"He said what?"

"Keep your voice down!"

Elodie threw her hands over Ann's mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. Maybe if she closed them tight enough, it would all disappear completely. Ann's eyebrows arched, looking at the door, furrowed at Elodie, peaked, and then furrowed again. Finally, a calm settled over her features, and she relaxed her body, closing her eyes. Deeming it safe, Elodie timidly removed her hands.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Do you reciprocate?"

"How would I know?" Elodie asked, biting her thumbnail afterward.

At first, Ann opened her mouth to give her a dry retort, but when she saw that her lady's question was genuine, she recoiled it back into her, like rewinding a hose into place. She glanced again at the door. Thinking more clearly, she grabbed Elodie's wrist and gently moved her to the back of the room near the balcony. Ann bet on the fact that unless someone decided to climb the icy side of the castle, they would be able to have a conversation safely.

Amidst the chaos, Ann had arranged for them to borrow one of the guest rooms. It was smaller than Elodie's personal room but no less grand. Woven rugs covered the floor, and curly furniture stood guard around the room's perimeter. Muffled voices trailed down the hallways, mostly aides running around to secure belongings for their hersirs. If they spoke calmly enough, nothing they said would leave the room.

"I think they write enough plays about that question," Ann sighed. "First, let's get you dressed. Future queen or not, you have a speech to give."

Elodie blanched enough that Ann had to drag her to the center of the room to sit on a bench at the end of the bed. Ann fetched a dressing screen and placed it in a semicircle around Elodie. Typically, this would be set so that if anyone were to walk in, they wouldn't see anything they weren't supposed to, but now it provided an extra layer between them and the outside world, like a comforting clamshell.

Elodie removed her stained outer layers, leaving on the warm wool garments and chemise beneath that were clean and necessary for the winter weather. Even then, her skinny wrists draped the cloth like banners, and with her size, the clothes practically swallowed her. Ann was patient and kind, thumbing through colored cloths from a trunk and setting out each piece meticulously along the bed in the exact order they would be used. Not a thing was out of place. Ann supported her weight when she had to lean on her injured foot. The process was slow, but Ann was equally patient to the task.

When Ann's hand halted over her shoulder, Elodie tilted her head. Ann coughed politely and gestured to the yule crown atop Elodie's head.

After careful consideration, Elodie asked, "Do you think he would be offended if I removed it?"

"I cannot say what a prince thinks, my lady."

"Ann," Elodie whined, grabbing her aide's arms like lifelines.

Ann sighed, carefully peeling Elodie's hands away with a distasteful expression. "I am not so concerned with the Prince's assuredly complex inner workings as I am with the crowd of several nations that will be looking on. Not to mention all of the nobles here who have been raised with the notion that they'd be the ones to tame the bear to their will."

Elodie frowned at the poor taste of Ann's joke. Not that she could deny it.

"Do you think it's purely political?" Elodie asked, reaching up to the crown. She tilted her head left and right, examining the object in the mirror, seeing her pensive face in a distorted, wavy reflection in the gems. "I don't think him a very deceptive person ... but do I know him well enough to be certain of that?"

Ann looked like she had several points for discussion but let them sink into murky waters, marking their places on a map to be hauled up and resurfaced later.

Elodie was grateful for the silence that hung between them during the dressing. She sorted through her feelings as best she could as layers of protective leather and embroidered linens were wrapped about her like a carapace. Each one twinkled like tiny motes of light. She felt light and airy, like several staccato piano trills were playing back and forth inside her.

She tried to name each trill. Being that Elodie was a creature of pessimism, the first notes were dreary. Dismay that her sister hid something from her. Terror at the idea of being any kind of sovereign, of the innumerable disappointments she would cause in any seat of power, again and again and again. Suspicion that this was some political play, another way to keep an orator in check. From those darknesses, small lights emerged. Trust that he had her best interest in mind. Peace when she pictured him nearby. Longing— that emotion was new— for a future that wasn't characterized by the unknown. Earnest respect and desire to see him succeed as king. As emotions were turned over and examined, Ann fastened another belt or snapped another button in place with an understanding calm.

She laid them all about her heart and combined them into what she thought most apt: a very timid eagerness. Not love, or even affection, but a stunned enchantment with the idea that a prince— or any person— could be in love with her.

That was as much as she could surmise by the time Ann called for her attention to pick between two equally identical necklaces. Before her, on the left, was a looping brass necklace with intricate designs formed in circles. On the right, small colored beads collected from across the valley were braided into leather straps. Her finger hovered over one, and then moved to the other unsuredly.

Seeing the hesitation, Ann finally cleared her throat and said, "Might I make a suggestion?"

"Yes!" Elodie agreed, exasperated with indecision.

Ann set the brass necklace down behind her, and carefully arranged the beaded necklace on the ridge of Elodie's clavicle. Relieved from having the decision removed from her, Elodie was startled when Ann asked, "Does he make you happy?"

