Mira sat silently beside Cael’s bed and did what she could to keep the panic at bay. It rose ever in her, coloring her thoughts with fear and doubt. Despite her confidence in her decision to stay, with each passing hour, she was faced with the consequences of that choice. She was with Biani, yes, but they were alone, completely alone. Surrounded by hostile Alerians who looked at them with suspicion in their eyes. And what could she do? She was a lady with no power. She had not married their crown prince, and had no official standing within the Alerian court. More and more, she realized the folly of her action, and every moment she found herself praying to the Sun King to speed her family on their way home, and that a peaceful resolution between the kingdoms would arise.

To distract herself from such a distressing situation as she found herself in, Mira threw herself into caring for Cael. She could not sit and do nothing. And so, on the morning after King Garazor’s funeral, Mira awoke early and left Biani sleeping peacefully in their bed. She made her way to Cael’s chambers and confronted the physicians there, demanding them with as much authority as she could that she be involved in his care. The physicians were surprised, but assented without comment. Mira ignored the sadness she saw in their eyes. She did not want their pity. She wanted Cael to recover, and quickly.

He lay in his bed, unmoving but for the slow rise and fall of his chest. When he had been brought to the palace two nights before, he had been lucid, but only just. There had been a blow to his head, which the physicians told her was not as terrible as it had looked. What worried them more was the damage done to his back. When the creature had thrown him through the air, he had crashed into a pillar. The physicians told her of the deep bruising along Cael’s spine, but until he awoke and was able to tell them more, they had no way of knowing how much damage had been done. They did not say, but Mira guessed that there was a possibility he might never walk again.

To help with the pain, the physicians had given him the juice of the poppy, which brought him into a deep sleep. He awoke every so often, they said, but only to sip at some water and then once again fall into oblivion. He had not said a word, except to beg for the relief of his pain.

The physicians, she could tell, were exhausted. There were a half dozen of them, ranging in age from just older than herself to the age of her grandfather, and beyond. Several were women, who occasionally brought Mira warm cloths to lay on Cael’s forehead. They spoke in soft voices, and there was an air of mingled uncertainty and despair around everyone in the room. Mira ensured that they were taking their duty in shifts, making sure that they would get the rest they needed. They smiled at her concern and assured her that they were.

Mira sat beside the bed and held Cael’s hand as he slept. His face was as pale as the wrappings around his head and his skin was cool to the touch. He was silent and still under the blankets. Her eyes searched his face, looking for any sign that he might be waking, and she waited.

She tried to hope that he would awaken, and sit up, and smile again. More than anything, she wanted to see his smile and feel its warmth in her heart. He had such a way of disarming a person with his sincerity and honesty, and was unlike anyone she had ever known.

She did what she could not to think about what had been lost. Just two nights ago, she had almost been his bride. She remembered how embarrassed she had been, to walk out into the Citadel, wearing the atrocious dress the Thalist priests had procured for her, and then how Cael had calmed her with a few simple words: Don’t think about them. You are radiant tonight, Mira. They would welcome you joyfully into Ithelinum, were you given the honor.

He had always had that effect on her, whether through personal interaction or their written correspondence. He was always the gallant prince, whereas she had been the nervous young girl. She had been so timid at their first meeting. Shy and small, barely older than Biani, her parents had brought her to Aleria to meet her betrothed. And Cael, though only a couple of years the elder, had smiled and taken her hand and they had played for hours in the gardens. Over the years, their friendship had only grown, blossoming into something deeper through their frequent visits and many letters to one another. Cael was the kind of person you could not help but love. It was strange, she thought, as she sat by his side, how much she found she loved him. She ached with it. Her heart beat firmly in her chest and with it her hope remained strong. He would wake up. He had to.

The other alternative was too terrible to consider. Against her will, Mira found her mind drawn to the circumstances that had brought her would-be husband to his sickbed. Once again, she saw the horrific creature in her mind’s eye, saw its long claws and empty, staring white eyes. She saw Prince Rhoden standing before it, talking to it in some language she had not understood.

A measure of her grief had passed over the last couple of days, and Mira no longer felt the same repulsion and anger towards Rhoden as she had. She was even beginning to question whether she had heard what she had, or whether she had not understood his words because she had been too concerned about Cael to pay close attention. But there was a part of her that still doubted.

This creature was like the ones from the old stories about the Shadows. And it had seemed to obey Rhoden, to a certain extent. He had, bewilderingly, waved his crown before him, as if to ward the creature away, and it had left soon after. Could that have been a coincidence, or just an act? True, she admitted to herself, Rhoden had not seemed triumphant at the death of the king, either in the Citadel or during the funeral. She had watched him carefully all through the parade down Torran’s streets. Rhoden’s shoulders had been straight and regal as he walked, but his eyes had revealed his true emotion. When his father had been buried within his tomb, Mira had seen real sorrow there, pain she only barely understood. It had been enough to bring a hot flush of shame to her face.

As her own pain dwindled down to warm coals, she could see more clearly. And the more she looked, the more she began to believe that perhaps Rhoden had been innocent in the attack, after all. Cael wouldn’t have rejected him the way she had. He would have embraced his brother, despite all doubts and fears, and would have fought for the truth, no matter the consequences. Mira smiled as she considered it. Yes, Cael would have found what really happened, and would not have hidden himself away, as she was doing. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that remaining angry at Rhoden was pointless. If she was to understand what had happened to Cael, and what that beast was, she needed to face him.

Childishly, she did not want to, not yet. She did not want to contemplate the fact that Rhoden would take over ruling in his father’s stead. He shouldn’t be king, she thought. It is Cael’s right.

