Elodie lagged a few paces behind Emerys and Ann. As they moved through the castle's many halls, the sound of their polite conversation became fuzzy background noise as Elodie sank into her thoughts. At first, she practiced what she would say to the prince. Over and over, she repeated phrases like, "My family has served the Audric family diligently for years," and "I apologize for not having a better understanding of oration, but I promise to learn." She attempted to bore them into her skin and breathe them like air.

So it followed that her mind drifted hazily through what she remembered of Prince Braum, what his disposition might be for this meeting. He was, in her memory, what was expected of a Prince: well-liked and good-mannered. He always played the main character in whatever make-believe adventure they had set off on as children. He won any competitions set before him, and usually of his own skill and merit, too. As he'd grown, he drifted further away from the other noble children, and visited foreign countries and entertained guests, who all had a good opinion of him afterwards.

Elodie, in contrast, had always been content to watch other children play, to listen in on their stories, or collect flowers on her own with Ann's company. As she'd grown, she attended the bare minimum of court obligations, instead preferring to read books or spend time with her siblings. She would be surprised if Braum even remembered her except out of a distanced politeness and basic knowledge of his court. No nobles had a good opinion of her, but neither did they have a bad one because most people had no opinion at all about Elodie.

They crossed a hallway with large paintings of the Audric family's ancestors. Elodie sighed, wishing she could have remembered more pertinent details like his politics or behaviors irked him. The paintings' size dwarfed her and her thoughts, swallowed her like a great maw made of acrylic and brushstrokes. What kind of paintings could they paint of her life? Mornings spent daydreaming and evenings spent in a library. A sheep that was perfectly content being lost.

Your time was not spent in vain. I can use these skills.

With the chime of an invisible bell, the noise of Ann and Emerys and footsteps faded away, melting like paint from a brush in the sink. Though she still paced behind them, it was like an inner quiet darkened the world. Her mind split in two, her ears able to listen to two conversations at once.

I was beginning to wonder if you had ears at all.

The words had a dreamy quality to them. They were both her thoughts and not her own. The voice came from within the same way any other idea did, but it was like there was a curtain in front of them before they were revealed. Hidden away from her and shown one by one. Elodie's mouth opened to respond, but she remembered where she was and thought better of it.

You will do.

Elodie's pace slowed again; each footstep took more effort than the last. Ann turned to see that Elodie had fallen behind and matched her pace with her lady's.

"Ah ... yes, I'm okay. I think I'm just tired from this morning."

The voice didn't speak up after that, regardless of how Elodie prodded. By the time they reached an inner quarter, Elodie wondered if she had heard it at all.

Presently, Emerys led them to a large wooden door with brass fixtures shaped and twisted like two wolves trapped in a series of concentric circles. The smell of cedar hung in the air from a fire that crackled within. Voices came from inside, increasing in volume as they closed in on the room.

"Dismiss the Dormund band's request. It's a waste of resources."

"If you keep provoking the Dormunds, they'll bring out their dogs, y'know, and they got teeth."

"That iron mastiff's got a memory, too; he doesn't forget. You can't ignore it like-"

"Like who?"

"Braum, even I think you should reconsider."

"We can't afford it, not in winter. Give the hersir a seat at winter's fête and an advanced bid. Be firm so he knows this is his only option- no further discussion."

"He won't like it- he wants his mining funds, and he'll bark."

"He'll learn to love it when his silos run low, and he finds that swords don't make bread. Dormund isn't of this era- he readies for a war that exists only in his head. Let him bark."

The door rattled, and three faces looked up at the intrusion. One was Lord Alden, who had a noncommittal, tired expression as he snapped, "You're late." One was a tall, muscular woman Elodie recognized as Lady Luta Brunde, the prince's chief advisor and right-hand woman. She had dark skin, blazing eyes, and hair in thick box braids pooled atop her head like a coiled chain. She gave a one-handed wave before turning back to look at the third figure in the room.

Sitting at the head of the table in a chair with gnarled embellishments was Prince Braum Audric, first in line to the throne. He had dark hair that curtained his face and intense, charcoal eyes gleaming gold in the firelight. He sat straight, silhouetted by round windows and the branches of a withered white oak tree behind him, but his cloak of feathers and fur made him appear like a hunched bird, inquisitive and alert. His presence was gravitational like the sun radiating warmth in exchange for the obedience of orbit. Several colorful, formidable characters stood in the room, yet he demanded all attention without command.

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"Your Highness," Emerys announced, "Lady Elodie Auclair and her aide, Ann."

"Oh, she's smaller than I thought," Luta blurted out.

Alden gave an exasperated sigh. "So much for that."

Braum said nothing but leaned forward on the table, hands stitched neatly together. The Audric ring shimmered on his middle finger, and a sea-blue gem was nestled in a decorative livery chain around his chest. The metal jingled with the gesture, and the fur on his cloak seemed to vibrate with intrigue. Elodie tried to overlap her memories of the prince with the postured man before her. The two versions were only congruent if you squinted and removed the symbols and stature. She almost felt bad that she recognized so little of him, except that he seemed a little colder than the version of Braum in her memories.

