The letter arrived by royal bird. It was white, the size of a small dog, and it flew directly through the Tower's outer wards without triggering a single alarm. Which meant one of two things: either the Queen’s magic was sophisticated enough to bypass Dravin’s defenses, or Dravin had quietly allowed royal correspondence through and simply never mentioned it.
Hania was on the laboratory floor, attempting to walk in a straight line between two chalk marks she'd made herself. She was getting better. But the duration between falls was lengthening, which she was choosing to count as a victory.
The bird landed on Dravin's workbench with a sound like a small thunderclap.
Dravin, who had been writing something in a script she couldn't read yet, didn't look up. "You're late," he said.
The bird ruffled its feathers in what looked like offense. It extended one leg. Attached to it were two letters: one sealed with red wax stamped with an official crest, and one sealed with golden wax.
Dravin set down his pen. He looked at both letters, then took them. The bird flew immediately to the highest shelf in the laboratory and sat there watching him like it had been instructed to wait for a response.
Hania abandoned her walking practice and crawled to a position with better sightlines. The stone he'd given her was in her pocket, Lusha had sewn pockets into all her clothes specifically for this purpose, after watching Hania attempt to carry it in her fist for three days straight.
She watched his face. He opened the official letter first.
To the Princess Hania Luxe Noctis, of the House Noctis, by formal summons of Her Majesty the Queen of Obelion—
The Royal House of Celestara is pleased to announce the second birthday celebration of Her Highness, Princess Thalira Solene of Celestara, to be held at the Royal Palace on the fourteenth day of the month of Solis.
Princess Hania Luxe Noctis is formally invited to attend as a guest of honor among the noble children of the realm. Appropriate dress and escort are expected. A formal response is required no later than seven days from receipt.
By order of Her Majesty, Queen Thalindra Solara of Obelion.
His expression didn't change. He set it aside. Then he opened the second letter. The one with the gold seal.
Archmage Dravin Kuro Noctis.
I will dispense with the pleasantries, as we both know you find them tedious and I find writing them to you personally to be an exercise in wasted ink.
You have a daughter. I am aware. The entire court is aware, as you chose to introduce her to His Majesty in a spider cave at midnight, which is the most you thing I have heard in the one hundred and seventy years of our acquaintance. I would say I was surprised, but I gave up being surprised by you sometime around the Siege of Valdren, when you won a battle by rearranging the geography.
The official summons is attached. You have already read it, because you are meticulous and methodical and you read everything in order of formality. I know how you work, Dravin. I have known how you work since before your hair went silver, which happened when you were forty-three and you told everyone it was intentional. It was not intentional. I was there.
You will attend this gathering with your daughter.
I anticipate your refusal, which is why I am writing this letter before you have the opportunity to send one. Let me address your objections in advance.
Objection one: you are busy. You are always busy. You will still be busy after the fourteenth of Solis, and the work will still be there when you return. The mana compression research you are currently documenting has been ongoing for sixty years. Two days will not ruin it.
Objection two: court events are pointless. Some of them are. This one is not. Your daughter is now a known figure in the noble register. She has a name, a house, and the Emperor's direct awareness of her existence. If you do not introduce her to society properly, others will do it for you, on their terms, and you will not enjoy the results. I suspect she will enjoy them even less.
Objection three: you do not know how to manage a child in a social setting. This is true. Bring Kofery. He has the social instincts you lack and the anxiety that will keep him useful.
Now. The threats, which I have saved for the end because I find they land better after reasoning has failed.
If you do not attend, I will ask Duke Leonarth to represent the House Noctis in your place. He has already volunteered. Enthusiastically. He used the word "delighted" four times in one sentence and suggested he could design Princess Hania's court wardrobe personally. I have the letter. I will send him.
If that does not move you, I will visit the Tower myself. I will bring three ladies-in-waiting, the court's head librarian, who has been asking me for forty years to examine your restricted collection, and my personal chef, who will reorganize your kitchen. I will stay for a week. I will redecorate the East Wing.
And if that still does not move you — if you genuinely intend to raise that child in a tower with no knowledge of the world she belongs to, no peers her own age, no understanding of how courts function or how to navigate the politics that will follow her name for the rest of her life, then I will simply tell everyone that the great Archmage Dravin Kuro Noctis, terror of kings, destroyer of the Valdren siege, the man who made three emperors apologize to him personally, is frightened of attending a two-year-old's birthday party.
I will tell Duke Leonarth first. You know what he will do with that information.
The fourteenth of Solis, Dravin. Seven days.
Do not make me redecorate the East Wing.
— Thalindra Solara, Queen of Obelion
P.S. I am told your daughter can already draw basic containment formations. I want to meet her. Bring her in good health and reasonably good humor. The good humor is for the other children's sake; I suspect she has your temperament, which means she has strong opinions and no patience for fools. The court will find that either charming or alarming. Either outcome is entertaining.
He read it once. Then he held it out, away from his body, and a small flame appeared at his fingertips. It caught the edge of the paper. The fire moved quickly, consuming the letter in seconds, and when it was done he opened his fingers and let the ash float upward, drifting apart in the still air of the laboratory until there was nothing left.
Thalindra, sending Leonarth. She would do it. She had done worse with less provocation — he still had not forgiven the incident at the Solstice Summit of 1389, when she had rearranged his entire delegation's seating assignments as a demonstration of political leverage. She had smiled about it for six months. She would absolutely redecorate the East Wing.
He became aware of being watched. He turned. Hania was sitting on the floor, the glowing stone clutched in both hands, watching him with the focused attention. She had been watching his face while he read. He had noticed and chosen not to acknowledge it because acknowledging it would mean explaining things he hadn't decided how to explain yet.
He looked at the window. Then he picked up the official summons, walked to where Hania was sitting, and set it on the floor in front of her.
She looked at it. Characters she didn't recognize. Script that curved and looped in ways that meant absolutely nothing to her. She could not read a single word of this language. She stared at the letter.
Now what? What do you want me to do with it? play? At least explain the context. I have absolutely no idea what it says.
She looked up at Dravin. He was already walking back to his workbench. She looked back at the letter. Traced the royal crest with one finger — sun and crescent moon, crossed with something that might be a sword. That part she understood. Symbols were symbols. But the script below it was completely impenetrable.
She picked up a corner of the letter and waved it in his direction.
He didn't look up. "We're going to the palace," he said. "Next week. You'll need to be presentable."
She stared at his back. That's it? That's the entire explanation I'm getting? We're going to the palace, be presentable, here's a document you can't read, figure it out?
She looked at the letter again. I have so many questions and zero words to ask them with. Where is the palace. How far. What do I wear. What does presentable mean to a man who wears the same dark robes every single day and has never once commented on his own appearance except to note that I would drool on it.
She pressed her hand into her pocket. The stone was there.
She picked up the corner of the letter again and looked at the characters more carefully. She didn't know what they meant. But she could memorize their shapes. She had been doing nothing but learning patterns for a year.
She traced the first character slowly with her finger. Then the second. Then the third. She had no idea what any of it said. But she would.