The remainder of our week in Ellis was a mix of torture and bliss. The blissful part was that we had unlimited food, free time and wall full of swimming fish. The torturous bit was where we were forced to attend most, if not all, the events at the Shaper's Conference. The Royal Council had rejected our request to return early, saying we were to make the most of our trip. Captain Maherty was tasked to watch us.

The events included presentations by Shapers of their own advances, which easily turned into a boasting party (Giddy Pig of Nintie announced all their roads and pavements now harnessed solar energy, reinforcing their energy independence, Ollie of Kirin said they had successfully cloned a flock of sheep, An Ja of Sterne said a new hydroelectric plant was up and running; more dinner parties; and talks by Achilles about the "right way" to rule a Kingdom as a Shaper ("There must be a balance of classes for a truly efficient society.") As he spoke, my mind drifted to Corrum Pier and I nearly lost my day's meal. Throughout the rest of the week, we made our best attempts to avoid Achilles as much as possible.

Prince Ralf refused to speak to us. Not that the others were very much interested in speaking to him. Fabe insisted he was avoiding us because of guilt, but my conflicted heart knew it was something else. He felt betrayed.

Several times I'd called out to him, and he always ducked into the crowd or a bend. I saw anger and disappointment emanating from his taut shoulders and bent head. I didn't blame him. I would be angry with me, too.

A week later, we landed light as a feather while the sun retired in Aragonia. I resisted the urge to jump to my feet and hug everyone on board – it felt so good to be home.

We had barely touched ground when Marylea squealed and pointed in the distance.

"Look," she said. "There's a gathering in that square."

"It's Harvest Day," said Keenan. "The day Spriarweed farmers celebrate a good harvest."

Marylea perked up. "Is it like a fair?"

"We need to report back to the royal council," said Tem. "They're waiting for us."

Keenan touched Marylea's arm. "We can go after we report."

Marylea's spirits dampened. "The sun's setting. The festivities might be over then."

"I'll take her," I said. "We'll take the hoverboards from the Loki and be there and back in minutes."

Marylea gave me a winning smile. Keenan looked uncertain. "Be careful."

I laughed. What could go wrong at a Harvest Festival?

We rode on hoverboards to Lily Square. Marylea took quickly to riding hers, and I decided she didn't need to know about the weeks I'd taken to master it. On our way, Marylea marveled over the Aragonian countryside.

"Where I come from," she said, her fiery hair blazing behind her, "we don't have meadows or open sky. Everywhere we go there are skyscrapers, paved roads, and highways." She inhaled deeply. "Country air is so sweet. You know, the sweetest air I've encountered was that in the Island of Skye. But it still cannot compare."

I swelled with pride for Aragonia. "I'm glad you like it here."

I liked Marylea. I liked her enthusiasm for everything new, and how she took to everyone in a heartbeat. She wore her heart on a sleeve, and though I didn't recommend that habit, I found it endearing nonetheless. No doubt that was one of the many reasons Keenan gave his heart away when no other girl qualified.

A faint buzzing could be heard as we approached Lily Square. I allowed excitement to bubble in me; the last time I'd been to a festival was years ago, with Tem. His parents had set up a stall selling glassware; his mother had been a glass artist before becoming a farmer.

All feelings of happiness fleeted away, however, when we neared Lily Square and found the real cause of the buzzing. Instead of the joyous festivities we were expecting, we found the villagers disgruntled, anxious and debating among themselves. Fair stands were set up but not decorated or stocked. The carnival games and rides were missing.

We hovered on the outskirts, picking up on snippets of conversation.

"I don't understand how it could've happened."

"- Shaper, she just arrived a few days ago -"

" - tell the Royal Council, maybe they'll -"

"They know nothing, and if they do, they'll only cover it up."

My fingers gripping the hoverboard handles went cold. I turned to Marylea. "Maybe we should go."

She looked at me with puzzlement. "Don't you want to find out what happened?"

My instincts told me Marylea needed to get out of there as soon as possible. "We can find out later," I said, and began to pull my handle to turn around. "Follow m- Marylea! Stop - where're you going?"

Marylea had accelerated towards the center of the square, where most of the villagers were gathered.

"Mother of trout," I cursed, and sped after her.

As we neared the congregation, the whirr of our hoverboards became evident and they turned their attention to us.

"It's the Shaper!" a bearded man exclaimed.

A rotund lady clasped her heart. "She has the nerve to come here."

"Hey, look, it's the Princess."

