Aevlin woke in her little room feeling refreshed. She dressed in a light green dress and stepped into the captain’s office, cheerfully unprepared for the scene that awaited her there.

“Avery! Eliot said you were working in your office.” Not only had the contessa returned, she had brought both Mirelle and the cook.

Aevlin quickly pulled the door shut behind her, too startled to respond.

“Come and eat, child!” the cook had come prepared to feed a family, which was all Aevlin needed to forgive the intrusion.

Mirelle had brought the tools of her trade, and knew that her plan would be less appealing to the young princess. She wielded her measuring tape as fiercely as any warrior prepared for war. As soon as Aevlin was well-seated and sufficiently distracted, she took aim and began expertly measuring the girl.

Before Aevlin had entered the room, the master crafter had been a puddle of nerves as to how she might face the girl who had suddenly become a princess, but with her task before her she forgot to care.

“What’s all—” Aevlin tried to ask, but was hindered by sweet bread.

“Eliot said you were in your office—I never knew there was a room there!” Contessa Annalize looked perplexed by the appearance of the door itself, let alone that it hid a whole office. “Is that where you work?”

Aevlin focused on her food with a violent intensity. “There is not much to it, only a bookshelf and a desk.” That, and the bed of blankets that she had fitfully endured during the hot summer nights. “All his assistants used it,” she said, making eye contact with her plate.

“Are you afraid of telling her the truth? That you have been sleeping in the same space as the Captain all these moons?” her shadow teased.

The visible girl had long since learned to ignore her invisible companion in polite company, but since the three women were distracted she did take a moment to eye the girl lounging in the captain’s chair.

Her invisible twin shrugged, "It might have served as an office for his previous law-makers in training as a method of making them leave."

“Why do I need new clothes?” Aevlin asked, noticing Mirelle as she knelt and measured the distance between her knee and ankle. “I like my clothes,” she smiled down at the crafter, who smiled back and took the opportunity to measure her neck.

“Why!” the elegant contessa was scandalized. “As a princess, you need to be dressed as befits your Family.”

“Kivalya would love that. Can we dress her as befits her personality?”

“Don’t be petty,” Aevlin spoke reflexively.

“She deserves the dungeons.”

“What?”

The princess blushed. “Don’t be silly! That is far too much work. My clothes are already new, and lovely,” she smiled at the clothcrafter. “Why not focus on my family? Theirs are not made by Mirelle.” Aevlin blinked and furrowed her brow. “If you are the one that makes the clothing for Royals—”

“Are you finished?” the cook asked, moving to clear the dishes.

“What? No.” Aevlin returned to her breakfast, allowing the flitting measuring tape to resume its work.

“Naturally, your Family will be provided for.” Contessa Annalize spoke as though she delivered wonderful news.

Mirelle, remembering, tried not to panic.

“Thank you, Mirelle,” Aevlin smiled at the woman and even held out her arm to be properly measured. “Then, are you also measuring Jaiden and Kivalya?”

Mirelle looked conflicted. “I did already.”

“Jaiden is looking quite handsome in his new princely suits.” The contessa looked as proud as if it had been her hands that stitched his clothing.

“Ask. You have to ask.”

“And Kivalya?”

“Kivalya is lovely, too. She looks good in everything, it seems.” As the contessa spoke, the cook pantomimed being bound and gagged and led away.

Aevlin smiled, “Is that true?” and immediately felt guilty for it. The cook nodded and her smile faded. “I see.”

“Serves her right! She tried to steal our crown.” The spirit girl folded her arms, resolutely not sorry for their elder sister.

“Of course it is true!” The contessa huffed. “I do not fabricate or flatter falsely.”

“Oh! I do not doubt you, Anna.” Aevlin thought quickly. “I am only surprised at how quickly everything is being done.”

“It is necessary. The ball is in barely a half phase.”

“So soon!” Aevlin exclaimed. “How can that be?”

The contessa’s face was too calm to be believable. “Oh, the captain has his ways.”

Aevlin glanced at the cook, who surreptitiously pointed back at Aevlin.

“They—Eliot, Adaia, and the other advisers—believe it best to present the House Saliz sooner rather than later, as people must be curious after last phase’s excitement.” The contessa waved her hand to dismiss the subject and said, “First, we simply must remove from you those dreadful clothes. The accoutrements of an average apprentice will not do for a princess.”

“And then?” asked Aevlin with a resigned sigh.

“There is your footwear, jewelry, hats and hair pins, accessories, beauty care products—how have you survived this long without a decent set of combs? And we must find you a personal maid.” Contessa Annalize concentrated as though she might have forgotten something important.

“That’s too much!” Aevlin protested. “Isn’t a new outfit for the ball enough?”

