They locked the door again when they left. Jules followed the king into depths of the palace I was not free to roam.

Within the hour, Tristan's name was just another which stuck sourly to my tongue. Tristan, father, Evie, Fana, Tommy, Harry. I'd failed each of them. Only two were still alive but I was not convinced I would see them so again.

I hated, despised, the fact that King Thomas's order seemed more sensible by the minute. You must lose all people of sentimental value. You must become a new man. But who was I without Tommy's hells, his addled treetop kisses. Who was I if not Fana's guard, keeping him out of trouble and away from unsuspecting villagers. Who was I if not father's shadow, aching with every fibre and breath to live up to his great legacy. Without Tristan to advise me, I was lost, without him there to humor me, I was lonely. I needed Harry in my life, to mock him and jest with him and let off the dangerous amount of steam I was generating. And Evie... Evie was a part of myself I never knew existed, someone who I could only dream about being. The man in love with Evie was a happy, happy man. A man tormented by passion, perhaps, but a man driven by a desire to plough through all adversity, because he knew the result was the woman of his dreams.

Without all those people I was hollow. A shell.

Adrienne's ring was cold in my hand.

Jules did not return until the sun had begun to set, leaving me wondering why the Baracosians chose to leave their balls so late. When the lock clicked open again, I merely looked up from my seat on the padded windowsill, reading a watery novel I didn't know enough Baracosian to understand. The valet showed a sympathetic smile, then walked over and held out a series of large cards for me to take.

"The king will be introducing you to the nobles tonight." He pointed to the first block of text, "That's the part written in black. Her majesty has then written a speech for you to read, in the red there do you see? Then that second card is what you will say when you propose to the princess."

I nodded slowly, my eyes scanning over the strict, straight handwriting.

"Would you like any help with pronounciation or translation, petit fil?" Jules sat down across from me.

My head shook. I wasn't me, I was a ghost. "Why should I bother learning what it says if they're always just going to be putting words into my mouth? I'm a puppet, Jules. I'm Thomas's puppet. That's it."

Again, Jules smiled warmly. "You are lost, that is all. But I can tell that you are a brave man, a strong man, passionate." He paused, taking a breath as though to steady himself. "You remind me of Prince Edward. I took care of him before he died. Eddie would've made an incredible king, such charisma and passion for the people. I can see a lot of him in you. If only you would suffer what you must, now, so that you can do the kingdoms the good they deserve sooner."

That was true, perhaps within a year, maybe three, I'd be able to rebuild myself. To learn to live without those who I relied on. It was as I'd said to Evie in my letter, I'd see her across a crowded ballroom, my wife on my arm, we'd nod, remembering a world a lifetime ago.

After all, wasn't I a different person before the war happened? A little eleven year old, constantly trying to make trouble, to break the rules. During the war period I changed, learning to follow the rules. Maybe now would be the period of life I changed, wrote the rules myself. I would rewrite the rules, the laws, the course of history as king of not one but two kingdoms.

It was this thought, this determination, which led my step as I made my way to the ballroom. The words Adrienne wrote for me to propose to her daughter with were ingrained in my mind.

In front of a sea of strangely dressed nobles, the king introduced me. He spoke slow enough for me to catch more than a few words, son was one, union was another. My words tumbled out hastily, then queen Adrienne led Henrietta around to my side of the raised platform, joining our hands together.

The sharp blonde smiled at me, then we descended the gold plated steps, into the swarm of nobles. Their unusually short dresses were reflected in the walls of mirrors and I felt as though every look was illicit.

Henrietta herself was not wearing anywhere near enough to be decent - I tried not to stare at her as she ran ahead of me, greeting others before the music began. Her dress was a powdery blue and was little more than a tube, running from below her collarbone to her thigh. The material was ruched silk. To avoid scandal I averted my eyes, but almost every other woman wore something similar.

Instead I approached a cluster of three men. One of them turned, smirking as he saw me. "Ah Fil des Yllers." He elbowed his two friends. I tried to smile in acknowledgement.

"Oui. Je parle un peu-"

"We can speak Ylleran." The second man said, rolling his eyes. "Anyone educated can. Unlike your country we care about other nationalities."

"Oh, I-" I was cut off by a heavy beat of music emerging, though I couldn't see the source of it. Anger riled me up but Henrietta's little hand with her claw like nails pulled me away and to the centre of the floor.

Everyone started dancing, completely out of sync. Panic froze my feet.

"Well are you going to dance?" Henrietta said in her thick accent, green eyes drilling into mine.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "I don't know this dance."

She cackled, her straight, unpinned hair falling like a curtain over her shoulder. "We don't have mindless, practiced dances like your little country. Just move with me to the music." She began to sway from side to side, moving her feet, she put her arms on my shoulders but I was still frozen.

"Where is the music even coming from?" I hissed, at which she laughed at me again. I could see no musicians, no hidden galleries. The music was faster than any I'd ever seen executed, with instruments I could not picture.

"Just dance." She hissed, and a sharp little foot kicked me in the shin.