Night air, carried by a warm breeze, rushes through my window. It leaves a film on my skin, almost humid as the season gets hotter. Three taps drum on my door, and I leap off my bed to open it.

Sigvard and Benno exchange no words with me, instead heading straight for the window. I slip through first, like last time, and it's slightly easier than last time to inch my way along the tree branch. Sigvard and Benno join me on the ground minutes later. I poke my head over the shrubbery. The garden torches illuminate no guards, so I sneak toward the fence.

A twig snaps. I freeze, squinting at the branch that snagged on my clothing. Voices rustle in the courtyard, but they quickly settle. I'm about to take another step when my eyes snag on a shimmer in the pale moonlight. It's a gold tassel lying in the dirt. I shove it into my pocket and hurry to the edge of the palace grounds. We make it over the fence undetected, though we don't dare speak until we've reached the forest.

"Two for two," Sigvard whispers.

"Huh?" I say.

Moonlight streaks his grinning face, some teeth pearls, some in shadows. "We made it out of the palace twice. I didn't know such a record was possible."

"The guards would like to believe it's impossible," I agree.

This time, Sigvard leads the way through the forest. He paid close attention last time to the way the swan led us to ensure we would go in the correct direction when we returned. After quite some time has passed, a song trickles through the trees, soft and glossy, like sunlight rippling over a lake. My pace quickens until I'm running, until I've passed my brother, and the dark canopy overheard gives way to the flower-shrouded courtyard. Odeia waits by a willow tree tonight, not on the lake. Her jaw closes when she sees us, the song cut off mid phrase.

"I was almost afraid you wouldn't come," she says, color tinting her cheeks.

"In all honesty, Sigvard reminded me," I say. "I've been so busy with castle duties, lessons, and tea parties. It's unbelievable."

"Not too mention all the 'annoying royals,'" Sigvard chimes in, wiggling his eyebrows.

"What annoying royals?" Her confusion melts into a knowing look as soon as she asks. "Oh, do you mean the princes you mentioned last time?"

"Yes. I just don't understand it." I plop onto the stone bench by a hedge of flowers. "I've never seen such an infestation."

A smile tugs at Odeia's lips. "It is rather odd."

"Did that ever happen while you were there?"

"No," she says, sitting beside me. "Though I'm not surprised, since a coronation is coming up."

Sigvard joins Benno on the ground, across from Odeia and me. "Speaking of which," he says, "We have some amazing news."

"Clemaina made it a masquerade ball!" I jump in. "That means you can come. Everyone's dressing as animals." My face falls into a fake pout. "Though Sigvard still refuses to dress as a mouse."

Odeia laughs. "I don't blame him. Why would he dress like that?"

"So we can match. I'm going to be a snake." I shrug at Odeia's wide blue eyes. "I was already wearing a green dress. I figured it would be the least amount of work for the tailors."

Odeia looks down at her folded hands. "I don't even know where to find a dress."

"We could have one made for you," I say. "But it might be too late since it's three days before the ball."

"You would be unable to explain it to the tailors." Odeia goes quiet, her eyes distant. When I follow her gaze, I realize she's looking at the ancient palace. "Well, I'll see what I can find."

"You're going in there?" I ask. I can't help the alarm I feel whilst thinking about it. The century-old stone looks like it might crumble to the earth at any moment. Odeia can't be buried inside the rubble, not now that we've found her. Not now that we're so close to clearing her name.

"I-I haven't made up my mind yet," Odeia says. "It isn't locked. I once got bored and decided to explore it a bit. There are bedrooms upstairs with wardrobes. I might be able to scrape something together. I suppose I should've started looking long ago but..." She cuts off. Sadness weighs on her features, tugging her eyes, cheeks, and lips downward.

"You didn't want to hope too much," I finish.

"Yes."

I wrap an arm around her shoulder. She smiles, and at this moment, I feel closer to her than ever in my life. More than ever before, I wish she hadn't gone missing four years ago. I wish we could've been sisters, true sisters, not just related by blood. She's far kinder than Clemaina ever was or ever would be.

