A few hours later, Ceilsea walked to the sculpture gallery wearing her second fanciest outfit, the robes for the Order of the Cosmic Honor. The long drapes of white cloth were not the style in Sumanar. They covered her from head to toe, embellished with the orders’ symbol, a paint brush, a quill, and a hammer arranged in a triangle, on the chest. The hems were finished with purple thread, adding an extra bit of finery. The robes were heavier and more constricting than the Sumanarian clothes she was used to wearing. She was already starting to sweat, but it was what people expected her to wear. They seemed tighter than she remembered, probably because they were the same ones she had worn at sixteen when she was accepted into the Order and had no idea what that meant.

  Eight years later she didn’t know much more. She’d never met another order member, and they rarely sent her any correspondence. It seemed like they had simply put her name in a book, and because of that, she was praised. Monastic orders were important in the greater empire. Members represented the most prestigious or practiced in their fields, and the orders held a lot of sway in governing. Though the orders only had a few select members, they protected and served everyone that practiced their vocation. Ceilsea had never been asked to do anything for other artists though. Maybe she was supposed to do that on her own? No one had ever told her.

  She felt like a fraud going to a reception to celebrate herself. Still, the evening should be calmer than the ball last night, even if it was more stressful. His majesty had only invited a select number of merchants, nobles, and a few other artists. Her family had not been invited, though Ceilsea was sure that if she had asked they would have been.

  She finally reached the gallery. The guards at the doors bowed to her because of the robes she was wearing. She had arrived purposefully late again. Tonight’s event allowed the guests to appreciate her art. She planned to appear late to answer questions and discuss her work after everyone had gathered their thoughts and opinions on the pieces. Really, she was right on time.

  “Please welcome the sculptor herself, Ceilsea Brijas of the Cosmic order!” the servant announced as she entered.

  There was polite applause as she bowed. Her robes fluttered in the breeze from the open archways. The archway led to the attached sculpture garden which was lit with flickering lanterns.

  “Ceilsea, my darling,” his majesty crossed the space to her side, followed by a small entourage. He had also changed his outfit from earlier, but his new attire was just as lavish. Black and metallic brocade layers contrasting with the pale white furs made him glow in the dim lighting. Even though she was finely dressed, Ceilsea’s robes seemed barren in comparison. He kissed her hand. “We were just discussing the details you put into this scene of the boar killing the first emperor.”

  With a polite smile, she followed her patron to the statue and began a long night of answering questions and being showered with praise she didn’t ask for. Truthfully, even though the guests were supposed to form their own opinions before she arrived, most of them melded their opinions to what she told them. These patrons of the arts were more interested in the popularity of her statues and the favor of the king than looking for merit in her work.

  King Mileubramn and the other artists drove the conversation to things deeper than the praise of her design and life-like details. She spent too much time talking about how she guided the viewers' eyes around the scene of the boar to the emperor and back again to symbolize the empire’s constant fight against the outer world. All but the king started yawning when she spoke adamantly of the dimples on the Nymph of Caleocade, reflecting both youth and the erosion of the water on all, which was also why she had his ribs visible. You could see both perfectly in the shadows thrown by the lantern light. That was the king’s doing. He had arranged the gallery and garden. This was as much his show as it was hers. If he was happy, she was happy, and he indeed seemed to be glowing the entire night.

  Ceilsea, on the other hand, was slowly drained of energy. She wasn’t fond of mingling. She could feel the small spells on the rich guests to improve their appearance and make them more comfortable. The reception had specifically been arranged after the Evening Song so these spells would not be disturbed. People who like fine things like to appear fine themselves. Ceilsea understood this, but it did not make interacting with superfluous magic enjoyable.

  She had a headache after a few hours and retreated to a shadowed bench in the sculpture garden. The evening was close to over. Guests had already started excusing themselves to the king. She played with an empty cup she had grabbed to wet her parched throat as she stalled, not wanting to return to the guests.

  She straightened when Lady Arlel approached her. Ceilsea was disappointed. She thought she had been hidden.

  “Please don’t stand. I’m here to say my goodbyes. I’m surprised that no one else thought to say good night to the guest of honor,” she said, standing in front of Ceilsea in such a way that hid her completely from the view of anyone else. The noblewoman’s outfit wasn’t as fine as the king’s but was far richer in details and quality than Ceilsea’s normal attire. Lady Arlel wore it effortlessly, as if they had been sewed for her recently rather than reused in as many ways as possible until they lost their tailored shape.

  “Maybe they are intimidated?” Ceilsea answered with a tired smile. Neither of them believed that.

  “His majesty wanted me to tell you that you are free to retire for the evening,” Lady Arlel continued looking over her shoulder at the king who was saying goodbye to another merchant.

  “Without saying goodnight?” Ceilsea asked.

  “Please, my dear, I think you are above that with him. Everyone here knows you are his favorite,” the lady said with a smile. “Thank you for sharing your talents and knowledge with us tonight. I look forward to your next piece and every one that follows.”

  Lady Arlel bowed before leaving Ceilsea alone once more. She felt she should be grateful that she was being excused from the formalities, but it left her more exhausted. Why did the king have to favor her so much? Wouldn’t it be easier if she was just another artist, another person? She could do so much more if no one was watching, rather than just get away with it. That’s why she wanted to leave in the first place.

  She took the servants’ paths through the gardens, disappearing into the dark of the night. She probably should have gone straight to bed, but she needed to clear her head. Instead she made her way to her sanctuary, her courtyard.

  “There you are,” Shaelis greeted her, boldly for someone who was supposed to be hiding. In contrast to the fineries she been surrounded with all night, Shaelis’ clothes were loose, dirty, and plain. They probably didn’t even think about what they wore. They just put on what they had.

