"And those over there are the Magnolia Apartments, home to third-rank officials," the handsome young servant said, indicating a building that looked almost identical to Kestrel's quarters.

Truthfully, Kestrel would rather be in his room sleeping off the wine like Lady Dulmer was doing. But the sun was high in the sky, and he figured he ought to get familiar with his new home. So he’d asked the servant, whose name was Josten, to show him around. Not that the tour was proving very informative; he didn’t care about where officials lived or the history behind this statue or the other.

So while Josten lectured, Kestrel watched the people wandering about. Servants carried laundry baskets or tended gardens, while courtiers ambled in chattering groups and bonded pairs strolled arm-in-arm. While dressed plainer than they’d been at the banquet, their clothing was still far more sumptuous than Kestrel’s Mount Jaeg duty uniform.

Too bad. He didn't have anything else, and his dress uniform was hanging up to dry. At least in his regular clothes, he didn't have to wear the Shanneray sash.

Tomorrow he would attend his first session of the Circle of Magi. He would walk through the doors and enter the chamber and speak as if he understood the situation at court, the concerns of the Mountainlands.

I can't do this, he thought wildly. I wasn't trained for this—I don't know a damned thing—

And while Carnelio Azed had put on a show of the royal family's strength, Kestrel doubted it would scare away his mother’s murderer. If one even existed.

Damn it, he was running in circles. Again. As if to outpace his thoughts, he walked faster until he caught up with Josten.

Josten cocked an eyebrow, looking upon Kestrel with a sadly familiar subtle scorn. Kestrel supposed he could tell the servant off, but he didn’t want to sink so low, especially since Josten had yet to outright disrespect him.

Besides, if I were in his position I’d disdain of me too, Kestrel thought, trying not to sigh.

“Look over there, my lord,” Josten said, calm as ever. “That is the Consort’s Court.”

He pointed to a high wall of coral stone running to their left, half-concealed behind a grove of olive trees. "The Consort's Court?" Kestrel asked.

This time, Josten raised his other eyebrow. “It’s where the unbound ministra reside, my lord. They are presided over by the Consort, His Highness Eleazar Hazan.”

The unbound ministra had an entire court to themselves? That seemed rather extreme. Mount Jaeg and Mount Hiar might have been strictly segregated, but that was because the cadets needed to focus on their studies. Unbound energi and ministra could mingle as much as they liked in Shanneray Castle, though in practice it didn’t happen much.

"Is the Consort there right now?" Kestrel asked.

“Certainly, my lord,” Josten said. “As far as I know, he never leaves the Court.”

So he and the Queen never saw each other? Again Kestrel wondered where the Queen was, why he hadn't seen her yet.

But he didn’t want to be reduced to asking a servant who already thought him an imbecile. He’d figure it out on his own.

“Next, my lord, we’ll visit Etherio Library,” Josten said as they walked. “It’s said to be the oldest institution of its kind in Senero, founded by—”

"The First Consort Etherio himself," Kestrel said without thinking, "above the caves where he stored his secret magical texts during the War of the Founding.”

Josten blinked, then tilted his head. “That’s correct, my lord.”

As if he’d been asking a test question. Some tiny immature part of Kestrel felt pleased to finally pull one over the snotty servant, though he might have overplayed it. Then again, reading was one of the few things he enjoyed unreservedly, even if it earned him a lot of jibing for being too studious. Better than jibing that he was too much like a ministra, though.

When Etherio Library came into view, his heart leapt into his throat. Its soaring domes and spindly towers cut a sharp silhouette against the horizon, and the stained glass windows sparkled like jewels in the sunlight. Most amazingly, the wall of the Consort's Court sliced the entire structure in half. Judging by the towers visible across the other side, it must continue inside the Court.

Josten noticed his staring and said, "Only ministra are allowed on the Court's side of the library. Unfortunately, that's also where the First Consort's collection is kept."

Made sense—Etherio had been a ministra, so his secrets were meant only for ministra eyes. Kestrel still felt a little pang of disappointment.

Kestrel and Josten joined the others streaming through the library's doors and emerged in a circular atrium floored in black and white marble. Shelves three times Kestrel's height lined the walls, and above them loomed at least seven floors—Kestrel counted. Crowning them all was a massive skylight carved in the shape of a rose, aglow with brilliant sunlight.

And people were everywhere—lounging the chairs and couches, bent at the reading tables, or seated at the eight long tables forming an octagon in the atrium’s center.

Something at the far end of the octagon caught Kestrel’s eye. White hair, white robes with a splash of scarlet. Without thinking, Kestrel began to approach the tables.

“Excuse me, my lord.” Josten bobbed up by his side. “Where are you going?”

Kestrel carelessly waved the servant aside. Oh, he knew he shouldn’t do this—how he knew—but he couldn’t stop. He hadn't expected to see the prince's ministra without his bonded, and in a library at that. It seemed altogether too mundane for someone so ethereal.

Aramy didn't look up from his book until Kestrel stood less than a yard before his seat. "I'm reading, so don't...Lord Knight?"

"Uh." Kestrel swallowed, hot in the face but freezing inside. "Lord Basquiale."

Aramy blinked twice, his long eyelashes fluttering, then a smile spread across his face. "What a surprise to see you here. Is this your first time in Etherio Library?"

"Y-yeah." For lack of anything else to do, Kestrel fiddled with the hem of his jacket. "It's...uh, big."

Aramy laughed, bright and clear as a crystal bell. "Is that so?"

"Well," Kestrel said, becoming defensive, "I’ve never seen a library so big. Where I’m from, they’re just rooms inside castles.”

"Of course. I understand," Aramy said. "When I first came here, I was afraid to leave my bedroom. I thought the city would crush me alive, the waterfall would drown me while I slept."

“Really?” Kestrel couldn’t imagine an Aramy who was any less than poised and confident, but he must have once been as new to this as Kestrel was now. As the ministra son of a minor family, there was little chance he had grown up at court.

"As much as I'd like to think I sprang fully-formed from the earth, I'm afraid I had to start from nothing, too," Aramy said.

His voice was lighthearted, putting Kestrel at ease. Just like in the throne room, it was like he actually wanted to talk with Kestrel, rather than condescend or judge him.

Today he looked more approachable, too. His makeup was simple, just a touch of red around his eyes, and his only hair decoration was a silver pin dangling a cluster of tiny glass plum blossoms. Plum blossoms were also embroidered on his robes, making Kestrel wonder if it was Basquiale House’s emblem.

Then Aramy slammed his book shut and stood up. “Come, Lord Knight. Why don’t I show you around?”

Kestrel glanced at Josten, who wasn’t bothering to hide his disapproving expression.

Aramy arched an eyebrow—which must be painted on, now that Kestrel thought about it, for it was smooth and dark as a calligraphy stroke. "Do you need your servant's permission?"

Maybe not, but Kestrel still thought it was kind of improper to walk with a bound ministra. Aramy seemed to have no such compunctions, for he took Kestrel's arm and linked their elbows together.

Kestrel's heartbeat raced. This close, he could feel the soft warmth of the ministra's hand even through his sleeve. But he still couldn't sense the one thing he should have. Aramy’s scent.