thought if she remembered that far more of our casters are chosen by bias of us pleasing their families than I am comfortable with.

Finally, I wave my hand, smiling. "Alright, alright. I think that's enough of that, yes? It is not my place to declare what shall pass as legislation and what shall not."

Irrianet's smile and voice is soft as she says, "A pity."

The either radical idea or sarcastic insult to my judgement is swept away as Aselle speaks nearly simultaneously. "You are right of course, my prince. Still, though, this tea could only be halfway done—what else are you wishing to discuss?" Her playful tone implies that she cannot possibly imagine what is more important.

"My sister mentioned that you three also had some objections to my coronation during this time of trouble." The conversation didn't go exactly like that, but best not to let on that Reyan called them 'power-hungry lunatics apparently intent on handing the castle over to the Kadranians.' "She thought perhaps the conflict would be best resolved by us discussing directly." Or, in her words, 'Do try to get along with them, please.'

"Ah," says Aselle. "The Princesse had promised to discuss this further with us."

"Then consider me here in her stead." My smile attempts to retain the almost friendly mood that this conversation has thus had, but with this change in topic, it suddenly seems a losing battle.

"Of course." Her returned smile is slick. They don't want to talk about this. At least not with me.

"Therefore," I say, glancing at all three of them, "I would like to be sure of what exactly your objections are."

"Never to your leadership, my lord," Irrianet says, voice even.

"Yes, only to the process," Aselle adds. I can't help but feel they're mocking me, but the only proper course is to take them at their word.

"What trouble comes with the process, then? If you are concerned with pulling people away from places they should be, then it need not be a big affair. I would hate to interrupt the necessary workings of the castle, but being uncrowned is an impediment to my ability to serve my country during such a serious struggle."

"Even," Irrianet says, "if we excuse non-essential viewers from the ceremony, the essential viewers would still be pulled away from their work. It is not as if we could substantially reduce the amount of time it takes or remove essential viewers because then it would not be a legitimate coronation. And if it's not legitimate, then it's simply a waste of time."

"True as that may be," I return, "the wizards need a legitimate leader. I cannot do for the Corps and for the country what needs done as the uncrowned heir."

Riletta's eyebrows draw together. "Why, Prince? What problems do you have now that coronation would do away with?"

Irrianet's face remains as impassive as ever, but Aselle throws Riletta a harsh glance before catching herself and masking the expression.

"Aside from non-officialized authority over my wizards and from not having resources that only the Second Son of the Court is allowed to use"—I allow some of my frustration to leak into my tone—"there is a pivotal defense I need to activate on the wall. I need Xíeme's staff in order to do so, which is something not even Mage Solus can do, Ladies. This may well be vital to our defeat of the northern savages." I look at them evenly. "However, if a little time now outweighs the importance of adding defense for our soldiers who are dying on the wall, then I suppose now is the time for us to make that call." My gaze refuses to back down as I watch them, one by one.

Riletta breaks contact easily, looking down at her tea. After a moment, Irrianet, lips pursed, pretends to examine something wrong with her nail. My eyes lock with Aselle's. Surely she can't call victory after a speech like that.

She smiles and leans forward to set her tea down on the table. "Of course it doesn't, Prince. Soon you shall hold your rightful place in our Court."

Riletta titters quietly—at the release of tension in the room, I'm sure she'd say, though far more likely at Aselle's implication that the Queen's Court belongs more to the Ladies than anyone else. Irrianet also sets down her tea, and she rises, elegant skirts swishing to avoid the tea table. "However much of this tea you claim is left," she directs to Aselle, "I fear I told Lady Osennia I would meet with her at this time. You all know I would rather stay, but I bid you each adieu." She nods at us in turn. "Prince, High Ladies."

With that enigmatically-delivered message, the meeting ends, there being so few of us. Riletta says thanks for the tea into the air dead in front of her as if not wanting to credit either of us for the meeting. Aselle stands as well, and neither of us reply to Riletta for chance of the other replying at the same time.

"I have had a pleasurable, informative time." I nod to both of them and rise. "Thank you for attending."

Aselle smiles. "Of course, Prince. It's always nice to see that the Second Son has time for the Ladies of his Queen's Court."

Is she suggesting I have too much time on my hands? "My uncle taught me I should always find a way to make time for whomever needs me." I hope that was enough of a diplomatic, middle-ground answer. I feel as if I've been dancing with a snake for the past hour, and any minute my legs will give out, and I'll fall, while the snake simply sways on and on for eternity.

"He was a wise man," she says. He was wise for a man, she means. Else, she would have used a different word. Person or politician, perhaps. Not 'man.'

I smile graciously. "Someone even half the Second he was would serve our Morineaux well." Perhaps it's arrogant, but I'm proud of that line. Even if I'm not as good as him, I will serve my country with all I have.

She smiles back and curtsies, slightly lower than necessary. "Then may we be blessed with a Second half as good."