“You really must take this seriously, Avery. What would people say! You must be outfitted as befits a princess of Niare.”

“We already have master and expert jewelers crafting your personal collection. You really should choose a piece or two from the House Saliz collection as well.” Mirelle sat back on her heels with a smile of satisfaction. “There! That’s all of your measurements taken. I will send this over to the Fashion Guild—can you make certain she sees the cobbler today?” Even as Anna nodded her agreement, the expert crafter turned pale with confusion. “I am so sorry! I didn’t—Contess—Your Majesty, future—”

Anna laughed disarmingly. “It is perfectly alright, Mirelle. I am the perfect person to see this task accomplished.” Looking at Aevlin, she added, “For the moment, you are more important than I am.”

“She needs to stop saying such easily misunderstandable phrases—I can never tell if she intends to be rude, or if she is simply oblivious.”

Aevlin laughed.

“Is it funny?” Aevlin’s shadows folded her arms and glared.

“What?” Contessa Annalize frowned, confused.

Aevlin sighed. “You were the one who completely misrepresented your importance when we met.”

“Oh. Yes. Well. That was when you would not have spoken to me, so awed you were—” Anna stopped. “But you knew you were a princess.” She looked confused. “Why were you shy when we met, if not because of my Family?”

Aevlin tilted her head.

“You’re going to lie, aren’t you?”

“It is true that I knew who my Grandfather had been, but I did not grow up believing I was a princess.” Aevlin smiled at the concerned looks on all three women’s faces. “I did not have a bad life, nor do I mean to say that I was unaware of it. Rather, M—my family lived simply. We did not consider ourselves as Royals.” Meeting the contessa’s eyes, she said, “I did not think of myself as a princess. Meeting a real contessa was overwhelming.”

“The Holy Man said you build up chaos when you lie. Why not tell her that you were impressed by the woman who had an effect on the Captain?”

“Why did your Family live that way? Surely it was not necessary.”

“Not necessary? A dozen assassins—not necessary? I suppose she would rather we lived honestly and died quietly.”

Aevlin sighed. “Mother—I suppose she wanted to protect us. And considering—” Aevlin hesitated as she met Anna’s bright eyes.

Anna dismissed her concerns, and her mother’s. “There never would have been any problem if you had all moved to Saliz. Even if she preferred living in the north, you could have asked for the protection that House Saliz merits. The King would have sent guards and servants and such.”

“Everything is so simple—so black and white in her world. Poisons, assassins, fleeing in the night, forced marriages—these do not exist in her world. The only difficult choice she has to make is which beautiful dress to wear, or which handsome man to marry.” The insubstantial girl’s sigh was almost visible. “You’re jealous, admit it.”

Aevlin only shrugged.

“You could have already had all the dresses and jewels and—” the contessa’s cloud castles multiplied themselves, and she sighed wistfully at the childhood she imagined the young princess should have had.

Aevlin laughed, “I will have them now, and love them all the more for the time I spent without them. Only, what in the orchard do I need a maid for?”

“Oh, everything! Your hair, your clothes, your room… A maid makes life pretty and comfortable.”

“I was wrong.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Of course! How can a princess live without a maid?”

Aevlin looked at the cook, who was engrossed by her empty tray. Mirelle avoided her gaze with a suspiciously twitching face and said, “I’ll take these—there.” She left the room with her list of measurements.

“She is laughing, hysterical, and silent,” Aevlin watched through the door. She looked at Anna. “She seemed more serious when you were only a girl, and the Captain’s assistant.”

“Did you eat enough?”

“Yes, thank you, Iris.”

“I’ll be in my domain, then.”

“She’ll laugh when she reaches the kitchen,” the spirit girl predicted.

Contessa Annalize’s eyes sparkled.

“Where to?” Aevlin asked timidly.

“The cobbler, naturally. And then the stables.”

Aevlin stopped following even as her shadow doubled over laughing. “Wait, why the stables?”

The contessa caught her arm, unwilling to waste time. “What is a noble without a horse? Come, come!” She dragged the reluctant girl, oblivious to the echoing, maniacal laughter that followed them out.

To avoid scaring the horses, Aevlin’s shadow left her to wander the halls. Before long, she found herself in the library.

She flitted around the stacks of books until she found herself in a quiet corner where a familiar figure was curled in a pile of cushions and blankets and books. She stepped back into a bookcase.

The handsome young man smiled. “I thought I might resign myself to loneliness.”

She stepped out of the bookcase and looked around. Even the librarian, who never left her shrine of knowledge, was not there.

“Have you read this one?” he held up his current conquest.

She leaned close to see the title. “No. Is it good?”

“Dreadful. I highly do not recommend it.”

“Why are you reading it?” she frowned.

