The evening of the Mesians’ arrival, there was a great feast. Every Alerian lord and lady who could acquire an invitation made their way to the royal palace at sundown. The great hall of the palace was filled to bursting with guests wearing their finest: suits so covered in embroidery that the fabric itself could not be seen; skirts and gown overladen with frills and lace and gems. For this was the precursory celebration of what was to come, a formal acknowledgement of the treaty between Mesia and Aleria and the changing of the royal betrothal to a royal engagement.

Rhoden spent as much of the day in his rooms as he could, avoiding any need to leave unless absolutely necessary. His discussion with Cael the day before had renewed a spark within him. Cael was certain he could find a solution betwixt Rhoden and Hestran, and Rhoden was determined to help how he could. What interested him at the moment was the authority of the Ennist Church in the matter of the Chronicles. As the books were no longer banned by law, merely principle, he was uncertain whether their jurisdiction held or their judgement from the other day had merit. Despite Hestran’s stinging rejection, determination was once again building within him. Maybe there was a way to read the books after all, to go around the church. Maybe.

He had retrieved the necessary volumes and papers from the royal library and had established a corner of his bedchamber as his center of study, but the noise from the arriving guests made him ill at ease. He wished, again, that he were back in his cell at Tellegar. The scholars all knew better than to disturb a man when he was deep in research. He wished those in Torran knew the same.

As the sun set, Rhoden met his uncle and together they joined the crowd in the great hall. Long tables had been gathered in rows to accommodate all the guests. Mesians and Alerians milled about, talking freely. Most conversation halted when he walked by, the speakers, as ever, at a loss for words.

Rhoden kept his eye on every Mesian he saw. As with Derrick Soraldson, the swords master, he did not completely trust any of them. Not until the treaty was signed and King Sebastt was held to his word. And, even then, they would see if, in the ensuing years, the Mesians would keep their promises.

Since the Great Schism, both nations were in opposition to one another. Once, they had lived in harmony, all under the guiding influence of the Ennist Church and a long line of just kings leading back to the Sun King himself. But when a group broke away, established their own rulers and laws, and began worshipping the Sun King, it caused a war on religion the likes of which had never been seen, then, or since. The Alerians had stayed in the mountains, while the Mesians left and established their new kingdom in the fertile lowland plains to the west. The Alerians saw the Mesian’s rejection of Ennism as apostasy and branded every Mesian a heretic.

Such stark differences in belief had made it nearly impossible for the two nations to reconcile and had littered the last six centuries with war. With each side insisting that they would convert the other to their beliefs, exterminating anyone who would not, the gulf between Mesia and Aleria grew ever wider. Rhoden’s father had fought in the most recent dispute, nearly thirty years ago. It was these experiences, as well as a more tolerant generation, that had encouraged him to suggest and implement the treaty.

Other attempts to broker peace between the kingdoms had been attempted in the past, of course, but none had come so far. King Garazor’s inclusion of a royal marriage to seal the treaty was one reason it had the potential to become something great. Both families wanted the best for their children. Both kingdoms, though they may not have admitted it openly, were happy to have an end to the conflict at last.

But still, Rhoden doubted. He kept a wary eye on every guest he did not recognize. The previous treaties had not succeeded, for one reason or another. It would be foolish to ignore the fact and claim that all would go well with this one. Better to be prepared for the worst and be pleasantly surprised when things resolved themselves without conflict than to be caught without a plan.

Rhoden kept a small knife hidden in the sleeve of his jacket, in a pocket he had made specifically for it. Merely a precaution, but he felt better knowing it was there.

The feast passed without incident, an overblown celebration flowing with food and music and laughter. Rhoden sat at the high table next to his brother and uncle and suffered the stares and comments of the guests in the great hall. The minutes dragged on in their own endless eternities. He counted each one until he could leave without consequence.

When the feast had ended, all conversation ceased as a white-robed Ennist priest led Cael and his betrothed, the Lady Miriandri Escallon, forward. In a loud voice, the priest recited scripture over their clasped hands and they pledged their intentions of marriage. The hall erupted into thunderous applause, and then the tables were dragged away to provide a dancing space in the center. Cael and Miriandri were the first to move to the music, laughing and smiling as others joined.

Rhoden watched, tucked in the shadows at the edge of the room. For all that the marriage had been arranged by their parents, it seemed no better match could have been made. Cael and his betrothed had spent their lives preparing for this, and they had developed more than just a cordial friendship. As he watched his brother’s face, glowing with joy, Rhoden knew it was not mere duty that drew him to her.

Miriandri was certainly beautiful, that Rhoden could admit without hesitation. Flame-red hair drawn up at the back of her head in elaborate braids. Porcelain skin flushed from dancing. Her youthful energy seemed a perfect match to Cael’s exuberance, and she looked up at him with adoration in her eyes.

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Yes, Rhoden thought. A perfect match.

