As Rosslyn conveyed Adon down the halls, her mind sifted through possibilities for the future.

How quickly would Adon pick up fire magic? He seemed like an extremely talented magic user, but she had not actually seen how well he picked up new abilities yet, only heard about it. There was a part of her that saw Adon the way she knew her father saw him. An ally, an asset, or more bluntly, a weapon that still needed to be honed.

He could be the savior of their nation, if he lived up to family lore—no, to the now confirmed history of his predecessors.

But she felt instinctively that saying something like that to Adon directly would be placing too much pressure on his wings.

Carrying him on her shoulder was a reminder of how small and fragile the butterfly was.

He weighed so little that she could easily have forgotten he was there, if she was not thinking about him consciously the entire time as she walked, avoiding getting too close to suits of armor or other hard, low-hanging objects that might knock him from his perch.

It was easier back when I had both eyes. She resisted the urge to run her fingers over the scar again. It would only upset her, and she did not want to cry in front of Adon. She could not remember if she had already done so when she woke up to find she was half-blind. The day had been a blur.

Be strong, she told herself. The Goddess loves things that are strong and beautiful. Although she doubted she would qualify as beautiful. Probably not anymore, if she ever had.

Rosslyn moved toward the training space where she had sparred with Sir Jaren, Matilda, and various nobles, what felt like a lifetime ago.

It has only been a few weeks, right? she thought. A part of her felt as if she had been under a magic spell and slept for years. So much had changed while she was asleep. She felt so weak. Lost. And she was afraid of how her capabilities would have deteriorated with the complete loss of her depth perception.

Any rustiness from her long sleep would be recoverable, but her eye was never coming back.

Rosslyn rounded the final corner and returned her focus to the present.

She could already smell the slight, permanent odor of sweat, the light tang of rust in the air, and even the faint whiff of Sir Jaren’s cologne. At least her nose still functioned as normal.

Sir Jaren stepped out to greet her—or at least to see who was coming into his place of work. His eyes widened when he saw Rosslyn’s face.

“Princess!” The man at arms exclaimed.

“Yes, sir?” she replied.

“I—I am thrilled to see you out of bed,” he said after an awkward pause. “I had not yet heard—” He could hardly speak. A genuinely joyful smile was overtaking his whole face, and it appeared to make it hard for him to speak.

“Well, I am glad to be the one to deliver the news,” Rosslyn said, a grin tugging at the corners of her own lips.

Besides her family, no one would be happier to know that Rosslyn was still alive than Sir Jaren.

His eyes lit on the butterfly that stood on her shoulder.

“Your Highness, are you aware that you have a butterfly there?” he asked.

Rosslyn chuckled. “I am. He and I are going to do some training, if the room is not already busy.”

“If it was, I would clear everyone out for you anyway,” Sir Jaren replied. “But the nobles are less motivated to train when there is no King and no Princess around to watch them or express approbation of their actions. It has been quiet around here, except for your knights. Today, it is only us.”

“Excellent. Would you please ensure that no one else enters this time?” she said.

Sir Jaren bowed his head. “Certainly. I will lock the door behind you. Would you like complete privacy?”

Rosslyn thought about it for a fraction of a second. Sir Jaren was like an older brother or something. If she could trust anyone, she could trust him.

“No, you can watch,” she said. “Just please avoid telling anyone how rusty I am.” She pointed at her eye. “Or how clumsy.”

His expression turned sad as he seemed to notice her disfigurement for the first time.

“I have been utterly out of the loop,” he said quietly. “Who did that to you, Your Highness? I know nothing about your trip, except what little you told me before you left. If I knew there was a chance of violence, I would have asked to come along myself.” His voice took on a deadly tension. “I would love to meet the person who cut you.”

“He is dead now,” she replied, smiling grimly. “I wish that I could raise the dead, so you could have the pleasure of killing him yourself.”

They shared a malicious smile, and then Sir Jaren held the door for her and Adon as they entered the training area.

He locked and bolted the door behind them, then opened the door to the next room so that Rosslyn could change.

“You can wait with Sir Jaren, Adon,” she said quietly.

Even if you are a butterfly now, you were a man in your last life. She imagined the instincts of a man did not fade if the identity of that man was preserved as strongly as she thought it was in Adon.

As she stepped through the doorway, he flapped his wings and settled on the wall outside of the changing room, next to Sir Jaren.

Then she tied her hair back and changed into the same set of padded armor that she usually used. She was quick and efficient. This would be just like riding a horse. All she had to do was get back in the saddle.

Her pulse quickened as she thought of sparring with a human again, though. Rosslyn knew herself well enough to recognize the cocktail of nerves and excitement. It was a balance that could teeter to either side at any moment, depending upon how things went. She would want to start with baby steps.

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She was glad that Sir Jaren was here. If she decided to spar with a human, rather than just training by herself and assisting Adon with his training, she knew he would not put much pressure on her.

As she emerged from the changing area, she saw Adon perched on the same wall where he had been, while Sir Jaren had moved away.

I guess that they were not talking. It was possible that Adon believed the Royal Family wanted to keep his nature a secret—which was true, although Sir Jaren was within Rosslyn’s personal circle of trust—or, more likely, that he wanted to keep his own sentience a secret still.

He did well talking with my family, but I suppose he is still mistrustful of humans in general.