My pride stings, and she and Riletta exit, leaving me alone with the blow to my self-satisfaction and the sound of sweeping skirts.

With them gone, I pull in a deep breath, then remember that the maids still stand against the walls. This is not the place to decompress and, admittedly, hardly the time. I still have the rest of the day to handle sneaky vipers with the tongues of Stellries.

I turn to face the maids, pulling a smile back to my lips. "Thank you all for your excellent service. I wish you a good day." I leave, tired already of the politics, and it's only ten in the morning. On top of the meeting in the Auditorium Arbitrate today, Sela wants the three of us to hold dinner with all of the High Ladies and Mother's Inner Council.

Considering I barely had time to check in on the Mage Room before tea, I haven't been to the wall yet, so I walk that direction now. I should be able to get an hour or so in there before I need to be back to the Auditorium, which Sela for some reason scheduled around lunch.

I turn a corner, and on the other end of the hall, a blonde young noble comes out of a drawing room. She smiles brightly.

"Prince Aster!"

I frown. "Idy–"

She waves her hand to stop me. "Lady Idielle, my lord."

"Right," I say slowly. Her facade unsettles me.

She steps closer, eyes earnest. "Have you spoken with our friend?"

I pause. "Maed Riveaux is in good hands."

She relaxes and gushes, "Good."

I nod, uncomfortable, but before I move to go around her, remember to ask, "How are your affairs coming along?"

She grins, and the thick pleasure in her eyes is unnerving. "I'll be done in time."

"The sooner, the better."

"I agree." The brightness in her voice creates a dark contrast with the fact that she's talking about killing people. "I'll see you soon." She lightfoots around me, and on edge, I start to leave as well.

"Oh, and Prince?" she calls a few feet away.

I turn.

"Where is she staying?"

I hesitate.

"Oh, Aster," she says, hand on her hip. "Don't you know by now that I only want to help her?"

"Keeping your distance might be a good place to start."

She pouts. "I just want to check on her myself. Besides, what am I gonna do?" She waggles her fingers at me. "Artefact her to death?"

I scowl. I know well enough she's more dangerous than that. The burning body of the shaman comes to my mind. At the same time, Idyne obviously had a better handle of Morineaux coming into this than Leavi did—which, honestly, should make me nervous. Even so, if she's helping keep an eye on Leavi, then maybe Leavi will be less likely to run into trouble, or at least trouble with Morineaux. And I'll just keep an eye on Idyne.

"The upstairs of the infirmary."

She grins. "Thanks." She turns and sways away.

Biting the inside of my lip, I continue. It feels like compromising with the Shadesnare, but really, it can't be much more evil than making deals with the Ladies. I try to shake my unease and frustration by reminding myself that Aselle did agree to my coronation. It might be small in the grand scale, but it's a victory nonetheless.

When I arrive, the atmosphere at the wall is as dark as usual. I like to think it's encouraging, though, for them to know that Reyan and I are invested in this, in them, enough to come and be here. To sit with them and check on them.

The other telekinetics have made their way here at this point, so the wizards I talk to seem to feel some relief. It's a nice reminder that the things I'm doing aren't fruitless, even if they seem like it.

With that piece of somber encouragement, I head to the Auditorium. A single mage stands at the doors to the hall, and she only casts to open one. Silently, it swings back, and I enter.

The sweeping, tiered seats; the vaulted, towering ceiling; and the bright, glittering thrones have always awed me. When I was a boy, I dreamed of taking my seat on the dais and helping guide my people into health and prosperity. Now, all I want is for them to stay alive. My feet stand frozen just inside the door.

The closer the day of my ascension comes, the more I dread the position. This people will rely on me to lead the mages in my country, to help provide for my citizens, and most strikingly now, to save them from this invasion. Too many people have died, and the war has hardly begun. My heart pangs to wonder what losses the other cities, towns, and villages have already faced.

Behind me, the door whispers against the stone as it swings open again, and I force myself down the long walk to the dais. Reyan, crowned, was able to come in through the stage door behind the thrones, and Sela, being the Princesse, was as well. Only I have to pass the length of Inner and High Ladies standing on the two sides of the Table Arbitrate.

My eyes narrow in confusion, and I glance around the room. Even the lower rank Ladies in the tiered seats remain standing, including the people that just filed in behind me. I look back up at my siblings. They stand on the dais.

Of course. Sela can't sit in the throne because she's not Queen, but since she can't sit, Reyan won't either. She could have called for the upcoming royalty chairs to be set in the front of the dais, but that would be an insult to Reyan since he's already crowned. And the Ladies can't sit because the presiding royalty isn't.

This is going to be a long meeting.

I take my place on the other side of my sister. It occurs to me to say something to her as we wait for the final viewers and High Ladies to enter, but I can't think what about. Used to, we watched these things from the sidelines, occasionally commenting what we would or wouldn't do but mainly just whispering jokes back and forth.

Now, the three of us stand silently, staring out over the gathering crowd.