Ash felt dazed and giddy — mostly dazed. He couldn’t tell if that giddiness was excitement or anxiety, but either way, it made him want to pace around. But he remained sitting on the bench beside the door to the throne room, tapping his feet instead, because if he started pacing and the door opened, his chances of making a good first impression would decrease drastically.

  Daskalos had left after a while. Realistically, Ash knew that an hour had passed by now — perhaps several, but time wasn’t really registering in his brain at the moment. Thoughts were rushing in and out.

  Change chose me. Me.

  He couldn’t believe it. The stones were powerful objects — they held the literal souls of the Founders. They were supposed to empower their holders to defend the kingdom from threats and ensure the balance and immortality of their respective concepts — Service, Courage, Freedom, and Change. Change . . . what an incredible idea. The ability to improve, to find wherever that potential had gone, and finally earn his place, and his name, and his father’s pride.

  If he could — there was a big chance he’d actually end up dead instead. He wasn’t the best at . . . well, anything.

  But this stone — the one embedded on the back of his jacket — that stone was a promise. A promise that there was a chance. He could be someone different — someone better, stronger, braver.

  And I will, he swore. I’ll be that person. I’ll finally do something with my life.

  What if you die before then? his brain demanded. What if you die a useless death before you do anything? What if the Change Stone was wrong?

  Those old thoughts came rushing back — What if I die without ever having done anything with my life?

  Can you even . . . disappear in any kind of noticeable way, when you've never really been here to begin with? When you've never done anything or interacted with anything, when you've hardly been a part of this world at all?

  In that way . . .

  Aren’t you already dead?

  Do you even exist, if the world would be exactly the same whether or not you’d ever lived?

  Have you ever existed?

  Does it matter if you —

  I’m going to exist, he thought feverishly. I’m going to live.

  His mind laughed at him.

  “Ash!”

  He jumped, jolting out of his little bubble of racing thoughts. He looked around for a minute, before realizing — of course, the only clear sound would come from in front of him; the door hadn’t opened to the throne room, and there were no branching paths in the hallway. And then he realized who the person coming towards him was, and the dazed feeling evaporated as the definite anxiety slammed into him. “Ba — father?”

  Kalytero Evgenis embraced his son before Ash’s brain fully processed it. His briefcase landed with a thunk on the floor.

  “I . . . thought you were on a diplomatic mission,” he said after a moment, hugging him back.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” Kal responded, releasing him. “. . . Is it true?”

  He nodded wordlessly.

  Kal sighed, looking more tired than Ash had seen him in ages . . . which wasn’t saying much, because Ash hadn’t seen him in ages. He mustered a smile, but Ash couldn’t shake the feeling that it was there purely to make him feel better. “I am so, so proud.”

  He managed a weak smile of his own, feeling as though he’d topple over. “I know.” He could sense his father’s unspoken worries. But it can’t be undone. And you don’t even know if you’d want to undo it. He wasn’t any good at diplomacy. At least, with this . . . maybe you can manage to be of use. In some way that didn’t make him want to run into the ocean every time he thought about it.

  And this is the first time you’ve given him something to be proud of. This is the first time you’ve done anything at all.

  Even though . . . you didn’t really . . . do anything . . .

  Looking at his father’s sad brown eyes, he wondered if anything had really changed. The rosiness of the stone’s magic seemed to fade as he stared at that sad look on his father’s face. That look — he never seemed to be able to make it go away. I wonder if he really thinks I’m going to die.

  You probably are.

  You, a guardian of the kingdom?

  You’ll be the sacrifice for the greater good.

  Why did that sound more appealing than living his father’s life? He’d never ask that out loud. His father had done so much to try and give his son a good, stable life. How could he look at that position — a position so many would kill for — and want to run away?

  I’ll change, he promised silently. I’ll fill the role. And I’ll enjoy it.

  Kal sighed again. “Nervous?”

  “Well . . .”

  “Right.”

  They sat in awkward silence for a minute.

  “It’ll be okay, Ash,” his father finally said.

  I know. It’s always going to be okay.

  “You might even make some new friends — you never know.”

  It was a lighthearted comment, yet the words sank in his stomach like stone. Make some new friends . . . ‘New’ friends? Where were the old friends? He hadn’t been around ‘people his age’ for five years, despite his father’s best attempts to keep him in school. They had finally resorted to tutoring after a series of embarrassing events, breakdowns, and feigned illnesses.

