The mid-summer festival was the grandest celebration of the imperial calendar—three days of eborate ceremonies, tournaments, feasts, and entertainments that brought together nobles from across the empire. Unlike the more formal equinox and solstice observances, the mid-summer festival included public festivities that allowed common citizens to glimpse the imperial family and court in all their splendor.

  For Prince Julian, now eleven years old, it represented both opportunity and danger. His successful handling of the Nordician ambassador's visit had earned him rare praise from his father and grudging respect from several key court officials. The whispers that had once dismissed him as merely Augustus's bookish shadow had begun to acknowledge his diplomatic aptitude and growing poise.

  But this evolution had come at a cost. Augustus's hostility had become more calcuting, less impulsive. Direct confrontations had given way to subtle sabotage and strategic undermining. Twice in recent months, Julian had discovered his carefully prepared notes for important recitations mysteriously altered or mispced. Once, he had narrowly avoided drinking from a cup that ter proved to contain a powerful purgative herb.

  "You must be exceptionally vigint during the festival," Natalie warned as she helped Julian dress for the opening ceremony. "There will be too many people, too much confusion for me to monitor effectively."

  Julian nodded, his young face serious beneath the formal circlet that marked his rank. At ten, he remained small for his age, but his bearing had developed a quiet dignity that sometimes made others forget his youth.

  "Augustus has been too quiet tely," he agreed. "He's pnning something—I can feel it."

  Natalie adjusted the ceremonial mantle across his shoulders, ensuring it draped correctly. "Remember what we've practiced. Maintain appropriate distance from your brothers, stay within sight of senior officials whenever possible, and—"

  "Accept no food or drink that I haven't seen prepared," Julian finished, having heard these cautions repeatedly over the past week. "I'll be careful, Natalie."

  She stepped back to assess his appearance, allowing herself a moment of pride at his transformation. The nervous, withdrawn child she had first encountered hiding in the library had evolved into a poised young prince who faced challenges with increasing confidence.

  "You look every inch a prince, Your Highness," she said truthfully.

  Julian smiled—one of his rare, genuine expressions that transformed his serious face. "Thanks to your guidance."

  The opening ceremony proceeded without incident—a grand procession through the main courtyard, where citizens gathered behind cordoned areas to catch glimpses of the imperial family. Julian maintained perfect posture beside his brothers, acknowledging the crowd with appropriate dignity while remaining alert for any sudden movements from Augustus or his allies.

  "Well managed," Natalie told him when he returned briefly to his chambers to change for the afternoon tournament. "Though I noticed Prince Edmond watching you rather intently during the final blessing."

  Julian nodded as he removed his formal mantle. "He's been assigned as Augustus's eyes, I think. They're rarely in the same pce anymore—it allows them to monitor me from multiple angles."

  The observation was astute and matched Natalie's own assessment. The coordination between the brothers had evolved over recent months, becoming more sophisticated and harder to counter.

  "The tournament will be more challenging," she warned. "More movement, more opportunities for... accidents."

  Julian's expression remained calm, but she noted the slight tension in his shoulders. "I've reviewed the schedule. I'll be seated between Master Holloway and Ambassador Krendlor for the archery competition, then with Father's advisors for the wrestling. Both positions should limit opportunity for direct interference."

  Natalie nodded approvingly. Julian had learned to analyze spaces and gatherings for both advantages and vulnerabilities—a skill she had deliberately cultivated in their private lessons.

  "And the feast afterward?"

  "I've requested to be seated with Lady Emmeline and her mother," Julian replied. "Augustus avoids the Duchess Harrington—she once publicly corrected his historical knowledge, and he's never forgiven the humiliation."

  It was a sound strategy, though Natalie still felt the familiar twinge whenever Lady Emmeline's name was mentioned. The young noblewoman's interest in Julian had evolved from academic courtesy to genuine friendship over the past months, evidenced by regur correspondence and gifts of rare books for his collection.

  "Very well," Natalie conceded. "But remember—"

  "Vigince in all things," Julian completed with a small smile. "I remember."

  The first day of the festival passed without significant incident. Julian navigated the various events with careful precision, maintaining his dignified presence while strategically positioning himself to minimize vulnerability. When he returned to his chambers that evening, his expression reflected cautious satisfaction.

  "Augustus seemed almost cordial today," he reported as Natalie helped him prepare for bed. "He actually acknowledged my comment about the Westnd archer's technique."

  "That's... unusual," Natalie noted, her instinctive wariness sharpening. Augustus was never cordial without purpose.

  "Perhaps he's finally accepting that I have a pce at court," Julian suggested, though his tone indicated he didn't fully believe this optimistic interpretation.

  Natalie chose her response carefully. "It's possible. Or perhaps he's adjusting his approach based on your recent successes."

