Something like shocking, refreshingly cold water runs through me with the explosion of light, followed by a strange sense of calm. As much as those women don't want me to rule them, I am here and here is where I am meant to be. I deserve to stand in this court as much or more than any of them do. The staff accepts me.

The weight of the staff's reaction drops on me as the light fades.

The boy-prince, the wizard that can hardly cast, the Second Son that the Ladies didn't want to accept—that's the person the staff chooses to mark as the greatest since Xíeme?

I glance at Selenia, who looks just as shocked as I feel. "There has to be some mistake," I whisper.

Sela shakes her head, eyes wide with wonder. "It's a gift." My brow furrows, and below us, the Table Arbitrate whispers harshly to one another. In the tiers, the maids and pages chatter excitedly, except for one—Leavi, who watches me with wide, clear eyes.

Sela steps forward, spreading her arms, and all eyes draw to her. Somehow, she's filled her face with awed excitement rather than the panic I'm feeling. I try to reign in my own expression, but I have no idea what to replace it with. I suppose confidence might be good, but this was certainly never a situation Agraund prepared me to face. I resist the urge to suck the spot on my finger where I had to prick it on the staff.

"My people," Selenia calls. "Behold your Second Son of the Court! You have all heard the stories—the great Lady Jacqueline gifted this crystal to her Second Son, the revered Prince Xíeme, who helped her defeat the Shadesnare, the darkest evil of all Avadel! He formed the crystal into this staff, casting upon it to give Morineaux a sign when his greatest successor should rise." She gestures to the staff. The wood at the top has now grown to twist around the crystal. "This was that sign! We thank the stars for blessing us now, in this time of darkness and trial, with the staff's Chosen Second!"

The servants take the cue and let out a cheer, clapping. Aselle claps easily, along with Misanette and a few of my other sympathizers. The women in the tiered seating follow suit, but Irrianet and the others hesitate a moment before joining in. It's hard to differentiate between the people that hesitate because they don't believe it and those that wait because they simply don't want to support me at all. Aselle, in contrast, suddenly plays the supportive Lady so well.

Where the Retrans sit, the priestess whispers something quickly to Riszev's aunt, who grins. Their party claps eagerly as well, and concern twists my gut.

Selenia steps back. "I present to you, courtiers and commoners alike, your Chosen Second Son of the Court, Prince Astraeus Jacqobi S'Pierre S'Díane!"

I step forward and raise the staff that now reaches a foot above my head, glad my words have been chosen for me. "I pledge to serve you well and with my whole being. Long live Morineaux!" Script over, I set the staff back down heavily.

Selenia dismisses everyone. The aunt stands and hurries toward us as people break up, but either my sister doesn't notice or doesn't care, because she turns to exit through the room behind the thrones. Reyan and I follow.

Chills run over me as the blue curtain behind the dais slips past my shoulders. It is official now; no more thinking of ourselves as somehow illegitimate. We are the Queen and ruling Princes of all Morineaux. That responsibility rests only on us. I can only hope we rule it well and long. At least until I'm sent off to Retra.

My lips turn sour. So much for the staff's Chosen Second. Suspicion jumps into my throat, but Reyan voices it before I can.

"If you're going to pull something like that, could you at least warn us first, Selenia?"

She looks startled. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. It's not flattering."

She huffs. "I'm not! I didn't do anything. The staff chose him."

We both stare at her. I can't deny that I felt something from the staff, but even so—it's so inconvenient and unbelievable.

Reyan turns to me, disapproving brows raised.

Eyes wide, I stutter, "Neither did I! I don't know what happened."

Reyan makes a frustrated noise. "Who else would have done it?"

Selenia stands tall and imperious. "He is the Chosen Second, Reyan."

"What?" he demands, incredulous.

Sela's zealotry and the Court's reaction twist fingers of despair into my mind. "This is a disaster," I murmur. For the first time in weeks, I shove my hand into my hair, knocking off my new, regnal circlet, and I curse, fumbling to catch it.

My siblings watch me, unimpressed.

"Why do you say that?" Sela asks.

I jam the circlet back on. "Because if we thought it was a hoax, then how much more will the Ladies who don't want it to be true?"

"As well they shouldn't," Reyan says. "Now's not the time to be pretending that some magical myth came true for you."

"Thanks for the confidence, brother."

"Ack," he grates. "You've done well, but Agraund didn't keep it a secret from Father that you're not prepared for this job. And you two want me to buy that you're some sort of 'chosen one'?"

Surely Agraund didn't tell them that; his letter said I was ready. Hurt, I bite, "You just saw it! So unless you only believe in things you can hit with a sword—"

"Aster!" Sela says.

"What? You'll reprimand me for my comment, but nothing to Reyan blatantly calling me an incompetant fraud?"

She frowns, folding her hands.

Reyan's arms cross. "I don't think you did it, Aster."

"You accused me of manufacturing the effect!"

"I remembered you don't have the casting skill to change the top of the staff. But I suppose you could have hired someone out for it."

"Ren!" she says. He doesn't bother looking at her. "You two are being childish."

"So it's childish now to address the problem staring us all in the face?" he demands.

"I'm the problem staring us all in the face? I thought it was the Kadranians," I growl.

"You're the problem because we need a Second Son we can trust to be on our side!"