  “That’s certainly a possibility,” he tried, attempting to sound upbeat. His voice only went halfway there, so that he sounded more like a leaky balloon on its way to deflation.

  “Stay safe.”

  “You know I always do,” Ash responded, trying again for that bright, cheery tone. It worked a bit better this time. That much is true, at least. Risk-taking is outside of your dictionary. Your comfort zone is three inches wide and four inches long. A grand total of twelve square inches to work around.

  Kal opened his mouth again, but footsteps sounded down the hall, and they both turned to see who was nearing.

  A tall man with a remarkably twisted mustache approached them, causing Kal to stand up immediately. The latches on his briefcase gleamed as he picked it up, burnished bronze.

  Wow, that mustache sure is fanstachetic, Ash had time to think, before he realized how stupid that was. Nobody wants to hear your stupid puns, Ash. Shut up.

  “Advisor Antinous,” his father said. “Pleasure.”

  “Lord Evgenis,” the man said in a pinched voice. “Congratulations. You must be very proud of your heir.” He glanced down at Ash, and his mustache twitched. “The princess should have received you by now.”

  “Oh — it’s . . . it’s fine, she can . . . take her time . . .” he said, cringing inwardly at how bad that sounded.

  “No, no, we mustn’t keep you waiting. The princess must learn to manage her responsibilities . . . responsibly. In you go.”

  He glanced at his father, who nodded subtly. “. . . Okay. I mean, yes, sir.”

  Antinous, obviously thinking the matter settled, turned back to Kal. “Lord Evgenis, I was under the impression that you were meant to be in Synoro at the moment.”

  “It was delayed,” he heard his father say, as he turned to the doors. “Unfortunate weather, I’m afraid.”

  Ash took a deep breath, and placed his hand on the door. Okay. Here goes. Here’s where you start changing. Here’s where you become someone better. Someone worthwhile.

  He pushed it open and stepped inside.

  ?????

  The throne room was bright, and cold. Slit windows stretched from floor to ceiling, filling the gaps between the pillars lining the walls. Sun filtered through the frosted glass in pale blue streaks, forming icy showers of light. Navy blue tiles paved a path to the throne; a dark blue seat backed in gold, standing on a raised platform. Intricate figures were carved into six of the columns lining the walls, each with a solemn face turned to the throne. In their hands were various creatures and items – a stoat, a spear, a coin.

  King Statheros' Council of Nobility, Ash thought, staring at the statues. Sectors of control.

  The legendary King himself was carved into the wall, directly behind the throne, his eyes closed.

  Ash had always wondered at that, the few times he'd come here. He couldn't remember whether it had been the king's own choice to have his likeness displayed the way it was, or if some architect had decided long after the king had passed. Either way, it struck a sense of . . . solitude.

  Stolen story; please report.

  As though, despite being among all his confidants and supporters, he saw nothing.

  That solemnity wasn’t there now. That sense of serenity was gone, in its place a buzzing tension. He had felt it from the second he stepped through the door — suspense so thick, it was almost tangible.

  The girl he’d seen before — the one who had been chosen by Freedom’s stone — leaned casually against a pillar, with an incredibly smug look on her face. Her dark hair was braided into two messy plaits, and her dirty hands seemed to suggest she had recently been cleaning . . . or that she had decided to go climbing some extremely tall building.

  The princess stood in the center of the hall, facing the dark-haired girl. She stood, back straight, tall frame rigid like a sentinel on duty. Her hair was pinned up at the back of her head in a twist of elaborate braiding – a muddied blonde, not yet the silvery sheen her stone promised. From under her open coat protruded the hilt of a sword, gleaming gold, matching the buttons. In three years, she’d inherit the largest army on the continent.

  Her coat was that of a soldier’s uniform, made with Tessera’s colors — dark blue fabric with gold accents, overlapping outlines of diamond stitched into the upper arms. She’d rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing the white lining. Little gold diamond-shaped buttons ran all the way down from the high collar to where the fabric ended just below the knees.

  Twin bracelets adorned the princess’ forearms. The silver bands of steel looked more like armor than jewelry, with diamond-shaped plates overlapping from her wrists to her elbows. The Stone of Service glittered dark blue, set in the plate fixed at her left wrist. Her eyes, the blue of ice conquering earth, were intense and cold as they glared at Freedom’s new holder.

  She turned to Ash, her glare fierce enough to make him shiver. “You,” she said. “The . . . the Evgenis heir. What are you doing here?”

