The infirmary door slips shut behind Idyne's skirts, and I hurry to follow after. It's early, but I have no idea how early, and I need to be at the Mage's Room on time. Before I can get to the door, though, Illesiarr calls after me. "Maed Riveaux?"

I turn, the skirt of my new uniform twirling around my knees. "Yes?"

"What was the Lady here to see you for?"

I shove my hands into the dress's deep pockets. "She just had something she wanted me to do." Aster might know Idyne is here, and Illesiarr might know about me, but that doesn't mean the other royals know about Idyne—or that Illesiarr wouldn't tell them. I don't know if Aster can stall his sister's hand from the blade twice.

Illesiarr shakes his head a little, white hair swaying with him. "Stay out of trouble, Maed Riveaux. The prince asked me to watch out for you; I'd not like to let him down."

"Of course, Illesiarr." I edge toward the door.

His gaze stays pinned on me. "I mean it. In places of great power, things are rarely as they seem. Don't step on any toes. And stay out of Courtier's Circle."

My brow creases. "Where?"

One eyebrow creeps up. "The royals'—and their guests'—wing. West on the third floor. Only those with express permission are allowed. The servants themselves are handpicked." He stares at me as though to let that sink in, then returns to his mortar bowl. "These castle halls are not a playground, and neither do courtiers good playmates make. Watch carefully where you tread."

I murmur acknowledgement and hurry into the hallway. Dangerous or not, I doubt I'll be able to heed Illesiarr's warning. At least not if I want to comply with Aster's request.

The note in my pocket slides against my fingers as I walk. He must have slipped it into the uniform he sent me yesterday, but I didn't notice until this morning, putting it on.

Overlooked message carriers, he wrote in Avadelian, and one of the most vital resources in the castle. As a page, I am technically under no one's authority. Instead, the Crown simply grants us the right to work in the castle, and senders pay via tips. Carrying time-sensitive information headed anywhere people might be, you'll have almost unlimited access to the entire building. With so much passing through their hands, the penalties for spying—especially on anything considered confidential to the state—are harsh and fall squarely on the page's shoulders. So I'm not asking you to, and it's not something you should take on lightly. But if you happen to come across any information during the day...

I climb a spiral stone staircase, heading toward the east wing of the third floor. If it's a sneak Aster needs, then a sneak he'll have.

I just won't get caught.

When I arrive at the Mage Room, a woman at the door pulls a stack of notes out of her blue cloak. "These are yours to deliver, page." After dropping the string-bound bundle in my hands, she passes me a handful of wooden coins. "Return at lunchtime, and we might have more for you."

I dip my head, figuring she's not a noblewoman to curtsy to, and go.

* * *

Battle wages outside for the first time since I've been here. I stand frozen before one of the castle's clear, floor-to-ceiling windows. In storybooks, war is a triumph of good over evil, a noble game for knights and heroes to win. Here, the only winners are the Kadranians' carrion birds.

A mass of bodies swarm the wall, hacking into human flesh. Red drips from steel blades; they fall with frenzied desperation until the men that wield them are the next lives claimed. There is no room to move forward or back, yet men keep pouring up the ladders and out the guard towers. It's a relentless wave of death that promises to crash somewhere, but whether it will be on us or them, I can't know.

A soldier in blue and silver tumbles down the wall, scream cut off as he crashes into the stone courtyard. His body lies twisted and still. I recoil and hurry away.

The stone walls can't completely dampen their shouts. As I pass out Aster's notes, Ladies' return messages, and stray letters from courtiers along the way, I find myself avoiding exterior halls. I'm not the only one. Women who flooded the windowed sitting rooms as the battle started have trickled into rooms lit only by glow stones. There's still a strange unconcern to their conversations, though, as if they don't realize the northerners could sweep through these halls at any moment. A sick feeling develops in my stomach, but I push it down to make my way back to the Mage Room and pick up a few more of Aster's notes. I keep my head down as I walk through the halls.

My mother once said that groups of people are just bowls of fish, and all you have to do is swirl the waters the direction you want them to swim. But these courtiers aren't fish.

They're eels.

After delivering Aster's second batch of notes, I continue to take messages for women who barely look at me. Normally it would irk me, but I find it oddly comforting. People can't eat something they don't know exists.

Some of them seem like vapid simpletons. They're the ones that laugh the hardest and talk the loudest, as though they can scare away death by smiling at it. Most of them, though, remind me of my mother: that sharp intelligence, that charming laugh, and that dark, intimate sense she could have you under her thumb at any moment.