"Great. She can lock the Shaper away for good."

My legs almost buckled from fear. That same fear told me Marylea should not stay.

"Marylea," I whispered through gritted teeth. "You need to go. I'll handle this."

Marylea hovered next to me, looking uncertain.

"Put her in chains!" one of the villagers yelled. "She has brought evil to our land."

I raised my hands from the handlebar. "Please, settle down. Tell me what happened."

"Arrest her!"

"Seize her!"

The people pumped their fists in the air, crying for murder.

Trepidation crawled into my gut. "Marylea, time to go."

"I don't understand -"

"Hey Shaper!" Someone cried. I turned to the direction of his voice and saw a scruffy young man holding a crossbow. "How would you like to leave Aragonia forever?"

Shock and fear coursed through me. My hand shot out. "Don't!"

His finger was poised to pull the trigger. "Dare me," he sneered.

I gripped the handlebars, ready to charge at him. Then I froze. The anger in his eyes had been replaced by something else – fear. His jaw slackened. He lowered his crossbow towards the ground and stood there, mouth open.

What in the world? I turned to Marylea. Her face was tight. She looked straight into the crossbow man's eyes, unflinching. In her hands was a grenade.

"I will use this," she whispered. "Don't make me. Everyone, put down your weapons and put your hands in the air."

The mob obeyed. Each one of them put their arms in the air.

This was the first time they'd been threatened by Marylea. I had a sinking feeling this didn't bode well for her likability. I myself was paralyzed with fear. Marylea hadn't seemed like the type to tote a live grenade. For a second I began to doubt her sanity. Would she really throw that grenade into the crowd?

I nudged Marylea. "Go," I hissed. "Lea, go!"

I nearly collapsed with relief as Marylea swerved and high-tailed it out of there. A vase smashed at the foot of my hovercraft, and the shards spilled across the cobblestone floor. My heart stopped.

"She's a terrorist!" cried the crowd. "She'll kill us all!"

"Citizens of Aragonia -" I began.

"Shut your high trap!" someone shouted. "Get the Shaper!"

Seeing that there was no reasoning with them, I grabbed the handlebars and kicked into full gear. The hoverboard whined as I pulled it around and stomped on the accelerator. Then I sped away from the mauling crowd, their cries ringing in my ears. The road back to the castle seemed never-ending.

"They're chasing us!" cried Marylea.

I turned around. Sure enough, a crowd was running after us like a stampeding herd of startled bison. Our hoverboards were too quick for them, but they looked ready to storm the castle.

The first rebellion since the Dark Days.

I tapped the screen of my watch so it woke, and tapped a quick message to Tem. Mob headed castle. Get ready.

He must've relayed the message, for Aragonian knights, balancing on hoverboards, met us by the castle walls.

"Angry mob," I gasped. "Coming this way."

One of the knights flicked his visor up and I looked into the most beautiful hazel eyes.

"Head right in. It's safe there," Tem said. "We got this."

I smiled. "I know you do." I nodded at the tall knight next to Tem, whom I knew was Trevain from the seasoned sword hanging from his waist, and headed through the open doors. The doors slammed shut behind us. We hovered by the doors, listening for activity. Soon came a buzz, which evolved into angry shouts.

"Come, Lea," I said. "We need you back in the castle, where security is tightest."

"I'm sorry," Marylea said. Her face was a picture of fear and guilt. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have come here."

I shook my head solemnly. This wasn't the time for self-pity. "Stop it. You didn't have a choice."

Marylea's voice was raspy as she spoke. "But I did. My mother left. I should've done the same thing."

I felt like someone had tipped an ice bucket over my head. "So it's true. Your mother did find a way to leave us. To stop entering the Realm." I touched Marylea's right arm. "How did she do it?"

Marylea looked alarmed. "I don't know. She refuses to tell me or talk to me at all about the Realm." She looked at her arm. It was pink where my fingers gripped her. I released her sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's all right," said Marylea. "I just wanted to say - I didn't mean to - you know -" She looked sadly at the evil thing she still clutched in her hands. The grenade was greenish-bronze, with a slightly rusted ring. The sight of it brought bile to my throat. I had never seen a grenade except in history books about war in the Other Place. Dreadful, terrible wars.

Marylea noticed my gaze. "I don't know what to do with this. I can't unshape things."

So it was live. What was Marylea thinking, shaping a live grenade?

"The Royal Council will decide," I said.

Goosebumps erupted throughout my body. I didn't want to think about what Marylea had just done. I swallowed, thinking of something to say. My throat was dry as a desert.