  Ceilsea sighed as she recalled that she had given them a key.

  “What do you want now? I thought we came to an understanding that we should ignore each other,” Ceilsea said, slipping off her shoes so she could feel the cold grass in between her toes. Just because Shae was here didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself.

  “That’s not…I told you I wanted to speak to you in private.”

  “So you ambushed me in my own courtyard? After I graciously gave you the key?” she reminded them as she ran her hands along the griffin’s side.

  “I know your secret.”

  Ceilsea stopped and frowned. What were they talking about? She was too tired to argue. “I don’t have secrets.”

  “You’re going to leave, and you don’t want anyone to know. You’re running away,” they said, crossing their arms.

  That secret. Shaelis was so far from her social circles, she had not thought that was related to them. She didn’t think they’d care.

  “No, I’m not. Where’d you get that idea?” she lied. If she denied it, surely they would drop it. She continued circling the griffin nonchalantly.

  “From the piles of clothes, food, and tools hidden under that bush,” they said, standing defiant.

  “I told you to stay away from there.”

  “So you admit it’s yours,” they said triumphantly. “I found it when I was trying to find my mallet attachment. I wasn’t trying to pry, but I’m glad I did.”

  Ceilsea rounded the other side of the griffin and glared at Shae.

  “What does it matter to you? Are you going to tell the king or my parents and demand a reward for stopping me?” she said.

  “No, I’m going to convince you not to do it,” they said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “It’s none of your business. You don’t know anything about me,” Ceilsea snapped. Shae seemed serious.

  “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be talented, overly praised, and patronized? That I don’t know what it’s like to have people hovering around controlling every inch of your life until it feels like you’re suffocating in your own skin?” Shae asked, stepping closer to the griffin statue as they did. “That doesn’t mean you should leave everyone and everything you’ve ever known.”

  “So what if you do understand? Didn’t you say you were on the run?” she inquired. Every word they said resonated with her. It seemed incongruous that they would be trying to stop her.

  “Because I’ve seen how close you are to your family and the king. They care about you… but if you betray their trust, you can’t take it back. They might reveal parts of themselves that you can’t forget…or forgive,” they told her. Even without spelling it out, Ceilsea could imagine what they were implying. How far would the king go to get her back? They continued, “If you think you have to leave, you should at least have a place to go, a plan, or… you’ll never stop. You’ll never stop running. Trust me.”

  “How am I supposed to know where to go? I’ve never left the country.” she asked. They weren’t standing very far from each other now, both under the shadow of the unfinished griffin.

  “Exactly. You have no idea what you’re doing,” they said.

  “You don’t think I can do it,” she retorted defiantly.

  “That’s not the point. I’m trying to stop you from ruining your life,” they said, stepping closer. Now she could see the shadows of sweat trails on their face and the dark bags under their eyes. They looked exhausted, but whether it was from a day of fighting or months of running, she couldn’t tell.

  “Then what do you suggest?” she asked in frustration. Did they think she had not had this argument with herself? “That I sit here and rot indefinitely, while, as you say, ‘I suffocate in my own skin.’”

  “No, I don’t mean…I ran before I was ready. It took me years to find purpose, a goal, and my existence has been pretty bleak in the meantime,” they said, breaking eye contact struggling to find the right words. “I’m just trying to spare you.”

  “Then what’s your goal now?” she asked. She should have been trying to argue against them, but she was curious.

  “I’m going to win this tournament, become Champion, and then win the Heroship as well. I’m going to go to Terreniael where no one can control me or my music. That’s the only place I can truly be free,” Shae told her, regaining their confidence.

  Terreniael, the underground city of stones, was filled with statues of its deceased inhabitants. Over three hundred years ago, monsters had risen from the depths and massacred its citizens. They destroyed the city and would have destroyed the world if the first emperor had not locked them inside. Since then, heroes had been selected from each generation to fight back the monsters. They used the ruined buildings and twisted tunnels of the city to battle the monsters and protect the gates that led to the surface. Only the people allowed inside Terreniael were those who won the Empire’s grand Hero’s Tournament. You had to be a Champion of a region of the Empire to enter that.

  She wasn’t surprised. She had heard similar delusions of grandeur from her sister. Though Miennere usually said that she was going to win the tournament, defeat the empire’s other champions, and then sacrifice herself to protect the world from the twisted monsters. What did surprise Ceilsea was that Shae believed the dark, dangerous depths of the tunnels were the only place where they could be free. Would whoever they ran from chase them that far? Or perhaps, like they mentioned to Iscano, people just wouldn’t stop trying to use gifts to control their talents? She set these questions aside, they weren’t talking about Shae’s issues right now.

  “If you think I need a plan, why don’t I just plan to go with you to the empire?” Ceilsea suggested.

  “What?”

  “I want to see the world, but you say I don’t know what that means. The Hero’s Tournament will have people from all over the Empire. If I go there, I’ll be able to see more of the world in one place. If I don’t like what I see, I can return home, but if I do, I’ve already left… I won’t be running, I’ll just be leaving,” she told them. “People are already starting to think I support you, it would be easy to play it up.”

  “I suppose,” Shaelis said hesitantly.

  “The real question is…would you take me with you?” she asked. “The king would agree if he believed I wanted to go. Right now I don’t really care about the tournament, the Champion, or the Hero at all, so I would need to be able to play up my investment in the rest of the tournament.”

  “That’s what you want to do? To use me as your excuse…” they asked. Ceilsea nodded, and Shae hesitated again.

  What they said next would really determine whether Shae actually cared about what happened to her. If they said no, Ceilsea would run away just like she planned. But if they said yes, she could avoid hurting her family and the king, avoid ruining her reputation, and get everything she wanted. All Shae had to do was agree to be her champion.