After a few sips of Lady Ossenna's infamous special sparkling tea—flowers and flavorful spices she never divulged to anyone—I relaxed.

The meeting room no longer appeared as constricting, the suitors no longer so infuriating, and the tasks ahead not so overwhelming.

And yet my mind wouldn't settle. My thoughts raced millions of miles a minute and my head hurt.

"You said Otho has been serving the kingdom for decades?" Bits of lavender and vanilla melted on my tongue. "He looks so young."

"He does." Lady Ossenna gripped her mug and sniffed at the steam, her lengthy, lilac coated lashes batting. "Mages don't age like humans. Depending on our powers, some of us can live for centuries."

I shuddered at the idea. Living for that long? It was wrong. It was cheating death, and I hated cheaters.

But such feats meant that while my advisors continued to defy odds, I'd be secure from those who sought to capture what was mine. The longer they lived, the longer I would.

"So how long have mages been serving Acewood royals in Efura?" I knew my Efurian history well but had bypassed most of the sections about the magical community.

Lady Ossenna sipped, her lips leaving an aubergine stain on the rim of her cup. "Since the beginning of time, my queen." She shifted in her seat to get comfortable. She, too, winded down when everyone else was gone, and more so without Sir Sym to breathe down her neck.

"I'm realizing," I wiped a drop of tea as it slid down my chin, "that I know little about magic and its wielders. As a child and a teenager, I was wary of such tales, as you might remember. I preferred to focus on riding and geography."

"Nothing wrong with that." Lady Ossenna lowered her mug to the table. "I'm happy to share my knowledge."

"Which I imagine is expansive," I said, wincing.

She smiled. "As much as befits my position to know, yes." She cleared her throat. "Mages were born at the same time as Efura flourished with human life. They appeared as humans. Then, on all edges of the world, mages discovered their abilities and understood they had to use them for good. A handful showed up in lesser-known parts not governed by Acewood, but all made their way to the kingdom, eventually."

"Not governed by Acewood. So," I gulped, "the other side?"

I'd heard rumors of that portion of our world, but no one spoke of it eagerly, least of all Father. He claimed those were unreachable territories of unruly people who refused monarchy. Individuals who slept in tents or caverns or underground burrows. Who fished from feeble embarkations and gathered around fires to tell stories of us, the ones they called others.

"Yes, Majesty." Lady Ossenna reached for the same sweets Tilda had nibbled on earlier. She took hold of a white-chocolate morsel and dove into it, releasing the smallest of moans of satisfaction as she chewed. "All mages, regardless of their origins, were drawn to Acewood. That was where their powers were to converge, to link as a protective barrier against outside threats."

"Outside threats?" I was almost hungry myself, watching her eat the delicacy, eyes half-lidded in ecstasy, fingers coating with a mix of the thick ivory exterior and the sangria-colored raspberry filling.

"Yes." She extracted a kerchief from her pocket and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. "Like beings popping in from other dimensions, for example."

I angled back in my seat and crossed my arms. "You mean Teodric? He's a threat?" I couldn't imagine the foreign, love-struck prince as a menace to our kingdom. He was polite, kept to himself, and loved Ysac—how could he be a danger to me? To anyone?

"He's not." Lady Ossenna shoved up her salmon-colored sleeves to avoid ruining them with chocolate. "But he could have been, if he'd traveled to us from a less peaceful realm. There are places out there that are less desirable. Individuals with dire intentions, desires to take what's ours. Teodric poses no peril to us. And though he doesn't quite belong here, his presence won't throw us off balance."

I let out a sigh of relief. Sending Teodric away would drive Ysac mad. The last thing we needed was another rogue who had knowledge of the royals and how we lived and what we were aware of—to then use that knowledge against us. Ysac was an essential part of my entourage, so if allowing Teodric to stay would keep him loyal, I'd never let Teodric go.

"How long have you served the kingdom? It's impolite to ask a lady her age, but..."

"I'm not a lady, though everyone calls me one, out of custom and habit. Ace-mage rules are different." She retrieved her mug. "Which means you may ask me my age, by the way, though I can't quite reveal it to you. But I will say this: I've served Acewood for one hundred years, give or take."

"One hundred years." I whistled, feeling young with a meager twenty-three-years under my belt. "And you don't look a day over thirty."

Lady Ossenna scoffed. "Ah, well thank you, but I'm nowhere near that age anymore. And let me tell you," she cracked her knuckles, "my joints are stiff."

"What about Sir Sym?"

How could these beautiful beings remain in the shadows, whispering to kings and queens without thirsting for more power, a throne of their own? Otho being the exception, of course, since he'd derailed off the usual course for a mage.

How did they adjust to new laws and new reigns? How did they stay so neutral?

"One-hundred-and-ten years for Sym." I gasped, and Lady Ossenna chuckled. "Yes, he's an old one. The oldest of us."

I gave in to temptation and grabbed a candy from the bowl. Speaking with Lady Ossenna was like spending an afternoon surrounded by ladies-in-waiting, sipping on hot beverages while exchanging girly gossip. Except she wasn't stuffy and spoiled and squirming in the hopes for my attention. She was honest and her presence was serene, the aura around her starry and sweet.

Why would I bother selecting ladies when I had her?

