If Rainon was the land of plenty like the peddlers she met on the pass said, then the royal palace should’ve been the epicenter of it. And the moment Quinn set eyes on the wide open gates wrought from iron and gilded in gold and silver she knew it to be true.

She rode in a hired carriage and sat next to Ben, who stared with as much awe as she did. Meyron looked bored and stared out of the carriage window with her arms folded. It wasn’t early morning, but the chill clung to the air and she was thankful for the fur-lined cloak and wrapped herself in it. Silk did little to keep the cold out.

The guards posted at the entrance and patrolling the grounds made her nervous in their polished and unused armor, too clean jackets and shiny boots. They walked in sync to a rhythm only they heard, and it was so unlike what she was familiar with in Cinder it seemed like a living myth. In Cinder, the guards walked around like everyone else, wore curved swords at their hips and only listened to whoever paid them the most money. Usually that was the king, but sometimes it was someone much nastier.

It only took the seamstress two days to finish the bulk of their new wardrobes and the gray dress clung to her shoulders down to her hips. Quinn had never worn silk before and she still shifted in her seat at the odd sensation. Her entire life up until now was loose breeches and shirts. Now she wore layers she didn’t know she needed and the slippers on her feet felt inadequate as shoes, but Meyron insisted it was standard garb in the palace.

“Wipe that scowl off your face,” Meyron snapped. “Karliah didn’t gussy you up so you could glare at everyone all day.” Said the woman who glared out of the window. Quinn rolled her eyes and tried to relax her face.

The innkeeper at the Tilted Moon turned out to be a woman of many talents. Not only did she own and run the inn and tavern, she could work magic with a hairbrush and pins, and the many paints and powders she used to make Quinn appear to be a hale young woman worthy to walk the halls in the king’s court.

Ben, of course, needed next to no work to look like a young lordling. That might’ve been part of the reason for Quinn’s scowling. His hair only needed a trim to achieve the tousled look, his hazel eyes were rimmed with thick lashes that needed no help, and his pure excitement at the situation made him glow like a maiden. A true gem in the rough, according to Madam Karliah.

“Remember, if you can avoid situations that require conversation, please do,” Meyron said. They’d been over this a half a dozen times already this morning. “Otherwise use the answers I gave you.”

“We know,” said Quinn. She patted the pocket in her cloak. “I have the scroll, it isn’t bent or damaged, and it will make it to Lady Tellmar whether she leaves the palace with us or not.”

“Good,” Meyron said. She relaxed her shoulders a little and sighed. “It’s highly likely she won’t leave with us today. Worst case scenario, we will approach her again in Lorin, but I would rather not.”

She and Ben both nodded. The key was to give her the scroll and explain the offer to study under Mage Meyron the Black, outside of the Academy. Details regarding when or where their studies would begin was unclear, but she promised both of them the basics on the boat to Lorin. Quinn planned to use that as a way to lure Lady Tellmar to leave sooner rather than later.

Guests and visitors to the palace and the court started to trickle in, late in the morning of course, and the palace looked more alive. Instead of servants scurrying through the massive and ornate corridors, ladies dressed in silks strode soundlessly over the strips of carpet lining the cold marble floor and the polished boots of lords tapped alongside them, inlaid with silver or gold. The entire place exuded wealth and Quinn felt very small. Even though what she and Ben wore were easily the most luxurious things either of them owned, they were barely up to snuff.

Quinn pulled out the rough sketch of the main palace floor Meyron drew, and was able to make her mental map of the place more complete. Sometimes it took being in a place to really set something to memory. Now it was time to try and walk like she owned the place. Like Meyron.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Quinn, and Ben nodded. His enthusiasm died down significantly after stepping out of the carriage and watching Meyron march off in a different direction. She didn’t deign to mention where she was going.

The palace was laid out in the shape of an H on its side, with the upper levels containing areas inaccessible to the public like private ballrooms, housing for visiting lords and ladies, as well as the king’s apartments. According to Meyron’s map, most of the visitors spent time in the gardens, but at this early hour they would be in one of the many sitting rooms eating breakfast. It was fashionable, apparently, to eat small breakfasts in the sitting rooms instead of a full meal in the dining room. It didn’t make much sense to Quinn, but perhaps if she had been born with all the money in the world she might’ve seen the appeal.

Both Quinn and Ben were prepared to search for hours to find Lady Tellmar, but she was in the first sitting room they checked; the one Meyron marked with a scribbled star. The woman was really something else. Just as predicted, she was the only woman to lift up her head at the entrance of strangers, and quickly look away if she realized they were from the Academy. Or at least, they appeared to be.

