We turn our backs to Ecea, and take a trail that climbs around the mountainous crag the imperial palace stands upon. It narrows to a thin margin of slippery rock in places, making us press our backs against the cliff side, gingerly sliding along so as not to slip and plunge to the jagged reef below us.

My training for tasks like this is more than adequate, and even if I were to fall, I’d likely survive. Arcadius doesn’t have the benefit of K’zar training or body alchemy or Corpus Dei, or any other unnatural source of strength that I know of, but despite that he is handling the situation remarkably. The wind whips at his hair and cloak, knuckles white against the wet stone. His tunic darkens, soaked by the constant spray of the sea. But since our embrace on the beach, he hasn’t stopped smiling. The sight of it makes me smile too.

Arcadius takes the lead when we’re back on solid ground. There’s eagerness in his eyes, and he’s walking quickly enough to stay ahead of me even though I have a longer stride. We’re at the edge of the palace grounds, making our way over gentle, grassy hills and under the wide canopies of tall, spindly umbrella pines. Over to the right is a bluff that offers a panoramic view of the city far below us. I am no less uneasy about where we’re headed, but my Prince’s confidence in whatever he’s doing has me following right along with him. Our destination appears to lie northward, in the woods beyond the palace grounds, but when we reach the edge of the manicured lawn, Arcadius stops walking and turns to face me.

I stop in front of him, arch an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

He smiles, makes eye contact with me for a moment before looking off into the forest. “Before we go any farther, there’s something I need to ask you.”

“Alright. Ask away.”

He nods, draws a long breath in through his nose and huffs it out. When he speaks his words have a measured kind of feel to them, like he practiced this. “Have you ever felt like you aren’t where you belong? That you’re not what you’re supposed to be?”

“I can’t say that I have,” I say, and the admission feels strange. It’s a puzzling question. I’ve never actually considered such a thing.

Arcadius gives me a wry smile and a nod. “I wouldn’t have expected you to.”

“What difference does it make? I don’t have to understand. I have a duty to protect you.”

That makes him frown, and chew on his lower lip a moment. He’s looking at me strangely, sizing me up. “What if I weren’t a Prince anymore? Would you still follow me?”

Yet another puzzling question. I don’t know what he’s getting at, why he’s probing at my loyalties. “Of course,” I say. “I swore an oath to you, and I don’t take such things lightly. Prince or no Prince, I’m your guardian.”

“Well what if I released you from that oath,” he says.

The question stings like a slap on the face. I give him an incredulous look, but before I scold him for even suggesting such a thing, I realize something. He said he’s never going back. He suggested just now that he isn’t who he’s supposed to be, whatever that means. And he’s on some manner of secret errand tonight that I alone have been entrusted to accompany him on. And now he’s standing here at the threshold, wondering if I can be counted on. Easy answer.

“I’d follow you still,” I say. “You’re my friend. I’ll always stand by you, oaths and responsibilities be damned.”

His eyes close, and that smile I remember slowly spreads across his face. When he opens them again they’re misty, making him blush and turn away to wipe them with his sleeve. I grin and give him a light slug on the shoulder, and he laughs.

And off we go into the woods. The trees crowd in around us as soon as we’ve left the manicured lawn of the palace grounds, and these ones are darker, with thicker trunks and twisting limbs. Twigs and leaves carpet the ground beneath our boots, crunching under them. An owl swoons in the distance. A few strides away, lighter footfalls match ours. Arcadius appears to be unable to hear them, but I have keener ears than he does; they are the careful steps of a wild cat stalking a squirrel. I see a bulbous black spider crawling around on the back of Arcadius’s red cloak, grab it by its fat thorax and flick it into the nearby brush. As usual he’s oblivious to the dangers around him, but that’s what happens when one grows up surrounded by attendants.

A light breeze sways the treetops back and forth, rustling their leaves softly. It’s quiet around us, save the sounds of the forest, the trilling of insects, the occasional chirp of a bird. But there is one other sound, and it’s as pleasant as it is foreign. Arcadius is humming. It’s a soft happy tune. He’s been deathly quiet for five years, bored, irritated about being forced to do anything unrelated to his studies. But now the dignity he wore like armor is gone. He jumps onto a nearby rock, and begins to leap from one to the next as he hums. It’s like the happy adolescent I once knew is coming back to life, at least in part. I can’t help but watch and smile in confusion. I don’t understand, and it’s amusing to see him acting this way, but I’m just pleased to see him enjoying himself. Even a dark forest can be a playground, I suppose.

It’s a gentle incline for the first few miles, but soon we’re trudging up a steep hillside, dirt and leaves sticking to the hems of our damp cloaks. Arcadius trips, pitching backward, and my hand is there to catch him under his arm. He blushes and smiles up at me as I hold onto him until his posture is right again, and we continue on.

Eventually we come to the peak of this climb, and look out over the low valley stretching out beneath us. There is a clearing in the center of it, and in that clearing stands a large tent of red and white striped linen. It is lit by a ring of torches stuck in the dirt around it, and its flaps are decorated on either side by round, painted wooden shields. A pair of pale, bearded men in chain mail stand in front of its entrance, long axes in their hands.

My stomach hardens to ice. I crouch as quickly as I can, gripping Arcadius’s shoulder hard to bring him down with me.

“Norgardians,” I whisper.

How could they make it this far south undetected? All the way to the palace! I give Arcadius a startled glance, but his returning look is far less surprised than I expect it to be. “They’re here to meet with me,” he says.

I stare at him. My mouth opens, but when I can’t find any words I snap it shut.

Arcadius smiles wryly and removes my hand from his shoulder. Then he stands up again, brushing a few twigs off his cloak before looking out over the clearing. I rise to my feet as well, but I don’t follow his gaze. I’m looking at him instead, as a new set of questions rushes forth. What is this? Treason? Why? He stands to lose so much by doing such a thing, what could he possibly gain?

“Your Majesty, I—”

He holds up a hand to intercept my question, shakes his head. “There aren’t many people in the world who can craft what I needed. I had to deal with them.”

“Arcadius, this could be a trap,” I say, giving him a stern look. “Ransoming a captive Prince would do wonders for their war effort, don’t you think?”

Moments pass in silence as he chews on his lip, fidgets with his cloak. There is a longing look in his eyes. Perhaps my words are making him reconsider, because he returns his gaze to that tent in the distance.

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” he says.

My face tightens up a little, trying not to frown. “I do trust you. But you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust an enemy.”

Then he turns and looks me right in the eyes “Rekka, if I don’t do this, I’ll die.”

“You’ll die?!” I say, loud enough to spook a few birds from a branch above us.

Arcadius’s gaze is still fixed on me. “Yes. There’s something wrong with me. I’ve been looking for a cure for six years, and I finally have it. It’s happening tonight.”

“What could be so wrong that you need to turn to Norgard?” I ask. “So wrong that all the wealth in the empire, your empire, can’t fix?”

His laugh is bitter, and it leaves a wry smile on his face when it’s done. He glances at the tent, then looks back at me. His eyes are somehow hard and vulnerable at the same time.

“Why don’t I show you?”