Reen opened her eyes and glanced towards the clock.
One twenty-five in the morning.
Reen returned her gaze to the ceiling.
Reen could not sleep.
She had closed her eyes with the intention of resting, but the thoughts occupying her mind refused to settle. The day had been long, and she had already considered what she needed to do tomorrow. Yet, whenever she attempted to put her thoughts aside, her mind returned to the same unpleasant reality.
Her former life had ended.
The body she now inhabited belonged to someone else, and the world beyond these chambers was one she scarcely understood. There were questions to be answered and circumstances to be investigated, but none of them could be addressed at this hour.
Nor could she make herself stop thinking about her aunt.
Reen opened her eyes and turned her head.
Ecrivain sat beside the bed, looking much as she had throughout the evening. Her posture was composed, and her expression bore no particular emotion beyond her usual air of contentment.
Reen looked at her.
She did not know how long she remained that way. There was no particular reason for it, and she had nothing to say. She simply found herself observing the spirit, as though the act of looking at someone else might offer a brief reprieve from her own thoughts.
Ecrivain did not seem inclined to interrupt her.
Several minutes passed in silence.
Then the spirit spoke.
"You cannot sleep?"
No.
Ecrivain regarded her for a moment before answering.
"That is to be expected."
Reen waited for her to elaborate.
"The flower is associated with vitality. Now that it has become part of your body, its influence will extend beyond the circumstances that allowed you to survive. You should expect your body to change as it adjusts to the flower."
What sort of changes?
"That depends on the condition of the flower and the degree of control you possess over it. Its effects are not fixed. They may change as the balance between its vitality and the rot shifts."
Ecrivain folded her hands in her lap.
"You must remember what I told you about the rot. Think of it as a loss of power. Should it spread to other petals, you should expect the flower's influence to weaken. The benefits it provides you may diminish accordingly."
Reen considered this.
And if the flower gains the advantage?
"Then you may expect your resources to increase. Its influence will grow, and the effects it has upon your body may become more pronounced."
The distinction was straightforward, though its implications were less convenient. Reen could not assume that the flower would provide her with a consistent set of abilities. Even if she discovered the limits of its influence now, those limits might not remain the same.
Then I should not rely on its effects.
"You should not rely on them blindly," Ecrivain corrected. "There is a difference between understanding the resources available to you and assuming they will never change. The flower is powerful, but its condition matters. You would do well to remember that."
Reen acknowledged this with a slight movement of her eyes.
Ecrivain continued.
"Your present condition offers a useful example. The flower has provided your body with an extraordinary quantity of energy. You are unlikely to experience physical exhaustion as an ordinary person would, and your need for sleep may be considerably reduced."
Reen glanced towards the window. The curtains were drawn, concealing the night beyond them.
So I may not need to sleep at all?
"That is possible, although I would not advise you to draw such a conclusion yet. We do not know the full extent of the flower's influence, and you have only recently begun adjusting to it."
Ecrivain paused briefly.
"Besides, the absence of physical exhaustion does not necessarily mean that every other form of fatigue will disappear."
Reen returned her attention to the spirit but did not ask what she meant. She suspected that Ecrivain was referring to the state of her mind, though she had no particular desire to discuss it.
Fortunately, the spirit moved on.
"There are other changes you should anticipate. Your physical development, for instance, may be affected substantially."
Reen listened.
"The flower's association with vitality extends to the body itself. You may grow taller, and your appearance may mature more quickly than that of other girls your age. Your features may also become more refined."
Ecrivain delivered this explanation with the same calmness she had shown when discussing the flower's other effects.
"In short, you should expect to become considerably more beautiful."
Reen considered the statement.
I see. Though I am already beautiful.
For a brief moment, Ecrivain's expression changed. The faint amusement in her eyes was unmistakable, even if the rest of her face remained composed.
"Quite the confidence you have."
It is simply an objective analysis.
"An objective analysis?"
Yes.
Ecrivain regarded her for another moment, evidently entertained.
"Very well. I shall leave that judgement to you."