  Julian considered this as he settled into bed. "Either way, I'll maintain vigince."

  "Good," Natalie affirmed. "Tomorrow brings the water tournament—an environment with its own unique challenges."

  The water tournament was a traditional highlight of the mid-summer festival—a series of competitions conducted on and around the imperial ke that formed the eastern boundary of the pace grounds. Boat races, swimming contests, and demonstrations of naval tactics provided entertainment while showcasing the empire's maritime prowess.

  For Julian, it represented a particurly vulnerable situation. Unlike his brothers, who had received extensive training in swimming and boating from an early age, Julian's aquatic experience was limited. His mother's lower status had excluded him from many of the privileges automatically granted to Augustus, Edmond, and Henry—including regur instruction in water skills considered essential for imperial princes.

  "Remember, you aren't required to participate in any of the events," Natalie reminded him as they walked toward the ke pavilion the following morning. "Observing from the imperial viewing ptform is entirely appropriate for your age."

  Julian nodded, though she noted the slight tension around his mouth—a sign that something troubled him. "I've reviewed the schedule. The morning events are primarily for naval officers and elite guard members. The princes aren't expected to participate until the afternoon dispy."

  "And for that, you've prepared your excuse of a recent schorly injury to your wrist," Natalie confirmed. They had carefully bandaged his perfectly healthy wrist that morning, creating a pusible reason for his non-participation that wouldn't appear as cowardice.

  "Yes," Julian replied, his voice oddly ft.

  Natalie gnced at him sideways as they walked. "Something's troubling you, Your Highness."

  Julian hesitated before answering. "I overheard something st night—a conversation between Augustus and Captain Darius of the pace guard."

  Natalie's attention sharpened. Captain Darius was one of Augustus's most loyal supporters, a brutish man who treated Julian with barely concealed contempt. "What did you hear?"

  "They were discussing today's schedule, specifically the royal demonstration. Augustus said something about 'an opportunity to showcase all the princes' water skills.'" Julian's voice carried a note of apprehension. "He specifically mentioned my participation."

  Arm fshed through Natalie. This suggested Augustus might be pnning to force Julian's involvement despite his prepared excuse. "Did you hear anything more specific?"

  Julian shook his head. "They moved out of earshot. But Augustus seemed... pleased with himself."

  "Then we must be exceptionally careful today," Natalie decided. "Stay close to your father or other senior officials. If Augustus attempts to pressure you into participation, cite your injury and request immediate examination by the court physician if necessary."

  Julian nodded, but his expression remained troubled. "What if Father insists? You know how he feels about martial and physical demonstrations."

  It was a valid concern. The Emperor valued dispys of strength and skill, often showing impatience with excuses regardless of their legitimacy. If Augustus managed to frame Julian's non-participation as weakness rather than medical necessity...

  "We'll prepare for that possibility," Natalie assured him, mind racing through contingencies. "If absolutely necessary, you could participate in the shallow-water demonstration only, where your feet would remain on the ke bottom. Your injury would still prevent swimming, but you would appear willing to participate within your capabilities."

  This compromise seemed to ease Julian's immediate anxiety, and they continued toward the ke in thoughtful silence.

  The morning events proceeded as expected. Julian observed from the imperial viewing ptform, seated between Master Holloway and one of his father's older advisors—a position that kept him safely separated from his brothers while maintaining proper protocol.

  The competitions were impressive—skilled naval officers demonstrating rowing precision, swimming endurance, and underwater breath control that left the assembled crowd gasping with appreciation. Julian watched with schorly interest, occasionally making astute observations that earned approving nods from the elderly advisor beside him.

  Midday brought a brief recess for refreshments before the afternoon events, which would include the princes' demonstration. Julian remained on the viewing ptform rather than joining the informal gathering under the refreshment tents, citing his need to rest his "injured" wrist.

  "A wise precaution," Natalie murmured as she brought him a pte of selected foods from the imperial table—items she had personally observed being prepared and served. "Prince Augustus has been circuting among the naval officers, speaking quite animatedly."

  Julian accepted the pte with a nod of thanks. "He's been watching me all morning. Not obviously, but I've caught his gnces."

  Natalie had observed the same and found it deeply concerning. Augustus's attention was never benign, particurly when accompanied by the satisfied smirk that had occasionally crossed his face when looking in Julian's direction.

  As the afternoon session began, that concern crystallized into specific fear. The imperial herald announced a change to the traditional schedule—rather than the standard demonstration of basic water skills by the princes, there would be a competitive dispy of swimming and underwater retrieval.

  "By imperial command, all four princes will demonstrate their abilities," the herald procimed, his voice carrying across the ke. "A special challenge has been arranged to showcase their training and natural aptitude."