Another reminder that Odeia should sit on the throne.

"We've made some progress," I say. "On the murderer. You were only convicted because the people were riled up against you. The court didn't want to convict you, but they were compelled by the risk of riots."

The muscles in Odeia's face tense once more. "I always wondered what happened. It has burned me for years that everyone turned against me, from my closest relatives and friends to those I never spoke to."

"It was a deliberate plot," Sigvard declares. "We'll get to the bottom of it."

"Would they even accept me if the truth came out?" Odeia says, the most distressed and urgent I ever heard her. "All these years have passed with them despising me. They will not change overnight."

I never considered that, nor did I wish to. "I think that's a problem for another day. Let's focus on the ball. It starts at sundown three days from now and goes to midnight, when Clemaina is crowned." Anger churns in my stomach. Clemaina shouldn't be crowned. She doesn't deserve the title of "Queen." And I'm not sure if a coronation can be undone, even if the true heir comes forth.

Odeia sniffs, regaining her bearings. "I'll have to arrive on the late side, given my daytime state."

"That should be fine." I suddenly gasp. "Sigvard, we never got her an invitation!"

Benno reaches into his pocket, supplying a square, glossy card. "Not to worry, I scored one for her." He hands it to Odeia, joking, "Don't lose it."

Odeia clutches it between her fingers. Even if her hands fell off her arms, I think she'd still find a way to hold it close.

"I spoke with Duchess Helda," I say, somewhat absently. Odeia perks up.

"I always liked her," Odeia says. "She was a second mother after mine passed on. That was before your mother married Father."

I cringe at what I'm about to tell her. Part of me thinks that I should keep our newest information quiet, but for some reason, I think Odeia ought to know.

"She...she was the one who presented the evidence in your case."

"I know." To my surprise, Odeia doesn't miss a beat.

"But she never believed you did it," I add.

"That's good to hear."

"Did you know that Duke Tharbort's parents sold the poison in exchange for your comb?" Sigvard asks.

Odeia's brow wrinkles. "No. They did?"

"Yeah. Seems a little weird to me."

"Selling an item doesn't inherently incriminate them..." Odeia muses. "Though they might have valuable information. Have you spoken to them yet?"

"We're still on palace arrest," I say with a laugh. "Three more days until freedom."

And until all the royal guests leave me in peace.

"Then I suppose you can do that afterward," Odeia says.

The swans fill the break in our conversation, and we bask in each other's company for a few refrains. The glittering air doesn't feel as stuffy out here, it only suffocated me inside my bedroom. Here in the great outdoors, the air has more room to roam and circulate, to stir up oxygen in a light breeze, to breathe.

Just like last time, I don't want to leave—ironic since Odeia is stuck here. I could be a swan by day, gliding over the lake with fluffed feathers. It would make me appreciate the nights all the more.But I only love the idea of it. Knowing myself, I wouldn't want to be tethered to one place, like right now. The point isn't whether or not I actually go anywhere, it's about having a choice.

"We should probably go," Sigvard says, a clashing chord against the swans' high-pitched harmony. He stands, dusting his pants of non-existent dirt. Reluctantly, I do the same. We have little more to discuss with Odeia, and we can't take unnecessary chances that might get us caught. Shorter meetings are statistically favorable, as Sigvard would put it.

"We will see you at the ball," I say. I squeeze my arms around Odeia. The top of my head touches her chin during our hug, a reminder not of her growth in the last four years, but mine.

"Hopefully yes," she says.

"Don't you dare leave us hanging," I chide with mock severity.

Odeia just chimes a laugh, high and silvery. "Do you need a swan guide again?"

"No, I think I have the route figured out by now," Sigvard says. "It's a good way to put my lessons with Lord Edgar to use."

Odeia gives a slight nod. I hug her one more time before following Sigvard and Benno into the forest. Until the ball, my dear sister.

As we approach the palace grounds, strolling along the road, the sound of scampering feet scrapes the air. We dart behind a bush and turn wooden, not wanting to rustle a single leaf. Figures race past in the dark, and through the branches, I glimpse red uniforms—palace guards.

