Jasen was floating in the water.

He wasn’t sure where he was—it was a lake of some sort, fresh water, unusually warm. It was nighttime, but the moon was full, its light unnaturally bright. He gazed at it for awhile as he floated on his back, not sure what to do. After a few moments, he righted himself. His feet did not find any purchase, but he was able to tread water. He looked around, but there was nothing in any direction—only water, so calm it was almost like a mirror.

That calm didn’t last for long. The water rippled, as if something were coming to the surface. All of a sudden, Jasen found himself lifted out of the water, his legs straddling something huge. He began to flail in panic, but two arms closed around him from behind, holding him still. He tried to turn to see who those arms belonged to, but he couldn’t manage it. Huge wings spread out on either side of them. They were riding a dragon. Its scales reflected a deep blue.

Soon they were flying through the sky. He tried again to twist to see the face of his companion, but again failed. All he glimpsed was long hair, so fair that it was silver in the bright moonlight. Since he couldn’t make out a face, he looked down at the hands that were holding him. They were slender, feminine. A woman, then. He opened his mouth to ask her who she was, but found that he couldn’t speak.

They continued to fly through the sky, leaving the water behind. They passed over a palace—Strengsend, surely, although they moved so quickly that he didn’t have time to contemplate it. They flew over the steep peaks of mountains and to the other side…

A forest spread out under them, but it was no ordinary forest. The trees were ten times the size of the trees they had left behind, and they weren’t the color of ordinary trees. They were every color of the rainbow. The dragon kept flying until they reached a clearing. And in that clearing were at least a dozen dragons.

Jasen’s stomach dropped as they descending, landing in the midst of the clearing. He startled as the rider behind him spoke.

“Go on, now,” she said. “Don’t be afraid.”

But Jasen was afraid. A dragon on its own was overwhelming. A group of them was almost unbearable. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but an awe so powerful that it might as well be fear. He screwed up his courage and slid down. His feet touched the ground, but he was so shaky that he stumbled. He felt arms around him again, helping him to his feet.

“It will be all right,” the rider said in his ear. He turned around to get a look at her at last, but she had vanished. The dragon he had ridden on had joined the others. There was no going back.

Shakily, he moved forward until he stood in the middle of them. All of their eyes fixed on him, like enormous jewels. He wondered if he was supposed to say something. He hoped not, because he felt as if he had forgotten how to speak.

The dragons began to move, circling him. One stepped forward—Jasen’s heart leapt when he realized it was Tasenred. He felt his voice come back to him, but before he could say anything, Tasenred opened his enormous mouth and let out a ball of fire. Jasen cried out as the flames engulfed him—

—and Jasen gasped as he sat up in bed, his heart racing as he heaved in huge, panicked breaths. It took him several moments to compose himself. It had all been a dream—or a nightmare. He wasn’t sure which.

Sunlight was already streaming through the window, shining on his face. It was unusual for him to wake up this late. He wondered where Rotheld was before he remembered that it was “dressing down” day—the day before the Suitor’s Ball, when they welcomed the nobles arriving to find themselves a spouse. All of the consorts were given the day “off”—they could dress as they pleased and do whatever they wanted, even things that were usually forbidden. Especially things that were forbidden, according to Risyda. Jasen had been looking forward to it, but his dream had spoiled his mood.

He got out of bed and splashed some water on his face. Even though Rotheld also had the day off, he had thoughtfully left some clothes for Jasen: a plain shirt and jacket, plus comfortable trousers and best of all, sensible shoes and no corset. After he dressed, he shaved and brushed his hair, and that was the extent of his toilette for the day. Jasen felt his mood improve a little.

He made his way to the banquet hall, where breakfast was still underway. A buffet had been set up, but for once there were no servants to wait on them. Jasen grabbed a plate and served himself.

“There you are. I thought I was going to have to come get you.”

Jasen jumped at Risyda’s sudden appearance, nearly dropping his plate. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Risyda raised an eyebrow. “You seem awfully jumpy this morning. Everything all right?”

Jasen considered telling her about his dream, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. “I’m fine. I just need to eat.”

Risyda had already finished her breakfast, but she sat down beside him anyway. It was odd to see her in such plain clothing. She wasn’t even wearing a dress—instead, she wore the same sort of feminine trousers that Polina had been dressed in when he had met her in the stable. Her normally elaborate hair was tied into a loose ponytail. It was a good look for her. “Here,” she said, grabbing a bottle from the table. “Have some champagne.”

Jasen accepted the glass but only sipped it. Judging from the giddiness of the other consorts, many of them were already a little tipsy.