“Lady Tellmar?” Quinn asked. She didn’t hide her Cinder accent. Even sitting down, Lady Tellmar was a tall woman. Her blonde hair was twisted and curled and pinned like Quinn’s, but she wore it like it belonged on her. Dainty jewelry adorned her neck, wrists and fingers, each one holding some precious stone or other.

“I should’ve known you fools wouldn’t wait until I returned to Lorin,” she scoffed, and then shook her head and held it high. “I see your attire. Where is your recruiter? I would like to have words with him.”

“She is on other business in the palace, my lady,” said Ben. The lady’s expression softened instantly. It was all Quinn could do not to spit. Ben and his looks. “We apologize for any insult, it was not intentional. Instead, we would like to present to you our recruiter’s offer.” Ben glanced at Quinn, who drew out the sealed scroll from her cloak.

“This is most mysterious,” she said, taking it and turning it over in her hands. “A black seal, and with a dragon no less. From Meyron the Black herself, then.”

“She has asked you to keep the scroll sealed for now,” he said.

“Our recruiter offers you something more than education at the Academy,” Quinn added. “We understand you may not be able to leave with us today, but--” Lady Tellmar held up a hand.

“Leave?” she asked. “For the Academy?”

“No,” Quinn said.

“Then for where?” she asked, her tone more pressing. “I can’t simply pick up my life to go on the road, I have a responsibility to my family to marry well or attain a respectable rank within the Academy. I don’t have nearly the freedom you might believe I do.”

This is what Quinn was worried about. Perhaps this was what Meyron was worried about as well. While her mind reeled with what to say to the lady to convince her, Ben swept in.

“That is part of the training, Lady Tellmar,” he said, blinking his thick-lashed lids slowly. “It should come as no surprise to you the reputation necromancers have these days.” She averted her eyes. “Mage Meyron the Black will be teaching us personally, and outside of the rules, constraints, and eyes and ears of the Academy. Surely you can see the benefits of this kind of secrecy. We both look leaps to be here, but yours will be the largest leap of all.”

“Thank you for understanding,” said Lady Tellmar. Her lips were pursed and she looked at the scroll for a long moment. “I appreciate the offer, but I cannot accept.” She held the scroll back out to Quinn. She didn’t take it.

“Please, keep it,” Quinn said. “A time may come where you may need it.”

She didn’t intend for it to sound like an ominous threat, but Ben elbowed her in the ribs.

“Thank you for your time, my lady,” he said, gave her a small bow, and led the way out of the sitting room. Once they were back in the large corridor Ben flicked her ear.

“Ow!” Quinn squeaked.

“Mage Meyron said to convince her, not threaten her,” he said.

“What? It’s true,” said Quinn, rubbing her ear. “It’s only a matter of time before she’s driven out of here. Why not leave on your own terms?”

Before Ben could respond, a figure with wild black hair came sprinting around the corner and barreled towards them faster than her short legs should’ve been able to move.

“Lady Tellmar?” Meyron asked, her eyes even wilder than her hair, and Ben simply pointed at the door and she kept going and flung it open. The door, which was rather heavy, swung so hard it knocked over a vase on the small table and it shattered on the marble floor.

Quinn and Ben rushed in after her, just in time to see Meyron slap the plate out of Lady Tellmar’s hands.

“Don’t eat anything!” Meyron’s voice took a tone that wasn’t quite human, lower and nearly roaring, as she warned the room. Every lady in the room stared at her in wonder. She pointed to the floor where Lady Tellmar’s plate landed. Quinn’s entire body went cold and her stomach dropped.

Black ooze. A familiar and gut-wrenching stench filled the room and the screams started. Someone didn’t listen. An older lady, higher ranking based on her clothing and the number of jewels on her fingers, choked and the same black ooze streamed from her ears and from the corners of her mouth.

“Necromancy!” Someone’s cry from the corridor made Lady Tellmar’s face go white. “It must be necromancy!”

“Go,” Meyron ordered Lady Tellmar, who immediately stood and joined Quinn and Ben. “Take her to the inn. Do not stop. Meet me by the river as soon as you’ve gathered our belongings. Tell Madam Karliah it has begun.”

With that, black scales grew rapidly out of the skin on Meyron’s hands, up her neck and onto her face, and her nose morphed into a muzzle and teeth grew long and sharp. Her clothes tore and in a matter of seconds a black dragon about twice the size of a large dog was in the air and burst through one of the many glass windows. Fragments of colored glass shattered on the floor and temporarily drowned out the screams from further inside the palace.

The now three students of Meyron the Black stood speechless, but exchanged one look and sprinted out of the palace.