"What's going on?" I whisper to Sigvard. He holds a finger to his lips, then hurries along the palace wall. Shrubbery snags on my clothes and hair as I scamper behind him. Each snapping twig makes me wince, as if it were the crack of a whip. I catch my breath when we're concealed by a bush under our escape tree. Whispers drift from the other side of the wall.

"Should we risk going back this way?" Sigvard asks. "It sounds like there are people right there."

Which means that any attempt to scale the stone would be spotted. My head pokes from the bush, toward the gate in the middle of the road. Two guards stand at attention as usual.

"It's our only option," I whisper.

One by one, we climb over the palace wall, into a shadowed tree that allows a view of the front courtyard. Guards dart around the sides of the courtyard, toward the back of the palace. Others venture through the gardens with torches. I drop to the ground and creep my way to my room. I don't check if the boys are with me; it's every royal for him or herself.

Light flickers near me, halting my escape. I curl myself into a ball between two manicured bushes, face pressed to my knees. Thank goodness I wore pants and a tight shirt, otherwise a long dress might give me away.

Footsteps approach, a steady mush-squelch, mush-squelch, closer and closer, louder and louder. They stop right when they reach my ear, though the noise pings back in my head. My heart beats in my throat, and I'm certain I'm shaking. I squeeze my legs tighter to ground myself. The slightest tick will give me away.

It's too bright above, flames too close to me. I crave shadows and a new moon. The pulse in my head thrums, and I almost miss the receding steps, squelch-mush, squelch-mush.

My lip trembles alongside the rest of my body. I take several seconds to recover before I uncurl myself, to dash for the tree at the base of my window. I leap for the lowest branch and pull myself up. No pain burns my muscles, I'm numb to all but the dread knotting in my stomach.

Dread blooms into full panic when I notice the light shining from my room. Uncle Rothbart paces inside, lips moving rapidly while Duke Von Stein and Duchess Frieza listen. Matilda sits at the foot of my bed, face buried in her hands.

Frantic for a new plan, I notice one tree branch stretches past my room, ending by finger-length stone trim encircling the palace's side. The darkness blurs my vision, but I think I can make out an open window. Bark digs into my palms all the way to the edge.

My fingers latch onto the stone ledge. Fear sends tingles radiating through my palms, palms that grow sweatier by the second. I gulp, inching my way in the air, hoping that this spot stays dark a few minutes longer. Now I feel the ache in my arms and shoulders. If I rest, even for a moment, I will plummet to the ground. Adrenaline alone keeps me going, that and the knowledge that I can't stay here, forever hanging outside the palace.

Finally, I reach the window. No lights shine here, though frankly, I wouldn't care at this point. Somehow, I swing my foot up and wedge it inside. With a burst of upper body strength, I push the window wider open and collapse on cold tile, panting.

Air steadily refills my lungs, and my breathing settles into its normal rhythm. I stand as soon as I can, starting down the hallway. Footsteps patter toward me, and orangey light flickers into view, highlighting a maid's face. I duck behind a corner until the path is clear, then continue to the West Wing.

I tiptoe through undisturbed lesson rooms to reach the library. An oil lamp burns low on a table, and I twist a small knob on its side to brighten it. Next, I pluck a book off the shelf and plop into an armchair, double-checking that it's right-side up. I flip to the middle of it just as the doorknob clicks.

A servant rushes to my side. "Y-your highness," he pants, folding in half in a bow. "You're here. I, we've, your uncle..."

I feign confusion, relaxing the muscles in my face like my heart wasn't still racing from my dash here. "Yes?"

The servant runs from the room. I assume he's fetching my uncle. My eyes fall to the book I picked up, and I stifle a laugh. In my haste, I grabbed the dictionary. I scurry back to the bookcase and exchange it for the history book Lady Nyoko had me read for our lessons. My boots are next, I kick them off and stash them in the folds of the chair's overskirt. There's no explanation for having them. I skim several leaves and twigs from my hair and clothing, stashing them between the chair cushions, before the door reopens.

