The armored doors to the throne room opened with a muffled rush of steam. Neither of the guards at the doorway made eye contact with me; they stared straight ahead at the opposite wall.

The gold-threaded carpet quieted my footsteps as I walked toward the royals. The king, queen, and the three princesses sat on intricately carved thrones atop a small platform. I subtly winked at Princess Chantelle, who fought back a smile. She wore a green gown that highlighted the color of her eyes. Tegan’s makeup barely hid her eyes, puffy from crying. Flora’s even gaze made her the picture of a benevolent judge.

The king looked like any other middle-aged man you’d see in Egron City, except for the purple tunic and velvet cape. Each golden button and clasp reflected the electric light that shone from above. A polished golden crown partially hid his balding scalp from view.

I stopped and bowed a few feet in front of King Venlaan.

“Rise, my son,” he said, and motioned with his hand. My son?! Where did that come from? Well, he couldn't be worse than my father. “Any word from General Morley? Don’t be shy, now.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” I repeated the general's message exactly as he told it to me.

“Very interesting.” Venlaan sat back, steepled his short fingers, and thought for a minute as I stood patiently. Finally, he flicked his hand. “Dismissed.”

I bowed again, then exited the throne room out of the side door. Royals are never supposed to see your back.

As usual, Percy waited for me. “How did it go?”

“You know I'm not supposed to tell you.” I didn't break my stride.

“Were the princesses there?” He jogged to catch up.

“Yes, they were. They’re always there when the king is there.”

“How does the princess thing work again? They're not the royal’s daughters, right?”

“I can’t believe they don’t teach this kind of thing. What are the schools for if they don't teach you basic government-level diplomacy? I wasn’t even born in this country and I know how it works!”

“The schools don’t teach diplomacy, they’re too busy finding truants to turn into soldiers. Besides, you’re the one who lives at the palace. How does it work?”

“The three princesses are each related to the leaders of the other countries on this peninsula. Flora’s parents are the king and queen of Dupreydan; Chantelle is the daughter of Oblya’s prime minister; and Tegan’s aunt is Astor’s queen. Or something like that.”

“Ouch. Tegan’s the younger one, right? Wouldn’t want to be her with the war and everything. Is she going to go home? Why isn’t she in prison or something? She’s “the enemy”, remember?”

“I think that technically her aunt signed some papers to make her a ward of the Egronite government until she’s 18, just like the other two did. But I don’t think they can hurt her. So King Venlaan and Queen Syntyque have three daughters and a son. Each of the three daughters are ambassadors to the other countries. And, as we know, the son is General Morley’s glorified intern.”

Percy smirked as he held the door to the gardens open. “Now for the most important question. Which princess is the prettiest?”

“Why do you care? You'll never see them in person. Besides, all of them are equally pretty.”

“Equally pretty? Yeah, right. I’ve seen the posters; I think the one with the long black hair is the prettiest. Flora, right?”

“Yes, that’s Flora.” I led Percy to my favorite bench under the willow tree. The antique dolphin fountain stood nearby.

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“Which one do you think is the prettiest?”

“I told you, they’re equally beautiful.”

“No, they’re not. Come on. Is it Flora? Tegan? Chantelle?”

I scuffed the toe of my boot in the dirt.

“Chantelle, is it? Yeah, I can see that. I bet you wink at her when you think no one is looking. It’s doomed, you know. She’ll never be with a commoner like you.”

“You think I wink at her? How insipid do you think I am? And I’m not a commoner! I am the king’s personal messenger. The war effort would be useless without me! I am the chain that binds the king to the general! I am the whip that will force the Astorians into submission! I am the… the… cornerstone of the war effort!”

“Sure, I agree with you - you’re just a glorified messenger bird.”

“No messenger bird could come close to the level of courier-ness that I can!”

“Yeah, sure. But I seem to remember hearing something about messenger birds?”

I sighed. “We used messenger birds for a week. Then the Astorians set up anti-messenger-bird snipers practically everywhere. Since I look like a normal soldier, I can get through.”

“A normal soldier with a personal guard?”

I flipped a twig through my fingers. We sat in silence for a few minutes. Birds chirped. The fountain splashed. The end of summer seemed to stretch into autumn this year, and the sun shone through the willow branches. Light dappled the ground around us.

“I’ve known you for a week now, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked about your family. You never talk about them. You said once you’re from Freyland. What else is there?”

I’ve never said anything about Freyland to him. “You’ve never talked about your family, either. You go first.”

“No, my family is boring. I want to hear about yours.”

“I’m not going to say anything unless you talk first.”

“Fine. My father is a baker. My mother died a few years back. My older sister is married with eight kids. That’s it.”

“Eight kids?! How old is she?”

“She’s, erm…” Percy counted on his fingers. “Ten years older than me. So, twenty-eight. She had twins then two sets of triplets.”

“Now I’m imagining you surrounded by a bunch of screaming kids. Uncle Percy, huh?”

“Eh, they don’t visit much. But my brother in law works at the bakery with my father.”

“Which one? Is it here in Egron City?”

“Sterling Bakery. I doubt you’ve been to it. It’s in one of those neighborhoods where you're as likely to get whacked walking down the street as get a chamber pot dumped on your head.”

“I’d rather not visit, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Did you work at the bakery too, before you were drafted?”

“Yeah. Mostly I worked the counter. Got to know some pretty, um, interesting people. Okay, your turn. What’s up with Freyland?”

“I was born there. Everything was fine until five years ago, when Egron decided it wanted to take over. Everyone I used to know is dead now. Other Freylandians survived, but they live elsewhere.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“I had an older brother. His name was Von. He would have been twenty last month.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t kill him.”

“I know. But still.”

We sat quietly for a minute, until he asked, “How did you end up here? At the palace, of all places!”

“Honestly, I don't know. Before he was killed, my father was the Supreme Judge of Freyland. Everyone respected him. Maybe the king wanted to make a point.”

“Hm.” Percy started to say something, but we heard someone’s measured steps on the gravel.

“Private Bloomfield?”

I stepped away from the bench and saluted. “At your service, sir!” He wore the white tunic of a palace servant, but I didn’t recognize him.

“Private Bloomfield, His Majesty King Venlaan requests your presence right away in the throne room.”

“Sir, yes sir.” I hurriedly walked away. The soldier spoke to Percy and said, “Private Baker, status report.”

Percy replied, but I didn’t hear it. I opened the door and walked as fast as I could down the halls to the throne room. The door whooshed open and again I studied the outright opulence of the room, just as before.

The princesses looked tired now. Chantelle gazed at the huge electric chandelier, obviously daydreaming.

I bowed to the king and queen again. Venlaan dictated the message to me, and I memorized it. As I walked away, I thought to myself, We have to leave tonight. Percy isn’t going to like this.

Good thing I hadn’t unpacked yet.