The palace interior had the highest ceilings I had ever seen and banners hung high. The floors were so polished they reflected torchlight like a second world beneath our feet.

  Some sort of proceedings was already underway.

  But we weren’t heading for a throne room or anything like that.

  We wound our way through hallways to quarters where people would actually live.

  And when we reached our destination, a herald announced us:

  “Presenting Baron Alarick Lightbane and his children - Sir Jakob, Lady Maren and Sir Caleb.”

  A man, maybe just a little older than Alarick and tall with black hair streaked with gray, approached him.

  He smiled as he embraced my father openly, not as protocol, but as friendship.

  “Alarick!” He roared, glad.

  “Deimos!” Alarick roared back, equally as friendly. “Where’s your wife?”

  “Oh, you know how she is. She must be around here somewhere.” He turned to us. “And you must be the Lightbane children.”

  His gaze swept over Jakob and Maren first, politely diplomatic. Then it landed on me - lingering a heartbeat longer than I liked.

  “Kids. This is Crown Prince Deimos Amoon. Soon to be your king.”

  King?

  Jakob and I bowed, and Maren curtsied.

  “Thanks for the invitation,” Alarick said.

  “You know full well that there is nobody I’d rather have here than you.”

  “What happened to the old king?” Maren blurted out.

  “News must travel slow. The… king passed two months ago,” Deimos said softly. “I will ascend to the throne soon. The coronation is set in only a week.”

  Ah.

  So that was it.

  The reason the city felt like a festival waiting to explode.

  Maren stumbled through a stiff apology. Father placed a guiding hand on her shoulder - a reminder to keep manners.

  Deimos recovered his regal poise with a practiced smile.

  “Baron Lightbane is one of my most trusted companions. It is only right he be here for the beginning of my reign.”

  And then, a new presence stepped in.

  She was bundled in a dress layered with lace and irritation - a tiny storm cloud given form.

  Her hair was dark, and it curled in soft dark ringlets, and a silver circlet sat crookedly on her head because she kept trying to take it off.

  She was clearly dragged here for diplomacy and hated it with a passion.

  Another toddler.

  “Io, my darling,” Deimos said and lifted her up and kissed her on the cheek. He showed her off to us. “This is my daughter, Io. She’s about Caleb’s age. Maybe they can make friends?”

  Io’s eyes landed on me - suspicious, defiant, maybe even competitive.

  I offered a polite “courtly” nod - the gesture Miss Marie drilled into my skull.

  Io responded by sticking her tongue out before a nursemaid rushed into the room and yanked her close.

  Wonderful.

  Royalty.

  Deimos rubbed his forehead. “She’s… spirited.”

  “She reminds me of someone,” he said, side-eyeing Maren.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  We were escorted deeper into the royal wing - guest chambers meant for ‘favored’ allies. Spacious rooms, gold chandeliers, and wardrobes stocked with formal wear accented in the royal colors.

  It was generosity with a political bow tied around it.

  We would remain here, guests of the Amoon family, until after the coronation.

  The palace buzzed constantly - servants rushing, messengers delivering coded updates, and battlemages drilling in the courtyards. Everyone is preparing for the coming shift in power.

  And I stood in the middle of it all - a child in appearance only.

  Io approached again later, curiosity conquering her earlier attitude.

  “What’s wrong with your eyes?” she asked bluntly.

  Polite diplomacy clearly wasn’t part of her training.

  “My eyes?” I asked.

  “They’re weird.”

  “They’re not weird,” I said, almost screaming internally. Was there something wrong with them I didn’t notice? I have healed them more than once now. Maybe something went wrong. “I… I just have special eyes,” I answered.

  She frowned at that. “Liar.”

  And marched away, unimpressed.

  I sighed internally.

  Acting friendly was easy - but befriending a stubborn toddler princess who viewed the world like a personal playground?

  That was a different skill set entirely.

  The first full day in the palace passed with the speed of honey, or like a toddler - slow, sticky, and painfully boring or annoying.

  Jakob was off being groomed by nobles who wanted to become his future best friends and that, when he graduated, he should immediately come work for them.

  Maren spent every spare moment sparring with palace guards, most of them women, and three of them she already knocked flat in mock duels, impressing even more nobles.

  Father attended endless meetings with the king and his council.

  And I… existed.

  Miss Marie hovered over me like a hawk guarding an especially fragile egg.

