Perseverance is inside the courtyard when I crawl through the sewer tunnel, lugging my cord-bound armor bundle behind me.

Of course, when I peer out of the tunnel opening, probably half the castle's soldiers are inside the courtyard. Perseverance just sticks out among them because over the past weeks I've memorized the silhouette of his broad shoulders and shaved head. He's not wearing armor, right now, though some of the soldiers are.

I crouch in the muck--it rained only a few days ago, and the tunnel hasn't drained completely--hoping the pines in front of the exposed exit block all sight of me. Muttered voices float through the cracked sewer grate, but I can't make out their words. Not hard to guess what this is about, though. I made a flash of light in the meadow just behind the castle.

I check the stars, faintly visible through the pine needles. I think the Old Emperor cluster has moved a tenth of the way across the sky since I snuck out to the forest. So an hour has passed. Possibly more.

So, I could creep out and wander across the courtyard, act like I'm curious what all the excitement is about, except, I still have the armor from sword training, which will raise questions about why I didn't deposit it in my room right afterward, and have apparently been carrying it with me for the whole past hour.

And, Perseverance is going to ask where I've been--as in, where I've gone that he hasn't found me--and I can't say "hiding in my room" because I have this armor with me.

"Sorry, Brevity," I whisper, and tiptoe back to the exit to the meadow. "I'm taking bad care of the armor you gave me." I squeeze the compacted suit--boots and pauldrons and helmet fitted inside the gaping breastplate--outside into the dirt, and push it off to the side, so if any water comes down this tunnel my armor won't catch it all face-first.

Then I slink up the sewer tunnel and squeeze between the broken stones and the pine trees, holding my breath, hoping no one looks toward me, hoping they all keep studying the wall, where guards hold up flags and stare out into the meadow. If any of those flags fall, it means danger has been spotted--or, danger has shot down the guard--and the soldiers will all rush up there, trampling the black mushrooms lining the courtyard and thundering up the stairs.

I successfully ease away from the pine trees, hopping through the mushroom bed on a trail of stones to the cobble path. I check behind me; through the archway is the corridor towards the kitchens, so maybe I came from my room, looking for a snack, but heard about this meadow thing and came--

"One, you stink," Regalia's voice says.

I spin around. Regalia's stops in the middle of the path, nose wrinkled. "And what happened to your shirt?" She points at my sleeve, where Michael pounded me into the dirt.

"Oh." I brush off dirt and broken grass stems. "I fell. I took a shortcut through one of the food storage rooms, but wasn't looking and tripped over a barrel. I..." I pretend to inspect my sleeve. "I have no idea what was in it."

She laughs, hand over her mouth. "Okay, that's kind of hilarious actually. But maybe you should go take a bath?"

I nod. "If you see--"

"One!" A palm claps onto my shoulder and I grit my teeth. "Where've you been?"

"He fell, Father." Regalia clasps her hands in front of her black healer's gown. "In one of the storage rooms. Probably broke some wine bottles."

"I did not--"

Perseverance laughs. "Why don't you go take a bath, One? You smell awful."

My eyes try to glower, but I wrangle it into a smiling nod. "I just came to see what all this"--I motion around the courtyard--"was about, but..."

Perseverance wiggles a finger. "Shortcuts don't work, One. Maybe once you've cleaned up, I can tell you what this was all about."

I glance at Regalia. "See you in a few minutes?"

"Of course." She covers her mouth again. Perseverance's hand on my shoulder loosens.

"Right then." I dust my sleeve again, and slip out of Perseverance's grip, striding into the castle.

In the corridor, I allow myself the faintest smirk. So this is the key to free myself from Perseverance. I just have to fall in love with Regalia.

***

In the washrooms around the corner from my room, I shower under the cold water pipes, in the most brightly lit corner of the lopsided room, curtains drawn in a tight triangle. The bumpy, pumice floor sponges up the water and drains down into the sewage pipes, but I wish the whole place would flood, just to spite everything.

I lather soap over my skin, and scrub my training grounds clothing for good measure. I wring the dirt stains out of the gray sleeve, I stitch the cuts in my knuckles and wrists up cleanly, I heal bruises; in total the washing eats half a palm-sized soap cake but I rinse and declare myself clean, never mind having no actual clue about the scent.