  Oh. Did she not — oh, did nobody tell her? That’s — oh. Do I explain?

  Yes, you idiot, explain.

  “I — er, I have the Change Stone,” he tried. He wondered if he was supposed to take his jacket off and show how the gem had attached itself to the back. He decided against it.

  His announcement didn’t seem to help; in fact, it seemed to upset her further. She turned and glanced at the dark-haired girl again, and her face grew red. She took a deep breath, and looked back at Ash. “Very well. I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Princess Chioni Eridani Epsilon, heir to the throne of Tessera.”

  “Ash Evgenis,” he responded. His brain chose that moment to remind him of social norms. He bowed hastily, hoping she hadn’t already dismissed him as disrespectful and rude.

  “Like, burnt stuff?” the dark-haired girl piped.

  Chioni shot her a withering look, and she batted her eyelashes. The purple irises — he’d almost figured it out. It lingered on the edge of his mind, just out of reach.

  The door slid open behind him.

  “So, somebody outside with a very intricate mustache told me to come in here,” said the newcomer, stepping inside.

  If the princess was winter, then he was the embodiment of summer.

  Ash wasn’t sure what exactly gave him that impression – the stranger looked scuffed-up and tired, with dark circles around his eyes and a bit of dirt on his jaw. But there was a wry sort of grin on his face, and a kind of fire blazing in his bottle green eyes that made him look . . . alive. His chestnut brown hair was messed up and ruffled, like he’d woken up and decided meh, good enough. The Courage Stone glittered from where it hovered in front of his chest.

  “And who are you?” Chioni asked, raising her eyebrow.

  “Zeid,” was his reply. “Pnevma.”

  “I don’t recall records of somebody with that name. Are you certain your last name —”

  “It’s my mother’s,” Zeid said, with a look that warned against argument.

  Ash briefly wondered how the princess could have managed to memorize the names of everyone in the kingdom, especially considering he could hardly remember more than five significant historical figures. That probably isn’t logically possible . . . considering how much information the human brain can hold . . .

  If it was, though, and Zeid’s name didn’t match up to the records, that wasn’t highly significant, either. Typically, a child took the name of the parent with the highest rank in the kingdom — but, on occasion, that proved to be unreasonable, and the child could choose which name they took.

  “Okay, so — who are you?” Zeid asked, looking at the princess. “And you. Who are all of you?”

  Chioni stared at him.

  Ash glanced at him. That was mildly surprising. He had thought everyone would have heard about the princess by now, especially because of recent events. “Ash,” he began, when nobody else decided to introduce themselves. “Er, uh — Evgenis.” Statheros, it sounds like I forgot my own last name.

  “Cool,” Zeid responded, smiling at him.

  Chioni took a deep breath. “I am Chioni Eridani Epsilon, daughter of Queen Dynami Epsilon, and heir to the throne of Tessera,” she said, drawing herself up. Her bracelets flashed silver in the sun. “Holder of the Stone of Service, descendant of King Statheros.”

  “Ah,” he commented dryly.

  “Oh, right, introductions,” the dark-haired girl piped. “Hold up, I need to make a proper entrance.” She threw open the windows and promptly jumped out. After a solid minute in which they all stared silently at the window, her hand came up on the frame and she hopped up on the windowsill, backed by sunlight glossing over her black hair. “I’m Asimi.”

  Ash realized with a start what those purple eyes meant.

  Purple eyes had marked a strong magical bloodline for generations — but recently, a member of that bloodline had made the mark something of infamy and fear.

  Aconite, the enchantress who had caused the slow and painful death of Queen Dynami the Indomitable. Seven months later, the kingdom’s best healers were still puzzled over how she’d done it — the stones were supposed to protect their holders from all magical ailments, diseases, and poisons. To have broken through that protection, Aconite must have been truly powerful . . .

  “Careful,” Chioni warned, as Asimi held out her hand. “She’s —”

  Zeid shook her hand, ignoring the princess. “So, what’s the deal with floating gemstones, anyway?” he asked.

  “They’re magical and glittery,” Asimi said, with no further elaboration, as though that was an extremely sufficient explanation.

  “How do you not know?” Chioni demanded. “The stones are legendary.”

  “Sorry, not all of us are rich enough to sit around reading dusty myths,” he said, holding his palms out. “All I knew was that there were four shiny rocks that would kill you instantly if you touched one.”

  She stared at him incredulously, then took a deep breath and refrained from looking at any of them.

