Owlodin [https://i.imgur.com/5l6WvQl.png]

My worry over my mother's health urges me to go straight to the palace without stopping, but that would be foolish. The sun hasn't quite gone down by the time I reach the capital, and cover of darkness will make it easier to sneak into my childhood home undetected. I land on a wooded hill to the east of the city, a good distance away from the main road. The high stone walls are topped with rows of iron spikes, painted gold and decoratively forged, beautiful as well as deadly.

I adjust my shirt and check my glamour before heading toward the south gate on foot. When I get there, only a handful of people are waiting to be let through. Most look to be travelers, with weather-worn cloaks, bulging packs and weary posture. The man at the front of the line has a small cart full of cabbages, pulled by an aging donkey who dances back and forth uncomfortably while the guards search his owner's wares.

As soon as it's my turn to go through, there is a shuffling among the guards as it looks like a shift change is about to take place. One of the men tells me gruffly to step back and wait, pointing his spear at me. I raise my hands up by my head and nod to show I understand.

The other guard, a younger and more cheerful fellow, turns to greet the newcomers. "Leon!"

Even though I'm careful not to react outwardly, Balsevor notices my attention shift. You know that man?

Do I? He's taller, broader at the shoulders, but he's facial features are familiar.

The younger guard beams at the golden-haired man who used to be my friend. "Look at you, on gate duty! I heard you were covering for Andreus. Poor guy can barely stand, eh?" He laughs. "I told him he shouldn't have eaten that squid. The thing had some kind of tusks."

"Oh? From what I heard, you dared him to do it," Leon says, smirking.

The other guard turns red, spluttering a protest, but Leon only laughs and gives one of his characteristic shrugs. Suddenly he looks the same to me, and I feel an odd tug of nostalgia in my gut.

"Don't worry, Nat, I'm not going to report you. It is hilarious how those things still wriggle when they're dead. I ate one once, you know that?" Leon grins. "My stomach's not as weak as Andreus's."

The other guards act appropriately impressed, and the nervous pitch of Nat's laugh tells me he's very relieved not to be in trouble.

"Alright, we've got it from here, you two!" Leon's burly companion says.

"I'll give you the juicy ogre squid details next time I see you in the mess hall," Leon says, waving to Nat as he leaves, jogging to catch up with the cranky older guard he'd been stationed with.

The other man with Leon steps forward and gives me a once-over. He's got a thick neck and a clean-shaven face. "State your business."

I smile. "Just a traveler, visiting family in the city."

"Weapons?"

"No, Sir," I say, holding my arms out to show I've no blades hanging at the hip. The man does a more thorough search, patting me down from armpit to boot. When I glance over his shoulder I catch Leon staring at me, eyes narrowed in puzzlement.

Does he recognize you as well? Balsevor asks.

It's possible. I almost want him to. He'd be happy to know I'm alive, wouldn't he? How nice it would be to return home and be greeted as a friend at the gate. But it's not to be, because after studying my features for a moment, Leon shakes his head and moves to question the couple waiting behind me.

Hmm. It has been many years, by human standards. You are not quite the fledgling you were.

I'm not sure if Balsevor is trying to be comforting. I know I should probably be grateful for the confirmation of my anonymity. It will make things easier. But still, as they wave me on my way, I have to resist the temptation to turn around and say something to Leon. Let him know that I may not be the prince I was, but I'm not so different from the boy he wandered through the forest with.

The capital has no official districts. The University is front and center, taking up a huge section of the city, and the areas surrounding its circular walls cater to the powerful and wealthy. Most of the buildings there are architecturally impressive structures made of stone, bedecked with curving stairways or rows of pillars. There are banks and law offices, expensive shops and multi-story inns. Courtiers and rich merchants have their city homes among the landscaped parks ornamented with fountains and animal topiary, where the flowers bloom endlessly and the weather's always pleasant. There are perks to being the wizards' neighbor.

