Dawn at the palace was beyond beautiful. It had been a long time since Idris had taken a walk to the Memorial Pond to watch the sunrise.

The Memorial Pond sat in the depths of the gardens, at the top of a rockery that housed rare plants native to the wet, mountainous regions much further inland. Idris used to ask Uncle Haylan to take him with the excuse of practising with his prosthetic, and they would sit together silently before diving into stances and arias. Something about the pond’s purpose, the carved names in the rocks and tiny statuettes dotted here and there around the foliage, put him at ease, as if it were a graveyard without the bother of a death aria. The way the fog fell above the gently bubbling pond and the soft shimmer of the waterfalls did more for his mental wellbeing than anything else.

He sat alone in the dim, pre-dawn violet, looking out over the garden’s topiaries and fences, down the long marble walkway that his rooms sat above. The hazy court hall was at his back, beyond the trees and orchards. It was the centre of things, he felt. Some days, it felt like the only quiet place in the palace.

The sky turned orange, first, then yellow and white. Idris sighed and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun touch his face. With his thumb, he traced the letters of his uncle’s name that were etched into the edge of the bench. There were so many dark, unwanted thoughts in his head that he wanted gone, that only the pond and the birdsong and the faint scent of wet rock could purge.

His phantom foot throbbed. He missed his uncle.

When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Riette, standing a short way to his right, looking out at the rising sun, too.

“Apologies,” she said, seeing him turn his head. “I keep bumping into you when you are at peace.”

Idris shook his head, shifted his thumb so it no longer touched Haylan Eremont’s letters. “You are most welcome to share it with me.”

“It is early, for a man who should be resting,” she said, climbing the last few rocks to join him on the stone bench.

“I had night terrors, again,” he said quietly.

“Ah.” She sat, placed her hands on her knees. “It will be a difficult day.”

“It will.” Idris let out a long, slow breath, placed his stump on his opposite knee. “I find myself… speaking of things that I usually keep to myself when you are here. Do you always inspire such confidence in people?”

Riette smiled, shook her head. “A lot of people find me intimidating, actually. I am rather tall, for a woman, and I can beat most at an arm wrestle. Men find it off-putting.”

“I think it is befitting of a knight, to be tall and strong,” he said, and she laughed.

“It makes dressing for fancy balls a little difficult, but I have wonderful seamstresses.”

“I would like to see you at a ball, one day. It would make the whole event much less tiresome.”

“It would be an honour to meet you on a ballroom floor some day soon,” she said gently.

“I do not step onto the dancefloor, so do not be offended when I neglect to ask for your hand.”

“I won’t.” She sighed, tilted her head. “It is good, to have something to look forward to when there is a hard battle on the horizon. That is what I will look forward to. A light evening of merriment and music where I might catch a glimpse of a friend over by the wall.”

Idris laughed to himself. “If you can find me at a ball, I commend you.”

“I am glad you trusted me with this, Idris,” Riette said. “This… situation. I am glad to be able to help you, and the kingdom. Do not try to carry everything on your shoulders. The good thing about this palace – our Queen – is that she understands the importance of cooperation. Nobody is going to let you carry the load alone.”

She stood, walked to the path, and was about to leave when she turned and smiled at him again. Idris knew how absurd it was to feel so giddy when she smiled – he hardly knew the woman – but in the sunrise, she looked made of gold and lapis draconis.

“Your family crest, the one on your door,” she said. “Eremont.”

“Yes. But technically, that does not belong to me, anymore.”

“Your uncle – Healer Haylan?” She grinned. “He delivered my older brother, at our family home, in the dead of night one winter. He was a kind and smart soul, and a wonderful man. He visited us for many years to inquire of my brother’s health, and then he stopped. That must have been when you came here.” She paused. “You look like him. Except his hair was darker, I recall.”

“He could grow a beard, too,” said Idris, and they both laughed for a moment.

“He always spoke gently to me. I think of him fondly,” said Riette.

“I do, too.”

“I will see you in the courtyard?” she said, starting her descent.

“Yes.”

Lady Riette was right. It was good to have something to look forward to. He thought of the palace ballroom, filled with woman in fine dresses and men in their best suits, of the music that was not an aria and the glittering candlelight. Idris wondered what it might be like, to catch sight of an ashen braid swinging on the other side of the room and know that he was not alone, there.

*

The Queen did not want to draw attention to their arrival at Braemar, so they dressed in their travelling clothes and simple training attire and took some of the plainer horses. Lila rode with Idris, her sword on her hip. She made an excellent soldier; he made sure to tell her so when she climbed onto the steed in her newly polished leathers.

“Oh, hush, sir,” she said, blushing, but she had allowed Riette to give her a soldier’s braid, and she wore it proudly over her shoulder like Lady DeTrentaville did.