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She was still sitting at Cael’s side, stroking his hand and contemplating his dark-skinned brother, when there came a knock at the door. The physicians opened it, and to Mira’s surprise Issa entered, bringing Biani with her by the hand. Biani’s eyes were red and puffed from crying. Her bright red hair was tousled from restless sleep and her nightgown was rumpled. When she saw Mira, she ran and flung her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Issa quietly. “I entered your chambers and found your sister. She was inconsolable, and we have been looking for you for some time now.”

“Oh, Beanie,” said Mira. “I’m sorry.” She raised a hand and stroked her sister’s silken hair. Biani gave no reply, but merely sniffed and buried her head deeper into Mira’s chest.

Noticing the disapproving looks of the physicians, who clearly believed a child had no place in a sickroom, Mira gathered her sister around her, and together they left Cael’s bedside. She gave one last look at his quiet, still form, then turned away. At the door, a navy-suited guard stepped forward as an escort and Mira noted him sourly. Before the disaster at the Citadel, there had never been a need for a guard. But as she decided to stay in Aleria, the Council assured her it was for her safety. Mira saw it as a sign of mistrust on their side.

Issa followed them quietly, and together the three of them went back to the chambers designated for Mira and Biani. Once there, Mira sat on a sofa as they waited for breakfast to be brought and Biani crawled up next to her.

“I thought you left me,” she said in a small voice, twisting her hands in her lap. “I was so scared.”

“I know,” Mira murmured, holding her tight. “I’m sorry, Beanie. I should have left a note for you. I’ll leave one in the future.”

Looking over at Issa, she nodded her thanks, and Issa relaxed into a chair. Though her face seemed strained, she smiled at the little girl.

“We’re lucky your sister did not go far, aren’t we?”

Biani nodded her head, looking shyly at Mira’s companion.

A maid brought the breakfast service on silver trays—steaming eggs and crisp bread, with sweetmeats on the side. Biani ate one of these first, smearing jam and sugar on her face in the process. A hint of her mischievous defiance entered her eyes when Mira gave her a swift look of disapproval, but the sight of it warmed Mira’s heart as much as it irritated her. It was very unlike her sister to be so quiet and solemn. To see the life come back to Biani was encouraging.

While they ate, Mira told Issa of Cael’s condition and how she planned to visit him as often as possible. Issa nodded her head and her expression was melancholy.

“It is horrible,” she said. “To see him that way.”

“It is,” Mira agreed, sipping her tea. “But I hold onto hope that he will recover. It is all I can do.”

They lapsed into a silence. Biani finished her meal, not taking notice of the conversation. But when a maid came to lead her to be dressed, she shied away, pressing herself close to Mira.

“You must be dressed for today,” Mira said with a small laugh. “You cannot wander the palace in your nightdress.”

“Where is Prosper?” Biani asked, her eyes wide and staring. “I want Prosper, Mira.”

Mira’s heart skipped a beat. Prosper, the kindly nurse who had raised her and all of her sisters, had disappeared during the attack on the Citadel. Mira had not heard word that she had been killed, and could only assume that she had returned to Mesia with everyone else.

“Prosper is not here,” said Mira, doing her best to keep her voice from faltering. “Go with this maid instead.”

“No, I want Prosper!” Biani said more forcefully, and she began to cry.

Mira excused the maids, who were all looking distressed, and took her sister back to their room to personally dress her. Biani messily wiped her tears away on her hand and looked at Mira with confusion and anger in her eyes. Mira could only imagine what she was thinking. She was small and young, but she was not blind. There were questions she would ask that Mira was not certain she could answer.

Mira fastened Biani’s dress and helped her with the shoes, then sat her before the mirror and began to gently comb the tangles from her hair. Before she had time to react, her sister asked one of the questions she had been dreading.

“Mira, where are Mother and Father?”

Mira set the brush aside and looked down into Biani’s eyes through the mirror. “They’re not here right now,” she said, attempting to put pep in her voice. “But they’ll be back soon.”

“Where did they go?”

“They had to go home, Dear Heart. With Prosper and Rissa and Dritta and Great-Uncle Sebastt.”

“Why?”

Mira sighed and crouched by the stool so that she was slightly below her sister’s face.

“Has Father ever told you that sometimes bad things happen?”

Biani nodded. Her face was blotchy from crying.

“Well,” said Mira delicately. “Something very bad has happened. King Garazor—that’s Prince Cael’s father—died. You remember the funeral yesterday?”

Again, Biani nodded. “The black monster killed him,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact.

Mira felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. How much had Biani seen that night? It was no wonder she was terrified to be left alone.

“Yes, the monster killed him,” Mira said. “And Prince Cael is very sick. Mother and Father had to go home because it was very important for them to do so. We have to stay here until they come back for us. We’ll stay to take care of Prince Cael.”

Biani fingered the skirts of her dress. “Did we do something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” Mira said firmly. “No, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why do we have to stay here?” Biani pressed. “Why are there guards everywhere?”

Mira’s heart ached with her sister’s questions. Because we’re political prisoners, she wanted to say, but that would scare Biani even more, and besides, she was too young to understand the delicate implications.

She smoothed Biani’s hair and gave her a quick kiss to the forehead. “We’re just going to have to be brave,” she said, smiling at her sister. “Until Mother and Father return. Do you think you can?”

Biani nodded, but her lip trembled. “I want to go home,” she whispered, and began again to cry. Mira gathered her in her arms.

“I know,” she whispered into Biani’s hair. “So do I.”