I tried to talk Selenia out of an elaborate dinner. It's been nearly a month since the estimation of less than two-months' rations remaining in the castle. We still don't know when reinforcements are going to arrive—or why my vision says that's a bad thing. Supposedly, Aselle has sent orders for part of her army to go assist Solitaena's people, and I have a suspicion that might have less to do with altruism and more to do with Solitaena's out-of-character silence at the coronation. Someone finally got the news out of Riletta that she sent orders to her people weeks ago, whose only response was that they "felt it was better if they didn't." Emmavinne, the High Lady of Agrí, and Misanette and Valaecití, the High Ladies of the Peninsula, say their men are organizing to march, but with their spread-out populations, it could take up to another two weeks for them to start marching.

This seige could last a lot longer than the remaining month we have.

Despite my protests to Selenia, I slide into my chair at her side in the glittering dining hall. To my left, Raenette Riszev sits around the corner, Solus on the other side of her, and then Eriznic Shava. Reyan sits on Selenia's right, and around his corner is Riszev's aunt.

Selenia turns her head to me with a smile pasted on, but whispers, "Where's your staff, Prince?"

I look at her surprised, and add a small laugh to disguise it for amusement to whomever might be watching. I'm struck by how fake it is, just like I criticized Mother and Father for being at the dinner before I left.

I miss them.

"I thought it would be unwieldy to carry to dinner." I smile at her.

She hms and turns away.

"Shava says you fulfilled a great prophecy today." Riszev leans toward me. "You must be very honored."

Caught slightly off-guard, I regard her for a moment. "It is a great honor. I hope I can live up to it before we leave." I offer a small smile and don't bother trying to hide the sadness in my eyes.

Sympathy softens her features. "It is a terrible thing to be homesick."

I want to protest that I haven't left yet, but I almost feel like that's her point. I'm already regretting being gone, and it's nowhere near time. Who knows what might come to pass until then.

With everyone settled into their seats, the Queen raises her glass, and all go silent.

"Tonight," she says, "we celebrate the coronation of my youngest brother, the great Prince Astraeus Jacqobi S'Pierre S'Díane, the Chosen Second Son of the Court of Morineaux!" Her smile is wide, but even under the pretense of politics, such a high address of me is unnecessary. It's all I can do to offer a polite smile under the Ladies' stares rather than squirm in my seat. This is beyond milking the staff's activation.

She continues. "Tonight, we step into a new era—one lighted by the greatest wizard since Prince Xíeme! Darkness may have invaded our castle, but we will push that darkness back. Do not be afraid.

"We give thanks also to our esteemed guests, the Raenette Riszev and her company, whose presence is a mark of goodwill between Morineaux and her friend, Retra. All these things bode well for our people. To the coming light!" Her cup raises higher.

Again, a well-chosen line. Anyone accepting such a joyous proclamation is effectively also accepting her praise of me. And the Retrans, but I don't think anyone has voiced concern about that.

Everyone raises their glasses, even Irrianet. She's too smart to hold out for pride—anyone that stayed seated after Aselle humiliated them has favor to win back with my sister. They made their point, but at a cost.

Selenia picks up her fork, and we all begin eating.

Riszev is mostly quiet, watching the conversations around, which is fine by me; I don't talk either unless dragged into it. Even so, the raenette's manner is nice enough. Conversely, her aunt seems far too satisfied every time I see her, and the priestess... simply unsettles me. I hate knowing she's a powerful caster yet not being able to see her hands or mouth. I thought I'd get some reprieve while she eats, but though her hands peek from her sleeves, she eats beneath her veil. Watching her, a chill runs through me.

I dread going where people like her are the authority on magic.

I don't think Selenia had planned for dinner to be quite this grand until the staff lit. Then again, perhaps she completely ignored mine and Reyan's arguments that if this had to happen at all, it shouldn't be more elaborate than what we regularly eat. And of course it had to happen—it's a show for the Retrans. The Queen serves a full four-course meal. At least it's not one of the exaggerated dinners Mother used to throw that featured up to nine.

The raenette turns to me. "Do your soldiers eat this well?" Her voice isn't loud, but a few heads turn.

I don't like having to defend actions I don't agree with, but I hope to avoid any more show-outs from the Ladies. If they agree with Selenia's choice to host so extravagantly, then a foreigner coming to lecture them won't go over well.

"Everyone receives plenty rations, including the soldiers and wizards. Anyone on the wall is well-taken care of." They actually receive slightly more food than any peasant not fighting. And while the Ladies haven't been expressly constricted, it seems that many of them have the sense not to waste food regularly. "Besides, this is a special occasion." Because evidently, Sela's not one of them.

Riszev nods, appeased, and it dawns on me what's unsettling about being beholden to her for the rest of my life. Here, I still have some control—we're in my land with my people, and though I am a man, I am still a ruler. There, every role that defines me will depend on her.

As the last course is drawing to a close, though, I lean toward the Queen, and murmur, "It's time, isn't it?"