"What, then?" I throw my hands into the air. "Where was I the night the Kadranians broke in? Yes?" I step close enough to be uncomfortable. "Did I whimper back to Illesiarr when we still needed to go to the wall? Did I make you carry my weight the entire time? Did I—"

Reyan shoves my shoulders. "Where were you when the Kadranians showed up? You still haven't quite excused that, have you?"

I yell, "I teleported here!"

"Then why don't you teleport their army away!"

"I'm selling myself to another land in order to help this country, and you and everyone else can only criticize me! Have I really screwed everything up so badly?"

"Brothers!" Sela says.

"You're not a screw-up. You're just not good enough."

I glower. "I guess you can't wait till I leave, then."

"That is more than enough!" Selenia says, stepping between us. "You two bickering is hardly going to accomplish anything good, and we have things to be doing. Name-calling and complaining is childish"—she looks pointedly at Reyan—"and doesn't fix anything." She stares at me. "Are we understood?" she asks, looking between us.

His jaw sets. "Yes, sister." His gaze is still locked with mine, though, both of us tall enough to glare over her head.

Voice submissive but solid, I say, "I always do that which I can for my country." I step back. "And on that note, I have a wall to reinforce now that I actually can." I finally break eye contact so I can look at Selenia. "I trust you'll deal with the Ladies?"

"Of course. I wish you well with your work."

I nod my thanks and take my leave, pride still burning. I should be judged on what I'm currently doing, not on what Father said Agraund said about me. I managed to stop the flow of soldiers from the wall, I captured Amarris, and I haven't done anything that wasn't out of a heart for my country.

I regret the places I've failed, but rehashing it doesn't fix anything.

It's like he thinks he's perfect by comparison. Am I somehow less than him just because no job put to me has come naturally? Just because Father was pleased with Ren doesn't mean he is better than me. Maybe Father was easier to please than Agraund. Did Father punish Ren for mistakes in ability rather than only in action? Did Father demand that Ren be not just learned in the basics but master every branch of hand-to-hand combat? Did Father manage every aspect of Ren's life—who he talked to, how he dressed, what he spent his time doing? I doubt it with every inch of the scars on my back.

Sick with frustration and a dark feeling of incompetence, I march to the wall, not even bothering to change out of the ceremonial cloak. I step into the guard tower, and a wizard, seeing me, calls out, "Long live the Second Son of the Court!"

Other wizards rise from their beds and take up the call, and I look around, startled. They're grinning, elbowing each other and pointing at the staff. I have no idea what to say, but Solus steps out of a side room and rescues me.

"Long live the Second Son," he calls back to them. "But for now, the Second needs to cast on our wall. Our enemies cannot assail us much longer!"

They cheer and part to the side as I walk through the space and up the stairs. Solus stays close by, and when we hit a more private section of the tower, I pull him into it. Instead of words, I can only muster an utterly confused expression.

"I told them about the staff. Whatever faith they may have lacked in you is fully restored now. They sensed the magic even out here."

My eyes widen. "You felt it too?"

He nods.

"So..." I bite my lip, watching him.

"I don't know." He readjusts his yellowing ponytail. "It seems unlikely that a trick would be that elaborate. No pretender has ever managed so much—mostly just big lights, the stories say."

Suspicion flicks up. "You didn't—"

His eyes meet mine. "No. I didn't."

I watch him for a moment. "I suppose we'll see what happens. But right now—"

He nods, and I continue up to the wall. On it, the wizards hail me again, a sight which must be strange to the Kadranian watchers. We haven't won a single battle, but a figure comes up and the men start cheering. Maybe it'll unsettle them.

I smile and wave, but cross to the first dip in the crenellations. Beneath it, an embedded cylinder of blackwood runs all the way through. I take a deep breath, suddenly nervous that I'll mess up the activation. The words from my studying come back to me, and I wait until they collect clear and sharp in my head.

"Ecta roeí." I prick my finger on the staff, then touch the tip of it to the circle of wood. A small flash of magic pulses through me, and the stone glows softly. The glow dies away, and I right the staff. I grin. It must have worked. I continue along the wall, activating the defense artefacts.

Finished, I gesture at a wizard to come over to me. "Take my wrist and plant your feet."

His brows draw together, but he nods and does as I said. I lean forward, stretching my other hand past the edge of the wall. An invisible force tugs at my arm, pushing it down and away, and I laugh, drawing it back to myself. It's much harder to pull in than it was to let it out.

I thank the wizard, and he lets go, stepping back. I turn to the people. "Hold your head high! This day should mark a turn in this war, and someday soon, we will push these men out of our land!"

They cheer again, and I go back down. I want to embrace the hope that activating the defense prompts, but as I leave the wall behind, I can't quite muster it in myself. Reyan thinks me a liar, the Ladies don't want me, my country will throw me out, and this staff—

It would have been better for me, I think, if it didn't think I was special. It may have chosen me, but it got it wrong. Though I'm determined to lead my people to victory, I am the least capable Second of any that have actually tried.

I go to my room and change into more practical clothes. I have to set the staff and my circlet down, and when I'm done, I regard them. I always said I wanted to be like you, Xíeme.

But I'm the furthest thing from him. Xíeme was the greatest Second to ever live, powerful beyond measure. Xíeme was a dimensionalist, and Agraund never even let me attempt to access the other realms. The spells are too powerful, boy. If you can't cast a simple holding spell, then you certainly can't manipulate a separate realm. Xíeme was a hero.

I step closer to the stand. I am the Second Son. Carefully, I place the circlet on my head. I'm just not the one anyone wants.

I go, leaving the staff leaned against my bed.