In the morning, though the fireplace still burns brightly, cold pervades the room, and I dread stepping out of bed. I pull the blankets higher around me, reminding myself of living in the nursery, waiting until Jeanna forced me out of bed to go to lessons. I'm so comfortable, and there are so many things that, wrapped tight in the blankets, I can pretend aren't real.

Someone knocks at the door, though, and I make myself sit. "Come in, Ollem."

The servant pushes into the room, and I'm grateful again that Janeaulí hired him. He sets down the tray he bears in my lap.

"Thank you. If you could make sure the curtains are pulled tight, I would appreciate it."

"Of course, milord." The boy crosses quickly to draw the top closed and double-check that the edges are tucked in. He bears some resemblance to Collin, the boy that learns under the horsemaster, and I wonder if they're related—siblings, cousins. I don't ask. There's no point in building a close relationship with him if I'm only going to turn around and leave him here. No Morineause man is going to follow me to Retra just to be the servant of a prince in a land more female-centric than even Morineaux. He pulls clothes for me out of my wardrobe.

I eat and drag myself out of bed. It's so cold, I know it must be freezing outside, but I still need to bathe. I pick up what he laid out. I could go to Ilessiarr's, but that's where Leavi is. My conscience pricks at the idea of letting myself seek her out, even if it is arguably unintentional.

I leave. The interior halls are warmer than my bedroom, and I pause at the door to the third-floor courtyard. A draft murmurs against my feet. I'm being childish. A little cold is no reason to waste time. I push out and march to the bathing pool. The air bites my face, and my breath clouds. Steam rises over the water, and I strip and step in.

The warmth after the winter air sets my skin to tingling. I submerge, scrubbing the water through my hair until I have to come up for breath. The cold pricks my wet face, and the scars on my back tingle. I reach behind me to touch them. The last one he gave me was only a couple weeks before I left for Draó, and it rises higher than the others. I wonder what Riszev will think when she eventually, inevitably sees them.

I drop my hand. I guess I'll find out then.

After washing, I step shivering onto the stone around the pool. When I'm dry and dressed, I head for the Mage Room. The air still chills my head from my wet hair. It's too long, brushing past the tops of my ears. They'll probably cut it, when they prepare me for the wedding. With a shock, I realize that will only be the day after tomorrow.

Malloryn opens the door for me, and Solus greets me inside. "Prince!"

Pushing away the clinging thoughts, I approach. "Is something wrong?"

He shakes his head. "The Captain left this here to give you." He proffers a note, and I read it.

The reinforcements from Barriaen and Noirbré have finally trekked around the capital province to meet up behind the Kadranians. They're about four days away from the edge of the city, waiting for our order. I so badly want for this to be a good thing, but the dread that my vision planted in me only grows.

At the same time, I can't help but be excited that they're finally here. Someone is finally here. Maybe this isn't where the vision comes true, or maybe it's something almost inconsequential like when Marcí fell.

I so badly want for this to be a good thing.

Apparently, Selenia has called an Auditorium meeting for about lunch, and I hope that our conversation from before her injury still holds. If she's not willing to do what she thinks is best rather than what she thinks the Ladies want to hear, I'm not sure even the Retrans can save Morineaux.

I tuck the note into a cloak pocket and look up at Solus again. "Thank you."

He nods but doesn't move.

"What's wrong?"

His voice lowers. "Where is your staff?"

"In my room." My arms cross.

He pauses. "Why?"

"What does it matter?"

"The people should see you with it. You're the Chosen—"

My hands gesture sharply. "I'm not special!" I hiss.

His brow rises, but he just watches me.

My stance settles, and he doesn't move. I shift uncomfortably. Still he stares, and my gaze slowly lowers.

"As I was saying, the staff announced you as the Chosen Second, and that's a morale boost to your people, whether you like its proclamation or not. Additionally, your uncle kept the staff with him, and you know it."

I look away.

"Well, Prince?"

Guilty, I turn to him again. "Don't you think it will aggravate the Ladies?"

He scowls. "Who cares?"

I bite my lip. Solus is right that the people seem to receive it well. And I thought I was done being afraid of the Ladies. "I suppose I'll get it, then, when I head out to the wall."

I do, but by the time I leave the wall, a faint shakiness has taken up in my bones, and I wonder if it's nerves about the upcoming Auditorium discussion. None of them have gone well, and the last one ended in someone's death. I try to ignore it, though, and tend to my other business.

When I get to the Auditorium, Selenia and Reyan are already sitting in their thrones. My brow furrows as I walk up the carpet. Irrianet smirks at me. Solitaena winces and looks away.

It takes everything I have not to drop my head into my hands. I was supposed to come in through the back door. I'm crowned now. We can all finally sit in the thrones. And instead, I'm walking up the carpet like a dumb princeling.

I hold my head high and continue.

When I reach my seat, Selenia frowns at me. I rest the staff against a curve in the arm, and take my uncle's chair. She doesn't say anything.

At the bottom of the dais, two extra chairs sit facing each other and slightly out, toward the Table. Riszev sits in the one on my side and her aunt in the other. Guests are usually allowed to attend, but this is the first time I've seen the Honorary Court chairs in use—they're only granted to foreign allies during war. All my life, we've been at peace.

I find it interesting that both Riszev and her aunt are allowed, but I suppose it could cause a conflict if either of them were excluded. While the aunt has a greater station with her own people and therefore gives the orders to the Retran troops, Princesse Consort Riszev now has a higher position here. The political knot makes my head ache.