The entire west side of the city is unofficially referred to as "the docks." It's a hub of trade as well as leisure. That's where you go for drink and music, fresh seafood or rare trinkets arriving on ships from the southern kingdoms. One could spend days exploring the taverns, theaters and winding markets of the docks and still stumble upon something fascinating and new. It was always my favorite part of the city, despite the pungent scent of fish guts and the sharpness of the salty air. My mother took me there on some of the little adventures she told me not to tell Father about. We watched dancing street performers, and, when the sun got too glaring, ducked into a colorful tent to see a fortune teller who stared into a bowl of water and told me I was destined for great things. I'd been disappointed at the time, assuming she meant being king, which was a boring job my father had and not nearly exciting enough for me. I can't remember what future she foretold for my mother.

The eastern section is mainly residential, home to all manner of Ylvemoran citizens, from renowned craftsmen and to general laborers. As you get closer to the city's outer wall there are more signs of poverty, but last I knew my father was doing his best to assist the people of his city with rebuilding projects to fix up the dilapidated buildings and clean the dirty gutters. His goal was for the entire city to reflect the standard of a prosperous kingdom. As for whether the people living in the freshly painted houses could afford to eat… That's something I hadn't thought to ask him, when I used to be the prince.

The gleaming towers of the University are visible as soon as I enter the city gates. As the sun dips lower and the sky begins to fill with color, the brilliant white marble is awash with a rosy glow and the golden domes shine brighter than ever. Classes are over for the evening, for the most part, which means that any student not studying diligently for tomorrow is heading out for a night of fun. The cobblestone streets are filled with throngs of blue- and gray-robed young wizards. There are only a handful of carriages or men on horseback trying to make their way through the crowd, and I can hear them shouting at the wand-waving adolescents to no avail. Someone shoots a small zap of lightning towards one angry man, who yelps. The group erupts with laughter.

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With all the commotion, it's easy to blend in, despite my slightly odd attire. I've gotten so used to wearing faerie silk I'd forgotten how fine it looks compared to heavy wools and linens. My deep blue and purple traveling coat, eggshell white shirt and black trousers might be plain and practical by my standards, but to the people of Ylvemore the colors are too vivid and the cut too fitted to be fashionable. Here, people show their status with baggy robes or modest dresses, thick layers of cloth embellished with fine gems and finished off with clinking iron jewelry. It seems, without meaning to, I've inherited my mother's manner of dressing outside the norm. She was the daughter of a seamstress, and even as a queen she chose to sew each gown herself. Despite the courtiers' disapproving looks, they couldn't deny the beauty in her unique designs.

I remember the way she laughed off the petty judgments of noblewomen. She told me, "Some people don't know how to be happy, so they try to take happiness away from others. Never let them, little bird! Hold tight to your happiness."

How I wish, right now, that I'd held more tightly onto her.

Instead of taking the curving road around the walls of the University, I decide to walk through it. White marble towers and squatter domed structures are artfully spaced around the outer ring of the campus. Some are temples, others hold classrooms, lecture halls and study rooms. One of the biggest buildings of all is a library. And right in the center of everything is the main temple, the sky-high gold tower that became my prison all those years ago.

I stop in the middle of the pathway, leaning backwards and squinting up at the tallest point of the tower.

Ah, they've repaired it, Balsevor says.

"So it seems," I say, noting the bright blue tiles of the branching turrets. There is no sign of my escape, when Balsevor and I burst out of that highest rooftop and sent a ripple of cracking destruction throughout the golden structure. The magic of the Ironborn keeps the top-heavy tower upright, and I suppose it kept it from collapsing that day, as well. For some reason I'm disappointed.

If you want this place to crumble and burn, I am fully on board, Balsevor says.

I shake my head and keep walking. There is hardly anyone walking the smooth stone paths beside me. The professors and researching wizards are holed away in their studies, the students packed into dimly lit taverns, on their second or third drink by now.

An inhuman yowl cuts through the quiet campus. I turn to see a woman being dragged forcefully towards me by a strange creature on a leash.

