The palace had just come into sight when they spotted the figure racing toward them on horseback.

"Treyan!"

Jamison was practically standing in his saddle as he rode his horse hard, pulling back on the reins so tightly the horse reared and nearly threw his rider. The captain didn't seem to notice as he jumped down and approached them.

"Where have you been?"

"The storm kept us away longer than intended," he explained to Jamison, though concern colored his face. "What's this about?"

Jamison cast a small glance to Alex before returning his attention to his prince. "There was an ambush on one of the northern villages two days back. Riders just arrived, and with them a handful of survivors."

"A handful?" Alex chimed in. "How large was the village?"

Jamison looked pale as he answered. "At least a hundred. Mainly women and children. It was an outpost for the army that maintains the tree line between us and the Borderlands."

"Fisc," Treyan swore, already moving toward Jamison's horse.

"You're not going out there," Jamison instructed him, and Treyan glared. "The Councillor sent me to get you because of the reports we're receiving. And to ensure both you and the Empress returned safely."

"I can handle it—"

"Not now, you can't," Jamison insisted, with another knowing glance to Alex. "I'll escort the Empress back to the palace. The Councillor and the riders are in the war room."

Treyan pursed his lips, looking between Alex and Jamison one last time. "If anything happens to her, Captain—"

"On my honor, Crown Prince."

It seemed good enough for Treyan, for he kicked the horse into a gallop and left them to their walk as he made his way back to the palace.

Alex watched until he disappeared from sight before finding the words to speak. "How many is a handful, Jamison?" she asked again, her voice small.

"Twenty," he said quietly. "And they're going to need their Empress now more than ever."

Of the twenty, there were twelve women and eight children, five of whom were orphaned.

Alex followed Jamison to the war room nestled on the palace's basement floor, a large chamber lined with tables piled with paperwork, chairs occupied by concerned guards and servants, and weapons stashed against the walls should they be needed. As she walked through the crowd of people, to where Treyan stood next to the Councillor upon a small dais at one end, she couldn't help but feel the eyes upon her or hear the whisper of her name. Among that whispering, however, came other news she wished she could have ignored.

One of the riders stood next to a woman holding an infant, and Treyan looked devastated as he heard them out. Of the other eighty inhabitants, they were either lucky to be away, killed on sight, or too injured to make the trip to the palace to tell their story. It seemed the ambushers chose a day when they knew the men who composed the army would be focused on patrols and training far enough away where the attack could occur in the quickest amount of time with the greatest amount of destruction.

And the only way that could have been done was by magic.

"Was he there?" Treyan asked the rider after the woman finished, tears in her eyes.

"He was not, my prince," the rider informed him with a shake of his head. "And the mages were gone by the time we arrived."

Treyan's countenance was dark but he didn't waver as he addressed the woman who stood as the representative of the ruined village. "You're all welcome to remain within the protection of the palace until your homes can be rebuilt."

"What of the children, my prince?" she asked respectfully. "There are those who have lost more than a home."

"We will foster them in the village nearby until other family can be summoned. But while the arrangements are made, accommodations will be provided within the palace. And we will do everything we can to correct the wrong that has been done."

The woman responded, but Alex's attention was diverted at a small tug on her pants, and she looked down to see a soot-covered little boy, no older than five with large eyes and tousled hair looking up at her.

"Are you the Empress?" he asked, and Alex swore the room hushed as the attention of the nearby bystanders drifted toward her.

Swallowing, her face flushed, she knelt down to meet the young boy at eye level. "What's your name?" she asked gently, trying to avoid the question.

"Cairn," he answered. "What's yours?"

"Alex," she said with a smile, though the widening of the boy's eyes told her she had already given herself away.

"You are the Empress," he whispered, hope lingering in his gaze. "So that means if you're here, you're going to make this better, right?"

Alex felt her heart break as her smile turned sad. "I'm sure the Crown Prince will be able to help in any way he can."

"But you're the Empress," Cairn corrected her. "My mom said that if you're here, then this can't ever happen again!"

What she didn't want to tell him was that she had been there for weeks now, and it didn't seem to keep anything from happening. But her eyes scanned the crowd. "Where is your mom?"

