“I’ll go with you,” Aspyr said. “You know, Chalsi will be most wroth when she learns of this.”

Something tugged at the corners of her lips. “I can already hear our sister’s whining,” Mydea said.

Aspyr laughed like their Mother would—loudly and with his thick, dark hair thrown back.

“Keep that up and she’ll hear you all the way from the athenaeum,” Mydea said.

“Fat chance of that. We both know how rough she is at stealing whispers,” Aspyr said, waving his hand. Among the classical spells every aristocrat was taught, their sister liked wind the least.

“I’ll just have to tell her when she comes home during summer,” Mydea said as she turned right instead of left towards her room.

Aspyr gasped. “Then I shall remind her that it was you who stayed at Aelisium for several long months. Which do you think will last? Her anger at me, or her pestering you?”

Rarely did the Imperial City come far north enough to make a visit practical, and the last time it had their sister was still toddling about. There was little chance too that Chalsi would get to see Aelisium as it headed west during this circuit. Even a student on the verge of finishing their studies would be two years too young to be wed, and the Thalassian Athenaeum was too distant from any houses in high enough esteem to be considered.

“A draw then,” Mydea said.

“A draw,” Aspyr said. He pulled out from his clothes a slim bottle containing a manic light. “Do you think she’d like this? I bought it in Aelisium.”

“I’m sure she’d find a use for it,” she said. “Though you could have bought something else. Our sister can use a candle instead of bottled lightning if she wants to read at night.”

“This isn’t just for illumination,” Aspyr said. “It’s a very precise tool for medicians and necromancers alike.”

“I know she’s talented in the use of water, but there’s quite a gap between healing cuts and fiddling with the dead,” she said dryly. “A tad advanced for her age, don’t you think?”

Aspyr shrugged. “Think of it as motivation. All the best parts about magic come after mastering the classics. So, care to tell me why you’ve been leading us to Father’s room?”

“You promise not to tell him?” Mydea asked as she sent a breeze beneath the door to seep into the interior. When she confirmed for herself that no one was present, she entered.

“Have I ever told him of your mischiefs?”

Mydea nodded. “You can help me look then. I’m bringing his journal with me to Aelisium.”

He paused. “You want to do what? Whatever for?”

“The Archive is the greatest collection of grimoires in the Empire,” Mydea said. “I will help Father with his work, whether he wishes it or not. If it can be completed, then the trip would have been well worth it.” For Kolchis, it would be a political coup to match any imperial marriage!

“Definitely not,” Aspyr said as he began rifling through the wardrobe while Mydea looked through her father’s desk. “Did something happen between you two while I was away?”

“He’s too set in his ways, and too sure of himself,” Mydea said with a roll of her eyes. “You heard what he said. He thinks he can make his spell by his own efforts alone. Not even Syngian the Sage was so arrogant, and he birthed the classics.”

“He said it was dangerous though,” Aspyr said.

“He knows not how to be discreet. I will be careful,” Mydea said. “Aha! Here they are.” Before her were two leather bound journals. She picked up the thicker one, which she knew to be his copy without torn pages. She let her magic seep into it, but found no terrible trap or hidden horror. Why was his work so unguarded? “Let us depart quickly.”

Aspyr nodded.

When they reached her room, Troia was nearly finished packing her trunk, and there was little left for Mydea to do. “I’ve asked the cooks to dry out the flowers and leaves we picked out, but they haven’t finished,” Troia said. Even with magic, it was a tall order asking them to dry out the leaves when it would otherwise take days. Troia continued, “Are these dresses to your liking, my lady? I wasn’t sure what the fashion is in Aelisium after seeing Lady Lara’s.”

“These are fine,” Aspyr said after a studied glance. “Lady Lara is of the House Eminent Luxuria. I would not use her as a measure for fashion.”

“That woman could make wearing rags look better than my dress.” Mydea sighed. “Go follow up with the cooks, Troia.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Mydea walked over to her bookshelf, pulling out some books to keep her occupied and their mother’s handbook. It was ironic really, that someone who never liked reading books had written one.