What is that? Balsevor asks. Aren't you going to run?

"Rapuki, stop!" the woman shouts, grabbing the leash with both hands. Bracelets jingle at her wrists. She attempts to dig in her heels and almost trips over her red skirt. Its thick layers are bunched together and cinched at the waist to a wide iron belt. Above that, she wears only what looks like some sort of impractical armor: a triangular necklace of shiny scalemail that leaves her midriff bare.

I watch calmly as the woman finally regains control of her beast. Vessimira. She seems to have hardly aged, I notice, though she must certainly be taller, and her cascade of brown hair now reaches past her waist. For a moment, I worry I'll be recognized, but it quickly becomes clear that she sees only a stranger.

"I'm so sorry," she says, laughing as she yanks on the leash and scolds her animal once more. The creature whines as the thick iron collar bites into its hairless pink neck. I can tell that Vessimir's manner is meant to seem embarrassed, apologetic, but detect the amusement hiding in the quirk of her smile, the calculating way she is looking me over through her lashes. She'd probably enjoy watching her beast tear me to shreds.

I smile back at her. "It's no problem at all, my lady." I dip my head in a bit of a bow, knowing she'll appreciate the show of respect. She is the daughter of the High Priest, after all, and she likes to make that obvious. While my eyes are lowered, I take the opportunity to study her odd choice of pet. I've never seen a creature like it. A large, hairless cat, wrinkled and pale-skinned, prominent fangs jutting from its massive jaw.

It's disgusting, Balsevor says.

"Rapuki is a vampire cat," she says. "From the jungles of Evenwald. They're nocturnal, and hunt faerie creatures, mainly. Drink their blood." She laughs, as though the thought excites her. "I find them fascinating, so I insisted my father get me one."

"Does it usually chase after people taking a stroll?" I ask, teasing. "Or does it just like me?"

I had just meant it conversationally, but she looks suddenly thoughtful, narrowing her eyes as she considers my question. "I don't think we've met," she says, taking a step closer to me. "Are you a student?"

Rapuki sniffs at the ground by my feet, drooling and tugging against the leash. It starts to make a strange growling noise in the back of its throat, pausing to hack roughly every few moments almost like it's choking.

"No. Well, not…" I clear my throat. "I am considering becoming one," I say, cursing myself for not thinking of a cover story ahead of time.

Oh, perfect, Balsevor says. Like it wasn't bad enough learning faerie magic.

"I wouldn't," she says with a grin. "What a waste of time."

I blink. Balsevor gives a huff of surprise. He didn't expect that either.

"You'd call the pursuit of knowledge a waste?" I ask.

"This is a church," she says, gesturing around us with her free arm. "If knowledge is only given as a reward for obedience and worship, the price is far too high. But that's just my opinion." She shrugs. "Who am I to say? I am no wizard."

No, she isn't. I remember the way her father looked at her when he told her she never would be, the disgust and disappointment in his eyes. You are banned from the University. And restricted from any use of magic from this day forward. Imagine being so close to that kind of power, to have inherited so much, just to lose it all to adolescent rebelliousness.

Isn't it more than that? Balsevor says, responding to my inner musings. She's right, isn't she? Indoctrination is not a reasonable prerequisite to information, no matter how valuable. I'm sure there are plenty of other ways to learn magic, even for humans.

I take a step away from her to put some distance between me and the beast snuffling aggressively at my feet. "I'll consider your advice, kind lady," I say, giving her another half-bow as I make my retreat.

"Consider this instead!" she says. "Meet me for a drink. In the palace." She smiles at me. "Or I'll have to let Rapuki hunt you down."

I laugh. "What an honor, my lady! But I apologize, I don't even know your name."

"Nor I yours, but I trust you'll be able to find me. You seem smart, would-be-wizard," she says with a smirk.

I wave to her and turn to go, and even though I don't glance back, I can feel her gaze lingering as I walk away.

If you were truly smart, you'd stay away from her and that vile thing of hers, Balsevor says, and I can't say I disagree.