“So what do you want to do today?” Risyda said. “I thought we could go to the gardens and you could teach me mudball—it sounds wonderfully messy…”

Jasen made a non-committal noise, only half listening to her as he surveyed the room. It was so strange to see everyone unadorned and acting like they were peasants at a festival instead of their usual stuffy selves. Jasen almost felt as if he were still dreaming.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Risyda snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Are you listening to me?”

“What? I mean, yes, of course. Mudball. Sounds good.”

Risyda cocked her head. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it. “I just didn’t sleep very well, and I have a headache.”

Risyda shrugged. “If you say so. So, finish up already and let’s get outside! It’s a beautiful day.”

Jasen was usually the first one to bolt out of the castle when given the chance, but he still felt shaky from his dream. Besides, there was something he wanted to do, and he needed to do it alone. “Go ahead without me,” he said. “I need a couple of hours to get rid of this headache. I’ll meet you for lunch, and we can do mudball in the afternoon.”

Risyda punched him in the shoulder. “Fine. But if you abandon me all day, I will never forgive you.”

Jasen gave her a weak smile as he rubbed his arm where she’d hit him. He knew she meant it playfully, but it still hurt. “I won’t. I’ll pick up a picnic basket and meet you around noon—I promise.”

“You’d better.” With that, she left him.

Jasen finished up his breakfast. As he cleared his dishes, he caught Polina out of the corner of his eye. She was drinking champagne directly from the bottle. He decided he’d do his best to stay clear of her; he was fairly certain she was a mean drunk.

He made his way out of the East Wing and to the palace proper. There were still guards hanging around their usual posts, but the informal tone of the day seemed to be rubbing off on them as well. He was able to sneak past them and up to the hall outside the king’s chambers. Rilvor did not have the luxury of abandoning his duties and was most likely at his daily meeting with his ministers. The fact that there were no guards directly in front of the door seemed to confirm his conclusion, but he still waited in the shadows for a little while. When he was fairly certain he was alone, he stepped into the light, positioning himself in front of the portrait of the queen consort.

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he felt that he had to see the portrait again. He was sure it was she whom he dreamed about, but was it just his mind playing tricks on him? Surely she hadn’t returned from beyond the grave to infiltrate his dreams. He looked into her eyes—of course, he saw nothing helpful there. It was only a painting of her, not the woman herself. He was being ridiculous.

He turned to leave—and almost tripped over Erada, who was standing behind him. “Hi, Jay!” she said with a toothy smile.

“Ah, hello,” he said, trying to compose himself for the second time that morning. Risyda was right—he was jumpy. “Shouldn’t you be at lessons?”

“No, silly. We have the day off too, you know.” She did a little twirl, causing her plain skirt to swish around her. “See?”

Jasen laughed a little. “Yes, I do. Sorry. I’m not myself this morning.”

She nodded sagely. “Me neither. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” Then she grinned again. “So what are you doing here? Papa isn’t around.”

“Nothing,” he said, but his eyes darted to the portrait in spite of himself.

“You came to look at my mother’s picture?”

There was no denying it. “I suppose I did.”

He braced himself for her to ask him why, but she didn’t. They stood together for a moment, gazing at the portrait. Her little face was difficult to read—what was she thinking? Had he made her sad? Jasen had been twelve when his mother had died, but poor little Erada had only been six. He couldn’t even imagine the devastation she must have felt. “I lost my mother, too,” he said.

“Really? How did she die?”

“She choked on a piece of meat.” It was a thoroughly unglamorous end for his mother, who had always longed to bring some romanticism to dreary, practical Grumhul. It made her fate seem even more unfair.

“My mama was sick for a long time. I think it would have been better if it had happened fast.”

It was such a shockingly morbid sentiment coming from a child that Jasen wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I think it would have been best if she hadn’t died at all.”

“Everyone dies, though.” Her tone was so matter-of-fact that it broke Jasen’s heart a little. “But it’s all right. Mama says that our lives are like drops of rain—separate for a little while, but then we all go back to the great River of Life, where we’re one again.”

“That’s right,” Jasen said, although he wasn’t sure he believed it. The Grummish were much less religious than the other realms, wearing their skepticism as a badge of honor. However, he certainly wasn’t going to bring that up with a little girl—but was that for her sake or his own? Jasen had the startling realization that he would be this child’s stepfather if he and Rilvor were married. It wasn’t that he hadn’t known that before—he’d just hadn’t felt it so viscerally up until this point.

While he was trying to puzzle out the best thing to say, Erada took his hand in hers and smiled up at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezed her hand. “I am, too.”

