Her lips are tight. While it's nice for once to feel he respects me as much or more than Sela, it was because of a drop in opinion of her, not an increase in opinion of me. She deserved a dressing-down, though. These soldiers and wizards that she hasn't seen are dying for her, and she doesn't even register that it's her fault.

"You should visit the people at the wall."

"What?" Her anger morphs to alarm.

"You should talk to them. I'll go with you if you want."

She looks at me as if I'm insane. "Why in all of Avadel would I do that?"

Her tone grates. "To boost their morale? To encourage them? Many of their friends are dead, and they have yet to win a battle. I think seeing their leaders is good for them." And to teach you more empathy for the people you're supposed to be protecting.

She waves one hand. "Then you and Reyan should go. What if a battle started while I was there? I'm the last of the Jacquelinian line. It's not as if Mother can have another daughter."

My jaw tightens. "Reyan and I have been going. Do you not realize that Reyan is fighting alongside them?"

She frowns. "That doesn't seem like a good idea. What if he gets hurt?"

"Then he was injured doing everything he can for his people." I stab a piece of pastry with my fork. "Besides—you didn't seem so disturbed by the idea of the soldiers being hurt."

She tosses her hands into the air. "I'm not happy about it! But they're soldiers; it's what they do."

I lean forward. "No, protect the people they've sworn to protect is what they do, and they're brave enough to do it to death. They aren't just a resource. They're somebody else's brother. Somebody else is depending on them to provide for them. Does it not occur to you how many lives have been lost, Sela?"

She stares at me, angry eyes wide, but before she speaks, I do.

"Is your pride and your flawless skin too much a sacrifice for you to listen to someone that isn't a woman?" The scars that taught me the consequence of failure burn on my back.

She slams her fork down. "That is enough, Aster. Do you know why people don't listen to you and Reyan? Because self-control is a virtue that the both of you lack!"

I push up. "You mean we talk more than just when spoken to, Sela. You might have the ultimate authority, the Queen may be the law, but I am the wizards and Reyan is the soldiers. You know the courtroom. You should be able to manipulate the Table into going along with whatever you dictate. They do not dictate what Reyan and I know." I step away from the table. "If you don't start listening to the voices of the people whose men are on the wall, then you're going to end up throwing each one of their lives away. And when N'veauvia falls"—I point at her—"that will be on you." I storm out.

Simmering with frustration, I make my way to the Mage Room. Solus stands in Agraund's office, sifting through papers. I cross the room in quick strides.

"What are you doing?" I demand.

He glances at me. "Just looking for wall and castle schematics. Your uncle always kept a copy in here."

My voice is flat. "Unless you're familiar with his particular copy, you might be better off to go to the Record Keeper." Agraund's copy had specific mistakes in it so that anyone ill-acquainted wouldn't gain knowledge they needed not know. It's how he got away with keeping a copy outside the well-protected Records Chamber.

He nods. "I'm familiar."

I move around the desk and unlock a drawer. As I search for the document, Solus's finger describes a circle in the air. "Mekyri mei." He sprays a pinch of powder, and a hole opens into the Void where he gestured. The edges of the fist-sized portal sizzle with orange sparks, but they fizzle out before falling on anything. He reaches in, three stones in his hand. When his hand reappears in our realm, he also pulls out a small pad of paper, a quill, and an inkwell. He ends the spell, and the portal closes, the fire gone as if it had never come, and the stones left behind. He sets the well on the desk, quill ready to jot down some sort of note.

Jealousy at his casual magic twists my lips, but I pull out the document.

"I might have questions about a couple things, though, since you seem to know the document well. It's been a while since I looked at it."

"I don't have time for that," I bite. "Do you want this one, or are you going to go to the Records Keeper?" Irrianet expects Solus to be my usurper. I'm not going to just hand him the keys to do so. He could be lying about knowing where any of the mistakes are for all I know.

His pinched face frowns, and he watches me for a moment. "You realize we're on the same side of this wall, right?"

My face is hard. "Of course I do. Do you?" I flash a sour smile, then lock back up the schematics.

"Prince, I think we may have started off on the wrong foot since your return, and—"

"Yes, well, that's very nice, but we both have work to be doing and invaders to fend off, so why don't we get back to that?" I come back around the desk, and he gives way, backing out of the room.

"My lord—"

"What?" I ask, eyes stony.

"I think you've shown that you're more capable than your previous actions had implied—"

I laugh.

He continues. "And I want to see this country running smoothly again as much as you do. Is it not possible for us to work side-by-side?" The old man's oily voice gives a slimy feeling to the olive branch.

I chew on the inside of my lip. Irrianet's message didn't necessarily say that he agreed yet, and he sounds sincere, but I can't shake the years of disrespect and condescension from this man.

"I would never intentionally stand in the way of something helpful for our country," I say, feeling that it's a good noncommittal answer.

His lips twist, but he leaves. Once he's gone, Averí approaches me. "Prince?"

I turn to her. "Yes, High Mage?"

"I kept an eye on the shamans during the battle, like you asked."

Fear of their part in these events flicks up, and I gesture for her to continue.

"I thought they were going to do something to hurt our men, but I don't know what they were accomplishing. They dragged their rock a little closer to the wall, but then they just stood around it, waving their arms. It was almost as if they were pushing something into it."

Her words worm into my skin, filling me with unease. A question unanswered about these casters unnerves me more than thinking they were directly attacking us. I swallow. "That's everything?"

