Templeton was talking to a merchant, by the looks of his rotund belly and maroon coat. I tapped his right shoulder.

"Ash. This is Boon. We were talking about the fantastic food tonight."

"Especially the sausage rigatoni pasta. Yum yum!" gushed Boon.

"Yes, it was. Sorry to interrupt, Tem. Could I have a moment?"

Tem's happy expression faded to wariness. "Sure."

I dragged him to a deserted corner and asked urgently, "Where's Marylea?"

A dark cloud cast shadows over his face. "I lost her, but Keenan still has her, I think. Trout, I'm sorry. Ralf took you, and I got accosted by a merchant's daughter. I felt awkward staying on the floor so I came to grab some food, and Boon started chatting me up..."

I suddenly wanted to throw up. Marylea was loose in a room full of people who would've been happy stoning her an hour ago.

"We need to look for Marylea," I said to Tem. Father would be appalled at the crappy job we're doing.

Tem scanned the ballroom, his body rigid. "Perhaps she's still on the dance floor with Keenan somewhere."

"Right. I'll search the right side and you'll search the left."

I wove through the crowd, searching for flaming red hair and a silver tiara. I was trying to skirt around a woman in a gown the size of a hot-air balloon when I saw Keenan waving at me a distance away. He started pushing through the crowd to get to me. I changed course and made for him.

"I'm so sorry, Ash," were Keenan's first words. My heart hit the floor of my gut with a hard thump.

"You lost her," I said, my throat dry as sandpaper.

"I'm sorry. I left her at the table to get drinks, and when I got back, she was gone. The Dragon squadron lost her, too. One minute she was chatting with an old lady, and next minute she was gone."

"This was my stupid idea to host a ball," I said, rubbing my cheeks, hot as smoldering coals. "Marylea could be anywhere by now."

Keenan's brow furrowed. "Don't say that. Come, we'll look for her together."

"It'll be faster if we split up."

"It's always easier to have two pairs of eyes."

I shrugged. "Fine."

We skirted the edge of the ballroom, scanning the dance floor for fiery red hair, and stood at the entrance to observe the crowd. I felt ridiculous for not being able to spot someone whose hair lit up the whole room, and was starting to picture her struggling in a burlap bag, flung over the shoulder of someone dressed in a black suit, when Keenan touched my arm and pointed at the garden doors. "Is that a line in the back gardens?"

I traced his course of sight. The garden doors were closed, and the glass panes on the door frosted, making it hard to see through. "Let's get a closer look," I said.

We circled the edge of the ballroom towards the garden door. Trepidation mounted with every step. The click-clack of my heels on the marble floor tapped on my eardrums. When we finally got to the door, I rushed forward and grabbed a door handle. The brass felt cold against my damp hands.

With a deep breath, I swung the door open. Crisp night air flooded over me, laden with the scents of roses and pine.

"Uh oh," said Keenan.

I blinked. My mind whirred, processing the view before me. Then feelings of dread, panic and disappointment gripped me like an iron vice, and my brain spiraled into a frantic mess.

A line snaked from the middle of the gardens to the fountain in the far back. On the edge of the bubbling fountain sat Marylea, her vibrant red locks making her unmistakable. I watched, slack jawed, as she held a palm out. Something appeared in her palm, something small and metal. The person at the head of the line grabbed it and ran off. Then the next person in line, a tall, skinny man who towered over her, stepped up and began talking to Marylea, swinging his hands in wild gestures.

"We need to stop this." I stepped off the platform onto the steps that led into the gardens. Keenan followed behind me, his leather boots treading lightly on the gravel path.

"Oh look, it's the Princess," said a young woman as I passed the long line. "Trout, we got here too late."

I felt a flush of irritation. So they did know free handouts from the Shaper were prohibited. And yet they had formed a line as long as the Great Wall of China. Bunch of rebels.

"Marylea, this has to stop," I called out as I got closer. "Stop this now."

The elderly woman at the head of the line grabbed a pair of dentures from Marylea's hands and scooted away.

Marylea looked up at me with guilt, though her face was still flushed with jubilation.

"I'm sorry, Ash, Keenan did tell me I wasn't allowed to do this."

My voice hardened. "Then why did you do it?"

"It started with one, then it snowballed into this -" She spotted Keenan coming up from behind me, and her eyes flashed with more guilt. "Keenan, I'm so sorry."

Keenan shook his head mutely and put an arm around her shoulders. "We have to leave now, Lea. Come on." He led her away from the fountain, down the line and back to the doors to the ballroom. He looked over his shoulders at me for a brief second, and I wasn't sure if I saw confidence or worry in his dark eyes.

I stepped onto the rim of the fountain. The line of civilians had begun dissipating, grumbling about unfairness.

"People of Aragonia," I said. "Marylea is being escorted back to the ballroom by our royal historian at the moment. Please be aware that accepting handouts is strictly –"

"Chill your horses, Princess," spat a gruff voice whose source I could not locate. "We were about to leave."

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice failed me. A hand touched my arm and my breath caught. I flinched and jerked my arm away. I looked down to find Templeton looking up at me, his expression urgent.

"C'mon, Ash," he said quietly.

I took his hand and got down from the fountain's edge. Tem led me through the gardens like my personal bodyguard. I kept my chin up, refusing to crumble before them.