“You do know the palace has libraries,” Aspyr said.

“There may be eyes on me and my room. I wish to distract them from this,” Mydea said, holding up her father’s black notebook, “with these.”

“A red herring. I won’t begrudge you that,” he said.

She looked through the contents of her trunk once more, then realized she still had her mother’s sword on her. Mydea unhooked its sheathe from her hip and handed it to Aspyr. “Here, to fight the Tuskar with. Lord Andras Pyli dreams of slaying another mythuselah this season and I would not leave you defenseless.”

Aspyr stared. “Keep it for a while longer. You are still the lady advocate.”

“You cannot be serious,” Mydea said with wide eyes. “Representing you before our vassals was one thing, but before the Empress? Besides, this is the sword of the head of our house.”

“It is my station that honors the sword, not the sword which honors my station,” Aspyr said. “You insist I cannot send any sorcerers with you. You have even sacrificed blood and power for our family from which you are not entirely recovered, and still you would jump into the lion’s den on our behalf.” He shook his head. “How could I face our ancestors if I let you leave without this sword? It is a small token, but take comfort knowing that I trust you in this as in all things.”

“Your stay in Aelisium has gifted you with a flair for dramatics,” Mydea said dryly even as she returned the sheathe to her side.

“They have excellent plays.”

Troia returned not long after, adding a bottle of Kolchis honey and bundles of dried herbs wrapped in cloth to the contents of her trunk.

When Mydea opened the door, her father was there waiting. “You cannot stop me from going,” Mydea said. Her heart thudded painfully against her chest as she thought of his journal in her trunk. Had he noticed it was missing? Was she caught?

“I know.” Father sighed. “Be safe.” He enveloped her in a warm hug, and she felt all the worse for it.

I will find something you can use, Mydea swore as she pulled away.

They continued to the courtyard in sombre silence. Word has spread quickly somehow, for much of the household and most of their guests had come to see her off. Not Tomas though to her surprise. Lady Lara was already waiting too, raking her over with sharp, grey eyes. “Is this all you wish to bring, Lady Mydea?” she asked, gesturing to her trunk.

“Yes,” Mydea said, feeling conscious all of a sudden. “You did say that if I needed anything, I’d only have to ask for it.”

Lara stared at her for half a moment, studying her face, before saying, “Allow us to bring it to your room.” A knight stepped forward, and Troia handed it over. It disappeared without warning the moment Troia let go of it.

“Not to worry,” Lara said. “It will be waiting for you.”

Appropriation, Mydea reminded herself. The stablehand brought out Snowscorn for her, though she saw there were a few spare mounts with Lara’s party.

“I see you’ve your own sky steed,” Lara said with an appreciative look at Snowscorn. “I take it you can ride by yourself?”

“Passably,” Mydea said. She wouldn’t like her odds against Dame Kryseis or Sir Eros, but there were few souls in the Empire who could honestly make that boast. Mydea turned around to face Aspyr, her father, her family. She smiled for their sake, before mounting Snowscorn with practiced ease. Even compared to the breeds available to the Empress, her pegasus was beautifully bred with strong wings and legs both. “Shall we depart?”

“One moment, my lady,” Lara said. “We are waiting for someone.”

“For whom?”

“For him,” Lara said, tilting her head.

Tomas strode through the crowd dressed in tunics finer than she’d ever seen him in. Yet, it was not the quality of his fabrics that surprised him, for she had known him to come from a wealthy family. It was the sigil he bore which shocked her, for his was the imperial star and storm.

“I understand he has been a guest of yours for some time, but allow me to introduce you once more,” Lara said. “This is Tomas the Tall, Prince Jaeson’s valet.”

Mydea’s smile turned icy as she regarded Tomas. "The prince's valet, is it? I hope you have not lied about anything else."

"My lady, I am a part of the Imperial Court," Tomas said with narrowed eyes. "Lying is all we do."