"Does he ... I mean ..." Her head drooped in deep consternation, strands of hair tickling in the spots the necklace didn't reach. Her throat was locked too tightly for her to say anything, but almost imperceptibly, she nodded. Braum made her feel very, very happy.

Ann cocked her head with the inquisitiveness of a bird examining a seed. She considered something for a long time and knelt until she was at eye level with Elodie. "I have served your family all my life and am with you most hours of the day. My sworn duty is to consider your happiness and health above all else. This means I must sometimes be honest with you in a way that will bring discomfort." Ann brushed back some of Elodie's hair to clear her face. "I'm concerned. If you accept, your life will be in danger far more than it is now. You will be subject to scrutiny, which you do not deserve and should not have to bear. I also personally do not care for the Prince's carefree attitude where you are concerned."

The more she spoke, the more the words muddled into cold clay at her feet. Cold anxiety leeched into her skin, dragging and painful. Ann spoke words she needed to hear. They cut like knives, regardless. Still, she was grateful. No one else would've told her the truth like this.

"That being said," Ann continued, with a stubborn staccato to her voice, "I cannot find fault in his diligence as our future king. And ... more importantly-" Fabric shifted as Ann, dear Ann, squeezed her hands like a tiny reminder to stay awake, to be present, alive. "-I believe you are most at ease when you are near him. In a fashion I have never seen in you." A small smile crossed her face. "I cannot say whether that is friendship, love, politics, or falsehoods. The only way to reveal the truth is to share your thoughts with him, as he has done with you. Then you can build a conclusion together."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

A feeling bloomed in Elodie, too sparkling to name. Her hands went to her skirts, and she bunched them together in an excitable, nervous squeeze. She tampered it down, reminding herself that it was too early to jump to any conclusions, even if she felt so light that she was sure she would sprout wings from any height. When her hands unclenched, she raised them to remove the crown, unleashing some strings of hair in coiled springs. "I'd like some way to still take it with me ..." Maybe not displayed on her head for the world to see but kept close to her person as a secret for herself. The knowledge that it was there would be enough.

Before she finished the thought, Ann procured a small purse made from beautiful white embroidered leather. Delicate beads were woven into the edges, and a golden clasp held it shut.

"When did you—" she shook her head, dispelling the thought as mist into the air. "It's perfect. I will have it."

Ann placed the bag over her shoulder, and Elodie tucked the crown within the white folds of cloth. The golden clasped shut into place with a satisfying clasp, and Elodie looked herself over in a mirror. While she did so, a dark pallor swept over Ann, and her eyes were daggers aimed at a target Elodie couldn't see. Her lips curled up in a pleasurable smile, the kind a vizier used when scheming the downfall of an empire. "And if he hurts you or you decide he has been untoward, I will kill him." She said it as though discussing their breakfast or the seasons changing.

Elodie didn't have time to unravel that sentiment as her eyes caught a billowing mist seeping under her door.

"Fen?"

"Knock!" Ann cried back, throwing a pillow at him as he formed. "She could have been undressed-"

"Something's not right," Fen continued, sidestepping the pillow, which hit the wall and then the floor with a weak thump. "You are unharmed?"

"Er ... yes? Or, no, I suppose. I've been walking all day, so my feet are-"

Without acknowledging her, Fen began to pace around the room. To Ann's chagrin, he unceremoniously upturned blankets, flung open drawers, and lifted furniture to examine the dust underneath. During each upheaval, his nose twitched, and his ears swung erratically around his head. Elodie could feel his apprehension clogging up the room, but what it was, he wouldn't say.

"You're sure? There has been nothing strange?"

Elodie shook her head. "What is this about?"

"I've been staying in your study, like we agreed," he assured her. I've been feeling your pain all day. Then the ..." He made a waving gesture with his hands. "Inside feelings. Do less of those." He pointed at her stomach, and Elodie immediately felt embarrassed enough to shield it. "All day, there's been... noise."

"Well, yes, I should hope so," Ann remarked snidely, still nursing annoyance from his improper entrance and boisterous behavior, "There's a festival going on. It's bound to be noisy."

His lips pulled back, his canine teeth revealed like two shining daggers set in his gums. A low growl came from his throat, but it ebbed away. "Different."

"Different how?" Elodie chirped in an attempt at a supportive question, "Maybe if you described it, we could pinpoint it more precisely."

"Like the kind when your lumberers cut down a beloved tree we call grandfather or when a name has been stolen fairly." His eyes cut about the room, looking for some precious inkling and understanding of the discomfort he clearly felt. His tail lashed behind him, whipping small wisps of mist into the air that crackled and disappeared in annoyance. "The fey are moving, but I don't know why. Thalia wouldn't be so stupid to attack during Winter's Fete. It's sacred, even to them."

"Then why do they sneak through tithe holes?"

"To play tricks and mess about, as is their due."

"Their due?"