She smiles. "I think you're right." I press a quiet smile like the actor I am forced to be, and she raises her glass. The diners quieten. "Guests and countrywomen—friends. My brother, Prince Astraeus, has something he would like to say, and we would both appreciate your attention." She turns to me. "Brother?"

Hearing my regnal name still startles me, but I keep my expression steady and raise my glass. "Thank you, my Queen." I face the rest of the table. "Since the arrival of our friends the Retrans two days ago, I have gotten to know their beautiful raenette as kind, strong, and candid. I have appreciated our time together." The descriptors are carefully chosen to appeal to both parties, and I stand, turning to the girl. My heavy tongue musters the best accent it can produce. "Ebni-min-Ska Riszev Zarit, I would be honored to continue that time. Of my own volition, I humbly entreat you to accept my offer of marriage so that I may be your husband." Considering everyone knew this would happen, it feels sort of pointless to give a whole speech for it, but the Retrans value spoken word like we do the written. In their eyes, my proposal is the contract, although they probably expected it to come from Selenia. It's custom here, though, that the male indicate marriage is also his wish by being the one to make public the proposal.

Past Riszev and Solus, the priestess practically glows. Riszev's face is harder to read. She stands and takes my hand, covering it in her own. "My country and I will be glad to have you. I accept."

I widen my smile to hide the sting that her few words produce. With such a flattering speech as I gave, the Ladies will have been expecting such kindness in return. Instead, Riszev makes it sound like I'm simply a good being traded off.

Which I suppose I am.

I produce engagement papers—a contract that agrees we shall be married and under what few, specific conditions that the engagement may be nullified to the intense chagrin of the offending party. Despite the Retrans' apparent distaste for written contracts, Riszev doesn't argue when I sign and turn it to her. Whatever dishonor there apparently is in backing one's words with incontrovertible proof of agreement, she silently signs it and sits.

"As a token of my gratitude," I say, "and of our countries' good relations..." From my cloak, I produce an elaborate necklace, sparkling with three rows of shining clear gems. "I offer you this necklace for a gift." It's silver and glittering, and the purity of the stones makes it a perfect focus as an artefact, should anyone choose to cast on it. Even if she doesn't recognize it as such, her priestess surely does.

She accepts it wide-eyed and sits. "Thank you." Deftly, she unfastens her own necklace and places the new one around her neck. Across from us, her aunt frowns, but if Riszev sees, she doesn't let on. Her fingers brush one of the jewels before dropping back into her lap.

I smile, somewhat surprised by her wonder, and resume my seat.

We finish our meals, accepting congratulations, and then, finally, thankfully, everyone is off to their rooms for the night.

That was the last step to seal our fates. There is no going back—she is my Princesse Consort now, and in her land, I'm her Elyud-zin-Dri.

I don't suppose I'll see Leavi again after this. I'm stupid—I didn't say anything that I wanted to. I should have actually talked to her earlier rather than simply complaining. I must have sounded so foolish.

I just wanted to say goodbye.

I go to my room after dinner. I don't feel like dealing with anyone else tonight, and for once, I feel like I've done enough today. My new manservant greets me when I enter, but I just nod and slip into my room. He's already learned that I don't need help undressing—I don't even have night clothes.

I slide into bed in my dinner wear and stare blank-faced at the ceiling above me. I wish Agraund could have seen my coronation. But people don't get coronated until their predecessor is dead. I pull the blankets closer around me.

Besides, it was a mess. Rebellious Ladies, conniving Retrans, star-forsaken staff. I was perfectly fine being the disappointment before it decided to give me something even greater to live up to.

People have faked the staff before. It's not a new trick, and but for Prince Listaer, they've all been caught. Some illusory lights, a grand speech about the history of the staff, and there you have it. But Solus is right—no one has changed the top of it or caused all the magic users in the castle to feel its effect. We still don't know how far it reached; it might have spread farther than that.

Everyone knows that the people who have tried it before were fakes. Even Prince Listaer is looked back on as a fraud; his reign wasn't anything special, and there were other questionable things he claimed. Now instead of being seen just as the unprepared prince, I'll be the second Prince Listaer.

It's small consolation, but I suppose I won't be here to see them write the history that way. I'll be in Retra, raising children just as foreign to me as my wife.

A frustrated noise lets itself out through my lips. I don't want to think about this anymore. I want to sleep. I turn on my side, toward my window.

A raven sits on the outside of my sill. Its head turns away like that of a person caught staring.

Ravens are usually such shy birds, fluttering away the moment a person seems interested in them. But it just sits there. It glances behind it, but then keeps staring through that gap in my curtains, almost like it's looking at me but trying not to look like it. Unsettled, I rise and draw the bottom of the curtains together so that they overlap. I settle a paperweight on the sill to keep the curtains steady, then return to bed. This way, the light will still wake me but—what?

The bird can't spy on me? Am I really going to fear a bird on the other side of glass?

I start to get up again to put the curtains back just to spite myself, but I can't quite convince myself to rise.

"Besides," I murmur, "it doesn't hurt anything." I settle back down, blankets tight around me, facing the window.

For the first time since I was a child, I regret sleeping in my room all alone.