“Welcome to Arvendon Palace, Young Star Trohka.”

  I glance up at the new palace, taking in the sight of the place that would be my new home. It was further back from the entrance, behind both the main palace and Isadora’s and it had actually taken the better part of the morning to get here, even by carriage. A part of me wondered if I was being hidden away, but Caspian had assured me that it was normal for children not meant for the throne to be placed further away from the gates.

  Caspian stepped out of the carriage behind me, his boots crunching softly against the polished stone as he started guiding the servants to gather my things. Arvendon Palace was less grand than the others, not as imposing as the main palace or as refined as Isadora’s, but there was a certain quiet elegance to it. Ivy clung to the older stone walls, and warm amber light glowed behind tall, arched windows. The garden out front had been recently trimmed, though not recently enough to hide the way it had once been neglected. It had the air of a place remembered, then forgotten, and now recalled again.

  I brought my gaze back down to the man and woman in front of me, both a decade or so older than my mother. They kept their heads bowed, obviously waiting for me to acknowledge their greeting.

  “Hello,” I finally offered, watching as they raised their heads. The man was lean and dignified, with brown, straight hair pulled back to reveal a fine, time-worn face with green eyes. A well-kept moustache framed his mouth, graciously complementing the strong lines of his nose. There was something quietly fortunate about his features, the kind of handsomeness that lingered in memory more as a charm than a statement.

  Beside him, the woman held her posture with a calm confidence. Silver curls framed a furrowed face touched by time but not unkindly so. Her brown eyes were shuttered, unreadable, yet her smooth skin and the graceful slope of her cheeks softened her presence. She looked like someone who had gambled often and won just enough, as if luck was her best friend.

  “I am Sir Tavian and this is Lady Nyssara,” the man finally continued, motion to the woman beside him. “We look forward to serving you as you become a shining light for Naera.”

  “Thank you,” I offered, but the words felt hollow as I followed them back into the palace. After all, I would only be staying here until Isadora took the throne and she could officially have her own heir, but that was something only I, my mother, and the Imperial couple knew. The scent of lemon oil and older stone lingered in the air, undercut by something subtler—dust, maybe, or time. Arvendon Palace wasn’t lifeless, but it didn’t hum with the same kind of movement as Isadora’s had.

  As I passed the threshold, I noticed how the foyer bore no portraits. The walls had been freshly cleaned, and the floors polished, but there was a stillness in the air that made it feel like something had been stripped away, as if a ghost still lingered in the stones. I didn’t say anything, simply following Tavian and Nyssara as they led me through the main corridor, pointing out rooms that I barely glanced at. The sitting room, the east parlor, the formal dining hall that hadn’t seen a guest in years. They finally stopped before a pair of wide, ornate doors made of dark-stained wood, polished to a dull gleam.

  “This is the royal suite,” Nyssara said, voice smooth, eyes fixed somewhere just over my shoulder. “It has been prepared for you according to your preferences, as requested by Lady Isadora.”

  The space was large, with a high ceiling and tall windows that let in soft morning light through gauzy curtains. A canopy bed stood at one end of the room, dark sheets folded tight against the mattress. The walls were lined with more shelves than I expected, and while most of them were bare, a few already held some books that I could only guess Isadora had provided for me. The desk by the window had a single, polished inkpot and a set of blank journals, while a pair of armchairs faced a hearth that had already been lit, its fire modest but warm.

  “Will I be taking classes in here?” I asked, slightly confused as I heard Caspian join us.

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  “No. You will be taking lessons in the study with me from now on, as long as I’m here. If ever I can’t attend, Isadora will teach you instead,” Caspian answered, the same usual neutral expression on his face and in his tone as he spoke. “Your schedule is the same, although obviously you won’t have any lessons today.”

  “Alright, thank you,” I answered, immediately walking past Caspian to head to the library. Being taught by Caspian and Isadora was better than the Baron, who was now teaching Valaine and it meant I was closer to the information I wanted. Information about the connection between dragons and Naera, and why Kapral turned against the empire he had once sworn to protect.

  As soon as I stepped into the library, I leapt up to one of the high windows, not bothering to choose a book. After all, I had no intention of reading today, and instead I smoothed my hair back from my face, allowing my horns to manifest. Once I did, whispers from different corners of the palace filled my ears and I closed my eyes, leaning back as I took it all in,

  “Did you see the new prince? He’s so mature.”

  “A looker for sure.”

  “Isn’t he the one Isadora brought from the south with his mother?”

  “Hush! We aren’t allowed to talk about him.”

  The last voice dropped into a whisper so soft I barely caught it over the crackle of the library’s fire. I let the sound travel, the voices barely audible but distinct enough to separate. Somewhere near the kitchens, maybe a floor below, judging by the echo and the scent of warm bread, I could hear the two maids. Their footsteps were light, but their words carried through the air like a draft under a door.

  “I thought it would be another decade before we had a master again,” one of them said, hushed and reverent. “I’m glad to know that this palace won’t be so quiet anymore.”

  “I know! I was worried they were only keeping us around because of his death, but I’m glad that’s not the case,” the other breathed and I shifted, straining to hear their conversation above all of the other noise. “Letting another child live here must mean they’re no longer suspicious, right?”

  “We can hope. They banned giving Valaine her own palace after what happened, and the poor girl doesn’t even know about her brother,” the first sounded heartbroken as she said it, her voice thinning with a kind of fragile disbelief that had clearly lingered for years. “It’s not right, pretending he never existed. I know it’s the Imperial way, but she should know. He was her brother.”

  “He died before she was even born,” the second maid murmured, quieter now, almost to herself. “But maybe they plan to tell her when she’s older? She’s still so young after all.”

  “I suppose, perhaps they will ease her into the truth,” the first answered, their voices finally settling as they started to do their chores in the kitchen. “I’m just happy we have a new master to serve. We should all do our best to make sure our Young Star stays safe this time.”

  “Of course!”

  I leaned back against the stone frame of the window and let the words sink in, the hum of truth turning over slowly in my chest. I had always understood why Imperial children weren’t introduced until their thirteenth birthday; the younger a child was, the more vulnerable they were to assassination, manipulation, or political leverage. I had also been aware that there must have been another child I didn’t know about as soon as I heard Galene mention the person that made Isadora shun magic.

  A prince; a child who had lived and died long before I was ever born. A boy whose name had been buried deeper than the roots of the palace walls, scrubbed from record, memory, and bloodline alike. I had no doubt that he was tied to all the questions I had about the empire and dragons, and my mind raced as I tried to think of a plan. The maids hadn’t spoken a name and I had no doubt they were likely told to not speak it out loud, especially if they were all suspected in his death.

  “I know you can hear me, Cyran.”

  Caspian’s voice cut through the noise of the palace, and I frowned as I realized he was standing outside, and from the lack of noise, he was alone. I sat up slightly, waiting to see what else he would say.

  “I’ll be back tonight. Since it’s just you here, meeting in your room will be fine.”

  “Whatever,” I whispered to the empty room, annoyed by the quiet chuckle I heard from Caspian. I didn’t doubt that he could guess I was annoyed that he knew I was eavesdropping, and I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d bring it up the next time we spoke. Still, I leaned forward and rested my arms on my knees, my horns catching the faintest shimmer of light in the glass as I watched the carriage start to pull away.

  I glanced out to the faint outline for the other palaces, and I could even see the fourth palace that would eventually belong to Valaine. I closed my eyes, allowing the whispers fill my ears as I listened to the palace come alive with my arrival.