“I think this is the best spot for you to practice,” Rosslyn said.

She pointed ahead of her, then entered the combat circle. Adon flew from his perch on the wall to land on the ground opposite her. His movement through the air remained strikingly beautiful to Rosslyn. Like watching flower petals blow with the breeze, except he was clearly in complete control.

“I will be re-familiarizing myself with the use of the sword, but please go ahead and tell me if you want any advice or feedback.”

Certainly, Adon replied. Thank you, Rosslyn.

She was pleased to note that he was using her name, not “Princess” or “Your Highness.” Another area where she appreciated the value of baby steps.

The butterfly seemed to go into focus mode at that point, and Rosslyn grabbed a practice sword and started her own training.

She swung up and down, back and forth, moved forward and back, all while keeping an eye on Adon, who was channeling Mana but otherwise remained motionless.

Rosslyn found that she had been correct in thinking that her body was rusty.

Even though she still remembered all of her moves on an intellectual level—she had been in a fight just before her long nap, after all—everything was sluggish and stiff from barely having been moved in weeks.

As she got into her moves, she paid less attention to Adon for a while.

Rosslyn did not become aware of the butterfly again until after she had gotten into the groove of her usual techniques again. It really was just like riding a horse.

I did not lose anything important, she told herself, feeling the lie only slightly. I will be back to fighting at my usual level soon—

A sharp intake of breath from off to the side pulled Rosslyn’s attention back to the world around her. It was Sir Jaren. He was staring at Adon.

Rosslyn looked and saw that Adon’s Mana had changed visibly. He had mustered a lot of Mana around his body earlier, but now it was moving rapidly, swirling like a whirlpool.

He is getting closer, Rosslyn thought.

She knew why Sir Jaren was surprised.

The level of focus Adon seemed able to muster was inhuman. Rosslyn did not know how long she had been practicing with the sword for, but since she had not yet broken a sweat, it could not have been too long.

Most students of magic took days to advance in a new affinity, if not months.

Mastery could take years.

Rosslyn had been a quick learner—the positive trait that compensated for reserves of power that were lower than would normally be expected of a Royal Family member—but even she had taken weeks to get a strong grasp of fire magic.

Then she had spent a year learning healing magic.

Light magic was more difficult and conceptual, and she had spent years mastering it.

As she knew from personal experience, it typically became more difficult to learn additional affinity types once one already had one mastered. The body became used to reflexively performing the affinity transformation that it had already learned.

Yet Adon had more than one affinity type in his repertoire, and he appeared to be making rapid progress with fire magic.

Sir Jaren caught her eye, a wild smile slowly spreading across his face. He shook his head in disbelief. He had probably never seen a nonhuman using magic, unless he had fought a skirmish with a demon. Even then, demons were humanoids, just pale-skinned and with horns.

To see a butterfly doing this must be like witnessing one of the Twelve Wonders of the Planet firsthand.

Rosslyn nodded with satisfaction.

Adon might be the most promising magic student we have ever had in the palace—if we have enough time to train him up.

She continued exercising, but the movements now were basic. Easy. Thoughtless. So she could keep an eye on her arthropod friend.

It was rewarding.

The air around Adon had been glowing with the intensity of his Mana movements.

Over the next hour, as she watched, she saw sparks appear in the whirlpool of moving Mana. The first time it happened was a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment. Almost a fluke.

Adon moved as if surprised, then settled back down. Another quarter of an hour passed before he did the same thing again.

A spark appeared right in front of him.

A minute passed.

Then two sparks appeared on either side of Adon.

Then three sparks. Then four.

A dozen sparks appeared on all sides of Adon.

“When did he start learning this?”

Rosslyn jumped at the sound of Sir Jaren’s quiet voice, then raised her hand to stop him from apologizing. She did not want to break Adon’s concentration.

“Today,” she whispered.

Sir Jaren shook his head. “Truly?”

She said what he was thinking.

“He is a prodigy.”

She stopped exercising, and they both stood and watched Adon as he pushed his Mana closer and closer to embodying the fire affinity.

After another ten minutes, Rosslyn was grinning uncontrollably.

“You are incredible,” she said quietly, unconscious that she was even speaking the words aloud.

The Mana cloak around Adon was glowing a gentle orange color now, as the transition toward fire affinity moved ahead at a breakneck pace.

Gradually, from simply generating sparks, his whole aura had been kindled to the temperature of a low-level flame.

As Rosslyn looked on, she knew that if she—or anyone other than Adon—were to try to reach through the veil of Mana around him now, they would be burned.

It was so close to fire affinity.

Another twenty minutes passed, and Rosslyn began to wonder if she should tell Adon to stop. She wondered how much Mana he could have, being such a small organism.

Perhaps that was silly. Mystic butterflies had performed incredible feats of magic before. None of them had been much larger than Adon.

But she found herself wondering if he would be all right if he kept pushing himself. His health was more important than quick progress. He had already made days or weeks of progress in a matter of hours.

As Rosslyn took a tentative step forward, there was a sound that reminded her of flint striking steel.

A flame was kindled in the air all around Adon. The atmosphere caught fire, in a glowing halo whose shape reminded her of a burning heart. The aura all around him had turned red.

Incredible. In just one day, he did it.

Instead of taking another step toward him, she hung back in awe.

Rosslyn held her breath as she stared, all thought of stopping Adon forgotten.