“I am building immunity. If I can survive this, I can survive anything.” He set the book aside and looked over at her. “Are you well?”

“It is the middle of the day. Won’t someone look for you?”

If the books had ears to hear and voices to speak, they could have said that these two had spent many late nights sitting in this little paradise of literature, reading and discussing books. They could have expressed surprise, if they had eyes, that for the first time, the man looked embarrassed and the girl slightly awkward.

“Not right away,” he did not meet her eyes. “There is nothing for me to do today.” With a sigh and a weak smile, he asked, “Is your sister better? I would have liked to visit.”

“She is much better.”

“She must be near a spot of void,” he frowned. “I cannot feel her at all.”

The shadow tilted her head and closed her eyes. “She is outside learning to ride a horse.” She returned to the young man. “I thought the Captain was not strong enough to hide her.”

“He is much stronger than he claims. Even his writing gives off an urge to be orderly and lawful.” He shuddered. “I never read it.”

The girl laughed at the face he made, and they were friends again, as they had been in the many moons since the girls’ arrival in the palace. She joined him on his throne of pillows, and he held the book so that she could suffer it with him.

A hooded figure floated up the steps to the derelict house, never once looking down as her feet easily missed every crack and weak spot in the rotted boards. A slender hand reached for the door knocker and barely visible lips curved into a smile. The visitor pushed open the door and stepped inside, careful to leave the door cracked, just as it had been.

Elsewhere in the forest, a lumberjack of a man wearing the delicate gloves of a courtier knelt in the dirt, gingerly digging around a small plant until the specimen, roots and all, could be lifted from the ground. He carefully wrapped the plant in a towel and carried it home.

He, too, did not notice the state of his porch as he walked up to his door. Using his foot to push it open, he went straight in to his kitchen to set the plant on the table. “Your family has a habit of turning up here,” he said, even as the woman sitting at his fire spoke.

“So much for dinner.” She had removed her cloak and sat as comfortably at the hearth as if she belonged there. “Perhaps I will journey on, after all.”

“It is already dark.”

“It is always dark.”

“The time of night that brings darkness has arrived. There is a pie in the oven.”

“Why do you not repair the exterior of your house?”

“Two of your children asked me that same question,” the man tended patiently to his plant.

“Did you answer them?”

“The exterior hardly matters.” He finished potting his new plant and removed his gloves. “There.”

“What if someone should hurt themselves?” she eyed the pretty, poisonous plant.

“That is as it is—perhaps they were meant to. Perhaps that small injury would save their lives.” He removed his cloak and boots and swept the floor before turning to face his guest. “Hello, Callily.”

Callily stood and embraced her old friend. “Hello, Reuben. You look well,” she smiled.

“As do you.” Passing her, he retrieved the meat pie from his brick oven above the fireplace. “Your children are mostly well. You do not bring the little one?”

“She is gone to the palace, with an escort. I wanted to see you.”

“You found me.”

“You gave good directions.”

“Did I? I do not recall.”

She laughed.

Reuben smiled back and went in search of plates, leaving the pie on the newly cleaned table. “You journey to the palace in the morn?”

“I must. Teigen is as troublesome as the jungle cat she was named for.”

“I do not suppose that is any coincidence.” He set a place of pie in his guest’s hands. “She did well. You should be proud.”

“She did everything opposite from what I hoped for her,” Callily laughed wryly.

“I recall another mother saying the same of her daughter, half a lifetime ago.”

Callily smiled. “Is she well?”

“She is. You do not See?”

Callily shook her head as she chewed. The image of a perfect lady, she finished her food before responding. “No, I cannot. Someone in the palace has too much order in his blood,” she frowned delicately. “It is familiar, but I am certain I have never met him.”

“That would be the king’s shield, Eliot Silver. He goes by his mother’s name, Winter.”

“Not April?”

“The very same.”

“She married a Silver? That is surprising—oh.”

The man would not speak ill of others, but his expression told a story of tragedy. He sighed.

“Poor April. And the boy? Eliot?”

“I am surprised you never met him.”

“I was only here a year,” Callily reminded her old friend. “My parents thought the city would corrupt my roots.”

Reuben smiled nostalgically. “We were jealous of your country roots.”

“And I was embarrassed.”

“Your parents were lovely.”

“Could you see past the yelling?”

The old friends traded stories and laughed as the stars carried on in their relentless quest to bring light to the universe.

Under those same stars, a little girl noisily arrived at the palace after spending the evening in town against her mother’s expressed wishes and her guards silent ones. To her, the past was best forgotten and the future beautiful.

“This palace is—let me think—I suppose it is half the king’s, which means…12% mine. That is quite a lot! Do I have a wing all to myself? This is so lovely…”