She nods. "They still were doing it for a few hours after the battle ended."

I shift my weight. "Alright. Thank you."

Her head ducks, and she goes back to work.

Before I can think more on it, though, the door guard, Malloryn, pokes her head in and calls, "Message for the prince!"

I come to the door, a page standing in the hall. She hands me a sealed note.

You never answered me about your coronation. Come see me at noon.

— Crown Princesse Sela

I glance at the page. "Just a moment, and I'll have a response." I retreat to the office and scribble down the message, an idea formulating. I seal it and return to the hall.

I already have plans for lunch. I learned about me planning it at the same time you did. I have ideas to get help.

I hand the girl the note and a wooden r'muering, and she dips a curtsy and leaves. I go back in and wait for Leavi to return for another batch of notes. I write a few up, and when she comes a few minutes later, I send them off and head to the wall.

At lunch, I meet with High Lady Misanette. With her tiny, largely unuseful province at the tip of the Peninsula, she could do with more court influence. And doing favors for the royalty tends to generate that.

I spent longer at the wall than I meant to, so when I arrive, she's already there. "My lord," she greets as she rises, holding out her hand palm-up.

Pleasantly surprised, I smile and take it. "High Lady Misanette." I know she's just trying to garner my favor, but considering she's practically already in it, I'm not sure it does any good other than take the edge off my dark mood.

We sit, and servants come forward with a simple meal. I remembered to tell them to only bring us what they're supposed to be handing out, but seeing it reminds me that I wanted to talk to Sela about the flagrant waste of food at extravagant dinners.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to be frank and move straight into business."

Her head dips. "As you please, Prince."

"As I'm sure you heard night-before-last, the task of planning my coronation has come down to me." I take a small bite. "I fear that, on top of the duties of managing the Corps and working alongside my siblings to help end this invasion, such a thing is too complex for one person to organize alone."

"I imagine such a thing is too complex for a person to organize alone at any time." She smiles.

I smile back, a practiced, pleasant thing, but it feels like a lie on my face. "I'm glad you understand, then." I sip at my water. "Well, you're not the only person I intend to ask for help, but you are the first, and if you agree, I would be glad to have you as the head organizer of the event."

The bait dangles before her widened eyes, and I hope to stars she'll bite. As sweet as she seems, all the Table members are Ladies first and humans second.

She takes a sip of her water, and mere seconds morph into something dangerously close to hesitation. Under the table, I curl my fingers into my napkin. If the lure of letting her lead the Ladies who will likely become my base of support isn't good enough, I'll have to sweeten the deal. I'm not sure what else I have to offer her right now, though.

She fiddles with her silverware. "I would love to help, my lord."

I relax. "That's a relief to hear. In that case—"

"I can't."

I draw back, lost. "What?"

Her lips turn down into a worried pout, hands dropping into her lap. "It's just... Iyr is a small province, population-wise, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes." I eye her, unsure what this has to do with the coronation.

"And as secluded as we are, we don't have quite the concentration of magicians the other provinces do." Her eyes drop. "So when it's our year for the wizard tribute, you see, it takes almost all our available casters."

I wince, wondering if she's telling the truth. Since the tribute rotates between provinces, it had never occurred to me that the castle's yearly call for soldiers and wizards could take such a toll on a single territory.

My hand settles to the table gently. "That's not something I can help with until I'm coronated, my lady."

She looks up, surprised eyes rimmed in red. "I know. A reduced tribute wasn't what I was asking for. I was just trying to explain—you see." She straightens her shoulders. "My cousin was one of the tributes last year. He's on the wall. Right now, actually, if I remember his schedule correctly." Her lips tighten, and she breaks my gaze again. I stare, shocked, at the display of genuine concern. If it's an act, it's a good one, and I don't know why she'd make a story like this up. "After how many... we lost," she settles on, "in the last battle, I'm just so worried about losing him too, I don't know if I could focus on—" Her head ducks, and dumbfounded, I hand her a handkerchief.

I can't simply pull him off the battlefront. I can't open myself up to Ladies demanding special treatment and positions for their favored wizards. I bite my lip. "Do you know his preferred casting discipline?"

She looks up, sad eyes hopeful. "He's an illusionist."

My head cocks. "Not a telekinetic?"

"No, prince. He can do telekinesis, I believe, but it's not what he studied."

I nod slowly as I consider. "Then one of our more skilled telekinetics should be the one fighting. An illusionist is little help in a battle such as this, and if you think he would be willing to take a door guard's position instead..."

Her eyes widen. "Oh, yes, please!"

My head inclines. "Then we would be able to free up one of our more skilled battle casters. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

The hand holding the handkerchief presses against her heart. "Thank you."

I wave it away. "Our men should be where they are most needed. Now, are you sure you cannot help?"

A small smile tips her lips. "With this worry off my shoulders, I would be delighted to."

I smile. "In that case, is there anyone you suggest?"

Delighted, she throws a few names out, and together, we craft a list of people that will help her plan my coronation and what tasks they'll be assigned. And since I chose her, I can still reasonably be said to have orchestrated it.

We finish, and she heads on her way, busy and excited. Drained, I wait a moment at the table. Even with the coronation madness resolved, it will probably take her a week or more to get it set up.

I drain the last drops of water in my cup. Here's to hoping we don't all die before then.