Then, dripping under a spare bed sheet I never use for anything else, I shuffle back to my bedroom, feet cold on the smooth stones, ears perked for any Perseverance-squeaking. But he makes no appearance before I slink into my room, changing into a dark blue healing smock and matching pants and slippers by the bright moon. By this solitude, I conclude that Perseverance leaves me alone when he thinks I'm excited to see his daughter.

Or when I smell like dirt and the muck of the sewer tunnel.

So I walk back to the courtyard, arms crossed, thoughts looping between forest and castle. Light, and skin magic. Mist, and sword training. Michael and Perseverance, Regalia and a speaking wraith in my dreams.

I pick the most immediate problem--I can gather starpetals from the Empress' garden courts, give them to Regalia and ask her to do something together sometime, just us. Like the implication of a dumb date. Perseverance might quit stalking me, if only for the hour or so Regalia and I spend "together." Of course, trading Perseverance for Regalia's attention...I shiver. Maybe this isn't the best plan. But at least she won't constantly regale me with tales of staying vigilant and "everything" being "worth it" in the end.

I step into the courtyard to find it mostly emptied. The flags still stand raised against the wall, but most of the unarmored spectators have disappeared. The rest mill about, muttering, eyes fixed upward, armor glinting moonlight.

"Ah." Perseverance steps out of the shadows just outside the archway to the main hall. "One!"

My fingernails bite into my upper arms. "Where'd everyone go?"

Perseverance waves a hand, like this is trivial. "The captain told everyone to go back to their nightly business. Regalia went back to the healer's hall."

Mildly unfortunate. Whatever. "So what happened?" I point to the guards, and the black flags hanging dead in the still air. "No one ever watches the back wall."

He shakes his head. "There's always a small watch here. The gossip tonight is, Hundred-fold was on guard, and she saw a flash of light coming from the forest"--I, appropriately, make my eyes wide in mock surprise, and he keeps talking--"so she sent out the alarm and half the castle came running. Not surprising, given that her shadow pulse was strong enough to nearly knock those of us in the kitchen off our seats. But, there's been nothing ever since."

I frown.

"What took you so long to come? Was the pulse weaker...where were you?"

He doesn't know where I was. "I was half asleep." I stare at the flags propped along the guard wall. "I felt the pulse, but kind of thought it was a dream until I heard someone outside talking about it. Then it took me forever to wake up."

He chortles, shaking his head. "One, you wouldn't make it a day on the battlefront. If the Sun Slaves attacked us in our sleep, you'd still be waking up by the time the battle was over."

"Yet I'm training to be a field medic," I mutter.

"What was that?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. I think I'm going to head to the healer's hall. Maybe get something to eat on the way."

He claps a hand on my shoulder--same place as before, and I would have bruises there, if I hadn't mended my skin in the washroom. "Good luck." His teeth flash.

"Yeah." I stare at his nose.

He inhales, then his glove slides off my smock. He gives a tiny nod, then turns and marches off to the guard wall.

Ha. I hold back a snort, and sneak into the castle, to the kitchens--where gossip is flying across the tables, basically just what Perseverance said--for some cold bread left from midnight meals, then I trek to the Empress' gardens, crossing through the sleeping quarters again on my way to the center of the castle. I pace through winding corridors, mouth full, arms free, ears mercifully silent without Perseverance's constant talking.

Most of the bedrooms have their doors flung wide, like the occupants ran to answer Hundred-fold's alarm and didn't bother closing anything behind them. If I looked inside, I could figure out who's neat enough to make their beds regularly and who isn't, but basically I don't care. Plus they're all pitch black.

I push open the door at the back end of the orphans'/those who've moved away from their parents' sleeping quarters, breathing in the cold air of the Empress' courtyard. It's an enchanted place, calming she says, for those who can't sleep during the day.

"Enchanted" and "calming" mean, it's got a spell over it to make it seem night time at any time. Fake stars glimmer overhead, never moving, and a fake quarter moon floats directly overhead--though the real moon tonight's nearly full.

The roundabout pathways glitter silver, made of graywood trunks oiled to a sheen. Tiny, ankle-high fences line the paths, like shiny daggers. They hedge in cerulean-needled bushes and shield-shaped topiary; they corner spaces for miniature trees with straight trunks and pea-sized leaves; they guard wild red blossoms open to the fake moon.