"Otho, before his expulsion, served for eighty years. And Arden...well, no one knows how long they served before Teodric's mother interfered. We're sure they passed the torch a few times, but it's plausible they were close in age to our five-hundred-year-old realm."

Books documented the possibility that Efura became alive much earlier than five-hundred years prior, but humans and mages didn't materialize right away.

"I can't imagine attending to the same person for so long," I said, savoring the blueberry and cherry hints in the nutty chocolate I'd bit into. "But that Arden didn't serve the entire time, since Teodric's mother arrived five years ago, yes?"

"Or so we understood. Nedra didn't divulge herself to us, but we sensed a shift in energy and had our doubts. Otho knew, of course, and we should have figured it out, but Sym and I don't invade privacy. Mages are born to oversee and guide and protect, to use their abilities for good, only when necessary. Not to spy on one another and plot behind backs. Though if we'd done that, if we'd known about Otho's intentions, we would have stopped him."

"Stopped him." I cringed. "With death? Do mages die?"

Lady Ossenna gulped a few more swigs of her drink and stood up, her sage silk skirts swirling out as she wandered to the curtained window. "We're not invincible. But it takes a lot to kill us, and a long time for us to end naturally, thanks to our extended lifespans."

"And those before you, one hundred or so years ago...how did they expire?" I hesitated to take another chocolate. These heavenly delicacies called my name, begging me to eat them, but I'd regret it later if I succumbed. Excess of sweets always caused my cheeks to swell and my stomach to ache.

"Natural causes. Or sickness; we're not invulnerable to that, either." She pried the velvet drapes aside and permitted a ray of sun to slip in and highlight the platter of chocolates in front of me.

As if telling me to have one, no matter the consequences.

"And replacing us is difficult. Arden's process is simpler; we locate someone with the right kind of energy, and they train by putting on the veil. But for Sym, Otho, and I? Should we die, one must ensure the new advisors descend from a potent, almost full-blooded mage for a successful match. Human-mage crossbreeds could be strong enough with the appropriate training, but there are very few pure mages out there. Fewer who'd want to mate with a human, too. Meaning fewer and fewer options."

"Meaning you need to be invincible." I groaned. "Are you a pure mage?" I wrapped my hands around my mug and enjoyed the warmth seeping into my skin.

Lady Ossenna winked at me. "I can't share all my secrets in one go, Majesty."

"Fine." I stood, clutching my cup as I meandered to her side. "Then answer this: How many pure mages are there? And how many cross-bred mages? What numbers are we working with?"

I had to brace myself, because we were on the brink of a civil war. Otho and Luned might have been gathering forces surpassing our capacity, including the mer-folk and whatever treacherous friends Otho had. And if they summoned the others, from beyond our kingdom's boundaries, we might face a real, raging threat.

If I were to lose Lady Ossenna and Sir Sym, I needed to understand how to replace them, and fast.

"I'm unsure." She gazed out at the red rose bushes lining the meeting room windows. She became rigid, her arms tensing at her sides. "Pure mages are a dying breed, Majesty. It's difficult to investigate them as they tend to hide. With reason, of course. Serving the kingdom can be a death sentence."

Chills crawled up and down my spine. The instant a mage associated with a monarch, it made their powers public. It made them accessible. And there were always coups against monarchs, in every realm, in every timeline.

The Aces were never safe and put their lives on the line. It made me see them in a different light.

I also peered out at the flowers, then at the deserted stone pathway nearby, its encrusted gems shimmering in the sunlight. "So can two pure mages reproduce?" I had to think about lineages, to identify my options. "They can lie together, but would their child be pure as well?"

Lady Ossenna's sculpted ebony eyebrows elevated. The galaxies in her eyes seemed to stop swirling as she fixated me, an air of seriousness about her expression. "Yes, Majesty. The child of two pure mages would be pure." She scanned me, as if reading my mind, preparing for my next question. "I think I know where you're going with this." A weak smile splayed across her lips. "You're worried, and I get that. But if Sym and I were pure, and I'm not saying we are, it would still be grueling for us to reproduce."

"Ah." I tilted my head. "Do you...are you not able to...do you not have..." Her intense gaze crippled me and blocked my words. I couldn't ask what I wanted to.

But she knew; she understood. "We can have intercourse and we do have sexual organs." Her smile was half-hearted and uncomfortable. "Don't get me wrong; I care deeply for Sym. He's my family, in a way. We've been assisting Acewood side-by-side for a long time. But as a general rule, mages, especially the purer ones, don't experience sexual attraction, or sexual urges. Once in a blue moon we might cave in to a few fantasies, but it doesn't happen often. That's actually where the advisor nickname Ace comes from. It's a briefer version of the word asexual."

"Asexual." It rang in my head; it spoke to me. I wasn't sure if I'd heard it before, or if it resonated within my soul for a different reason.

"Therefore, pure mages are rare. The mixed breeds have more desires, which is why there are more of their mixed offspring. But still few."

Her speech was clear: she and Sir Sym were pure mages, and they never had children together because they never slept together.

I'd sensed a connection between them—anyone spending more than a few minutes in their presence would have—but I was wrong to deduce it was anything more than friendship. They weren't an item, and never would be.

Which meant I'd have to look elsewhere to secure future advisors to my cause. Because I had a horrible feeling I'd need them.

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