When we returned to the warm and celebratory air of the ballroom, the first thing I saw was Keenan conversing with my father and Makerholf at the Royal Council table, a downtrodden Marylea next to him. The band played a lively tune, and several oblivious citizens waltzed to the music without a care in the world. I thought about the grudging civilians in the gardens, and shivered. Then I thought about what father would say, and my blood ran into ice.

Sure enough, my father looked up, his gaze piercing me like the grim reaper's scythe. His disappointment was clear. Then he looked down on his WOT device, keyed in a message, and my and Tem's WOT devices beeped. The small gold crown had appeared again, with the words "Urgent" below.

It was time to face the music at another Royal Council meeting.

***

"Will the Shaper mentors please explain to me what happened at the ball tonight?" My father's voice was low as thunder.

He sat at the head of the table, his face stoic. I could see steam erupting from his ears. His tone of voice was enough to make an average civilian cower, but he was my father, and I had long learned to steel myself from his prowess. Instead of shivering in my boots, I straightened my back, looked at him in the eye before the curious gaze of the royal council, and said, "It was all my fault."

"Absurd," Tem interjected. "It was my responsibility too."

I glared at him for him to be quiet. He ignored me and went on talking. "Ash had passed the duties temporarily on to me, and I neglected those duties. It was my fault Marylea strayed off."

Then Keenan stood, and I stared at him, all frustration giving way to confusion. What was he doing? He'd never stood up like that at meetings before.

"The fault is mine," Keenan said. "I took Marylea from them. I was her dance partner. They hadn't expected me to lose her."

Marylea, who had been sitting at the other end of the table, spoke in an agitated, high-pitched voice. "Why is everyone taking the blame? If anyone should be punished, it's me. I broke your rules even though I knew of them. I'm sorry. It just - it kills me not being able to help anyone. I tried my best to resist it, but had to help that little old lady. Trust me, I would rather give up my powers than live with the guilt of ignoring people who need help."

"Oh please," drawled Prince Ralf. "Our citizens are well provided for. They are not for want of anything." He directed his words to the council. "Don't tell me you're going to buy her sob story. She committed a grave mistake. Does banishment sound like a good idea now?"

"Enough with this talk about banishment," I hissed. "Marylea only wanted to help. It's not like she murdered someone."

"Ashling is right," said Makerholf. "There shall be no more talk of banishment, Prince Ralf."

Prince Ralf crossed his arms and sat back in his chair like a sulking child.

"It's a disaster," said Tammy, her eyes wide and circled with eye bags. "The civilians have gotten a taste of free handouts from the Shaper. They shall always crave it, and blame it on us when they don't get it. It's a political disaster."

"They need to grow up," grumbled Bill. "I would've thought they'd learnt the importance of independence after the Abandonment."

"How will we rectify this situation?" asked Barney, his striped bow tie hanging limply from his collar.

"Marylea should go away for a while," said Bill in a grave voice. "We'll keep her out of the civilian's reach. A few days should do it. Just until they lose their thirst for free hand outs."

"Where?" asked Ralf. "Shall we send her on an all-expenses paid vacation on a tropical island?"

Trevain cleared his throat and the room went still. "It is to my knowledge that the Shaper Conference is approaching," he said. "Perhaps she should attend. This takes her away from the Kingdom for a little while, and gives her the opportunity to meet other Shapers and learn more about the Realm."

"My dear Trevain," said Springy. "Have you forgotten where the Shaper's Conference is held?"

A quiet realization sank into everyone present.

"What?" demanded Prince Ralf. "So what if it's held in Ellis?"

Makerholf shook his head gravely. "Not the most ideal place for our fledging Shaper to visit."

"Why not?" Marylea croaked. Her eyes were slightly puffy, but she held her head high.

"The mentors can go with her," said Barney.

"Really, Barney?" said Prince Ralf. "After the great job they did back at the ball?"

"Ralf," warned my father. Prince Ralf sank back into his seat with a frown.

"I do think they deserve another chance," said Springy. She looked at my father and said, "Don't you?"

Trevain answered for him. "I agree with Springy. I believe what happened today was an honest mistake. They deserve another chance. Them and Marylea." He sent a small smile my way, and I felt a burst of warmth for Tem's uncle.

"Who else in favor?" asked my father. "Those in favor raise your cards."

Cards were raised around the room, save for Prince Ralf's and Bill's. I didn't hold it against Bill; it was his job as spymaster to be paranoid about everything; but Prince Ralf's lack of support stung. And in the next week I was going to have to be within close proximity of both Ralf and Achilles. It seemed as delightful as falling into a pit of vipers.

"It's settled, then," said my father. "Marylea shall attend the Shaper Conference on Tuesday, accompanied by Shaper mentors Ashling and Templeton. Knight escorts should be unnecessary, given the level of security at the Conference." He coughed lightly. "I would also like to appoint another mentor."

Quiet gasps swept the room.

"I wish to appoint Keenan as the third mentor," my father said.

I wasn't surprised. The two were practically joined by the hip. Who better to watch over her than her new boyfriend?

Murmurs of support spread, and it was decided. Keenan would be the third pair of eyes. We were going to need that third pair of eyes in a place like Ellis.