I tiptoe down the paths, eyeing the plants. I haven't come here for years, but the starpetals used to grow near the door--where the miniature trees now live. So I wander, fingers twitching, between bushes and unfamiliar flowers and trees rod-straight but poofy on top like the castle turrets.

There's a shadow on the path. I stop. My fingers ball into fists behind my back. A dark outfit pauses behind a high, red-flowered bush, so I can't see their face. "You came here too?" the voice squeals, so high-pitched it takes me a half-dozen heartbeats to realize it's Regalia.

"Oh. Yeah," I say. I glance to the side, at some shrubs with miniscule flowers the color of yellow squash. "I was going to...get you starpetals."

She runs at me, slippers scuffing the wooden path. Startled, I step back, there's a bundle in her hand of white flowers, six-petaled--she slams into me, embracing me.

"Whoa," I breathe, through squished lungs.

"We had the exact same thought," she whispers. "I came here to get you starpetals."

My stomach drops, and I want to vomit up all the bread I ate. "Regalia," I whisper. "You're squeezing--"

"Oh!" She steps back, eyes sinking to the ground. "Sorry."

"No, don't..." I push wet hair off my forehead. "Those are nice flowers."

She puts her hands together. "Thanks. I mean, I think I ripped up a few roots by accident." She chuckles. "I don't know how to heal flowers."

"Heh," I snort. Since when did Regalia admit she couldn't do something? Actually, since when was she...into hugging?

She rocks back and forth on her heels. "So...now what? Is this like, our second date?"

My stomach drops again. "Is it?" But...the only thing we've done before now is the party. Empress' birthday party. And I disappeared, and came back with nothing, and we barely even spoke. "But...the party you like hated me."

She grimaces. "Okay, yeah, I felt forced into it by my parents." She rolls her eyes, like this is the most annoying scenario. "But after the party, my dad told me you snuck out to find some food that wasn't actually freezing cold for us." She licks her lips, and mumbles, "Even though it didn't work out."

She taps the flowers against her leg, rustling the fabric of her silky gown, and black leaves flutter to the path. "It was a nice thought. Touching."

I fold my arms across my stomach, as if that will keep my inner organs from spilling out like sewage.

"It's...not often some boy does something nice. For me."

"Yeah. I mean...you're welcome?"

"Ha." She taps the flowers on her other leg. White petals drop to the path. Her eyes find mine. "So in my head I called that our first date."

"That..." I swallow, then force the words out, "That makes sense." I'm supposed to be falling in love. I should have mentioned I could try to heal the ripped up plants. I want to vomit.

Her shoulders relax, and she gives a tiny smile. "Yeah?"

I shrug. "Yeah."

She's steps closer, way closer; Regalia's face squishes into mine and her lips prod mine and the starpetals crush between our chests. Her knuckles jab into my ribs.

My lungs stop functioning.

My eyes just stare into the frizzes of her black hair, her wrinkled forehead. I force my eyelids shut.

Her wet lips fold into mine and I don't know what to do--do I open my mouth? Am I supposed to want her saliva on my tongue? Do I wrap my hands, currently hanging limply, around her? Am I supposed to want to touch her?

Is this better than Perseverance stalking me?

Her tongue pokes through my lips, warm and wet and bumpy, and no, no this is so much worse than Perseverance stalking me.

I stumble away, I repress a shudder but trip on the dagger fence and fall into the shrubs.

"One!" Regalia gasps. Starpetals hit the wood and she's hopping over the fence after me, reaching down for my hand. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize we were so close to the edge of the path."

I gulp air.

"One?" She retracts her hand and crouches beside me, crushing tiny yellow flowers and thick leaves. "Are you okay?"

My fingers dig into wet dirt.

"Um...?"

"I'm sorry." The words claw out of my mouth, still dry from Regalia's touch. "I don't know if I tell you the truth or lie about everything."

Her head tilts, nose wrinkling. "What?"

"That's not what I meant to say." I shake my head, blinking my eyes shut. "I don't think this is going to work."

Stillness. "Wh..."

"I don't think I'm interested in women."

More stillness. I open my eyes and Regalia's staring at me, mouth open, face framed by dark purple leaves and yellowish flowers.