“And don’t worry—she likes you,” she said, gesturing to the painting.

Jasen went very still. “You mean, she would have liked me,” he corrected.

“No, she likes you. She told me so.”

Jasen was at a loss for words for several moments. “Erada—sweetheart—I’m not sure how that can be true.”

“She comes to me in my dreams sometimes. She visited me a few nights ago.”

Again, Jasen wasn’t sure what to say. “When I lost my mother, I would dream of her sometimes, too,” he said carefully. “It could feel real, but I think that it was just my memories of her.”

“But my mother was dragon-blessed,” Erada said, just as carefully, as if she were the adult in this situation and was trying to explain something very basic to a small child.

“But she was blessed with the power of water, wasn’t she?”

“Yes—and water is the essence of Life. Like the River of Life. So she can move through it.” She cocked her head. “Why don’t you believe me? She came to you, too, didn’t she?”

A chill ran down Jasen’s spine. “I-I don’t know. I had a dream, but I wasn’t sure if it was about her.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“I don’t remember,” he lied. “Does your father know about your dreams?”

Erada bit her lip. “Mama said it would make him sad. She’s tried to go to him, but she can’t make her way in. She thinks he doesn’t want to see her.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t know. Grown-ups are confusing.”

Jasen laughed a little. “Yes, we are.”

“She says Papa has a broken heart. But now you’re here, and you can fix it, right?”

Tears stung in Jasen’s eyes. “Oh, Erada.” He dropped to his knees so that they were level and hugged her. But he didn’t answer her question.

Erada returned the hug. After a moment, she pulled back. “So are you going to play mudball today? That’s what Lady Risyda told me, and she said I could come if I wanted to.”

“Yes. After lunch.”

“Hooray!” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you later!” She skipped off down the hall.

Jasen wiped the tears from his eyes before getting back on his feet. He looked up at the portrait of the queen consort again. She had told him not to be afraid.

It was advice he wasn’t sure he could take.

* * *

As promised, Jasen picked up one of the picnic baskets that had been prepared for the consorts and went off to find Risyda. He found her at the same field where he’d played mudball with the children weeks ago. Erada and many children were also there—they had already started their own game. Surprisingly, there were also about two dozen consorts. They all gave a little cheer when they saw him.

Jasen was bemused at the reaction and the size of the crowd. With the exception of Polina and her gang, no one was exactly mean to him, but most people kept their distance, as if afraid that his uncouth manners and general ineptitude might be catching. Risyda was a bit more popular—the fact that she found Court laughable ruffled a few feathers of the stuffier consorts who took things seriously, but her easy-going manner and sense of humor endeared her to as many people as she put off. But even so, he was surprised she was able to convince so many of them to play.

One of the lords approached him. It took a moment for Jasen to recognize him as Banither, Polina’s toady. He normally wore a wig, but today his head was bare, exposing shortly-cropped, spiky black hair. He looked a little like a porcupine. “Please allow me to relieve you of your burden,” he said, taking the picnic basket from Jasen’s arm.

“Er—thanks. Are you here to play, too?”

“Oh yes,” he said with enthusiasm. “I am aware that my normal demeanor is perhaps overly refined, but I am also quite adept at fencing. I have no trouble with athletic endeavors—indeed, I am quite eager to receive your instruction in this ‘mudball.’ It sounds very amusing!”

Jasen just stared at him.

Banither cleared his throat. “I’ll go put this aside then, shall I?” He whisked the picnic basket away, setting it down under a nearby tree beside several more identical baskets.

Risyda kicked the ball over to Jasen. “So the kids have taught us a little, but they say that you’re the real master. Care to demonstrate?”

Everyone was staring at him. Showing off for the kids had had been fun, but having all this adult expectation pointed directly at him made him want to turn heel and run all the way back to Grumhul.

Of course, that wasn’t an option at the moment. He put his foot on the ball. “Well, children aren’t hard to impress,” he began, figuring he should keep expectations as low as possible. He popped the ball up with one foot and juggled it between his knees before sending it soaring into the air and then caught it on his back, just as he had done for the children weeks before.

There was silence for a moment, and then the consorts erupted into applause—cheers, even. They seemed even more delighted than the children had been, which struck Jasen as odd. Surely these worldly consorts had seen better entertainment than someone kicking a ball around. Still, the positive attention felt good. He ran the ball down his arm and back to the ground.

“Oh, bravo!” said Banither, who was clapping the loudest. “How extraordinary! How athletic! I implore you to teach me!”

