"Does your father know you're shirking your duties?" Minister Fannar didn't look up from the stack of documents on his desk. He selected one, read through it, then signed it and set it aside. Starting a new pile by his right hand. He repeated this process a few more times before breaking the routine to clean his lenses on his sleeve.

"I… The emperor has changed my assignment," Lucio said, face reddening. He fidgeted with the pommel of the sword on his hip as he waited for a response. But the minister had returned to his work. "Will you let us see the case file, or no?"

Fannar continued as if Lucio hadn't spoken at all. "He must be disappointed in you. All those nasty rumors, the demotion. To be quite frank, I would have disowned you, if you were my son."

Demotion? But Dunban didn't have time to think much about it. In the chair beside him, Lucio tensed, fingers wrapping around his sword's hilt. He grabbed Lucio's wrist. The guard flinched as if he'd been abruptly woken up from a dream. Then released his hold on his weapon and settled back. Dunban let his own hand fall into his lap. Crisis averted. Not that he'd thought Lucio would actually harm the man. But he wouldn't have put money on it either.

The minister sneered, Lucio's reaction not escaping his notice. He pressed his lips into a thin line, a vow of silence. Dunban glanced between the two High Entia men. Lucio was still seething, still a threat. Where had all this animosity come from? He didn't know what the rumors were – the ones everyone else seemed to know about – but they couldn't be that terrible. Right?

"I apologize for the intrusion," Dunban said, cautious. A wrong word, an unwelcome gesture, could make the minister shut down. Deny them access to the information they desperately needed. "You're very busy, of course, but we only need a few minutes of your time. Please."

Fannar made a show of removing his reading glasses and setting them down on the table. He leaned forward, steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "Finally, some respect." His sharp eyes darted toward Lucio. It was only for a moment. Then his gaze shifted back to Dunban. "Very well. How may I be of service, Your Highness?"

The title set him on edge and he gritted his teeth against the urge to correct it. He wasn't a consort yet… But what difference did a day make?

"We'd like to see the evidence against Yumea."

"Certainly." Fannar drew out the vowels for an extra second as he situated his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He leafed through the stack of documents. A smirk stretched across his lips as he pulled the relevant case file and laid it on the desk. But, as Dunban reached for it, he slid it out of reach. Then, he nodded to Lucio. "I want him out of my office first."

"What?" Lucio leapt out of his seat, slamming his fists on the tabletop.

"Do as he says."

The guard scoffed, but did as he was told. He let the door bang shut behind him. Minister Fannar cracked a genuine smile. Or, one that seemed genuine. Then he handed the file to Dunban and lounged in his chair like it was a throne.

Dunban skimmed through the neat writing. There wasn't much to read, just a few pages. One of them was a rough sketch of the mask the assassin had worn. The others contained witness statements and notes about Yumea's behavior during and after her arrest.

"This isn't much to go on," he said at last, dropping the documents back onto the desk. "In the colonies, they wouldn't be able to detain someone on this alone."

"Our laws are different," the minister replied. He made a noncommittal gesture with his hands. As if the power to change those laws was beyond him. Sometime during the last minute, while Dunban was reading, he'd taken off his reading glasses again. The round frames sat on the growing stack of finished paperwork, reflecting the low light of the ether lamps. Unobscured by the lenses, his irises were like jagged ice crystals. "Is that all you required, Your Highness?"

"Yes. Thank you." He stood, but only managed a single step toward the door before Fannar's voice called for him again.

"May I offer you a piece of advice?" The minister didn't wait for a verbal response. "In the coming days, your public image will be of the utmost importance. Do not soil it by associating with the likes of him. He isn't to be trusted."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, ignoring the prickling sensation along the back of his neck.

He stepped out of the office and shut the door behind him. Lucio leaned against the wall nearby, head back, eyes closed. When he noticed Dunban's presence, he straightened. He shadowed the Homs out of the Ministry of Investigation without a word. Though he was noticeably on edge, eyeing everyone they passed with suspicion, muscles tensed in a wordless warning.