Then my WOT beeped. An emergency message icon popped up again. I'd been getting a lot of those since Marylea arrived. I tapped on the screen to confirm receipt. A chill spread through my body. Surely they had already learnt of the rebellion. I pictured my father's disappointed stare, Makerholf's solemn gaze. Watch after one girl: that was all I had to do. No one could've predicted how miserably I would fail.

With a lump in my throat, I gestured for Marylea to follow me. "We'll talk later. Come on."

***

Loud arguments were muffled through the closed oak doors of the Conferenz Room. Bill's ostentatious voice pounded against my ear drums as Marylea and I approached.

"For Aragonia's internal stability, we need to send her away now. I'm not risking another rebellion because of one girl."

Makerholf's voice, steady as a boulder, overrode Bill's. "Calm down, Bill. We don't know it was because of her."

"Are you pissing me, Makerholf? Why else would something like that happen?"

I held my breath and rapped on the door. All voices ceased. I pushed the doors open. Marylea trailed behind me mutely. I saw that Tem and Trevain were at the meeting; the mob must have dispersed.

"Are you talking about the mob?" I asked. "We're sorry, we -"

Bill threw his arms in the air. "We have more serious things to worry about than a puny mob."

My gaze met Tem's. He sat rigidly, with both palms face down on the table. His eyes were swimming with confusion. "Tem, what is he -"

"Tell her, Tem," said the King.

Tem's face was sullen. "Someone disappeared in Lily Square. Eye witnesses said he vaporized into dust. We got at least five eyewitness accounts."

My jaw fell slack. "Vaporized? What'd you mean, vaporized?"

Bill cut in. "Turned into swirls of gold dust, was what they said. Gold dust. Does that sound familiar to any of you?" His almond-shaped eyes flitted to Marylea.

Behind me, Marylea jumped to her own defense. "I was with Ash. I couldn't have done it."

Bill narrowed his eyes. "Who said you needed to be there to do it?"

Marylea's voice cracked. "W-what'd you think I am, some kind of wizard?"

Bill pointed an accusing finger at her. "See, she's panicking."

Keenan stood. "Marylea didn't do it. She was with us the whole time before."

"Be quiet, Royal Historian." He looked like the last word left an unsavory taste on his tongue.

Prince Ralf, who was leaning back against his chair with his arms behind his head, said coolly, "Bill does have a point, you know. No one else could've done it."

"I'm innocent," said Marylea. She turned to me with wide, fearful eyes. "You believe me, don't you, Ash?"

I didn't hesitate. "Of course I do." My mouth was still dry as stale cake; I still had trouble believing such a thing had really happened.

"What of the mob?" I asked. "Have they been appeased?"

Bill scoffed, like the mob was the last of his worries.

"The people have returned to their homes," said Makerholf. "But the peace won't last long. Something must be done."

I cocked my head. "Something like what?"

Trevain looked to the King to continue. My father looked wearier than usual, which I didn't think was possible. His eyes drooped at the sides. His lips were downturned.

My father straightened and brushed off his red cloak. "We have decided that Marylea shall marry our most suitable bachelor in order to appease the public."

"Oh." Marylea's lips curled slightly, and I could tell she was trying to conceal her excitement. Her eyelashes fluttered. "And who will that be?"

The King spoke slowly and clearly. "Templeton."

A deafening ringing took my ears by storm. I suddenly felt light-headed and numb, like I was submerged in gel. I wobbled on my feet. My hands instinctively reached out and grabbed Marylea's arm to prevent falling.

Tem looked shell-shocked. His eyes were wide when he looked at me, as if begging me to believe that he had no part in it. "No one told me this." He turned to his uncle. "Were you aware of this, Uncle?"

Trevain looked equally dumbstruck. "No. I only knew Dimitri had a plan. Dimitri, you haven't told the public about this, have you?"

My father's eyes widened. "I have. It was urgent and had to be dealt with. Why? Does no one approve? I understand this is last notice, but rest assured, Templeton, that this will only be a marriage in name. Once things have calmed down -"

The words burst from my mouth before I could control them. "But what about Keenan? Why didn't you wed her to Keenan instead? Why Tem?" My throat burned; I swallowed, hard, to keep my voice from breaking. I felt overwhelming anger, like I was a kettle about to boil over. How could my own father have not seen? Was he that blind?