"Oh my goodness, Aylo," Uncle Rothbart puffs out. "You're safe."

"Yes." I set the book down. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You weren't in your room."

"I'm sorry," I say, a genuine apology. "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to review a few of my recent history lessons. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"Dressed like that?" Uncle Rothbart raises a bushy eyebrow.

I glance down at my black shirt and pants. Despite the dark color, I can still spot dirt patches. "Yeah, my night clothes weren't the most comfortable at the moment."

Uncle Rothbart starts to reply when another voice pipes up.

"This was one of the first rooms I checked," a maid says. "You weren't in here before."

I avert my gaze, trying my best to look chagrined. "That may have been when I used the...facilities."

The woman's brow clenches. "But I'm certain I or someone else would've seen you in the halls."

"That's so odd," I say. "And why didn't I hear any commotion outside?" I complete my question with a shake of my head.

"I would not consider that a loss," Duchess Frieza says. "I am glad we did not wake the entire palace."

"Well," my uncle begins, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Now that we know where you are, maybe we can all get a good night's rest."

Another guard runs into the room. "Duke Rothbart, Prince Sigvard is missing."

"What?" My uncle whips around.

"I just checked his room. He's nowhere to be found."

"For goodness sake." Uncle Rothbart faces me again. "Do you know where he is?"

I can truthfully answer, since I don't know where he is at the moment. "Not in the slightest."

"Is Princess Clemaina missing too?" Uncle Rothbart asks.

"She's in her bedroom, complaining about the racket outside her bedroom door," a maid answers.

"Of course. Well, perhaps Prince Sigvard is alright, just like Princess Aylo. All the same, you two..." He points to two servants. "...continue looking for Sigvard. Everyone else, go back to your posts or to sleep. If you need me, I'll be in my room, as should you, Princess Aylo." He aims that final statement at me.

"I'm sorry," I say again. "I'll put the history book up for tonight. It just felt like such a waste to lie awake in bed."

"You'll fall asleep faster if you lie in the dark," my uncle chides.

"I'm not so sure about that." Saursi history can be pretty dry.

"We can't have you being exhausted, especially at tomorrow night's dinner party."

"Dinner party?"

Uncle Rothbart rubs his forehead with a sigh. "Didn't you hear? Princess Clemaina is having a small gathering in the Royal Dining Hall in commemoration of her coronation and wedding. We expect you to be fully present for the event."

Meaning, not fighting sleep.

"Yes, of course," I say. "I had no idea."

Uncle Rothbart draws in a breath. "I suppose we've all been so busy, we forgot. And since it's private, not all the guests and servants know about it. It isn't top news around here."

Or perhaps Clemaina attempted to withhold telling me about the party because she didn't want me to come. If so, the feeling would be mutual.

The servants trickle from the room. I slide the book back into place on the bookshelf and head to my room. As I near it, alone, I catch a glimpse of two figures standing by my door. I jog to them, making out the faces of Sigvard and Benno.

"We were discovered," I whisper. "And they just realized you were missing. Better pretend you were in the bathroom or something." Sigvard shoves a hand through his dark brown hair.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters.

"What about me?" Benno asks.

"I don't think so. At least, no one mentioned it. I have a feeling they didn't want to disturb the guests. But hurry up there just in case and pretend you stepped out to use the bathroom or something."

"Dressed like this?" Benno's shirt and trousers are as stained as mine.

I sigh. "Then just don't get caught." Benno slips toward the staircase. No servants bearing torches roam this area, so he blends into the dark with ease.

"What about me?" Sigvard asks.

"I suggest either sneaking into your room and changing into some bed clothes, pretending that you needed water or to use the restroom or something. If that's not possible, head to the library or something."

"In the middle of the night?"

"That's what I told them I did."

"I can't copy you."

"You might not have a choice. Now get out of here before someone discovers you."

Sigvard sneaks around the corner, headed for his room in the neighboring corridor. I silently wish him good luck. Right now, it's almost more dangerous for him inside the palace than outside.