As they reached the relative solitude of a deserted side street, Lucio let his curiosity spill over. "What did the file say? Can we get the charges dropped?" He hesitated, stared through a store window at a display of fancy stationery and inkwells. His voice wavered when he continued. "Did he… Did he tell you about me?"

"What is there to tell me?" The question came out harsher than he'd intended. But truthfully, the minister's accusation stuck with him. Maybe he was wrong to align himself with Lucio. He liked to think of himself as a good judge of character. And the thought of having made a mistake irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

The shop window reflected Lucio's pale face. As wan as if the words had severed an artery, leaving him to bleed out. He whirled around, eyes darted from one end of the road to the other.

Dunban persisted, unable to drop the hostility in his tone. "What did you do?"

"…I can't say." Lucio paused, absently picking at the feathers of his headwings. When he realized what he was doing, he dropped his hands back to his sides. All evidence of his nerves evaporated – aside from his pallor – and he finally met Dunban's gaze. "The safety of the royal family is my top priority. That includes you now. My life is yours, should you ever need it. No hesitation."

In the distance, a bell chimed the hour. As the last peal died out, ice seized his veins. The rehearsal dinner. His fight against the marriage had taken precedence and the unfortunate obligation slipped his mind.

"We're late," he said, eyes shifting to the murky silhouette of the palace that rose above all surrounding buildings.

Dunban didn't reply immediately. His eyebrows knit together as he observed Lucio. Searching for any sign that he'd been lied to. But the High Entia's face was a blank mask. "I suppose we should be going then." He turned to make his way back to the main road.

"So, you trust me?"

"Not exactly." He glanced over his shoulder and found that Lucio hadn't moved from the storefront's window. "Although, I fail to see the point of rejecting the crown princess if you have ill intentions."

He assumed that anyone who wished to harm the royal family would want to be as close to them as possible. And what better way to accomplish that than by becoming the future empress's consort? What did Lucio have to gain by remaining a guard? The freedom to marry his lover, of course. If that wasn't just an excuse. But what else?

The slightest smile broke through Lucio's neutral façade. "A fair assessment. I can live with that." Then, he followed after Dunban.

Servants bustled about the Great Hall, arranging tables and chairs for the rehearsal dinner. There were limited decorations so far – just strings of multi-colored ether lamps threaded between the columns like a spiderweb overhead. The rest of Yumea's decorations were still being acquired. Frantically. Several gardeners had been sent out of the capital in search of the requested flowers. They hadn't grown enough on their own land and the First Consort wasn't a woman to be disappointed.

Melia had arrived early, citing her wish to supervise the preparations as her reason. But, in truth, she needed the time away from her family to process the new development. Mere hours ago, the emperor had informed her that he'd added another man to the ceremony. The thought made her nauseous. Just like that, her previous worries had doubled.

Lucio… She knew almost nothing about him. He was a pureblooded High Entia, son of Minister Caul, and one of her father's personal guards. The last time she'd seen him had been the night her engagement had been announced. She barely remembered it now, but he'd been angry at something.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," Galdo said, voice strained, as he carried in an altar from the cathedral. It was an antique piece, more for show than practical use. Veins of rich wood cut through the silvery metal base. He set it down with a thud then turned away from her, trying to conceal his trembling arms, his shaky breath.

"That must've been heavy." For a moment, her concern let her forget her own troubles. "Did you not ask for help?"

The guard faced her, puffed out his chest. "Didn't need it."

Then he deflated, letting go of the hyper-masculine illusion. He'd always been the smallest of the palace guards, not much taller than Melia. With a pang of guilt, she recalled how Catlaina had criticized him. And plenty of the other guards held the same belief. But he more than made up for his physical disadvantage with a work ethic that rivaled even the emperor's.

"Of course not," she agreed. "The altar is here, after all. And you happen to be unscathed as well."

