Adjusting her straw hat with one hand as the breeze picked up and rushed more strongly over the glittering stream, Adelaide-Estelle turned over the smooth stone in the other. “What manner of jewel is this? Were it rounder, one might think it a pearl.”

Madame d’Aurellis looked over the queen’s shoulder, then stiffened as she caught sight of the gemstone. “It appears to be a small asterite specimen, Madame,” she said in a terse voice.

“Asterite?” The queen turned to her companion. “Gweddlana, am I right to believe that I have heard that name before, and recently?”

“Yes, Madame, you are,” she responded slowly, her eyes not leaving the gem. “Asterite forms the basis of our kingdom’s research into experimental weaponry.”

“A weapon?” The queen’s earlier bemusement now gave way to open bafflement. “This piece of jewelry?”

“Yes. Child, where did you find this?” Madame d’Aurellis addressed Zephyrin suddenly, taking her gaze off the flawless stone to fix on him eyes just as unyielding.

“Someone bought it for me,” he replied simply. The abrupt direction taken by the conversation ended up working in his favor, making him sound more like a guileless child than he would have otherwise. “As a gift before the beginning of the school year.”

“Who?”

“The curate of my village. The one I told Madame about before. He was concerned that my classmates might try to take advantage of me,” said Zephyrin, leaving out one crucial detail as he glanced in the queen’s direction. “No, I remember,” interjected her sister-in-law. “Abbé Beauvran, was it? How did a simple parish priest come to know about…”

“Gweddlana, nevermind the ‘how’s’ and ‘why’s’”, broke in the queen impatiently. “That can come later, though I doubt our young friend can tell us much. What is so special about this stone?”

The lady-in-waiting regarded Zephyrin a moment longer, then acquiesced to her mistress’s request. “Very well. First, I must remind Madame that to however infinitesimal a degree, all living things generate mana and emit trace amounts of it, particularly plant life. Because of this, ambient mana—which some scientists choose to call aether, when it exists in that unresolved state—permeates the atmosphere and very air we breathe. While most beings and inert substances cannot absorb this aether to make use of it, there are those such as the sacred trees of the Great Forest that are able to do so.”

Adelaide-Estelle turned the stone over. “And so, this gem…”

“… belongs to the latter category. Asterite can be fairly described as the mineralogical opposite of beryl. Whereas beryl is highly reflective and resists mana infusion, asterite is receptive and admirably retentive. It is this property that lent the stone its name—to the miners who discovered it, the sight of the faintly glowing stones embedded in a rock wall was reminiscent of a starry night sky. Adventurers of Seaxland’s Far West Company were the first to ascertain that unlike other gems, which easily weaken or shatter from repeated mana infusions, the stone is remarkably stable and well-suited for longterm mana storage.”

As she concluded her brief overview for the queen’s benefit, the princess gave Zephyrin another sharp look, plainly suspecting that none of what she had just said was new information to him. Meanwhile, the queen contemplated the unfaceted gem in the palm of her hand, its appearance brilliantly white and far removed from its former opacity.

Zephyrin stared at it too, though rather more tensely. For well over a month, ever since finding the stone in Apolinary’s shop, he had been pouring his excess mana into it, charging it until it was powerful enough to replenish his reserves several times over during a battle. Though his small gem would be superseded in a few years’ time by the standardization of rifles and artillery fitted with larger asterite cores, in the meantime he had been glad to have it as a precautionary measure. Even as a child, with the asterite in his possession he could conceivably overpower this era’s strongest bluebloods and royals.

The delicate fingers that closed around it now, however, belonged to the queen. Unrefined though her control was, Zephyrin knew that she could sense the tremendous amount of energy harbored by the stone. For some time he heard only the trickling of water over rock and the lowing of cows in the distance; Zephyrin wondered what thoughts were passing through his grand-aunt’s mind.

The queen’s eyes lingered on the stone a moment longer, then raised to acknowledge her lady’s words. “Thank you, sister. Now I recall His Majesty’s discussions with the War Secretary. But Zephyrin,” she began in a remonstrative tone, “If you know that this stone can protect you, why are you giving it to me, of all people? Sad fact though it may be, it would not surprise me to learn that your common heritage makes you a target among your peers. You are alone, while His Majesty has thousands of soldiers under his command who can defend me.”

Zephyrin delayed responding for a moment, then decided to burn his bridges. “What if His Majesty were to decline to defend Madame and the Cygnon?”

The queen’s eyes widened perceptibly. Zephyrin waited with a curious sense of calm, resigned to the knowledge that after navigating an exceedingly fine line over the past few days, he had finally and irrevocably crossed it. And yet, what choice did he have? Unless he made a powerful impression on the queen, history would proceed down the same path.