Elodie felt a tug at her waist and realized Ann was pinching the side of her thigh, hidden just under the lip of the table. The aide was bent over in a low bow with her fist over her chest and gave the shorter girl a side glance. Heat rushed into Elodie's cheeks, and she imitated the gesture, hair cascading over her shoulders toward the ground.

When she and Ann came up for air, Braum's mouth quirked upwards in a little smirk, almost private, like he was laughing to himself. Something about the gesture irked her a little. Still, neither said a word.

Ann folded her hands neatly in front of herself and took a respectful step back, leaving Elodie to fend for herself. "Thank you for having me," she said in her most pleasant, calm voice. Pop. She couldn't remember what came after that in her practiced speeches, but she kept her chin level and her eyes trained on Braum.

"They've all been told what happened this morning."

Elodie could exploded with gladness that someone else had started the conversation.

"At least, an abbreviated version."

"Some of us have seen it with our own eyes, too."

"Well, some of us haven't, Alden." Luta's lightning-sparked eyes moved from Alden to Elodie. The strike was paralyzing. "Is it true- can you make ice with your hands?"

Elodie's voice grew thin under scrutiny, and she said, "I did earlier, yes."

"She did so instinctively, too. I've never seen an orator do it with a single word."

"I've never seen it at all!"

"Be glad- when the fairy queen brought their tricks with them last solstice, nearly half the wardens retched for days," Emerys intoned.

"And how old are you again, Elodie?"

Elodie felt like a mouse caught under a cat's paw, being batted around from reaction to reaction. She listened intently, sinking into the background of what was supposed to be her audience. The spaces between the words seemed very clear to her: not a single person in the room wanted to approach the question of what to do with her.

Elodie realized one by one that they were waiting for a catalyst. They were waiting for Braum. Yet he, like her, listened to the cacophony around him. The eye of the storm.

"Nineteen."

"So you go right from your candle lighting to oration." Luta looked in awe. Elodie was caught off-kilter by Luta's forwardness.

Emerys gently intervened, "Elodie, is there a chance you could provide us a demonstration here?"

This was the question she'd been fearing. Her fingers pressed into her palms as she formed two fists and repositioned herself to a familiar balanced stance. She still didn't know what it meant to make an oration, but she was prepared to fake a performance to save face. Outside, she could see big, fluffy snowflakes swirling through the air and piling on the ground, and she so desperately wished she could pluck it from the air and pull it inside through the window.

Ann stepped forward just an inch, and Braum was the only one to track movement before his piercing gaze slid back to Elodie. His eyes were like bottomless wells, and she felt her heart exposed in front of them. The look was a challenge, a pity, and a question without a single word.

Her palms opened, and she looked down and answered them. "No."

Emerys tilted his head. "You won't?"

Elodie shook her head dismissively, then dropped into a half-bow, which Ann copied. "I can't. I want to have some way to show you, but I don't know how to. That one you and Alden saw was ... an accident at best."

"Not wholly unexpected." Elodie was surprised that it was Alden who responded to her plea. "Honestly. One was enough."

Hungry eyes that were laden with curiosity examined her yet again. This newfound spotlight made her shrink even further. She wished she could fold herself into a speck until she could return to her home and become no more than a dot in the woodwork of the library.

When Braum finally spoke, his voice was deep and sincere. "I heard you were frozen when the wardens found you. I apologize that something like this happened to you under my care."

There was a silence that followed. Elodie didn't know how to respond. There were tiny, white snowflakes on the surface of her mind. All her practiced speeches came at once, and as a result, nothing came out.

"I was told to give my regards and appreciation to the Audric family on behalf of Lord and Lady Auclair," Ann replied in her stead, "For nursing Elodie to health and for calling so swiftly to her house."

Low, rumbling laughter came out of Braum, rhythmic and steady like a drum. "What kind of prince lets a lady freeze on his doorstep?" The heavy wooden chair he sat on groaned as it was dragged across the floor. Braum stood and said, "I want to speak with Elodie alone. Would you walk with me a bit?"

Everyone's shoulders relaxed. Elodie looked to her left at Ann, then to her right at Emerys, eyes silently pleading, "Me?"

Around the table, each advisor responded with deference; Braum had made a decision. Elodie didn't know what that decision was. She felt chills shiver up her spine, and this time, not from magic but fear.

"Y-yes, Your Highness," Elodie responded, unable to mask the confusion in her voice.

Emerys cleared his throat and said, "Ann will, of course, accompany you as well."

Braum shot Emerys a look that could kill but said, "Of course," with a sparkling smile.

Satisfied with that, the warden commander moved to open the door while Alden and Luta sighed in relief behind them. After crossing the room, Braum put a hand on Emerys' shoulder that seemed to say, we'll talk about this later.