"Right." I push to my feet. "Go back to your dad and tell him I said that, I don't care anymore." I brush off my hands, and stalk through the flowerbed, kicking bushes, the barest trickle of light melting from my breath so even though my back's turned to her my veins go cold.

"Wait, I don't understand." Her footsteps scuffle after me.

I hurry onto the path, striding to the sleeping quarters, hand over my face--but the light's already vanished and my breath's clear again. Why?

"One, wait!"

I break into a jog. "I'd rather not!" I yank open the door and slam it shut behind me, and run down the stone corridor. It yanks back open moments later.

"One!" Regalia calls. I stop at my room, only long enough to open the door slightly and slam it shut, then I keep running on silent feet, into the corridor toward the kitchen. Regalia's voice echoes, "One, I don't understand!" and a fist pounds on wood. "Open up! Please!"

I run through empty hallways, stone floors and walls blurring past, my slippers nearly fall off but my footsteps make no sound. I swerve into one of the food storage rooms outside the kitchen, easing the door softly shut behind me. Creeping down the steps, I duck under a shelf, hands brushing dusty bins, heartbeat loud. I crouch behind some barrels, shoulder digging into the cold wall, arms gripping my knees close.

My breaths go shuddery, but I bite the insides of my cheeks so I don't cry. My eyes water from the pain--just the pain--and hot liquid seeps down my cheeks to my dry lips. I bury my face in my legs, wiping tears on my pants.

I can't.

I can't do Regalia--that plan lasted so long.

I can't do Perseverance stalking me.

I want nothing to do with Michael.

I can't.

I can't.

A noise breaks out of my mouth, squeezing from my throat. It echoes, ugly, like a grunt, a groan, a hog squawk in a voice too deep to belong to me. It coughs out again and I hate it, I hate it, I can't stop it.

I squeal in a breath of air, a high-pitched squeak backwards down my vocal cords. Like that can counter the ugly sob of my contorting lump-neck, one a toxic chalk mark and another the poor eraser.

It can't.

I curl up behind the barrels, there's probably bugs climbing my slippers in the dark. Hot water runs out of my eyes and makes them sting, my torso shakes.

I sob gruntily again, I suck in a squeak, I rein in my shuddering wracks and stuff them deep inside. Grab my throat with the claws of my skin magic but I don't know how voices work, I don't know what they're made of to know how to change whatever's in my throat to sound right.

Another sob breaks out, a voice cracking choked out guttural "Gwu-huhgk" and snot splatters my lips so I wipe it on my wet pants. I inhale but my body refuses to keep it inside, it won't keep any air inside, it just sobs out. Panting, gasping, my throat spurts sounds like a dying goat then squeals breathe back inside, the small storage room echoes, if Regalia wanted to find me she probably could but I can't stop it, mucus and tears make a swamp of my facial features.

I can't Regalia, I can't Perseverance, I left that armor outside why is that relevant right now I'm gasping why am I crying my head's going dizzy--

I'm on my back. Knees pointed up. Hair in something sticky. The fragile light from the gap under the door frames a faint outline of a shelf overhead. Stone wall and warm wooden barrel squish my shoulders, bunching my smock on my neck--I yank it down, I smooth the base of my throat where there's never been anything wrong, never. Hot water dribbles down my temples, streaking into the hair on my left side but waterlogging my right ear. It makes me shiver, the shiver shifts into a sob, guwhkw, my throat my heart my bones my skin--a total collapsed mess in the dark I can't. I can't, I--sobs and gasps break out of my lips. I bundle my smock in my fist, I shove it into my mouth so the noises quit echoing, except my throat keeps doing the convulsing sound thing and I hate how it sounds, coming out all wrong.

A creak. Outside, or above the shelf, or through the stones--I don't know, but it cuts into my brain like a switch. I quit crying.

I sit up.

I hold my breath.

Wipe my face on the inside of my saliva-wet smock.

Stillness, as thick as a pillow.

I ease out of my hiding spot behind the barrels, creeping toward the door. I press my ear to it. Still just silence.

I step back.

So then. I slowly inhale. To get away from Perseverance, get away from Regalia...maybe Michael's better. Just, I could go out and talk. And get the armor I left outside. I pull in a breath, and wipe my eyes again.