Galdo laughed, a blush taking over his soft features. He swept a stray lock of hair out of his face, but, in spite of his efforts, it wouldn't stay. Melia shielded her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her giggle. But the guard didn't seem to mind. He was still glowing from her praise.

After a moment of silence, Galdo excused himself, returned to his work. She wasn't sure whether she was relieved or unnerved. As much as she enjoyed being alone, her thoughts made for poor company. Her gaze shifted to the grand doors at the opposite end of the Great Hall where the rehearsal guests filtered into the palace. The officiant was first to arrive, followed by the ministers. Her father and Yumea strode in from one of the side corridors, bringing with them a tension like electricity.

Even from a distance, her stepmother's fury was obvious, her body drawn in tight lines and eyes ablaze. Melia averted her gaze, throat dry. By then, the officiant had reached the altar. He was an elder High Entia, balding and worn. Yet there was a vivacity to him – a weightlessness in each step – as if his soul was younger than his body. He greeted her with blessings, clasping her hands in his. She tried her best to muster a smile, but he'd already turned away. Of course, he was busy. Just like everyone else around her. That didn't prevent the strike of loneliness.

She tapped her foot against the floor a few times before she caught herself and forced her body to be still. The anxiety was making her careless. What would Yumea say if she noticed the fidgeting? Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought of the First Consort. The woman who'd raised her after her mother's passing. The woman she aspired to emulate. But, at the same time, this woman wanted her dead.

A shiver tore through her. She rubbed at her upper arms until the goosebumps faded. Any onlooker would think nothing of it. The Great Hall was infamously difficult to heat due to its size. Surely, the princess was just cold. They wouldn't see the fear, the uncertainty. She couldn't let them see.

Melia frowned as she noticed Minister Caul marching toward her, but she smothered the expression before he got too close. He stopped several feet away – just close enough to be heard – and bowed deeply. When he straightened, he fixed her with an uncharacteristic smile. One of warmth rather than bitterness. He had been a soldier, once upon a time, and she supposed that had changed him, left him hardened, afraid. In the same way combat had corrupted her. She mirrored his cheer, though there was no joy in it, her mood further soured by thoughts of the men she'd lost.

"Princess, I wished to express my gratitude," Caul said, voice stiff as his spine, formal. "Not many women would be willing to marry my son due to the rumors that have been circulating as of late. Your kindness is humbling."

"Rumors?" She kept her tone even, resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at him. Her lips frozen in a cordial smile as she awaited his reply.

He simply nodded, making it clear that he had no intention of going into detail. Neither spoke for too long and the air between them stagnated. The princess shifted a fraction of an inch beneath the weight of his studious gaze. It was not the potential judgement that teased her nerves with uncomfortable jitters. Instead, she found herself wondering at the implications of what was left unsaid. Should she have been concerned that she did not know about the social goings-on in her city? Did her ignorance negatively impact her ability to rule these people? Perhaps. But her ancestor in the Tomb had said...

She shook her head slightly, clearing away the memories that threatened to rush forward. Now was not the time to reflect on what had happened in the sacred place. Turning her full attention back to the Minister of Defense, she cleared her throat. "Yes, well... If you are not inclined to speak, I will not force you."

"Thank you, Your Highness." A pause. "I am aware that this situation is unpleasant for you. Yet you face your duty dauntlessly."

"My people come first," she said, shoulder muscles tightening. "I will do what I must."

Caul beamed, complimenting her on her sagacity, her selflessness. She remained stony faced before his flattery. All the traits he tried to ascribe to her… None of it was real. At best, he wished to charm her for political gain. She didn't want to imagine the worst.

He was still speaking but she couldn't hear him. Her own thoughts drowned him out, flooding her mind until nothing else remained. Tomorrow was her wedding day. The sentiment played on repeat, louder each time. No escape. In mere hours, she would lose the last piece of her life that belonged to her. She leaned into the altar for support, pretending to inspect the intricate wooden patterning. A heat rose in her chest, burned away her lungs. The effort it took to draw breath from them wasn't worth the pain.