"She didn't make the trip," he said sadly, and Alex felt her eyes sting with sympathetic tears.

"Apologies, Empress," one of the other village women murmured as she came over to urge Cairn away, but what was done was done. She watched Cairn walk away with his head hung low and the woman held him close, but as she stood, Alex knew the pain in her chest wasn't going to easily dissipate. Not now. Not like this.

"Is everything alright?" Jamison asked from where he stood beside her.

"I think I just found my why," she said quietly, looking up and meeting the curious gaze of the Empire's Crown Prince.

Treyan heard the rest of the testimony from the accounts of what happened in the village, and the meeting lasted for the remainder of the afternoon and into the early evening.

Alex stayed for all of it.

She listened to every story, pictured every detail.

Her nails had punctured the skin of her palms by the time the gathering ended, and her rage was surging through her like an untethered beast.

Jamison had excused himself early on, insisting he return to Mallia, and said he would report first thing in the morning to assist with preparations for their next steps. In truth, Alex didn't blame him; the only difference between their village and the one that was attacked was its proximity to the palace. Knowing that his wife and newborn son were there without him, after hearing what had happened to similar families—Alex gave him credit for remaining as long as he did.

The Councillor had taken point on sending messages to the other villages, informing their lords and leaders about the attack—that they were to prepare themselves for the possibility of the same, and to inquire as to whether any remaining relatives resided within their walls to assist the five orphans. Treyan and the Councillor worked together to compose each letter, and the candles burned low and the suns had fully set before the elder gentleman bowed to the Empress with his hands full of the sealed correspondence ready to be sent.

Treyan collapsed back into his chair, exhaustion written across his face as he pulled the leather strap from his hair to allow his dark tresses to hang loose. Alex, who had stayed, standing along the nearby wall, slowly made her approach upon the dais.

"What will we do now?" she asked somberly, perching on the arm of his chair.

"We'll wait for responses from the outlying territories and try to make the survivors as comfortable as we can in the meantime."

"And the children?"

"There's an orphanage a day's travel away. If their families don't answer, that's where they'll have to go."

"All of them?" she inquired, thinking of Cairn and the look in his eyes when he asked if she was, in fact, the Empress.

Treyan nodded. "I can't exactly force families to foster them, not with everything else going on."

"What about us?" she asked and Treyan's eyes widened.

"What us?"

She brushed him off. "The palace—isn't there use for pages or squires or whatever it is you call them?"

He considered that for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with that boy I saw you speaking with earlier?"

Alex shrugged, standing. "I would just hate to see them tossed aside like—"

"Like what?" Treyan snapped. "Do you truly think we're not going to help them?"

"I want to do more than just send them to an orphanage, like they're a forgotten toy or a lost piece of luggage."

"Alex—"

"Find some place for them here," she insisted. "Give them that chance."

Treyan sighed. "It could take time. We will need to see what families come to claim them, and how many we can support here."

"So, we do what we can, however we can do it."

His eyes moved up to meet hers. "You keep saying 'we.'"

She swallowed and avoided his gaze, pacing a few steps as she, too, realized the word she had been using. It was on her mind ever since she spoke with Cairn, ever since she heard the stories from the women of the broken village. It was a word that tugged at her heart and pulled at her thoughts as she considered that maybe this was something she could do. Maybe she could finally help. Maybe that barista from Boston, looking for her place for all those years, was just looking in the wrong places.

Slowly she turned to face Treyan again, and his sapphire-blue eyes were intent on her, assessing every movement she made.

"I need paper, a pen, and some time to write."

"The Councillor has already sent the correspondence—"

"I need them...for me. I need to write home. To my parents, my friends, my job." She huffed out a small laugh, thinking about her mundane existence after everything she had experienced in the time she'd been within the Empire. "You told me once you'd be able to get those to them for me. Is that still the case?"

Treyan stood from his chair slowly, taking his time as he closed the distance between them, as if afraid he was going to scare her like a timid animal if he moved too fast. "You wish to stay?"

"I wish to write letters to those I'll possibly be leaving behind," she said quietly. "I'll let you know of my decision if I can get through them without changing my mind."