If anyone noticed the rings under Idris’s eyes, they did not mention it. He had his cane and an old stiletto that had once belonged to his grandfather; he wanted to be prepared if the Spirit Glass failed him.

They rode the trade route, passing farmers and travelling merchants passing through to Veridia. With the Queen hooded and underdressed, nobody batted two eyes towards them. The sky rumbled with thick storm clouds and there was a wild tang on the breeze. Cressida welcomed it, but Idris hoped the rain would not break before they were done. The day passed them by on the road, and by the time the tall and ancient walls of Braemar appeared on the horizon, it was already growing dark.

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“Do you think he will appear tonight?” Cressida asked Idris, riding beside him and Lila.

“I know not, Majesty. We will wait regardless.”

“Your place is not on the battlefield, Idris, and for that I am sorry,” she said softly. “If I could, I would make it so you could help farmers and builders all night and spend your days reading peacefully under the fruit trees, but the world is not peaceful and –“

“I understand,” he said. “I go where I am needed, Majesty.”

“No, not ‘Majesty’ right now,” she said, tutting. “Right now, I only want to hear you say ‘Cress’. It is not right of me to expect this of you.”

“I have a duty and a contract,” he said, keeping his eyes on the walls.

“A piece of paper you signed under duress at eleven years old means nothing to me,” she hissed, her eyes bright.

“I would sign it again, today,” he said, surprised at her. “Regardless, it is my duty to protect the people, and they need protecting from this, and I gave my word in a binding oath to the Fairy Queen. I can do this. I must. You do not have to fight my battles for me anymore, Cressida. You are the Queen of this realm and I do not need a royal bodyguard. We are not children.”

“Oh, you are so stubborn,” she spat, riding ahead.

“Your friend is worried for you, sir,” whispered Lila.

“She is not my friend,” said Idris quietly. “She is my Queen.”

“She cannot be both?”

“It is unwise for her to be both.”

Thinking in terms of friendship for the next few hours was too dangerous. Instead, Idris thought of the tall blue quill, his shaky signature on the parchment, and the way his hand ached after, as if he had signed his soul away, and the weight on his shoulders that the oath in the fae realm had thrust upon him. He had duties and deals and he had to fulfil them.

The guards at the Braemar portcullis waved the riders through without asking for papers or passes, much to the distaste of other traders angling to get into the city before curfew. Soldiers already waited at dragon horns with their eyes on the sky, watching for sunset; the shutters on shops and houses closed as the delegation passed. Braemar’s streets wound and wove on either side of the trade road like curls of smoke, but the road ran straight and true through the centre of town. Resin lamps and oil lanterns blazed in the hazy pre-rain light. All down the road, town guards stood waiting with crossbows and swords. Everything seemed hushed, muted.

And, here and there, signs of the battle of Braemar Field loomed large and forbidding. A newly repaired street, brighter grey than the rest. Crumbled stone by the city walls. Scaffolding. The remains of ash on the sides of towers.

Idris had not come through the city, the first time. He had approached much as he had done today, ridden there by a knight on a dark, windy evening as the rain lashed, from further inland where he had been instructing the soldiers in using thralls to make barricades. If it had been as quiet as this when he arrived, he would have been glad for it.

Cressida jumped down from her horse first to greet the captain of the Braemar guard. Ahead, the gate to Braemar Field was shut, save for the trade door at the bottom letting the last few stragglers through. Aria bells cried on the crenelations. Willard shivered, glanced at Idris.

“This the place?” he said. Idris nodded. “Then I’d better get gone.”

“So soon?” said Lila. Willard climbed down from his horse.

“Dad’s prolly expecting me. Says he’s watching me always.” He handed Lila his satchel. “Keep that for Master Dead-Talker. The Fairy Court won’t need my herbs, but this lump will.” He poked Idris’s knee. “Tell Her Majesty I was right glad to meet her.”

“You’re coming back,” Idris said, frowning, and Willard smiled his gap-toothed smile.

“Oh, aye. I was still right glad.” He bowed to Lila. “Miss Lila, you are beauty and perfection.”

“Be careful, Master Witch,” she said quietly.

“If I come back safe, will you come a-rambling with me in the spring sunshine?” he said, walking backwards towards the gate. “I’ll show you what mushrooms make good soup and which ones make bad soup, if you catch my meaning.”

Idris did not see Lila smile, but he heard it in her reply.

“I shall.”

“Blue flowers?” Willard called to Idris. Idris smiled.

“Please,” he said.

Willard winked. Idris watched him say his farewells to Kurellan and Riette, sweep a low bow to Cressida as he passed, and then he jogged onwards to the gate, hailing the guards to keep the door open; a contingent that the Queen had procured for him was already gesturing for him to follow.