My father looked at me like I'd vomited slugs. "Why, Ashling, I was under the impression that you and Keenan..." His voice trailed off and he turned to Keenan, who now looked paler than a ghost. "Did you not say that you couldn't marry Marylea because you were in love with my daughter?"

A stinging silence overcame the room. Acid poured into my chest. I stared, horrified, at Keenan, who sat wordlessly.

When Keenan spoke, his eyes were draped with a veil of sadness. "Yes, Sir, I did."

My father looked like he'd come to a shocking realization. He looked at me, lips parted, but no words came from his mouth. He turned to look at Makerholf, who looked sickened. Makerholf, the man who shares no blood with me, knew more about me than my own father did. Why hadn't father consulted Makerholf first?

"I cannot withdraw what I told the public," my father said, defeated. "Or they will grow suspicious. Aragonia cannot risk another revolt. We must not sink back into the dark days."

"So am I to wed a boy I barely know?" asked Marylea. Her voice was raspy. She looked at me, pleading. I saw something else – apology. The Shaper who had arrived barely two weeks ago knew. Did everyone know about Tem and I except my father?

"This will only be a marriage in name," said my father, his voice weak. "It will only last until the storm has passed, and we get to the bottom of the disappearance."

Marylea took a loud breath. She turned to look at Keenan, and it suddenly dawned on me what else this meant. I'd been so preoccupied with Tem's betrothal to someone else that I'd forgotten about Keenan and Marylea entirely.

"Keenan," said Marylea in a low voice.

Keenan looked at her with deep, watery eyes. "Yes?"

"Were you only with me to keep an eye on me?"

Keenan looked deflated and suddenly very small in his midnight Caval. His eyes were trained on the polished mahogany table.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

Marylea shot a look at me, her eyes as fiery as her hair. "Did you know?"

I shook my head, my voice still lost to me. I felt like fire ants were crawling in my throat.

Marylea blinked. A lone tear tumbled down her cheek. Then she spun on her heels and ran out of the room.

It was that moment when I found my voice again.

"Was that really necessary, father?" I demanded in a raspy voice. "Were Tem and I insufficient to watch over one girl? Did you have to manipulate her heart, as well?"

Bill jumped to my father's defense. "Your father did it so Marylea would have a weakness. A weakness we could use to control her, if need be. Keenan was our safety policy. You don't understand how dangerous a Shaper could be; you were just a babe when Cassandra left."

Cassandra. It was a sign of Bill's agitation that he used our last Shaper's name.

"With all due respect, Dimitri," said Tem, "I cannot marry Marylea, for I am in love with your daughter."

Ripples ran down my body like minute ocean waves, and, despite the sorry situation, a smile crept onto my lips. Finally, the words I'd so longed to hear. Marry a prince, if not a chancellor, be damned.

Then I remembered his impending engagement and my happy waves crashed onto jagged shores.

My father looked like a large boulder was on a rampage towards him. He stood speechless, and seemed lost as he looked at me, Tem, and Keenan. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I cannot withdraw what I told the populace."

"Sorry, Ash," Makerholf said. "It will only be a marriage in name." His eyes were filled with sadness, but there was something else - resolution. There would be no fighting this.

I felt everyone's stares digging into my skin, especially Tem and Keenan's. I could not look at either of them. One held my heart, and I apparently had the other's. Instead, I looked right at my father.

"I hope your plan works out," I said. "Nothing is more important than the safety of our kingdom." I had meant it, yet it sounded like I didn't. I didn't know what I felt anymore.

Unable to uphold my brave act, I spun and walked briskly from the room. I took a few steps on the soft carpet in the corridor, then broke into a run.

Tears fogged my sight. I blinked and wiped my tears clumsily off my face. My feet carried me as fast as they would go without stumbling. Fireflies buzzed in their lamps lining the corridor without a care in the world, and for the first time ever I wished I was a firefly, so all I needed to worry about was to eat and produce light.

I arrived at my room, fumbled with my keys, cursed and swore. The door finally opened. I swung it open and slammed it shut.

Only then did I collapse against the door and start bawling into my knees.

***

"Ash, please talk to me. I hate seeing you so uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe it. My heart was thumping in my throat, my stomach tied in knots. Yet Keenan's plea sounded so sad, it tugged at my heart strings. He didn't deserve a cold front.

I looked up into his watery grey eyes and pulled the corners of my lips into a smile. "I'm not uncomfortable. Just concentrating."

We were in the library, in a failing attempt to resume lessons. The air in the library felt heavier than usual, as if the tension between us had seeped into it. The warmth from the fireplace failed to reach me.