She did not pursue the matter further.
"Another possibility is that your body may eventually become self-sufficient. Depending on how the flower develops, you may find that you no longer require food to sustain yourself."
Reen found the prospect worth considering. If her body could maintain itself without nourishment, eating might become a matter of preference rather than necessity.
Ecrivain appeared to anticipate the thought.
"Nevertheless, I advise you to continue eating whenever you can."
Even if I no longer need to?
"Yes. The fact that your body may no longer require something does not mean that you should abandon it without consideration. Eating is not merely a means of keeping yourself alive. It is also a habit of taking care of yourself, and I would prefer that you maintain it."
Reen fell silent.
She understood the advice. Her previous difficulties with eating had been resolved, but that did not make the subject entirely unremarkable to her. She had no intention of returning to those habits, regardless of what the flower might allow her to do.
I will keep that in mind.
"Good."
Ecrivain settled back into her seat.
"Now, as for your inability to sleep, the flower may account for part of it. Your body has an unusual supply of energy, and its requirements may no longer resemble those of an ordinary person."
She studied Reen briefly.
"Of course, it is also possible that something else is keeping your mind occupied."
Reen looked at her.
She did not need to answer. The cause was obvious, and Ecrivain was unlikely to have overlooked it.
The spirit did not press the matter.
Reen turned her gaze towards the ceiling.
She expected that it would take her approximately two weeks to recover.
It was an arbitrary estimate, and she knew as much. There was no reliable way to determine how long she would need to regain her usual composure, particularly when she had so little understanding of what her new circumstances might demand of her.
Her previous experiences offered little reassurance.
When her mother had died, Reen had been six years old. She had grieved for three years, though the nature of that grief had changed as she grew older.
When her father died, she had been thirteen. That time, it had taken her an entire year to recover. Her difficulties with eating had developed in the aftermath, becoming a problem that she had only later managed to resolve.
The circumstances had been different on each occasion. There was no reason to assume that her present grief would follow either pattern.
If anything, trying to establish a timetable for it seemed rather pointless.
Perhaps two weeks, Reen thought. That should be sufficient to regain some stability.
Ecrivain remained quiet for a moment.
"Two weeks?"
It is an estimate.
"Based on what?"
Reen considered the question.
Nothing in particular.
Ecrivain's expression acquired a trace of amusement.
"Then I would advise you not to place too much confidence in it."
I have no intention of doing so.
"Of course."
Reen let the conversation end there.
She did not need to decide how long she was permitted to grieve, nor did she need to predict when the pain would become less intrusive. She had responsibilities awaiting her, and she would attend to them as best she could. The rest would have to be dealt with as it came.
Tomorrow, she would begin studying the language and the history of the kingdom. In time, she would need to understand its political structure, its aristocracy, and the circumstances surrounding the attack on the convoy. She would also have to meet her younger brother and become acquainted with the person appointed to guard her.
There was enough to occupy her attention without attempting to force an answer to a question that had none.
Reen closed her eyes once more.
She still did not feel sleepy, but there was no reason to continue looking at the ceiling. If her body no longer required rest, she could at least remain still until morning.
Then another thought occurred to her.
It was, in fact, a rather obvious question. One she ought to have considered earlier.
Ecrivain.
"Yes?"
Why do I need to learn everything myself? Can't you tell me about the princess? Or the kingdom, for that matter? You have already examined the palace and its surroundings. Surely you know more than you have told me.
There was a brief pause.
Reen opened her eyes again.
Ecrivain was looking at her.
The spirit's expression had changed very little, but something in her gaze suggested that Reen had touched upon an unwelcome subject. A hint of irritation had surfaced, only to be concealed beneath the faintest trace of amusement.
"I see."
Reen waited.
Ecrivain tilted her head.
"So, to summarise your question: why should you bother maintaining a relationship with me when you can simply use me as an information retrieval tool?"
Reen stared at her.
The phrasing was rather pointed.
That is not quite what I meant.
"Is it not?"