If she was alone, she might've fallen to her knees, let go of the tears she'd been choking back for so long. But, with the minister refusing to end his monologue, she had to remain poised. Act like everything was perfect. She wasn't marrying two men at once. She wasn't clinging to the last thread of her humanity, praying one of them wouldn't snatch it from her grasp.

"Leave Her Highness alone, Father. You're boring her."

The voice dragged Melia out of her thoughts and she refocused her eyes just in time to see Lucio approach. He projected an easy confidence when he spoke. As if this were some casual meeting, rather than a sentencing. Although, his eyes couldn't stay still. They shifted between the princess, the minister, the nearby stairs.

Caul stiffened, the words of his story dying on his tongue. He rounded on his son. "You embarrass only yourself by speaking out of turn."

Lucio's cheeks colored but he didn't respond. Instead, he focused on Melia, bowed to her as he always did. The mundane gesture set her on edge. Why now? Didn't he know what was coming? As he righted himself, his mouth curled in a scowl. It vanished in an instant and she couldn't be certain it had ever existed. Perhaps her stressed mind had conjured it from nothing.

"Please forgive my father," he said, angling himself towards her. Putting his back to Caul. "His wits aren't as sharp as they once were. I think it might be time to retire, if I'm honest."

He snickered at his own joke. The minister sputtered then whirled around, storming off toward the table Yumea and Sorean had chosen. Lucio paled when he noticed where his father had gone. But he didn't acknowledge his unease. Melia felt it anyway, how it seeped into the air around them. Potent enough that she almost thought she could harness its power if she only concentrated.

"That wasn't necessary," she said.

"Maybe not. But it felt good to say." His voice had an edge to it, as though he was straining too hard to keep it light. The smile he wore was flimsy. It faded to nothing as he changed the subject. "I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Your Highness."

She should've corrected him. If they were to be married, he would have to get used to calling her by her name. Not her title. But she remained silent. Something in her wanted to wait, to pretend a while longer.

Lucio almost perfectly embodied the High Entia beauty standard. Tall with long, full headwings and prominent cheekbones. Even the crooked nose did little to mar his good looks. And yet, she felt nothing for him. No fluttering of attraction in her stomach, no vague curiosity to suppress. What was wrong with her? It wasn't the rumors surrounding him that dimmed her interest; she'd never heard them. Surely, if the gossip didn't exist, Minister Caul's concerns would be unfounded. Plenty of women would scramble for the chance to court Lucio. So why was she different?

"Princess?"

Melia flinched in spite of herself. "Yes?"

"I… said that I look forward to our partnership," he said, glancing toward the stairs once again. Then his attention snapped back to her. "Y-you look thirsty. I'll fetch you some water."

Before she could decline, he slipped between a pair of passing servants and vanished. She frowned. The odd hesitation followed by an abrupt departure. She couldn't help but wonder if she'd done something to offend him. Her loss of focus, perhaps.

Or maybe he'd been lying. Their marriage appealed to him as much as it appealed to her and he was only trying to be nice. But she had little energy to waste on determining his motives, the meanings behind his words. There were better things to worry about. The wedding, the wedding night. A deep chill settled in her bones and she embraced herself to control the shivers. Her father expected her to give her virginity to Dunban right away. And now with Lucio… She couldn't help the nagging apprehension, the fear that she'd be forced to consummate both marriages at once.

A wave of wrongness washed over her. Not unlike being run through with a spear, before the pain registered. At least, that's what Hogard had told her when she'd asked about the matching scars on the front and back of his shoulder. Such an injury would be preferrable to what she was about to be put through. Her eyes prickled, jaw trembling.

She'd only just managed to regain control over her expression when Lucio returned with her water. Dunban was with him this time, though he didn't greet her. Frowning, she wondered if there was a purpose behind the silence. He seemed… distracted. She supposed she could let the petty slight slide this time.

