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The banquet did not seem to end so much as fade away. First one group left, and then another. Joss Falconet waved to him as he departed alone. Antonetta kissed his cheek, which set his heart tripping faster and made him blush hard enough that he could only hope no one noticed.

The music softened into silence. The peacock feathers, drowned under their weight of gold paint, drooped like the heads of sleepy children. The fire had burned down to cherry embers by the time everyone was gone from the room save the royal family and the King’s adviser.

And Kel.

“Well, I thought that all went rather well, darling,” the Queen observed. She was still seated at the table, delicately peeling thegreen skin from a sweet dalandan with her long fingers. “Considering how difficult the Sarthians like to be about every little detail.”

The King did not reply. Instead he stood up, looking down at Kel. It was like being regarded by a giant. “The boy is peculiarly literate,” he said. His voice was gravelly, deep as a drowned city. “I thought he would have little knowledge save what he had picked up on the streets.”

“He is from one of Your Highness’s orphanages,” said Bensimon. “They have books, teaching. Royal generosity at work.”

“He ate like a starveling thing,” said the Queen, separating the coral flesh of the dalandan from its white core. Her voice was sandpaper and honey. “It was unseemly.”

“He recovered from the mistake,” said Bensimon. “That is important. And he did well with Antonetta Alleyne. She is a friend of Conor’s. If she did not notice the difference, then who would?”

Kel cleared his throat. It was strange to be talked about as if he were not there. “I’d like to go back now.”

The Queen lifted her eyes from her fruit. The King and Bensimon both looked silently at Kel. He tried to imagine rising to his feet, stretching out a hand, and saying,Thank you, but I am leaving now.He could bow politely, perhaps. Someday this would be a story he would tell—his one night of seeing what power looked like up close. Of realizing that it had a feeling like velvet against your skin at one moment, and the edge of a blade the next.

But he knew better than that. This was never meant to be a story he could tell.

“Back?” said the Queen. “Back to your filthy orphanage, is that it? Not very grateful.” She licked her thumb. “Bensimon. You said he would be grateful.”

“He does not yet know the true purpose of his visit,” said Bensimon. “If you find him acceptable, I will explain it to him. He will then, I expect, be very grateful indeed.”

The Queen frowned. “I don’t think—”

“He is acceptable,” said the King. “As long as Conor agrees.”He snapped his fingers. “Make your explanations, Mayesh. I will be in the Star Tower. It is a clear night.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left. The Queen, a darkly rebellious gleam in her eye, departed flanked by Castelguards, without another look at Kel.

It was as it had been before, no one in the room but Kel and the King’s Counselor. Though now, the remains of food were scattered across the table. The musicians had gone, the fire burned down to ash.

Kel curled and uncurled his hand under the table. It was sticky with blood. He looked at Bensimon. “You said…I would be going back.”

“I did not know if the King would find you acceptable or not,” said Bensimon. “It seems he did. Get up. We are not done yet.”

Kel hated it when adults saidwewhen what they meant wasyou.He frowned as he once again followed Bensimon through the winding corridors of the Palace. Many of the torches had been put out; he could no longer see the contents of the Palace rooms and stumbled as they made their way up a massive stairway, which seemed to curve in on itself like the whorl of a seashell.

Another few turns and Bensimon was leading him down a marble hall and into a grand room. This room, at least, was lit, and decorated in soft hues of fawn and blue. A velvet-draped bed stood in one corner, and next to it, a smaller bed, which puzzled Kel. Was one bed for a parent and the other a child? Yet there were no other signs of children: The furniture was polished mahogany with ivory pieces set in; the paintings on the walls depicted Lotan, the Father of the Gods, with his three sons: Ascalon, Anibal, and Aigon. War, death, and the sea. An iron spiral staircase led up through an opening in the ceiling.

Spread across a nearby table was a clutter of different weapons. Kel knew nothing about weapons and could not have named most of them, though he guessed some to be daggers and others,short-swords. They had delicately incised handles of ivory and jade, studded with gems in different colors.

There was a slight commotion at the door. Kel looked up to a swirl of Castelguards outside, like an incursion of flames. In their midst was a boy, who passed through the door and closed it firmly behind him.

Bensimon straightened up; he did not seem surprised. “Prince Conor.”

Kel felt his stomach drop. Here was the boy he’d been impersonating. A boy who had clearly never been sick. He gathered, now, that it had all been a test—and that this was somehow the final part.

The Crown Prince was all in steel blue, just like Kel. He was not wearing a circlet, but Kel would have known him for a prince regardless. He was tall for his age, with his mother’s fine features, and there was a sort of leaping flame behind his eyes and laughing expression on his face that made Kel want to smile at him, which was startling enough in itself. He knew the boy ought to be terrifying—he was royalty—and he was, and yet Kel wanted to smile at the Prince all the same.

Though he had no more years than Kel, Conor seemed worlds older as he crossed the room with a light step and said, “How was it, then? Being me?”

An unexpected ache bloomed like a flower behind Kel’s rib cage.I want to be like him,Kel thought.I want to walk through the world as if it will reshape itself around my dreams and desires. I want to seem as if I could touch the stars with light fingers and pull them down to be my playthings.

It was strange to want something you had never known you wanted.

Kel just nodded, as if to say that it was all fine. Conor tilted his head to the side, like a curious robin. He came closer to Kel and, without any self-consciousness, took his hand and turned it over.