I wish you were here to reason with Crystal, to bring Frederic's youngest down from Pride's horse, and to knock some sense into Seb. I'm turning into Father more each day.

Nick glanced over his shoulder. Like the other ten times before, there was no Captain Jonathan or any of the Lieutenants on horseback. There was no distant clopping of hooves either. They hadn't followed him. Above his head, a pigeon flapped its wings and set course along the river Faith, flying upstream.

The forest was growing thinner, the wide-open meadows of Sundale coming into view. It still wasn't too late. He could still turn around and head back, pretending he hadn't abandoned his men. He wouldn't be a deserter.

Yet he marched on.

An arrow to the heart may be the punishment for desertion in times of war, but there was no war. Only the false peace of a looming Silvermark attack that no camp could prepare him for. All in all, the camp had been a lengthy game of power; the slaughtering of defenceless magicians the highlight of the week that served only to keep the hate alive.

Had it been the God of Envy who had convinced the first Greenlander King that these men and women were born out of sin and should be persecuted? Violence only led to more violence; hate to more hate.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, finding the rough edges of his sycamore pins. His fingers curled around them and contemplated throwing them into the river, ending his army career before it had properly started. The God of Patience prevented him from doing so.

Why he did not know.

For miles and miles, he had the warmth of the sun on his back, beads of sweat gliding down into the crack of his arse. His own shadow guiding him home to Billy and his bed, and biscuits and a long bath. But also to the scorn of the King and General.

He wasn't afraid of them. For the longest time, they had wished he would embrace his status as royal ward, and now he would. Let them hear him out—he had a lot to say.

The surrounding air grew thick with the smell of fresh manure. A cart pulled by oxen was fertilising the land, the farmer walking alongside too occupied to notice him. He pulled off his jacket, his white undershirt making it less obvious that he was a Cadet on the run.

One meadow turned into another, the towers of Sunstone Castle appearing on the horizon. On a fine Spring day such as today, Ol' Dicky and the stableboys would take the horses out to roam on the six-acre set-aside land just outside the gates.

But as he passed the luscious green field not long after, his goofy stallion wasn't there. He counted three other white horses, but they were either too tall, too fat, or they had a large brown spot on their muzzle. None of them were Billy.

Worry settled in his stomach. From the city gates approached a man in an army uniform. He had silver hair and a short beard, his darker skin tone revealing he mostly worked outside. Lieutenant Max.

He towered before Nick, blocking his path. "I was instructed to take you to the castle as soon as possible."

"Fine." Nick shrugged. It wasn't as if he had plans to frequent a tavern or stroll the streets endlessly. "I take it the Captain sent a pigeon."

"He did, indeed," the Lieutenant said, slightly startled. "The General got the message a few hours ago. All guards were informed accordingly."

"I'm not surprised."

The Lieutenant grabbed Nick by the wrist and took him into the city, not giving him any reply. As they passed the gilded gate, a senior Serjeant with a dimple in his chin muttered something about the younger generations being a disgrace. Chuckling at the remark, Lieutenant Max pushed Nick through the carts and stalls, and onto the usual afternoon hectics of Main Street.

Here and there, people stepped aside and gawked at him. He may not have been under arrest, but their eyes had already done his trail. Guilty.

Just like when the General had arrested him during the Feast of the Dead, he looked at his own feet. He couldn't block out their empty threats, but it helped not having to face their accusing stares.

The stables brought relief. Max released him. "Sorry about the theatrics, Nicolas, but Lord Sebastian was very persistent. He wishes to speak you urgently."

"Seb can wait. I need to check on my horse first."

"Your horse is not here." The man was already walking ahead. "It's impolite to let a prince wait."

Nick snorted. Why would Seb of all people want to talk to him? A meeting with the General or the King would have been evident, but there was no need for Seb to get involved.

He followed the Lieutenant begrudgingly. The man didn't leave his side, guided him all the way to the third floor where the royal bedrooms and the King's office was situated. With a loud bang, he nearly battered Seb's door down. "Nicolas has come home, My Lord."

"Great! Let him in," Seb replied enthusiastically.

Nick entered. Seb's chamber wasn't the usual battlefield of toy soldiers, weapons, and clothes. He couldn't recall ever seeing his friend sitting behind his desk, scratching away at a piece of paper. The couch was riddled with thick books, some of them open.

Then he hid a snigger behind the palm of his hand. Seb had gotten a fresh haircut. His sides had been shaved off; the remainder of his hair was spiked up like a cockerel's comb. It was ridiculous.

"What's with the hair?"

"Lana got bored." Seb leant against his chair, which revealed a black smear that ran over his face. He crossed his arms. "I heard you found the camp boring too."

"Is that what the Captain wrote?" Nick stiffened a cough. "I'm not gonna lie—it was horrible."

"Bit like the smell you drag in," Seb teased. "Still, it's against the law to take off without the Captain's permission."

"Yeah, yeah." Nick had walked up to the couch and was now turning the pages: inheritance laws outside of marriage. That seemed heavy literature for a muttonhead like Seb. "You'll understand why I did it. Let me tell you—the things that happen during the camp—"

"Can wait." Sebastian was looking at him. "It's best if you sit down and take a biscuit."

"Alright," Nick croaked. He was starving.

His fingers floated over the plate of biscuits on the side-table, indecisive which one to eat first. The God Gluttony decided for him: he picked both the one with a crystallised cherry and one with a roasted almond in the middle, both melting like butter in his mouth.

To free up a spot, he stacked one book on top of the other, then sank into the couch. "What is it? Did your uncle decide I should be to reading these to you? He should know by now that it's no punishment for me."

"No." Seb shuffled into his seat clumsily.