Jasen gave him a long look, still half- suspecting that he was mocking him, but he seemed sincere. “Why don’t we start at the beginning?”

Risyda had acquired several balls, so Jasen split the consorts into smaller groups to practice basic volleys. Risyda, unsurprisingly, was a natural. And Banither took to it quickly as well—it seemed he hadn’t been lying about his athletic skills. While they were practicing, Jasen marked out the goals, with some help of Erada and the other children, who had stopped their game to come watch the adults.

Once Jasen was satisfied that everyone had the basic techniques down, he split them into teams. Soon, the game was in full swing. It seemed like all of the pent up frustrations of life at Court were expelled on the field. After the game, they all tucked into their picnic baskets with relish. There was no place for fine manners here—everyone ate with their hands, tearing their meat apart with their teeth like wild dogs and gobbling up the fruit with no regards to the juices running down their chins. By the end of the day, everyone was pleasantly spent—exhausted, but still giddy. There was a lot of raucous laughter as they made their way back to the palace. The consorts who hadn’t joined them laughed at their dirtiness, but it was all good-natured. Jasen’s earlier gloom had diminished—although thoughts of the queen consort and her strange message still lingered in his mind, he shoved them firmly back. There would be time to puzzle that out later. For now, he didn’t want to think about it.

Everyone went back to their rooms to clean up and get changed for dinner—it may have been dressing down day, but they were still required to keep up some decorum, and dining while caked in mud was definitely out of the question. Once Jasen was presentable, he went to Risyda’s room to meet her before they went down for dinner. She had the hookah out, which she offered to Jasen.

“Mudball is fantastic,” she said as Jasen took a puff. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages. We all should physically try to destroy each other more often—it’s a lot more honest than all the usual back-biting.”

Jasen laughed as he exhaled, which set off a coughing fit. “It was a good time,” he agreed. “I was surprised that so many people joined in.”

“I’m not. I think you should prepare yourself for your new popularity.”

Jasen blinked at her. “What are you talking about? I’m the laughing stock of Court.”

“You were the laughing stock of Court. Now you’re the star.”

Jasen bafflement only increased. “But—how?”

“Well, Lady Wulfa heard from her lady’s maid, Athel, who heard from Othwin, one of the king’s guards, who heard from Bely, a chambermaid who works in the king’s quarters, who overheard an argument between Minister Adwig and the king. Apparently, he doesn’t want to entertain any consort but you from now on.”

Jasen’s heart swelled. “Really?”

“Yes. But it seems Adwig won the argument, so don’t expect to get him all to yourself just yet.”

Jasen took another puff as he absorbed that information. “But if that’s true, shouldn’t everyone be trying even harder to pull me down?”

“Why would they? The battle is clearly over. With the suitors arriving tomorrow, the consorts will be turning their attention to prey they actually have a chance at snaring. And what better way to prove you’d be a social boon to a potential spouse than by showing you are an intimate friend of the future king consort?”

Jasen flashed back to the rapturous applause he had received on the mudball field. It all made sense now. “That’s so cynical.”

Risyda laughed. “That’s Court for you. Be prepared to have at least a dozen new best friends by tomorrow.”

Jasen blanched. “I don’t want a dozen new best friends.” A picture flashed through his mind: he could see himself at Court, surrounded by fawning nobles, all expecting him to be the perfect consort. The terror of that thought brought his dream about the queen consort roaring back into his mind. His stomach twisted. He actually felt he might be sick.

There must have been something in Jasen’s tone that made Risyda realize the extent of his distress. Her expression softened. “Hey,” she said, taking his hand gently. “Are you really that nervous? Is that why you were acting so strangely this morning?”

Jasen considered telling her about the dream, but he didn’t really want to talk about it. Instead, he simply nodded.

She pulled him into a hug. “I suppose you imagine you’re going to have to go it alone, you great big idiot,” she said as she pulled away. “I’m not about to abandon you to the wolves of court! I will be right there with you. I’ve done this twice already, remember? And despite what Lady Isalei would have you think, this isn’t a test—for you especially, since you already found your husband.” She grinned at him. “If you feel overwhelmed, come stand by me, and I will make you appear dazzling. All you’ll have to do is smile. All right?”

Jasen tried a smile but wasn’t quite sure he managed it.

Risyda handed him the hookah. “Have another puff, and then let’s go to dinner.”

Jasen took that puff—and another two on top of that—until his anxiety was sufficiently dampened. They made their way to the dining hall.