"Thank you," she said as she accepted the cold glass.

The water was a blessing, easing the pressure in her throat. She gulped it down, if only to delay the inevitable conversation. Fake pleasantries delivered in lighthearted tones. Avoiding the actual issues in favor of hollow words and thinly veiled bitterness.

But, before Lucio could even acknowledge her gratitude, Minister Asdis's voice rose from the other end of the Great Hall.

"Alright, everyone, let's begin!" Asdis strode down the center aisle, directing the guests to their proper positions, reminding them of etiquette. When she joined the officiant at the altar, she paused. Her eyes scanned the scene before her, took note of every detail. "Galdo, dear, you're a bit close. Would you move up the stairs just a… One more step… Yes, perfect!"

Then she turned her attention to Melia and her consorts. The princess's heart lurched.

An hour passed like a slug dragging itself across desert sands. Minister Asdis managed the rehearsal with the aim of perfection. If Melia held her prayer candle a fraction of an inch too low, the minister would demand they start over. When Lucio fumbled the vows, he was made to say them again and again until he could recite the words, beginning to end, without a mistake. Of course, Lucio's part had taken the longest to get through. They had tradition to amend and each change was an opportunity for him to make a mess of things. It might've been comical, if not for the time it wasted.

Melia was certain he was sabotaging the rehearsal. No one could be this incompetent… She passed her candle to the officiant with a sigh. At least it was over now. Only the dinner remained and, with the pangs of hunger ringing through her, she was almost eager for it.

She sunk into the seat beside her father, at his right hand. Yumea sat stiffly in the seat to his left, her eyes trained on a point over Melia's shoulder. Three chairs remained around their circular table. The ones for Dunban and Lucio – who were engaged in conversations with Asdis and Caul, respectively. And the other…

"Where is Kallian?"

Yumea's gaze snapped to the emperor, lips pursed. The tension in her muscles seemed to wind tighter, but she didn't make a sound.

"He sends his apologies," Sorean said, swirling the wine in his glass with a calculated carelessness. "There were… conflicts in his schedule."

Melia frowned but she knew better than to protest. The last thing she wanted was more drama. This event had been unpleasant enough. Yumea had no such reservations.

"Conflicts?" Venom coated the word. She took a slow sip of her wine, maintaining eye contact with the emperor. Then she set the glass down with a sharp clink. "As I recall, you were the one to clear said schedule. You took everything from him."

"He is well within his rights to commit to new obligations."

Before the argument could bloom, Dunban joined them, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He settled into the open seat beside Melia. It only took a moment for him to read the situation. His expression grew grave and he waited to be addressed before speaking.

"I trust your conversation with the minister was fruitful?" Sorean asked.

"Uh, yes." His solemnity slipped away in favor of a bashful grin. "She is very… complimentary."

The emperor laughed, a low, rumbling sound. He stopped as soon as he caught sight of the servants bringing out platters of food. Melia inhaled the scent of roasted meat, savory and sweet vegetables. Her stomach grumbled. Thankfully, the din of chatter drowned out the noise. Even the thought of potential embarrassment was enough to make her ears burn. She smiled to the woman serving her, though she didn't notice. Or pretended not to…

When all the others at her table had full plates, she picked up her fork and began to eat in silence. Her father hadn't waited at all. Yumea spun her knife around her fingers, ignoring the steaming food in front of her. Dunban looked on, chewed thoughtfully.

"Interesting trick, Your Highness," he said after he'd swallowed.

Yumea froze for a half second then set the knife back on the table. "I suppose so. My father taught me." She folded her hands in her lap, sitting up a little taller.

"May he rest in peace," Sorean added, somber. His left hand disappeared under the table and the First Consort flinched. He resumed eating, then seemed to realize he'd soured the mood. "In any case, let us talk of happier things. I've heard you bested my son in a duel. An impressive feat." The last part was directed at Dunban.