Nick's eyes fell on the stool under the desk on which Seb was resting his bandaged leg. The muttonhead took Billy out and fell. That's why Billy wasn't with the other horses; his horse was injured. Maybe worse.

The God of Wrath was descending on him. "What did you do?"

Seb's eyes turned big. He froze. "Promise me not to get angry."

"Is it Billy?" It was already too late. With great strides, he stepped up to the desk, his shadow hovering over Seb. "Tell me what you did!"

"Relax, take another biscuit." Seb was blinking rapidly. "Honestly, you can have them all if you wish. Pale Rabbit brought them in, and I'm not hungry and—"

"Don't be like your uncle, Seb." Nick narrowed his eyes. "Tell me!"

Seb breathed in and out, his fingers touching his face, which led to more ink getting smeared on his cheeks. "We sent Alex on a mission, to spy for us."

"What?" Nick shook his head. That wasn't possible—he hadn't heard that right.

"She's going to infiltrate a band of pirates on the Islands."

"On the Islands? But then she won't be back for weeks or moons, even years." Nick began coughing. This couldn't be true—she was a girl. They would never send her. "But why didn't you wait for me to return? I was only gone for a couple of days. Did it never occur to you that she was my friend too?"

"There was no time. There's a ship waiting for Alex in the Port of Diligence. Had she not left with Lord Simon, who knows when the next opportunity would arise."

"Cowdung, Seb!" He banged his fist on the wood, Seb's cup rattling on its plate. "Did you never study the painting of the Port just outside your uncle's office? I bet at least a dozen ships leave for the Islands every day."

Seb planted his elbow on the desk, leaning closer. "Yes, to Socota and the bigger islands. But not Mora."

"I don't believe it! Your uncle can say anything to you, and you just repeat it like you're the talking parrot in 'The Rainbow Bird'."

"That's not true!" Seb gritted his teeth. "Do you think I like this? Uncle Tom and George wanted to tell you after the camp, but then George got a letter from the Captain saying you lost your wits and took off."

"Don't make this about me. I heard you—you didn't like Alex leaving either?"

Seb averted his gaze. "We did what we thought was best, Nick. If all goes according to plan, she'll be back by Summer with tons of exciting tales to tell us." The liar scratched his nose. "Besides, it's not like you paid her much attention. She was very lonely here—this was what she wanted."

"We spoke the day before I left. We made plans." Nick sniffed back some snot. Alex had made it clear on numerous occasions that she was bored out of her skull in Sundale, but that didn't give Seb the right to send her away without giving him the chance to say goodbye or shower her with good advice. He had never been able to wrap his arms around his family one last time, and Abby had been practically snatched away from him.

"What kind of plans?"

"We wanted to find out what happened to Fox. There were some suspicious things happening, mostly involving your uncle..."

"Fox shouldn't be your concern. He's a magician." Seb bit his upper lip. "Don't think of rescuing him. He doesn't belong here."

"He was our friend, Seb. Did it never occur to you that Laneby might have never happened if we didn't all needlessly hate magicians—if we didn't hunt them down as though they're animals?"

"How can you say that! You were there. You saw the fire!" Seb lowered his head, softly whimpering. "How can you ever consider such power to be normal?"

Nick's head trembled in frustration. The old Seb hardly ever shed a tear. He had been the first to call Fox a crybaby whenever he turned on the waterworks, and now he had become one himself. Laneby had been hard on everyone, but crying wouldn't bring anyone back from the dead.

He decided to drop the subject. For now. "And what about Billy?"

"He's fine." Seb rubbed his eyes, then ran his hand through his cockerel-hair. "He's just... not here anymore. I gave him to Alex when she left."

"You did what!"

"I told her to take Billy." He was dead serious. "The Jade Islands are not around the corner, Nick. It's a long journey. Doesn't she deserve a friend by her side?"

"So you did it for her, but you never considered me?" He rolled his finger in balls that obeyed the God of Wrath. "Do you have any idea what Billy means to me?"

"More than it should. He's just a horse."

"He's not!" In full fury, he grabbed Seb by the shirt and pulled him over the desk, papers falling down and mixing with ink mid-flight. His fist smashed into Seb's cheek, which made him bawl. It fueled the God of Sin. "Stop being so pathetic! You don't have a right to cry! Billy was mine—you messed up."

Seb used his arm to block a second hit. "I'm sorry... I know... Stop it, Nick. Let me explain."

"This is what I do to that explanation of yours." He twisted Seb's arm. "You're a puppet—one that obeys the King without ever questioning him!"

"That's not true!" Seb yelped, tearing himself loose. Staggering against his desk, he reached for his belt. Normally his dagger was always there, but this time it was not. 

Abusing the moment of confusion, Nick slammed his weight onto him. Seb's fist hammered into his stomach as they both stumbled to the floor.

He was on top of Seb.

"My leg—you're sitting on my leg." As though he was a worm squirming free, Seb pawed at his face.

"I don't care." His arm slid under his chin, putting him into a deadlock. "You always ruin everything. Without you, I would still be living in Laneby. Alex and Fox would still be our friends. My family would be alive. Because of you, Abby is dead. It's all your fault! I blame it all on you!"

"Stop! Can't..." Seb gasped for breath, which made lay his other hand on his throat too. He clawed at him, kicking his nether regions. When that didn't have the desired effect, he opened his mouth and yelled, "Guards!"

Nick pushed harder. "You're a disgrace to your father's memory! The old you would have kicked me so hard, I would remember it for a fortnight. When did you become helpless sheep who needs others to fight his battles?"

"G... Gu... Guar." Seb's face turned red.

He didn't back down.