While the two bickered, Elodie rummaged through her memories for something that could cause a stirring of fairies in the middle of winter. Is that why Thalia deigned to visit her at her windowsill that night? To deliver a declaration of intent like a runner on a battlefield? Such etiquette would certainly be in line with Thalia's disposition, and the pit of her stomach knew that Thalia was capable of the brutality necessary to attack the castle. Yet she also recalled that the fairy queen had mentioned an "Erato" coming to scout for "the sunbearer" and that they would receive them in their court. Those names drew as much recognition from her as the coasts of Riviera or the peaks of Talon Cliffs, but it seemed strange that Thalia would mention their passage and then order fairies to move. Indeed if they were busy entertaining another, they wouldn't bother themselves with something so organized as an assault. Unless ...

You said you would know the sunbearer by their sign, Elodie thought frantically, Have you seen it?

Their voice is nearby, but has yet to speak.

Incensed, Elodie muttered, "And you didn't think this information pertinent?" which caught the attention of her companions.

They are ... good at evading me. Even as the hunter, I cannot always sense them.

Realization bloomed on Elodie's face, and when she explained her epiphany, the expression spread to her companions.

In a tightly knit band, they raced through the halls of the Audric castle as fast as they could because of Elodie's injury. Pain laced up her leg in tight knots. She hissed and muttered, "Cover it in ice for now." Thin, spidery veins of cerulean magic webbed up her leg and formed a lightweight boot of ice, numbing the pain and blocking it from the rest of her body. Nobles who were busy amplifying their laughter and turning their noses up at one another pulled their skirts closer and tightened their jackets as the three thundered down the halls, as though the urgency would catch if they weren't careful.

They pushed out to the courtyards, past gaggles of festival goers and tables covered with heaping plates of steaming food. What had once been a wondrous display of the Audric Valley's warmth and kinship had been transfigured into a writhing, lumbering creature bent on blocking their way to the inner pavilion. Banners that whipped in the wind lashed like snake tongues, and flames licking the communal bonfires were so bright against the darkness that it became hard to tell one face apart from the other. Girls in their candle-lighting regalia giggling and showing off their crowns to one another became high-pitched distractions. Families strolling at an even pace that she would have found charming not ten minutes earlier became the very bane of her existence.

Move, she thought, please, move!

"Do you see him?" Elodie cried as they ran. Her head craned upwards, and she looked to the crowds, the sky, anywhere that might have given her a chance view of either the crown prince or some foul sign of hostility. She found neither.

By this point, bodies began to stream towards the central trelleborg, where a great bonfire was lit in the intersection of two main thoroughfares in town. A space had been cleared for candlelighters, and around it, a ring of clustered groups of people tittered excitedly for the festivities to begin. There, one could most easily see the risen curtain walls where the royal family made their candle-lighting speech each year. Decorated and ensconced by detailed balustrades, they seemed hidden or perhaps caged from the rest of the festival.

"We will make it in time," Fen assured her. Rather matter-of-factly, he said, "It would be faster if I could carry you."

"That would alarm everyone."

"Perhaps they should be alarmed."

Ignoring that sentiment, Elodie pressed on, "I'm supposed to wait for them at the presentation balcony, where we'll give our speech. But it will take ages to reach it from here ..."

"There," Ann called, pointing to a small outbuilding that connected the curtain wall to the castle wall. A small fleeting glimpse of blue and silver wardens indicated an area protected more heavily than other wall sections. It was undoubtedly there that the royal family took shelter. Her finger trailed to a staircase that traipsed the castle wall. It was the shortest path up to the outbuilding. "We can intercept them before they make their entrance if we take those stairs instead."

Festival goers streamed down the stairs like pebbles pushed down a stream in spring, clamoring with sounds of anticipation and expectation. Elodie had to hike up the hems of her skirt to keep from tripping, causing odd looks from those around them as her ice-covered feet clomped up the stairs. This was accompanied by gasps as Fen grit his teeth, mist surging around them in great clouds. He and Ann tried to direct traffic, to give Elodie any amount of egress.

A sharp voice cut through the crowd like a knife from above. "What on earth are you doing?"

Lord Alden stood at the top of the stairs with a displeased expression, arms folded and stare ironclad. Elodie opened his mouth to protest. Couldn't he see the desperation on her face? Couldn't he understand that there were more important things in this moment than scolding her for whatever preconceived slight he'd generated in his mind?

He coldly declared, "You are blocking the way of Lady Elodie Auclair, Court Orator and personal friend of the Prince. Move aside at once." The swiftness of it hit Elodie like a bucket of ice water. His voice was annunciated by the shine of gleaming metal at his sides. Two lines of wardens stood beside him, and the bark of their command and the push of their spears pressed forward. With one deft motion, the crowd was parted in two, and a path was laid in the middle for Elodie and her companions to ascend. Alden offered his gloved hand to Elodie as she reached the top steps, and she took it with urgency.

"We need to speak to the prince. Now."