She arrived alone with only that which she could carry at her side. The driver of the carriage had not spoken to her from the moment they departed the gates of the Prismatic Citadel, to the st clop of the horses’ hooves as they trotted away from her and the outer wall of the kingdom of Altriel. Damia rested her leather and brass trunk against a small boulder and slid her sack off her shoulders before stretching her travel-stiff body in every possible direction.

  With a groan, Damia turned to survey the nd surrounding Altriel’s outer wall. Just ahead of her, she could see the road her carriage had followed to get here. On either side of that road were the edges of a dense, sprawling forest of evergreens. That forest had been quite expansive, Damia surmised, as its shade and silence had lulled her to sleep for the st leg of their journey, which seemed to have been quite long judging by the persistent tightness in her neck.

  Damia turned to scrutinize her destination. The gates of Altriel. She had traveled longer than she had expected from the Prismatic Citadel to arrive here. Remembering this fact made Damia’s stomach growl, as she had long earlier eaten the few bits of bread and cheese she managed to snag from the Academy kitchens before leaving her home forever.

  Her heart panged along with her stomach. Damia had been banished from the only home she had ever known. Shaking her head, she corrected herself. To be selected to serve in a royal court is a high honor. Only, an honor she had never asked for. Swallowing, she clenched her jaw and set her gaze on two distant figures standing at attention on either side of the open portcullis. Neither made any move to approach her, but both watched her intently. Unable to postpone the inevitable any longer, Damia finally gathered her belongings and her courage before striding toward the gate.

  Once she got close, the figure on her left stepped forward. He was of medium height with a dark, cool complexion, and even darker hair and eyes. He wore a lic officer’s uniform with a figure of a four-peaked mountain on the chest, and an elegant longbow strapped to his back. With a courteous nod toward Damia, he said, “Welcome, traveler, to the Kingdom of Altriel. I take it you are the mage, Damia… of the Prismatic Citadel?”

  Damia noted the way the officer paused at her ck of a surname. Family names were important to many peoples, but Damia cked such a title, as did all mages studying at the Prismatic Academy.

  “Yes, I am Damia. Thank you for this warm welcome.” Now that she had arrived in Altriel, it was time for her to py the part of the dutiful court mage. And she knew that began at this very moment, with her first sets of Altrielian eyes upon her.

  The officer to Damia’s right stepped forward. This man was taller and paler than his counterpart, with a warm complexion and stockier build. He appeared to wield an impressive broadsword rather than a bow, though he wore the same uniform.

  “Excellent. I am Casimir Morrow. And this is Rezin Canmore,” the tall one said, gesturing to the man on Damia’s other side. “We are here to escort you to the pace. Please, follow me and do not fall behind.”

  Damia nodded, and nothing more was said before Casimir lead the way through the gate with Damia and Rezin following closely behind.They walked in silence through bustling streets and past homes, storefronts, and a notable number of wandering cats. A tiny sliver of tension was rexed from Damia’s shoulders. Though she was never allowed to keep any creature of her own while studying at the Prismatic Academy, she had always dreamed of befriending one of the cats that wandered the streets of the Prismatic Citadel.

  As the city grew denser around them, Damia at st spotted a wide set of stairs in the distance that led to an imposing structure that seemed to be built directly into the side of the mountain towering beyond them. Judging by the spiraling towers and glistening stained gss windows adorning the front of the structure, Damia concluded this must be the pace of Altriel. The stained gss was unlike anything she had ever seen in the Prismatic Academy or the Citadel. Unlike here with Altriel’s thick, cold stone architecture, important structures in the Citadel and at the Academy were often adorned with as many floor to ceiling windows as possible.

  Damia cringed inwardly at how she seemed to be reminded of home at every turn. Her headmistress at the Academy, Lady Vessimir, had gushed about how rewarding and honorable it is to serve a monarch in their court. That simply had to prove to be true, and soon, or else Damia would not make it long here. It was not possible to return to the Citadel after receiving an assignment out in the world. Damia was not foolish enough to try. But without something to anchor her to this pce, she feared for her soul and her sanity.

  Rezin cleared his throat and the trio stopped before the stairs. Looking somewhat sheepish, he said, “Mage Damia, would you like any help carrying your belongings up to the pace? I… realize you’ve had a long journey.”

  Casimir sighed but said nothing, pursing his lips as he looked momentarily at Rezin, then back up at the pace above them.

  “No, thank you.” Damia didn’t bother expining that her honed ability to manipute gravity actually made heavy lifting easier for her than it would appear. “Shall we?” She gestured to the stairs, and Casimir began to lead their ascent.

  As they climbed, Damia wondered why Rezin had offered at all after letting her lug her things for so long as they trekked through the city, and why Casimir had seemed so put off by his offering.

  Her mind wandered further to the royal welcome that awaited her.

  Lady Vessimir had spent the weeks leading to Damia’s departure from the Prismatic Academy preparing her for what was to come. She was drilled on court etiquette and the many statutes governing the behavior of mages in royal courts. No matter how many times Damia insisted she understood and it was not to be a worry, there was one specific rule she was reminded of constantly: there are to be no romantic entanglements between a monarch and their mage.