“He will be a fine addition to court,” Idris said to Lila.

“I think he will. He’ll make it interesting, at least,” she added. “Let me help you down, Sir Idris.”

Once he was safely on the ground, the Queen turned to the group. She held out a set of keys for Lila.

“The sewers,” she said. “In the meantime, we wait for the beacons. I have scouts looking for our necromancer.”

“He is not a necromancer,” said Idris under his breath, glancing around the street. Kurellan tutted.

“Then what is he?” he said.

“A problem?” said Idris, scowling at the old judge.

“So are you,” said Kurellan. Cressida sighed loudly.

“Ladies, please,” she said.

“Where do we wait?” said Riette.

“The city has gifted us sole use of the captain’s office. There are multiple rooms, bunks and maps. We will be comfortable there, if nothing else. If we wait a week, we wait a week,” said the Queen.

Kurellan and Riette had troops to command, so they departed. Idris and Lila spent a good half hour setting up a room as an office and preparing his texts and crystals. Doing work made the shaking in his hands lessen, reduced the nausea he felt. If he was prepared, nobody could accuse him of not trying. When Cressida walked through the door, Lila was drawing chalk lines beside Idris’s legs on the hardwood, measuring angles for him.

“Lila, can I have a moment with your master, please?” the Queen said. Lila bowed, passed him the chalk and hurried out, closing the door behind her.

Idris tried not to look at her. He was not sure why he felt so irritated by her presence when all she had done was try to help. She believed him when it looked like he had committed treason and she had agreed to this venture – to putting herself in harm’s way – to help him. His emotions were so foreign to him these past few days.

“Your arms are loose,” she said flatly, walking past him.

“Thank you, Magus,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders.

“What is wrong with you?” she said, fixing him with a hard stare.

“I am working very hard and everyone stopping and asking me how I am or what is wrong with me is eating into my studies,” he said, scoring a straight line across his knees. “I despise being a novelty and I wish to be left alone.”

“No,” said Cressida, hands on her hips. “This is not… not studying, Idris. Normal Idris loves studying. It makes him happy. This is how you were after the battle.”

“When I came back to the palace traumatised and in shock, you mean?” he said, turning now to glare at her. “When I had night terrors that stopped me breathing? When Lila was administering sleeping nettle to me three times a day? I wonder why.”

The Queen stood and said nothing. Even in her travel clothes, she looked royal to him. Perhaps it was her milky skin, the slight flush in her cheeks. Eventually, she knelt beside him.

“If you are scared,” she said, “all you have to do is say so.”

“I am,” he said, suddenly and without shame, and the nausea passed.

“There we are.” She sighed. “If I could wield the Glass for you, I would.”

Idris nodded. “I know. But I made this my problem.”

“If it would please you, I will burn the contract when we return home,” she said, and he smiled bitterly and shook his head.

“It wouldn’t.”

“There is no debt to pay, Idris. There never was.”

“It runs deeper than that, but I thank you for saying so.”

“We all do this gladly. For the kingdom, of course,” she said dismissively, “but for each other, too. Lila adores you. Willard thinks you are the smartest man alive. And you have been a wonderful brother to me when I had none,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on his wrist. “When my father was gone and I was a too-young queen. You have been here always, and I am proud to help.”

Idris placed his hand on hers, squeezed her fingers. “I am scared,” he said again. “I am scared of letting you down. I am scared that the faith you put in me will be misplaced, and that when that happens, I will be cast out of another family because I am not good enough for it, again. I cannot do it twice, Cress.”

She smiled, chucked his cheek; he scoffed and pulled away.

“There’s my Rissy,” she said, “worrying about all of the wrong things, hmm?”

“Please do stop calling me ‘Rissy’, you know I detest it.”

“Now here.” The Queen picked up the chalk, examined the angle of his knees. “Oh, this will not do. You call yourself a necromancer? Did Magus Arundale pass you, or did he throw you out?”

“Did I ask you for help?”

“You called me ‘Magus’ in jest and that was a mistake.”

“Cress,” Idris said quietly as she circled the points and lines.

“Hmm?” She glanced up, unbothered by the gravity of his tone.

“What would I do without you?”

She paused, smiled.

“Let’s see. Lie in bed? Fret and worry? Win a game of ‘Knights of the Four Kingdoms’? Oh, maybe live in a cave and cry about your miserable life and never know the taste of blossom tea. That is most likely. Straighten those arms, nice and taut now. Where’s the page?”

“It is open on the desk, the stance titled ‘Nexus of Control’. My annotations are in red –“

“As usual, yes.”

Lila returned to a chalk-covered queen, each pointer finger holding up the backs of Idris’s hands, and when Idris asked her to fetch a dead crow, she sighed and said, “Certainly, sir,” and left the room again.