I duck into an empty, dead-end hallway, tucking a sealed letter to Inner Lady Temmarelle under my arm and pulling out my notebook and pen. The large vase I settle by should block the view of any casual passerby, but I still catch myself looking up at imagined sounds. If Aster's and Illesiarr's warnings weren't enough to caution me from getting caught, my brief interactions with the Ladies are. I flip past notes on vitaliti and bat species, turning to a new chapter of backstabbing politics and whispering courtiers. I've already scrawled down names of Ladies and their recipients, the message if I could discern it, and anything else that seemed out of place or useful. This letter's writer didn't give me her name, though.

The wall's embedded crystals give me light as I sketch. My pen marks the prominent features of what I remember from the woman's face, the way I used to sketch bats and birds just after they'd taken off. It'd be cleaner if I weren't in such a hurry, but there's still a passing resemblance. With luck, it's enough that Aster might recognize her. I scratch down the insignia of the seal beside it.

I close my eyes to listen, but the halls are still silent. The real action—the politics and socializing and work—is happening on the upper floors, and I snuck down to the quiet first to do this.

Gathering my nerve, I rise and press the letter against the glow crystal's niche in the wall. Blurry, swirling letters shine through the white envelope. I can only read words here and there, and I hurriedly scan the document to transcribe what I can.

...dangerous times... serve children! ...the Captain... admirable... guidance... the Princesse... so young... Osennia... good friend... Second Son, of course... Solus... support?...your discretion... burn...

Your humble servant of Jacqueline...

There's a signature at the end I can't read, but between the sketch and the seal, hopefully Aster will know the woman. Though I'm not sure what to make of the rest, any message asking the recipient to burn it probably isn't a polite request for tea.

I snap my notebook shut and tuck it into the pocket of my uniform. Assuming I don't get stopped along the way, this is my last note for today.

After handing the message off to Lady Temmarelle, I twist through corridors and up to the second story, following Idyne's directions. Shame pangs like an infected scab. I've been so caught up with myself since my capture that I didn't give a thought to where Idyne and Jacin wound up. I might have my reservations about the two of them, but they've both looked out for me more than once. Only a selfish idiot would forget that.

I knock on his door, thankful he stays in the quiet Inner Ring.

Jacin's face lights up as he opens it. "Leavi!" He ushers me in and closes the door behind us, then gestures me to a small table. "Please. Please, sit."

Feet aching against hard soles, I slip into the chair he pulls out for me. He sits across, hands clasped as he leans forward on the table. He shakes his head. "Wow. I can't believe you're okay. Idyne said she would get you out, but—" His head shakes again, bangs hovering just out of his eyes. "Soldiers drag your friend off, you don't have a whole lot of hope of seeing them again, do you?" His hint of a smile can't turn that into a joke, and we're both hit by the somber reality of what could have been.

"The Princesse pardoned me," I say after a moment. "Since Aster's her brother."

"Yeah. Idyne told me. Imagine a peasant boy like me, sleeping down the hall from a prince that whole time." He leans back in his chair. "World's stranger more often than it's not, don't you think?"

"There are times when it's not?"

We laugh, and just for a moment, I'm back at Marcí's warm and homey little inn.

"It's good to see you, Leavi," he says as we quiet. "Really." He takes my hand with warm, calloused fingers.

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.

"After they dragged you off—" The lightning blue intensity of his eyes breaks off to look at something far away. "I regretted not being the one to step through that door first. That's all."

"Jacin—"

He glances back at me, a half-smile on his lips. "It's dumb, I know." His hand slips off mine. "Prince of Morineaux probably isn't so keen to get an odd-jobs boy out of his dungeon as you."

My heart aches for some reason I can't explain. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

He leans back, thinking. "Idyne's been getting a maid to bring me meals. She said I'd be safer in here, but I'm going a little stir crazy if I'm honest."

"I haven't seen many men wandering around the halls myself." Those I did were dressed in chain, a wizard's cloak, or a silver-threaded tunic. "So I'm afraid she might be right. It's dangerous for them to know we're foreigners." His lips screw to the side, and I add, "But maybe I can find something for you to wear."

He straightens. "Really?"

"I can try." I smile. He was kind enough to me in Niv that I can't turn my back on him now. "I should probably be going, though. I've got to pick up a book from the infirmary before..." I bring my report to Aster. I rise, letting the words drop away.

"Infirmary?" He stands as well, getting the door for me.

"Where I'm staying. And thank you," I say, stepping into the doorway.

"I didn't do anything," he laughs.

I gesture to the table. "For the seat, I mean."

"Well." He chuckles. "You're welcome to my table and chairs anytime."

I nod, stepping back. "Goodbye then."

He smiles. "Bye, Leavi."

I turn down the hall, away from the stolen bit of normalcy. After a moment, the door closes softly behind me.