Melia stared down at her plate, her appetite now gone. Happier things… She didn't want to remember that day. Kallian's anger had terrified her, so much so that she'd been thankful for the wedding preparations. It was something to occupy her, let her avoid him. She wanted to be disappointed that he'd skipped the dinner. But she couldn't deny the relief she felt.

"It was a friendly match," Dunban said with a shrug. "He did well to keep up in spite of his health. But I'm the one who should be impressed, Your Majesty. You've raised both of your children to be capable warriors."

The praise made Melia's pulse quicken. He thought she was capable? She hid her reaction by taking a long drink of water. And her father, too, was pleased. He smiled wider than she'd ever seen him smile before. Even Yumea nodded her agreement.

The conversation continued, but Melia lost track of it. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the altar. Lucio was still there with his father. From such a distance, she couldn't discern much detail. His back was to her, his hands curled into fists at his side. Then, Caul swept past him, bumping his shoulder as he went. Lucio staggered from the force of it. The elder joined a table with Ministers Asdis and Lorithia, gesturing aggressively for a servant.

Lucio slinked toward the emperor's table like a hound seeking scraps after a beating. When he reached them, he hesitated, eyes darting to Yumea, his hand gripping the back of his chair hard enough to strain his knuckles. The First Consort met his gaze and downed the rest of her wine in one gulp. By then, Sorean had noticed his presence, stopped mid-sentence.

"Forgive the interruption, Your Majesty," he said as he dropped into the seat beside Dunban. His voice was weary.

As soon as he was still, a servant materialized at his side with a plate of food and a bottle of wine. She placed the food in front of him then moved on to Yumea, refilling her glass.

"How is your father?" Sorean asked.

"In good health." He didn't elaborate, didn't meet the emperor's eyes. And, though he was surely hungry, he didn't touch his food.

The emperor turned his attention back to Dunban, resuming their previous conversation about Kallian's training. He tried to include Lucio, but his efforts only drew out the most basic answers. And any time the former guard spoke, Yumea rolled her eyes, drank more wine. Until, after only a few minutes, there was no more wine in her cup. Her second of the night at least. She might've had more during the rehearsal. Melia hadn't been watching her stepmother then, but she certainly was now.

"Mother…" she said, voice low. A warning.

"He's not good enough for you," Yumea snapped. A little too loud.

The nearest table turned to gawk and Lucio nearly jumped out of his chair. Sorean didn't react. A heavy silence fell over the guests, a storm cloud that took several minutes to dissipate. Although there was no doubt about who she meant, Dunban wilted slightly. He shrank back in his seat, as if he could disappear. The atmosphere never recovered, never regained the celebratory air.

Yumea was oblivious to the discomfort. Or, perhaps she simply didn't care. She sneered at Lucio, trembling finger pointed like a rifle to his chest. "He's a traitor to the crown. If I'd had any say in the matter, he'd be living out the rest of his miserable—"

Lucio stood, chair clattering to the floor. His entire body shook, his face pale as death. Without a word, he snatched Yumea's empty glass off the table. And pitched it against the wall. The shards exploded out in all directions. Fortunately, the wall was far enough away that most of the glass didn't reach their table.

No one moved, all the oxygen had been sucked out of the vast chamber. Then the spell was broken. Lucio whirled around, dodging the guards' attempts to apprehend him, and fled into the city. Yumea broke down in soundless sobs, Sorean rushing to comfort her. He drew his wife into his arms, stroked her hair.

"You must rest, my love," he murmured. "Let me help you."

Flocked by guards, they retreated to the Imperial Villa, leaving Dunban and Melia alone at the table. Many of the guests followed suit, either to join the hunt for Lucio or to return to their homes.

"Are you alright?" Dunban asked.

Melia checked herself over quickly. Upon finding no wounds, she nodded. "Yes, just startled." A feeble laugh passed through her lips. "How are you?"