The thought occurred to him that if the queen hadn’t already consented to his return to the lyceum, his calling into question the king’s honor—his flagrant insolence, really—would have amply sufficed to attain the same result. With this latest comment, it was certain that the queen’s fondness would cool significantly; perhaps she would order him out of her presence without delay…

Contrary to his expectations, however, the queen merely regarded him tranquilly. No word passed through her lips for an indeterminate period of time as pure white clouds drifted overhead, alternately darkening and rejuvenating the green sward. The queen spoke in a voice gentle but firm as the sun was covered once more and a deep shadow was cast upon the three of them. “Zephyrin, what on earth would possess you to say such a thing to the wife of your sovereign liege?”

“An apprehension that, with all my heart, I pray will ultimately prove ill-founded.”

The queen expelled a soft sigh, then smiled sadly. “I suppose you did well not to accept my offer, for such a one who fails to esteem my lord husband as I do, certainly cannot be acknowledged by me as my son.”

Another silence stretched on, this one longer than the previous. Then, with Zephyrin pondering the queen’s words and the greater than expected pain he felt from having heard them, he became aware of movement in the corner of his field of vision. The queen was fiddling with the clasp of the necklace around her neck—one which, though unpretentious compared to the adornments of her usual finery, still consisted of a solid gold chain centered by an exquisite sapphire. After her lady-in-waiting assisted her in removing it, Adelaide-Estelle inexplicably held it out to him.

Zephyrin’s eyes widened as he understood her intentions. “Madame, I couldn’t possibly—”

“If you will impose upon me your asterite, then I will not see you leave without reciprocating the gift,” the queen said, readopting her teasing tone. “I have a dozen others like it. Take it, and use it to cover your schooling expenses. You will need a new cloak, after all. As for the remainder, I trust you to put it to good purpose when you graduate. Oh, and lest I forget…”

The queen’s index finger began to glow. Clearly unaccustomed to channeling her mana, she eventually managed to condense the silver flow emanating from the finger to the thinness of a blade. Zephyrin watched as she swiped it behind her neck, then offered him the contents of her hand. “Here. For your friend Rose,” she added, as Zephyrin accepted the powdered locks with a hint of hesitation. Closing his hands over them to ensure that the breeze did not carry the ashen strands away, Zephyrin inclined his head deeply. “Madame can take pleasure in knowing that she has honored one of her most humble and devoted subjects more than words can express.”

Zephyrin reclined on the carriage seat, staring unseeingly out the window. He had done his part. Though untrained, the queen now had enough power at her fingertips to give the Royal Guard a fighting chance. Whether she would dare to override her husband’s wishes and make use of it was another matter. Zephyrin mentally invoked the Goddess, praying that his grand-aunt would be inspired to choose the one course of action that offered her and her children a hope, however slender, of surviving the coming crisis.

Zephyrin saw nothing of the journey to the lyceum. He had declined an offer to return to the King’s Isle to pick up the few articles that had been on his person on the day of the school outing, preferring to expedite his return and wait for them to arrive later in a package. While missing a week’s worth of lessons wasn’t a concern, he felt a certain uneasiness at the thought of the developments that had immediately preceded his departure. Had Madame d’Aurellis’s son made further contact with his father? Between him and that insolent whelp Foudris, it was now clear to Zephyrin that favorably influencing the young Narcissin would not be as simple as he had hoped.

After what seemed like mere minutes since his departure, the carriage passed through the lyceum’s iron gates. He waited for it to come to a complete halt before exiting and saluting the coachman, then quickly made his way to his dorm. As it so happened, his return coincided with the commencement of the afternoon leisure hour, when the students typically read or studied in their quarters. Roger was no exception, and Zephyrin’s first thought was to seek him out in order to learn what had transpired in his absence.

Zephyrin knocked so as to not startle the boy, who had surely grown accustomed to his privacy, then opened the door and entered with a quick tread. As expected, a figure was laid out along the bed, nose buried in a book. “Roger! I’m finally back…” Zephyrin stopped, confused.

The bright blond head of hair that showed over a textbook’s cover bore no resemblance to Roger’s. Nor, as the book lowered to reveal the face, did the aloof expression have any commonality with the Alérian’s frank, welcoming grin.

Zephyrin stood in place uncertainly. “… Dy Llegellion? What are you doing here?”

The young noble stared at Zephyrin blandly, then snapped the book shut and rose with a disgruntled air. “Greetings to you too, Emperor.” Viristin appraised Zephyrin coldly—why, he couldn’t fathom in the least, not having interacted with him in over a week. “As for your question… I’m your new dormmate,” said the other boy at last, crossing his arms.

“…Why?”

Viristin hitched his head in the direction of the infirmary. “The Alérian hasn’t been doing well these past few days. Staying there saves him the trips back and forth.” A pause. “Perhaps he’ll end up being sent back home like the other one.”

Viristin’s casual aside filled Zephyrin with a strange sense of foreboding. “‘The other one’?”

Viristin’s piercing blue eyes bored into Zephyrin. “You know, the other Alérian. The one you spent so much time with. What was his name? Narcissin? He left the lyceum four days ago.”