  “They were created by the Founders,” Ash tried, after a moment of silence, trying to stop staring at Asimi.

  He hadn’t really predicted this — that Aconite’s daughter would be chosen as one of the guardians of the kingdom. Then again, he hadn’t predicted any of this — oh, Statheros, he hadn’t predicted any of this. He didn’t have a plan. Reasonably, he knew it was impossible for him to plan for everything, to expect everything, but he still felt like he should. That was kind of the one thing he was supposedly good at: making plans. Not that he really knew; most of his plans were games of chess, not real life.

  He realized he’d started talking, and then stopped, and they were now in the middle of an awkward pause. If he stopped staring at Asimi, what would he stare at? Zeid, because he was talking to him? Is that what people did? That didn’t really help his jitters. It might have actually made them worse. Floor. Stare at the floor.

  That’ll make them think you’re incompetent.

  Literally just talk.

  He gave a quick summary of the stones, the knowledge still fresh in his mind after Daskalos’ review. “Each stone chooses a holder –”

  “A holder?” Zeid repeated. “These rocks look into my soul and see if I’m worthy?”

  “Basically.”

  “Okay. So it’s chosen me,” he repeated. “How do I get it to un-choose me?”

  Ash shifted awkwardly. “I . . . don’t think —”

  “This is a great honor,” Chioni interrupted, staring at Zeid incredulously. “To be one of the four protecting our noble kingdom. Why —”

  “You get exempt from all the rules,” Asimi quipped. “Nobody can execute you, no matter how much you annoy them!” She smiled at Chioni.

  Ash watched the princess’ knuckles turn white as she clenched her fists.

  “Well, maybe I have a life,” Zeid said. “Outside of ‘serving the kingdom’ or whatever. Maybe I have a family.”

  Ash was briefly taken aback by the concept of having a family that wasn’t connected to serving the kingdom, then reminded himself that his own experiences weren’t universal.

  “Once chosen, it cannot be undone,” Chioni said icily. “Your family will understand.”

  Zeid rolled his eyes, which seemed like a very bold move considering who he was talking to. “Do I get paid, at least?”

  “Generously,” Chioni answered stiffly.

  “Fine.”

  “You act as though you have a choice in the matter. You do not.”

  “Really. What’s stopping me from running out the door, right now?”

  “You don’t want to find out.”

  “Sounds less like you’ve actually got something planned, and more like you’re bluffing in an effort to intimidate me,” he said, but he took a step back, inching towards the door. He hadn’t met her eyes once during their brief exchange. “The more vague you are, the less I’m going to believe you.”

  “Do you wish to test my fury?” she asked impatiently, as if she were a teacher dealing with a rowdy pupil.

  “. . . I’ll pass.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I can test it,” Asimi offered. “Someone find me a large stick.”

  Ash felt like the longer he was in this room, the more he realized he didn’t understand people, and thus couldn’t accurately predict them, and the more nervous he became. These were the people he’d have to work with — was this going to be the norm? Lots of bickering? Was that the norm for everyone? How was he supposed to deal with it?

  “What kind of stick?” Zeid asked.

  “Like a tree branch,” Asimi answered.

  “There’s trees outside, I’m sure we could get a stick —”

  “Quiet,” Chioni ordered. She sighed, and rubbed her temples.

  Ash felt a twinge of pity. It had only been seven months since the tragedy with her mother, and now this . . . She must be overwhelmed. I’m overwhelmed, in my position — I can’t imagine what it must be like in hers. “Uh — tradition,” he offered. Change the topic. Move to something less hostile. “Traditionally — the Presentation Ball. Is it still in a few weeks?”

  “Yes. Yes it is,” she said, taking a deep breath. “At the end of the month. Ego 26th, 294 P.F. You all have until then to get situated before training begins.”

  “Which will include —”

  The door opened.

  The princess inhaled sharply, and turned.

  Advisor Antinous was standing in the doorway. “Princess Chioni, I believe you are scheduled to meet with Lady Clarity today,” he said. “You’re running thirty seconds late already.”

  “I — I was not alerted,” she responded, blue eyes wide. “Is she there already?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She took another deep breath. “Evgenis — take them to the evaluation room. Down the hallway, to the right, down another hallway, third door to the left.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  She paused, before taking a small, deliberate step. Her lips tightened in a grimace, before she followed her mustached advisor out the room.

  Ash noticed the faint crack in the tiles where she’d stepped, but thought it best not to bring it up.