Uncle Sunil was still fuming, and a little red, by the time their soup arrived.

"And then he waltzes in, happy as you please, with a backside covered in mud!" he spat, hand gripping his spoon to the point of near bending the metal.

"I'd thought with that tree gone that'd be the end of you sneaking out," Father commented dryly, but there was a twinkle in his eye like he found the whole thing very amusing. Especially the way Uncle Sunil was turning a not-so-subtle shade of fuchsia. At least he wasn't vermillion again, Cricket counted that as a win.

Cricket shrugged. "I've gotten taller since the last time I tried to climb the wall without the tree."

"So you have."

"That is not the point!" Uncle Sunil hissed, brandishing a shaking finger at Cricket like a weapon. "And you damn well know it's not Jaxith."

"No, I suppose it's not." Father sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Cricket, you're not supposed to skip lessons. You know better."

"I do," Cricket agreed. "But I had Iggy quiz me on the material before we went out, and I answered all of her questions spot on. I didn't see the harm."

"Didn't see the...he didn't see the harm, Jaxith." Uncle Sunil repeated, his voice quivering on the edge of a shout. Except he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't shout in front of Father. He wouldn't shout in front of the servants. He was too dignified for all that.

"We could have Fumiya set up a test for him, to prove he's learned this month's material," Marwa suggested, ever the voice of reason. Cricket was struck again that he was lucky to have her on his side. She wasn't a mother, no. He'd never had one of those. But she was as good as one.

"And if he fails?" Uncle Sunil's dark eyes had fixed on Cricket, and Cricket wanted nothing more than to melt into his chair and never be heard from again. He hated when Uncle looked at him like that. Like he was nothing but a trial. Maybe he was, to Uncle, but no one else seemed to think so. Sure, he got into trouble, but he never did any irreparable harm.

"I won't." Cricket lifted his chin, meeting Uncle's eyes as best he could. Which was rather hard when Uncle was doing his best to look down on him.

"We can decide what to do with him after the results are in." Marwa had turned her attention to Uncle Sunil. Her eyes were hard and sharp. Cricket knew they didn't get along, although he was never sure why. It seemed to him that both of them wanted what was best for Lunette, and for Father, but neither could agree on what that was. "Does that sound reasonable, Your Highness?"

"Exceedingly. Have Fumiya prepare an exam." Father nodded.

Cricket picked up his spoon, intent on ignoring the rest of supper's conversations. Or at least only half paying attention to them now that he wasn't being sent directly to a monastery.

"Don't look so smug, you insolent—"

"Sunil," Father cut him off, sending Uncle Sunil a warning glare. "Cricket is the crown prince, and you ought to treat him as such. I understand that you think his education is lacking, but his marks are good, and I have never once had a complaint from any of his tutors."

"The monks would teach him better manners. That's where Helio sends their heirs." Uncle Sunil still had yet to touch his soup, and it seemed he was intent on not going down without a fight tonight. Which was a pity, because Cricket wasn't in the mood for a fight. "And all of them are upright, well-behaved children."

"It has never been our practice to send our heirs off to be schooled," Marwa reminded placidly when Father refused to say anything.

"There is a first time for everything."

"There is, but this is not the time for that. And besides, Cricket isn't a child anymore."

Cricket looked over at Anstice, and watched her eyes volley from her mother to his uncle with rapt attention. Honestly, how she could live on this drama, Cricket didn't know. He'd rather they just eat their dinner in companionable—or even tense—silence as opposed to this. And that was saying something as he hated silence.

"And his manners are fine," Marwa continued, setting down her soup spoon so she could meet Uncle Sunil head on. "There has never been a complaint about him from any of the emissaries, or the staff."

"He's insolent." Uncle Sunil was bracing himself on the table now as if at any moment he'd push to his feet.

"He's brave."

"They're laughing at him! And why shouldn't they be?! Look at him! He bandies about like a commoner! His hair is longer than any woman in the kingdoms! And he sloughs off all responsibility! He is a spoiled, arrogant, foolish child and you mark my words Jaxith—"

"That is enough!" Marwa rose to her feet, slamming her hands on the table. "They aren't laughing at him; they're laughing at you."

Cricket stopped dead, his spoon clattering down to the table as he drank in the scene. Marwa looked as angry as he'd ever seen her, and Uncle Sunil had skipped the rest of the red spectrum and gone straight to ghastly white in fury.

"They're laughing at you," Marwa continued, her voice a cold hiss. "With your backwards ways, and self-important attitude."

"Are you going to let her speak to me like this Jaxith?!" Uncle Sunil asked, his head swiveling to look at Father.

Father was silent. Taking his time to sit down his spoon, wipe his fingers on his napkin, and take a deep inhale. When he was done, he looked up and met Uncle Sunil's eyes. "Yes. I am."

"She is your advisor. A servant!" Uncle Sunil spat the words, slinging splittle along with them. "She's a servant and she sits at our table and eats with us like she's one of us. Like she's of royal birth! I am your brother! Your blood! And you choose her side over mine!"

"No. I choose my son's side over yours. Marwa is correct in her assessment of Cricket, and not entirely wrong in her criticisms of you." Father's voice was quiet. It always was. He didn't have to yell, or get angry. He spoke calmly and told the world as he saw it. It was one of the things Cricket admired most about him. Where Cricket could be mercurial, and passionate, Father was steady. The difference between a bubbling brook and a rushing river-bend. "The world has changed. We must change with it. And it starts with getting to know our people better. We do not now, nor have we ever, sat on a mountain apart from our people. If Cricket thinks his best chance to be a good king is to learn from them, then it is our responsibility to give him that opportunity."

Uncle Sunil's face went from ghastly pale to red again, thoroughly chastised. Cricket blinked in surprise watching as he stood from his chair, and left the table without another word.