To the soldiers, the prince says, “Pick yourselves up and get back to the Valley. I’ll deal with you later.”

They rush to obey, pausing only long enough to unpin Eyebrow Tattoos from the ground. He screams pitifully.

When they’ve gone, Prince Meilek glances at the top of Saengo’s bowed head and then to her braid lying nearby. Finally, his brown eyes settle their full attention on me. I quickly lower my gaze again. It would be inappropriate to meet the eyes of a royal.

“Stand,” he commands.

Tensing against the pain, I slowly rise. I keep the stolen sword lowered at my side. His Blades’ arrows are still trained on me.

With him on the back of his pearl-scaled dragule, I’m eye level with his hip. Two sashes are cinched around his waist in an elaborate Evewynian knot denoting his rank.

Prince Meilek says nothing. I don’t know this version of him, the captain rather than the prince. Although he’s only two years my senior, as overseer of the Prince’s Company, he was a common presence during my years there. I can still recall the light pressure of his hand guiding mine through a difficult sword form, or his encouraging nod before an exam.

Besides Saengo, he is also the only other person who knows I am one of Kendara’s pupils. After I graduated from the Prince’s Company, our paths crossed primarily outside Kendara’s door. Still, in all the brief moments in all the years that I have known him, I’ve never stood before the captain of the Queen’s Guard. I have little idea what to expect.

“An officit reported two missing wyverns yesterday,” he says at last.

I don’t respond to this. We can’t exactly deny that we abandoned our positions with the supply delivery, but neither will I blithely confess guilt. I rub my tongue against the cut on the inside of my cheek, tasting blood again.

“In addition,” Prince Meilek continues, “a falcon arrived late last night with troubling news. A teahouse burned down, reportedly due to an attack by shamans.”

To have reached us so quickly, he must have ridden out from the Valley of Cranes. He was meant to be there when our party arrived with the supplies.

Nearby, Saengo stares down at her feet. Her nostrils flare with each inhalation. She’s wary of him as well, but beneath the wariness is concern.