"I feel foolish," he said, bracing his elbows against the table and resting his head in his hands. "Minister Fannar warned me about trusting him. I should've listened…"

She reached out to touch his shoulder then, at the last minute, withdrew. If her mind had the time to think about it, it would always stop her from expressing physical affection. Holding back a frustrated sigh, she scooted her chair closer to his. It was the best she could do for now.

"Minister Fannar exaggerates his knowledge of palace affairs." She didn't know if that was the right thing to say. But maybe, if her voice was gentle enough, it would seem like the perfect consolation. When Dunban didn't respond, she tried again. Firmer than before, hoping to appeal to his logical side. "If Lucio meant to hurt us, he would've used his dinner knife. But he chose my stepmother's cup."

Dunban raised his head. "He had to step around the table to reach her. It was deliberate."

"Exactly. And when he threw it…" She glanced over toward the wall the glass had shattered against. "It landed so far away that it did nothing but cause a scene."

"You think he was trying to send a message?"

"Perhaps."

She bit down on the inside of her lower lip, considering. Remembering Yumea's accusation. That Lucio was guilty of treason. She recreated the moment in her mind – all the faces around her. Lucio's fear, Yumea's smugness. And Sorean… Why didn't he look surprised?

"I think," she said at last, "that whatever Lucio's done, my father knew about it. And still selected him as my consort. So, that shouldn't factor into our judgement of him."

"It just brings up more questions," Dunban said, heaving a sigh. His eyes scanned over her face and, after a moment, he frowned. "You should be careful. Regardless of his intentions, he's unpredictable, dangerous."

"A capable warrior like me will be just fine." She kept her tone even, her expression blank. Unreadable. But she was confident that he would understand. He usually did. Even when all others mistook her for humorless.

The resulting smile lived only a few seconds. Then it was gone, replaced by a stern look. But it had existed, however briefly, and that eased the tension within her.

"This is serious, Melia. I—" He stopped himself, reevaluating. But his conviction outweighed his doubts. A soft sigh. Resignation. "I know it isn't my place, but… don't marry him." He shook his head, dropped his gaze to the floor between them. The faint blush returned to his cheeks.

"What other choice do I have?"

He straightened and pushed his hair out of his face. "Lucio seemed to think that if Yumea was proven innocent, there would no longer be a need for a second wedding. Supposedly, the emperor was desperate to preserve tradition and this was his solution."

Melia's fingers traced over her neck until they found the thin ridge of scarring. By then, the cut had healed enough to forgo bandages. It still stung when she touched it. And the memories replayed in her mind, as vivid as if she were experiencing them all over again. The masked woman hovering above her, dagger pressed into her throat. Warmth flooded her chest. Her heartrate spiked and she checked her fingers. No blood. She dropped her hand onto the table.

"Minister Fannar wouldn't have arrested her without reason," she said, unable to shake the unease in her stomach. She reached for her water glass, almost knocked it over. "We don't know what evidence they have."

"I paid the minister a visit before the rehearsal." He spoke easily, as if he hadn't noticed her panic. "They don't have anything, even after searching her rooms. The only evidence that hints at her involvement is an eyewitness testimony. Kallian's." He hesitated. "He claims he saw her in conversation with the masked woman. A few days before the Trial. It isn't exactly damning."

"You suspect my brother was lying?" Her grip on the cup tightened. She had yet to drink from it and now, her thirst was forgotten.

"That isn't what I meant," he said, voice conciliatory. "But… in his condition, it's possible he was mistaken."

As much as she hated to admit it, Dunban was right. Even if he didn't know the extent of Kallian's illness. There were innumerable explanations for what the prince had seen and, with nothing else to connect Yumea to the crime, it seemed unlikely that she'd done anything wrong. And if she had, maybe it didn't matter. As long as Melia could avoid marrying two consorts at once…

"Alright," she said with a decisive nod. Projecting all the confidence she had. She'd made her choice and she'd manage any complications that arose. No turning back. "What must I do?"