  Julian went rigid beside Natalie. "This wasn't in the schedule," he whispered, his voice tight with arm. "This is Augustus's doing."

  Natalie's mind raced through options, each less promising than the st. A direct challenge with the Emperor's apparent endorsement would be nearly impossible to evade without significant consequence.

  "Your Highness," she said quietly, "if necessary, you could admit to the injury being a precaution rather than a genuine ailment. A strategic withdrawal would be better than—"

  "Than humiliation?" Julian finished, his expression hardening with unexpected resolve. "No. That's exactly what Augustus wants—to force me to admit weakness before the entire court."

  Before Natalie could respond, the Emperor himself approached their position on the viewing ptform, fnked by Augustus and Captain Darius. Julian rose immediately, bowing with perfect precision despite the tension evident in his shoulders.

  "Father," he acknowledged.

  The Emperor's gaze fell to Julian's bandaged wrist. "What's this? Captain Darius informs me you're ciming injury to avoid the water demonstration."

  The phrasing—"ciming injury"—confirmed Natalie's suspicion that Augustus had deliberately framed Julian's situation as cowardice rather than medical necessity.

  Julian maintained remarkable composure, neither flinching nor showing anger at the implied accusation. "I strained my wrist during my studies, Father. I thought it prudent to protect it from further injury."

  The Emperor's expression showed skepticism. "A schor's injury should not prevent a prince's duties. The demonstration has been specially arranged to showcase all four of my sons. Your participation is expected."

  Augustus, standing slightly behind their father, allowed a brief smirk to cross his face—quickly repced by an expression of brotherly concern. "Perhaps Julian could participate in a limited capacity, Father. The underwater retrieval might be too demanding with his... condition."

  The false solicitude was masterfully delivered—positioning Augustus as reasonable while ensuring Julian would still face public challenge.

  The Emperor considered this suggestion with a nod. "A fair compromise. Julian will participate in the swimming portion only. The court physician can examine his wrist afterward to determine if additional treatment is needed."

  It was phrased as consideration but delivered as command. Julian had no choice but to acquiesce.

  "As you wish, Father," he replied with admirable steadiness.

  As the Emperor and Augustus moved away, Julian turned to Natalie, his voice barely audible. "I can't swim beyond basic flotation. Mother arranged a few lessons years ago, but nothing like what my brothers have received."

  Natalie's heart sank. Augustus had engineered the perfect trap—a public demonstration of the very skill Julian cked, with their father's authority preventing any honorable withdrawal.

  "Perhaps you could cim sudden illness," she suggested desperately. "Food disagreement from the midday meal—"

  Julian shook his head firmly. "No. Augustus would only use that to further the narrative of weakness. I must participate... however poorly."

  The determination in his young face both impressed and frightened Natalie. Julian was choosing to face certain humiliation rather than confirm his brother's accusations of cowardice—a dispy of moral courage that nonetheless would expose him to very real physical danger.

  "Then stay near the shallower section," she advised urgently. "If you find yourself struggling, raise your hand immediately. The safety guards will intervene—it's their duty regardless of imperial politics."

  Julian nodded, his expression set with resignation and determination as he was summoned to prepare for the demonstration.

  Natalie watched with growing dread as the four princes changed into swimming attire and assembled at the edge of the imperial dock. The contrast between them was painfully obvious—Augustus, Edmond, and Henry stood confident and physically capable, their bodies showing the results of years of training. Julian, smaller and slighter, looked like a child beside men despite the mere few years' difference in their ages.

  The rules of the demonstration were announced to the assembled court: each prince would swim from the imperial dock to a floating ptform sixty yards into the ke, circle a marker buoy, and return. Speed and form would be evaluated by naval officials positioned in observation boats.

  "A simple test of basic skills," the herald procimed. "Demonstrating the aquatic training all imperial princes receive as part of their comprehensive education."

  Natalie heard the cruel irony in these words—the training Julian had specifically been denied due to his mother's lower status. Augustus had chosen his humiliation perfectly, targeting precisely the skill Julian had least opportunity to develop.

  The princes lined up at the edge of the dock. At the signal, Augustus, Edmond, and Henry dove cleanly into the water, their movements powerful and practiced as they began swimming toward the distant ptform. Julian, after a moment's hesitation, lowered himself more cautiously into the ke and began a much less confident progress.

  The difference was immediately apparent to all observers. While his brothers cut through the water with strong, coordinated strokes, Julian struggled to maintain proper form, his movements increasingly desperate as he fought to keep his head above water.

  Whispers spread through the assembled nobles. Natalie heard fragments of commentary—"poor form," "cks proper training," "embarrassing dispy"—and saw the Emperor's expression darken with disappointment.