Keenan's brow furrowed. The flickering light from the fire danced on the shadows cast upon his face. "Your eyes haven't moved since I asked you to read Chapter Seven."

I rubbed my eyes. "Sorry. I'm just tired. All this wedding preparation going on, I –" A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn't continue, like my lips had seized up from drinking a vial of glue. I coughed, hoping that would bring my voice back. It didn't.

"Ash." Keenan sighed. "I know what this is about. It's about last week. The emergency meeting."

My instinct was to play dumb, but I knew it would be pointless. I placed my hand on the open book before me and brushed a browned page corner with my thumb. "Keenan, I don't want to talk about that right now."

"But we must. You can't avoid me forever. I'm your tutor."

I stared at the browned pages of Aragonian Chronicles: How the Spriarweed Changed History and read the first line I saw: "Once a pesky weed, the Spriarweed used to be uprooted in droves to prevent them from leeching the nutrients from the soil of cotton crops..."

"If you won't talk about it, I will." Keenan reached over and snapped my book shut. I sat back and stared at him with wide eyes, confused as to whether I should feel angry or not.

"When your father asked me to flirt with Marylea, the first thing I thought about was you. But I knew what you and Tem had. I knew I had no chance. So I agreed."

I fixed my gaze on his weary eyes and said softly, "You cheated a young girl of her heart."

Keenan's shoulders slouched under his midnight Caval. "I'm not proud of it," he said. "But if it would protect this Kingdom, protect you - I would do it. So I did."

Goosebumps trailed across my skin. I pulled Aragonian Chronicles: How the Spriarweed Changed History towards me and clung to it, as if it would keep me grounded.

"Making Marylea fall in love with me would ensure the safety of this Kingdom," he continued. "Because if she had a flight of fancy and gained a rebellious streak, your father could use me to threaten her. Do you understand?"

"What would he have done?" I asked, not keeping the bitterness out of my voice. "Thrown you into jail until she rescinded?"

"No," Keenan said. "He would've pretended to throw me into jail."

I bit my lip. "We all know Marylea is no threat."

"We do now," said Keenan. "But we didn't then."

"Are you really defending yourself right now?"

Keenan lowered his eyes. "No. I do not deny I am ashamed. I only wanted you to understand."

"Marylea did not deserve that."

"No, she didn't."

We fell into silence.

"I didn't want this to happen," said Keenan softly. "I didn't want things to become awkward between us. I only – I only told your father the truth because I didn't want to marry someone I didn't love. A part of me – this may... sound stupid – but a part of me still harbored hope."

I drew a deep breath. This conversation brought back the thought that Tem was marrying someone else. It stung. Badly. That, and guilt – guilt that I would never reciprocate Keenan's feelings. I looked at his handsome, fair face, the emotion welling in his eyes. Yet all I felt was brotherly affection. He had never been more than a brother to me. Had I been sending the wrong signals?

"I love you. I always have, since you walked into my library five years ago. I loved how you were full of fire for your Kingdom, how your hope for the Realm shone in your eyes. I loved how you were brave, kind and never condescending. I loved how you saw the best in everyone but never yourself. I never dreamt of confessing my feelings to you, but..." His voice trailed off.

"You don't love me," I said in a raspy voice. "You mustn't, and you cannot. I –"

"I do, with every inch of my soul. And I'm sorry. It was a slow, gradual fall, and by the time I noticed, it was too late, and I could only fall further..."

I wiped frustrated tears from my eyes. "You cannot love me! Don't you understand? I'll never love you back!"

It sounded much worse than what I'd meant. I cannot love you back because my heart is already taken. Yet the words played in my head again and again, and the more they played, the more I regretted spitting those words out in panic.

Keenan's response was quiet, defeated. "That I know."

I suddenly felt so selfish, so disgusted with myself. Did I have to say such hurtful words to make him stop? I wanted to explain, to put my hand on his arm and say sorry for everything I'd said, everything I did. But my emotional reservoir could only hold so much. When it was full to the brim and overflowing over the banks, I had one thought on my mind: run, like a spineless coward.

I pushed the book away from me and stood. "I'm sorry, Keenan. I don't feel well. We'll continue this lesson in the future."

Keenan got up. "Ash, I'm sorry it happened this way. I never meant –"

"Excuse me," I said, moving a step back, and feeling like someone had kicked me in the gut. "I don't feel well."

I left Keenan sitting by the study desk, next to the licking fire, and exited his dark, damp library.