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“Come on.” I pull her to her feet and out to the garden. “It’s too depressing in there.”

“Of course it’s depressing.” She sniffles. “My brother is dead.”

I take her by the shoulders. “Would he want you to spend all your days crying for him?”

“It’s not just for him.” She buries her face in her hands and sinks onto a bench that backs up to manicured rose bushes. “I’m crying for myself, too. I love Jamys, and of course I’m devastated, but now, it all passes to me—the expectation, the responsibility, the crown. I can’t live up to it. He would have been a good king.”

“Do you doubt your effectiveness as princess?”

“No, but that doesn’t matter.” Lillian twists to look at a flower and brush her fingertip along its petal.

“Of course it does. You’ve always had a role of great importance to Ceraun. Now, you’ll have a different one.”

“A very different one.” She shakes her head. “You know what it’s like. At least you had time to come to terms with potentially becoming the heir to your throne.”

“Oh, but I’m…” I suppose it isn’t a good time to say I’m choosing not to take the responsibility when she’s just been forced into it herself. “There are some similarities, but of course, your circumstances are horrible.”

“I wish there was a way to know what happened to him.”

I kneel and wrap my hand around hers. “I know. I suspect the sadness will always be there, but you’ll feel happiness again.”

“I can’t imagine it.”

“Would you like me to show you how I lift my spirits?”

Curiosity glimmers in her wide eyes. I keep hold of her hand as I pull her to stand, slide a wedge of air under our feet, and push us up off the ground.

She shrieks and wobbles and clings to me. “Oh gods!”

“It’s not so bad.” We rise higher, and her chest heaves. “Relax. It’s fun.”

“We have very different ideas of fun.” Despite her words, her arms loosen slightly as she takes in the view. I follow her gaze over the sprawling stone castle, the pristine grounds, the town down the hill. She starts to breathe slower. “It’s beautiful up here, that’s for certain.”

“It is a lovely change of perspective. And, as I said, it can truly be fun. Watch.”

“No, no, no!” She tries to keep hold of me as I pull my arm away.

“You are just fine.”

She holds completely still, as if gravity won’t remember she’s here if she isn’t moving. I do a flip, and she gapes at me. “How can you keep us both up and do things like that at the same time?”

“You can walk and breathe and blink at the same time without thinking about it. This is natural to me.”

Lillian settles down enough to enjoy herself. Smiles that look natural, if a bit tentative, reach her face. We play up over the castle, and some light and color return to her eyes. “I can’t believe this is how you and your siblings always diverted yourself.”

“There were times you could have joined us. Why didn’t you?”

“It didn’t seem like the way a princess was supposed to behave.” She gasps and snaps her head toward me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say you—”

“Oh, that’s fine. I know I’m not the most well-behaved princess there ever was.”

“Perhaps behaving is overrated. You can do everything just right, and what does it signify? It can all end in an instant.”

I’d worry she’s come back to thoughts of death, but if Jamys’ helps her realize she should live while she can, perhaps some good can come of it. On our way back down to the garden, Lillian sighs. “Oh, no.”

King Urian awaits, stiff-backed and stern-faced.

“Father—”