  Damia could not even fathom her retionship with the king of Altriel becoming anything beyond professional. At least, Damia hoped it would be professional. Lady Vessimir had stressed the importance of colboration between a monarch and their mage for the good of the kingdom’s people. It would not matter how powerful, how effective a mage might be if their king were to thwart their every effort to use their power.

  Surely, the king of Altriel would welcome Damia’s power and expertise with open arms, Damia thought. She had heard from other girls at the Academy that the kingdom’s st mage was widely beloved by the kingdom’s people. She was sure the king must be in dire need of a mage’s expertise in her absence.

  After what felt like an age, Daria and her officer-escorts arrived at the top of the stairs and at the great doors of the pace. Without even a moment to take in the architecture of the pace before them, Rezin and Casimir swung open both doors, revealing another figure.A man stood before her, grinning widely. He had wide shoulders and was dressed in a particurly formal looking lic doublet with gold filigree details. His short salt and pepper hair was immacutely groomed, and Damia could smell a faint hint of pine wafting off him from where she stood.

  Damia immediately bowed low, rising with a perplexed furrow to her brow as the man let out a hearty ugh.“Please, rise, my girl. I am no king. My name is Theonin Garrol. I am the king’s hand and advisor. Welcome to the pace of Altriel.” Theonin pced a hand on his heart and extended the other in Damia’s direction.

  Damia’s cheeks fmed at the realization of her mistake. In hindsight, she was mortified that she would just assume that the first man dressed formally in the royal color was the king with zero other indicators to the fact. But nobody at the Academy told her anything about the king himself before her departure. Only that a new king had been crowned in Altriel, the former mage had passed, and Daria was to depart to fulfill her duties as soon as possible.

  Theonin continued, “Officer Canmore, Officer Morrow, you are free to go. Mage Damia, please allow me to help you get settled.”Theonin reached for Damia’s trunk at her feet before she could stop him, and she had to steel her face when he was unable to lift it quite fully off the ground. She cleared her throat and gestured for the handle with a small conciliatory smile. Theonin relinquished it to her, forcing a strained chuckle as he straightened and Damia lifted the trunk to her side.

  “Right then, this way,” Theonin said thinly, though the impeccable straightness to his shoulders returned.

  Theonin led Damia into the great hall as Rezin and Casimir shut the doors behind them. Damia was immediately struck by how dark it was. Though the stained gss windows projected reds, greens, purples onto the ground in front of them, all other light in the room came from the many torches and candebras distributed around the room.

  On the far side of the rge room was a dais with two thrones atop it. A stately podium stood to the right of the dais. Behind the dais, hanging from the lofted ceiling, was a massive lic banner donning the four-mountain icon of Altriel.

  Theonin watched Damia take in her surroundings with an amused expression. “This, as you can imagine, is where all audiences with the king occur.” Turning quickly to lead Damia down a corridor to their left, he continued, “As much as I would simply love to give you a grand tour of the pace, you must be utterly exhausted.”

  “Of course. Rest and a meal would be most wonderful,” Damia agreed, trying not to emphasize the “meal” part of her request too aggressively. Her stomach groaned then, as if to punctuate her sentence.

  “Yes, yes, I will have something sent to your rooms,” Theonin responded, waving a hand as he strode down another dim corridor.

  “Will there not be a group meal this evening?” Damia asked, hoping after the fact that it wasn’t impolite to ask.

  “Er, yes, well, I simply thought you’d like to eat and rest now. We will not require anything of you until tomorrow morning,” Theonin expined, still not looking at Damia.

  As much as Damia had hoped to meet the king sooner rather than ter, she could not deny that Theonin’s thinking was right. If she didn’t eat soon, she feared she may genuinely be unable to stand much longer.

  “Yes, thank you for your consideration,” Damia answered, resuming her more formal tone.

  “Here we are,” Theonin announced after a little longer, stopping before a door that looked exactly like all the rest they had passed. Procuring a key from his pocket and turning it in the lock, Theonin stepped into the room with a grand gesture. “These quarters, Mage Damia, are all yours.”

  Damia took a turn about the room. On one side were the bed, medium sized armoire, and a small writing desk. On the other side were a shelf that took up half the wall and what appeared to be an alchemy station. The room itself was not quite rge enough to comfortably accommodate all of that furniture, and it cked a window entirely, making it all the more suffocating.

  The bed, at least, appeared made and ready to be slept in. Damia wasn’t sure she could ask for much more than that at this moment.Damia set her things down at the foot of the bed and looked to Theonin. He was watching her with a strangely sharp look in his eyes. For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

  Uncomfortable, Damia finally cleared her throat. “You mentioned something about having a meal sent here for me? I would very much appreciate that,” she said, hoping that would be enough to get her both things she wanted: Theonin out of her immediate presence, and a meal in front of her.

  Damia held Theonin’s stare a little longer before he nodded, “Of course, Mage Damia. I will have the kitchen send you something straight away.”

  With that, he turned and exited the room, leaving Damia alone again.

  Alone in the pace of Altriel.

  Unable to hold herself upright anymore, Damia colpsed face down on the bed with a long groan.