His eyes sought Miriandri’s family in the crowd, finding them on the edges. He had not yet found occasion to talk with them, though he spotted them easily. Lord and Lady Escallon stood near the edge of the dancing floor with their three other daughters, the eldest two of which were eyeing the younger barons in the crowd. The youngest daughter was quite small, not yet reaching her father’s elbow. She tugged at it, begging for a dance, but Lord Escallon was deep in conversation with an Alerian duke and did not notice. For a moment, the little girl held his gaze. Her bright hair matched her eldest sister’s exactly.

Rhoden was about to turn his eyes away when a familiar face flashed near where the Escallons were standing. Issa Roth. She came to the young girl and took her hand, leading her away, and Rhoden’s heart skipped a step. There had been a time, several years before, the only time he had ever considered that anything akin to Cael’s happiness could happen to him. Issa had been raised in the palace, a companion to a would-have-been princess. Rhoden remembered many times having played with her in his youth during his visits to the palace. When his mother, Queen Thena, had died in childbirth, the need for a princess’s companion had been eliminated, and yet, Issa had remained. Rhoden and Cael had speculated that she was there to be their play companion, or else as a favor to Lord Roth, with whom their father shared a deep connection.

Then, when Rhoden grew old enough to understand his father’s true intentions of arranging a marriage between the pair, he had been embarrassed and horrified. Issa was like the sister they never had, and he did not want to think of her as anything more. There had been a moment, very brief, when he had considered the betrothal, but ultimately he found he could not. When he and his uncle returned to Tellegar College that year, Rhoden began in earnest to search for an area of study. He had been certain—a belief which had only grown through the ensuing years—that he would spend the rest of his life among the scholars. He told himself he preferred that life, and threw himself into study and research, but there was now an empty hole in his heart that he could not fill. Later, he had learned with equal measures of relief and embarrassment that Issa, for one reason or another, had refused the arrangement as well.

Watching from the shadows, across a room that felt as vast as a world, Rhoden did not have to wonder why. He did not belong in this world. There was no acceptance, only loneliness. In the world he traversed, there was no room for companionship, or even love.

He moved around the room, walking slowly towards an exit, when Cael suddenly appeared.

“There you are!” he cried. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Rhoden, allow me to introduce Mira.”

The Lady Miriandri stepped forward, a bright smile on her face. The chandelier light cast a red halo around her head. She curtsied and Rhoden returned a short bow.

“My lady,” he murmured.

“It’s good to meet you at last, Rhoden,” she said. Her eyes shone in the lights from above. “I’ve heard so many things about you.”

Rhoden gave Cael an annoyed look, which he ignored.

“My dear,” said Cael, taking Miriandri’s hand in his own, “you must excuse my brother. He is not accustomed to being the topic of conversation.” He leaned in slightly, grinning. “He does not like when I speak about him to others.”

“Oh?” said Miriandri.

“I do not mind the gossip,” said Rhoden, “but I worry what things my brother may say that are private and that I have spoken in confidence.”

Cael laughed. “Have you so little faith in me?” he asked. “Or is it that you’re fearful people will know the truth?”

He bent his head to Miriandri’s ear and said in a carrying whisper: “My brother is deathly afraid…of horses.”

Miriandri giggled, and even Rhoden found himself relaxing.

“Truly?” she asked.

“Terrible beasts. They are the epitome of unpredictability,” said Rhoden, shaking his head. “They never do what they’re supposed to. And their tempers are something to be reckoned with.”

“Perhaps that is because you never properly learned how to ride one,” said Cael, grinning.

“We shall have to teach you, then,” said Miriandri, looked to Cael. “I think you’ll find horses are much more inviting when you understand them.”

Rhoden bowed, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Lady Miriandri,” he said. “It appears you have found my weakness and already you’ve made steps to help me improve it. However can I thank you?”

Miriandri laughed, her face pink. “Call it a gesture of friendship,” she said. “And please, Rhoden. Call me Mira. I insist.”

Rhoden smiled. “Very well. Cael, Mira, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to which I must attend.”

“Ah yes,” said Cael. “The never-ending search of the scholar. Be careful, my dear, or he may convert you to his faith in the written word.”

“I consider myself already to be a believer,” said Mira, returning his smile. When Cael looked at her curiously, she said, “I didn’t spend my entire life surrounded only by embroidery and music lessons. Some of us women like to read, too, you know.”

“Good heavens,” said Cael, raising a hand to his head in mock horror. “A female scholar? What will this world come to next?”

Together, they all laughed. Then, after bidding Rhoden good-night, the pair of them slipped away, rejoining the crowd. Rhoden watched them for a moment, a warm feeling blossoming inside his chest.

Yes, he thought. A good match, indeed.

Then, while the couples danced, and song and laughter filled the air like perfume, Rhoden slipped, quiet and unnoticed, away from it all.