  Stand straight, Caleb.

  Don’t wander, Caleb.

  Don’t touch that, Caleb.

  I needed air. Freedom.

  Or at the very least, a hallway no one was policing.

  When Miss Marie got pulled away to correct a servant’s sleeve - truly a matter of national importance - I slipped behind a pillar and waited.

  Not long after, small footsteps padded toward me.

  Io. The little menace.

  She froze when she spotted me lurking in the shadows, eyes narrowing with suspicion and intrigue.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Hiding,” I answered plainly.

  She was confused. “…Why?”

  I leaned closer, lowering my voice like a conspirator in a grand scheme.

  “I don’t want to be caught by Miss Marie. Shouldn’t someone be looking after you too?”

  “I gave a royal decree that if I’m not allowed to roam on my own, they’ll be fired.”

  Ruthless little girl. I don't think she had the power to do that, but people would be scared of that.

  “I want to explore the palace too,” I said. “But if someone catches me, especially her… I’ll be in trouble.”

  “So?”

  “So…” I continued, “I need someone important to back me up. Someone like a princess.”

  Io puffed up slightly, recognizing a compliment even while trying not to smile.

  “What do I do?” she asked.

  “If someone asks where I am,” I explained, “you tell them I was with you. And that you sent me somewhere. Or that I was napping. Or… something royal-sounding.”

  She tapped her chin with a tiny finger, considering the mischief.

  “You want me to lie,” she said bluntly.

  I nodded.

  She glanced over both shoulders and then leaned in, whispering like she was sharing state secrets: “I love lying.”

  Of course she does.

  “But-” she added, lifting a finger with the dramatic timing of a performer, “I get to come too.”

  That wasn’t ideal. Sneaking alone meant fewer witnesses and fewer complications. But - she was the perfect shield against suspicion.

  So I nodded. “Fine. But stay quiet. And… do exactly what I say.”

  Her face lit up like a lamp ignited by chaos. “Yes! Let’s do crimes!”

  I sighed. “No crimes. Just… secret exploring.”

  She waved that off. “Same thing.”

  Before I could correct her, she grabbed my hand - surprisingly strong grip - and tugged.

  “Come on! I know all the good parts! Places I’m not supposed to go and that Papa forbids, and everything!”

  Perfect.

  A tiny delinquent princess as my guide.

  There was a small ethical conflict in me, manipulating a toddler, but there was no harm done.

  Io was already grinning with villainous delight.

  She led me through a maze of pillars and polished floors, where our footsteps reminded me of a church’s floor. The deeper we went, the fewer servants lingered, until at last we arrived at a hallway where there was no one.

  Half the lanterns here were unlit, and the marble tiles bore a thin coat of dust - a strange rarity in a place where servants cleaned floors that were already clean.

  Io stopped in front of a tall archway.

  A heavy door blocked our way.

  “This is the place,” she whispered like someone telling a ghost story around a fire.

  “What place?”

  “Grandfather died in here.” She said it like it was obvious, like every child casually knew where the old king had died.

  I stiffened a bit.

  “Is this… a burial chamber?” I murmured.

  “No.” Io shook her head, frowning as she tried to find the right words. “This is where they found him.”

  She pressed her tiny hand on the handle.

  “Papa says it’s dangerous. And that nobody is allowed in except if he says so.”

  Dangerous.

  That was practically an invitation.

  “What exactly happened to the king?” I asked.

  Io shrugged.

  “No one knows. Some say he fell. Some say he was attacked.”

  “Attacked?”

  “Papa says the palace is safe.”

  She leaned in closer, her eyes glowing with dark curiosity.

  “But sometimes I hear people whisper that… something else did it.”

  Something else.

  Wait, this was perfect. I could blame this on Entropy. On The Enemy. I could further the story with this.

  We stared silently into the sealed darkness, as if a single shadow might step forward with the truth.

  Io tugged my sleeve.

  “You wanted to explore. Do we go inside?”

  Her eyes were shining - equal parts fear and excitement - waiting for my choice.

  Would saying yes be a smart choice? No. Would it be interesting? Maybe. Would saying no be the wrong decision? Yes.

  So I said the most responsible answer that came to my mind.

  “…Yes. Maybe we can find out what really happened.”

  She nodded solemnly, accepting the wisdom of a fellow four-year-old.