I open the door, slippers investigating the crimson carpet.

"One?" Regalia says. I freeze. She's there, leaning against the wall right next to me, gown dirt streaked, eyes red. "Were you crying in there?"

I don't bother wiping my face again. Who cares anymore? "So what if I was?" And my mist-breath chooses this moment to return, exhaling with my words. Despite all my sobs probably heard, my snotty smock, having just told her I wanted nothing to do with her--this is what makes Regalia stare and go pale and stumble away. The light from my breath. Like I've just drawn a weapon on her. Which maybe I have, but I have no clue how to use it. "Regalia," I say, more mist leaking out, why did it come now? I thought it stopped already--a shudder takes my body and my shoes and air around my face flashes, but I gasp out another breath and this one's invisible.

Regalia screams. She raises her hands and a dark glow spreads around her fingers, climbing up her arms, but they tremble. I just stare; she's summoning tons of healing magic, like I'm literally about to stab her. Yelling, she charges at me, dark energy hiding her face in an aura.

I raise my hands before she crashes into me. We smash into the carpet, the air going--again invisible--out from my lungs. Regalia's palm slams into my nose and pain blinds me, but the mist-energy comes back--I'm aware of it, this time, tingling in my veins, behind my shut eyes. Regalia's elbow jams into my throat and I gag, coughing, mist floating out.

I can't do anything with it. It drifts away and Regalia screams for help again, holding her elbow to my throat. But a tingling warmth distills on my hand, the one pinned under her knee, the same one I tried to punch Michael with. I squirm, batting her elbow off my neck with my free hand, but she hammers my nose again. It spews warm blood.

I get my non-glowing arm in her face, flailing, pushing her away, and my misty hand slips free. She knees my gut but I swing my fist up and punch some part of Regalia--her shoulder?--and light blooms. Her weight lifts off me, the hall goes silent, and I try to sit up, pushing myself to my hands, but my limbs are too weak for anything, just like after Michael, and I flop to the ground. I can't see anything. My eyes pry open, and oh, Regalia's trapped, floating in a halo of white mist above the floor. Dark energy still surrounds her so I can't see her face, but she's struggling in vain to kick and punch free.

So I just lie on the ground until my limbs quit shuddering, until the blood out my nose slows to a dribble, and I just stare at her kicking form in the floating halo, having no clue when the mist will break but too numb to care.

When I'm stronger; strong enough to get to my feet and hobble away, my body drags itself down the hall. I glance back, once, and Regalia's still kicking and punching at the incorporeal mist holding her captive above the floor. Then I climb to my feet and hobble, off to the courtyard of black-cap mushrooms and twisted pine trees.

***

I leave a trail of blood on the stones, on the mushrooms, in the dirt. But the courtyard's emptied, except three guards on the wall, watching outwards, flags flapping in a breeze. Who's watching those flags, still? Someone in one of the bulbous towers? Guards further down the castle wall?

I slosh into the sewer tunnel, liquid covering my boots. I can see their brown leather outline; dawn's nearly here. Or is here. My blood drips into the sewage, fractals on the surface darkening to near black.

I splash through the tunnel, limbs shaking, spots flashing on my vision. I stumble into the grate at the meadow. I lean into the bars, cheekbones and collarbones and hips and thighs digging into the yellowed iron.

I have no clue how to avoid being spotted by the wall guards.

I'm exhausted.

The armor's still right next to the wall, gleaming faintly, at least where it's not dirt-marred or sewage-stained. The armor's still here, so I suppose the guards haven't leaned over far enough to catch sight of it. Or maybe they have, but it looks like a shiny rock from three stories in the air.

I drag it into the tunnel anyway, through the bars of the grate, heavy enough that it makes my arms shake. I hold it to my chest but then just stare at the top of it.

"You left this where anyone could steal it, but I didn't. Because I'm a nice person."

My eyes want to cry all over again.

Michael had the audacity to stick a sheet of paper on the inside of the helmet. And draw a lopsided grinning face at the end of his note.

I want to cry all over again; Michael touched my armor, this metal skin, prodding at its secrets and uncovered all its vulnerable points, figuring out how to destroy me just like everybody else.

But then he didn't.

Which destroys me even worse.