Sure enough, at dinner, a minor fight broke out when Lady Treburess slipped into the chair beside Jasen right as Lord Banither was about to take it himself. Risyda smoothed everything over. Just as she had promised, she handled most of the conversation, bouncing it around as skillfully as Jasen would a mudball. This surprised him—Risyda always made fun of the frivolous conversations they were expected to have, but she was really good at it when she tried. It was as if she were a candle that had at last been lit, and now she shone, her flame dancing merrily.

In fact, it seemed as if all of the consorts had their flames alight. Their collected mood had shifted again, from the messy playfulness of the day to a more calculated good humor, trying out their best quips and most coquettish ploys on each other. It was almost fun, in a strange way.

But there were two people not having a good time at all. Polina sat at the end of the table with Lalan. Polina clutched a wine bottle to her chest, taking long swigs from it as she watched the rest of them. Jasen couldn’t hear what they were talking about over the din of the conversation of the rest of the room, but Lalan’s expression was imploring while Polina’s was dark. She stared directly at Jasen. Their gazes met. Jasen tried to smile at her—he almost called out to ask her to join them, but she rose before he could say anything, clutching her bottle to her chest as she staggered from the room. Lalan trailed off after her.

“It’s not our problem,” Risdya said under her breath.

Jasen turned his attention back to her. “What?”

“Polina. She’s not our concern,” she continued, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear her. “Trust me—she gets like this every year, and there’s no reasoning with her. Try not to engage with her at all from here on out. If she wants to sink herself, that’s her own business.” She eased back into the conversation around them before Jasen could reply.

At last, dinner ended, and the consorts dispersed—some to the parlors to continue their merriment, others to their rooms to prepare for the next day. Risyda invited Jasen back to her room, but he demurred. The bad feeling he’d started the day with was creeping back up on him. He just wanted to lie down.

He arrived at his room and went to open the door. Much to his surprise, the door opened before he could even touch the knob. A woman stumbled into him, nearly knocking them both over. The intruder tried to leave, but Jasen caught her by the arm. “Polina?”

Polina tried to shake herself out of his grip. “Let me go!”

“Not until you tell me what you were doing in my room!”

With a burst of strength, Polina freed herself, but she didn’t run away. She stood there for a moment, glaring at him as she swayed back and forth. “I was looking for you,” she said finally.

“Why?”

“Because I have things to say to you! Do you know how long I have trained for Court? Do you?”

Jasen shook his head.

“I have been in refinement school since I was eight years old. Eight! And I have worked hard. I know all the rules. I know all the dances. I can play the flute as beautifully as a bird’s song. My needlepoint is without peer. I am well-read, able to converse on any subject. I work hard to make myself lovely to look at. My sense of fashion is impeccable.” She blinked her eyes rapidly. “None of that comes easily to me. I spend every moment of every day working for this. And then you come in here and do everything wrong, but somehow, everything falls straight into your lap. How is that fair?” She wiped one eye with the heel of her hand.

Jasen reached out to touch her arm. “Don’t cry.”

She jerked away from him. “But you haven’t won yet,” she sneered. “Oh no, you have not. The king will grow bored with your innocent country boy act, and then he’ll come to his senses and realize that he needs someone who is his equal. And that certainly isn’t you!” She gave him a triumphant look, and with that, she marched away.

Or at least she tried to, but she tripped and fell flat on her face. Jasen got to his knees beside her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine! Get away from me!” But she started to sniffle.

“I’m not trying to beat you,” Jasen said. “None of this is a game. You have to stop thinking of it like that.”

She laughed through her tears. “If you think that, then you really are a simpleton.” She dried her eyes on her sleeve and got to her feet, waving away Jasen’s attempt to help her. She staggered off down the hallway.

Jasen waited until she disappeared around the corner before entering his room. What had Polina been doing in there? He glanced around. Because Rotheld hadn’t been on duty today, it was not as tidy as it usually was—Jasen hadn’t straightened up his things before he left. It was therefore difficult to tell for sure if anything had been disturbed. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem as though much was out of place. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Polina stealing anything from him, even if she was intoxicated. So why had she been in there? To spy on him?

If that had been her ambition, then she would have left frustrated. There wasn’t anything in his room that would have given her any information. But again, everything seemed in order—if she had been digging through his things, she hadn’t left any sign of it. Jasen decided the best explanation was the simplest—she was drunk and came looking for a fight.

Jasen shrugged out of his clothes and went to the bath tub. After giving it a few taps, it filled with warm water. He climbed in. The warm water soothed his body but didn’t do much to soothe his mind.

He finished up his bath and got ready for bed. It was early yet, but the day’s events wore on him. Besides, he would need all of his energy for the coming day. He expected it to be a challenging one.