The flight was fine. Comfortable. Kehlan had slept for some of it and had used the rest of the time to go over the scheduled speakers and workshops. As it often did, the advantage he was at with having the wealth he did played at the back of his mind, especially after the conversation with his mother and the veritable mountain of emotional baggage it had dredged up.

But, as he usually did in response, he only dedicated himself to the work more thoroughly. For every advantage he was born with, he thought, he should turn it into that much more expertise. Or else, what was the point of it all? He might as well just give in and be the son his mother expected him to be—entitled, useless, and worthless.

And so, by the time he had arrived at the convention venue in Seattle, Kehlan was thoroughly prepared for every portion of the conference, and every way the discussion with his colleagues might turn.

Except for one.

“I’m sorry, sir. After a slew of storms throughout the northeast, many of the speakers have been postponed or had to cancel, and the conference has been postponed indefinitely. You should have been notified of this by email.”

Kehlan had not, and by the looks of the poor intern stationed at the door to the venue, he wasn’t the first would-be attendee who’d arrived unaware. The poor kid had quite clearly drawn the short straw and was now the one having to disappoint a group of doctors with high opinions of their wasted time.

“If you’re stuck in town, there’s a lot to see and do in Seattle. There’s a visitor center not far from here, and they have information on the city’s biggest attractions…”

The intern’s voice trailed off, as though he were waiting to be yelled at. Was it ethical, Kehlan wondered, for his employers to throw him to the wolves this way?

Without responding, Kehlan brought out his phone and pulled up his emails. He usually would have done so upon landing, but between his rush to get to the conference center and the worry about his mother simmering at the back of his mind, he hadn’t done so.

He sorted through the mess of them. He could have gotten an assistant to do it for him, of course, but he’d never quite liked the idea of that. He’d been surrounded by servants for his whole life when he’d grown up at the palace; essentially hiring another of his own after leaving there seemed like a step backwards.

And yet, it would have saved him from his current situation, Kehlan couldn’t help but think to himself. For there, nestled in between a note from Hakim telling him that he had been right about the patient, and a letter from some unknown social climber that had somehow gotten his email address, was a notice from the convention leadership telling him that the event had been cancelled due to unforeseen weather events.

When Kehlan thanked the intern for the information and didn’t explode at him, he seemed relieved.

“And we’re sorry again for the inconvenience, sir!” he called after him, almost more as a thank you than an apology, but Kehlan was already on his way out.

Again, Kehlan thought, his privilege was showing. It was probably much easier to keep his cool when his transportation was a private jet, and he had no actual need to find some way to occupy himself in Seattle the way those other, angrier doctors must have done. There had never been any real reason for Kehlan to stay anywhere any longer than he wanted to. He could just head back to the airport, acquire a properly-rested pilot for the trip from the ranks of pilots that were always willing to work for anyone with a prince’s budget, and head back home.

And yet, Kehlan found himself walking in the direction that the intern had indicated, heading for the visitor center.

Maybe it was his mother, and the specter of their disagreement, that hung in his mind like a heavy fog. Maybe it was the way that Kehlan knew it would taint his work as a whole until it was taken care of. Maybe it was the fact that, although it had been stewing at the back of his mind for the entirety of the time since their tense conversation, he didn’t know what to do or say about it.

Whatever it was, it pulled him towards the crowded visitor center, and compelled him to stand staring at the overstuffed brochure display, searching for something, anything to keep him from heading straight back to Al-Derra.

Pouring himself into the conference would have taken his mind off of his mother and her expectations for a few days, letting his subconscious mind turn the whole issue over and hopefully find a solution. With the conference gone, he would have to find something else. The only problem was that all the brochures in front of him had rather the opposite effect: instead of taking his mind off of his impending duties, they just brought him back to them.

Seattle—a city of tech millionaires and billionaires. There were almost as many people dedicated to living in excess here as there were back home. And it was hard for Kehlan to see the grand openings of ostentatious buildings and yacht harbor tours without feeling like it was just another version of what he was avoiding. What was the point of flying halfway around the world just to end up right back where he’d started?

He needed something lower key. Something natural, and beautiful, and peaceful. Something just like a tiny brochure, wedged into a slot where it clearly didn’t belong down near the bottom of the display.

“Visit Stockton!” it said, with a quaint picture of a classic American main street backed by dramatic mountains.

Kehlan picked up the brochure. It was barely a brochure—hardly more than a postcard with the barest minimum of information on it. But it told him enough to know that it was only two hours away.

This could work, he thought to himself. This could be the distraction that he was looking for. Just as long as a town that small was at least interesting enough to hold his attention for a couple of days, which he could only hope it was.