  Julian had managed perhaps twenty yards from the dock when disaster struck. His already bored strokes became suddenly frantic, his head dipping below the surface for a terrifying moment before he resurfaced, gasping. Something was wrong—beyond mere ck of skill.

  Natalie, watching with rising panic, spotted the problem that others missed: Julian's right leg was moving oddly, as if restricted. The swimming garment provided to him appeared to be entrapping his movement in a way that the others' did not.

  It was sabotage—subtle but effective. The garment had likely been altered to restrict movement once soaked with water, creating drag that would exhaust even a stronger swimmer than Julian.

  A cry of arm rose from several observers as Julian went under again, longer this time. The safety guards in nearby boats moved toward him, but with deliberate slowness that suggested prior instruction from someone with authority.

  Without conscious decision, Natalie found herself moving—running along the dock, heedless of protocol or consequence, her focus entirely on Julian's struggling form. She heard shouts of surprise, felt hands trying to restrain her, but broke free with strength born of desperate fear.

  At the edge of the dock, she kicked off her shoes and dove into the water, her serving dress billowing around her as she swam with powerful strokes toward Julian. Years of childhood swimming in the river near her father's bindery returned instantly—Nathaniel's body remembering what Natalie's disguise had been forced to forget.

  She reached Julian just as he surfaced again, gasping and disoriented. "Take hold of my shoulder," she instructed, her voice steady despite her racing heart. "Don't struggle. I'll bring you back."

  Julian's eyes widened with recognition, but he was too desperate to question her unexpected abilities. His small hand clutched her shoulder as she began swimming back toward the dock, using a modified sidestroke that allowed her to support his weight while maintaining their progress.

  By the time they reached the dock, attendants and guards had assembled, reaching down to lift Julian from the water. Natalie remained in the ke for a moment longer, suddenly aware of what she had done—of the strength and skill she had dispyed that no frail library maid should possess.

  When she finally allowed herself to be helped onto the dock, water streaming from her sodden clothing, she found herself facing a circle of astonished faces. Julian had been whisked away, presumably to the physicians, leaving her to face the consequences of her actions alone.

  Captain Darius stepped forward, his expression thunderous. "How dare you interfere with an imperial demonstration? By whose authority did you enter the royal waters?"

  Before Natalie could formute a response that wouldn't further incriminate her, an unexpected voice intervened.

  "By my authority, Captain. As head of household staff."

  Madame Bckwood appeared beside Natalie, her imposing presence creating immediate space in the crowd of onlookers. "Miss Foster acted to protect her charge when the safety measures failed." Her gaze swept meaningfully toward the guards who had moved with such suspicious slowness. "For which she deserves commendation, not censure."

  Captain Darius's face darkened. "The girl disrupted an imperial event. She requires discipline, not praise."

  "Perhaps we should consult the Emperor on that matter," Madame Bckwood suggested, her tone deceptively mild. "I'm certain he would be interested in hearing all details of today's... incident. Including the curious alteration to Prince Julian's swimming garment that I observed from the viewing ptform."

  The captain paled slightly, his gaze flickering toward Augustus, who stood watching from a distance, his expression unreadable.

  "This is not the appropriate venue for such discussions," Darius muttered, backing down with obvious reluctance. "The girl should return to her quarters immediately."

  "Indeed she should," Madame Bckwood agreed smoothly. "To change into dry clothing and prepare to attend her prince, who will undoubtedly require her services after his ordeal."

  She pced a firm hand on Natalie's shoulder, guiding her through the whispering crowd with impcable authority. When they had reached a private corridor leading back to the pace, Madame Bckwood's grip tightened almost painfully.

  "That," she said in a voice like ice, "was exceptionally unwise."

  Natalie swallowed hard, water still dripping from her hair and clothes. "I couldn't let him drown, ma'am."

  "No, you couldn't," Madame Bckwood agreed, her tone softening fractionally. "But your method of rescue has raised questions that will be difficult to answer." She gnced at Natalie's sodden form with a measuring gaze. "Questions about how a delicate library maid swims with such... unexpected strength."

  The implication was clear—Natalie had revealed too much of Nathaniel in her desperate rescue. Her disguise, maintained so carefully for nearly a year, had developed a significant crack.

  "Return to your quarters by the servants' passage," Madame Bckwood instructed. "Change immediately. I will ensure Prince Julian is properly attended while you make yourself... presentable."

  "Yes, ma'am," Natalie mumbled, acutely aware of how her wet clothing clung to her body in ways that might betray her true form.

  "And Miss Foster," Madame Bckwood added as Natalie turned to go, "prepare yourself. This incident will have consequences beyond today."

  It was both warning and prediction—one that filled Natalie with cold dread as she hurried through the back corridors, avoiding the curious stares of other servants. She had saved Julian from drowning, yes, but in doing so, she might have doomed them both to a different kind of destruction.