I was asking whether you could provide information that would otherwise take me considerable time to acquire.
"Yes. I understood the practical meaning of your question."
Ecrivain's smile remained restrained. If anything, that made her displeasure more apparent.
"What I object to is the implication that I should be available whenever you require information, as though I were some convenient instrument whose only purpose is to answer your questions."
Reen was silent.
The analogy had, admittedly, occurred to her.
A search engine. Google.
The thought had appeared so naturally that she had not even considered how it might sound when expressed aloud. In her former world, searching for information had been an ordinary, impersonal act. One entered a query and received results. There was no need to cultivate a relationship with the mechanism that provided them.
Ecrivain, however, was neither a mechanism nor an ordinary source of information.
She was a person—or, at the very least, a being who evidently expected to be treated as one.
"I have no objection to helping you understand this world," Ecrivain continued. "Nor do I mind answering questions when I am able. But I will not be treated as though my sole purpose in accompanying you is to make your life more convenient."
Her tone remained composed, and the amusement had not entirely left her expression. Nevertheless, Reen could discern the irritation beneath it.
"You might consider that I have my own thoughts, preferences, and interests. I am not obliged to disclose everything I know merely because you happen to find it useful."
Reen considered this in silence.
The spirit's objection was reasonable. Reen had been approaching their relationship from a practical standpoint, as she tended to do with unfamiliar circumstances. Ecrivain possessed knowledge she lacked, and making use of that knowledge seemed an efficient way to reduce the uncertainty surrounding her new life.
Yet efficiency was not the only consideration.
She had, without quite realising it, reduced the spirit to a function.
I apologise.
Ecrivain's expression softened, though only slightly.
I did not mean to imply that you exist merely to answer my questions. I was thinking about the most efficient way to learn about the world, and I failed to consider how my question might sound.
Reen paused before adding another thought.
I will be more considerate in the future.
For a moment, Ecrivain said nothing.
Then she gave a small nod.
"An apology is sufficient. I have no desire to quarrel with you over a poorly phrased question."
The amusement in her eyes returned, faint but genuine.
"Though I must admit, you have a rather remarkable talent for making an unflattering proposition sound like a matter of administrative efficiency."
Reen did not know whether that was intended as a criticism or a compliment.
Perhaps it was both.
I will take that into consideration.
"See that you do."
Ecrivain settled back into her seat, apparently satisfied to leave the matter there.
Reen turned her gaze towards the ceiling once more.
She would still need to learn the language, study the kingdom, and understand the life of the princess whose place she had taken. Ecrivain could undoubtedly help with some of those matters, but it would be unreasonable to expect the spirit to supply every answer on demand.
Besides, learning things herself might prove useful in ways she had not yet considered. Knowledge acquired through study could be organised, compared, and revisited. It would give her a foundation from which to judge the information others provided, including Ecrivain.
She would have to find a balance between the two.
For now, however, there was little else to be done.
Reen closed her eyes.
The ache in her mind remained, and sleep still seemed unlikely. But she no longer felt the need to force herself into it. Tomorrow would bring its own demands, and she would meet them when the time came.
Beside her, Ecrivain remained silent.
…
The following morning, Reen went to the library.
She had expected the language to present some difficulty, but the expectation proved unnecessary. The text was French. Not a language resembling French, nor one that could be deciphered through an understanding of its grammatical structure, but French itself, with the same spelling, syntax, and conventions she had known in her previous life.
It was a curious coincidence, though not one she intended to dwell upon.
For the time being, it made her task considerably easier.
The library was spacious, with tall shelves arranged in orderly rows beneath a high ceiling. Morning light entered through the windows, illuminating the long reading tables and the books that occupied nearly every available wall. The room was quiet enough that she could hear the occasional turning of a page from across the room.
Reen had selected a book and settled into a seat near one of the windows.
She was halfway through a passage when a voice interrupted her.
"Sister. You've already read this before. Why are you picking it again?"
Reen's eyes moved away from the page.
A young boy stood beside her chair, looking down at the book with unconcealed curiosity. He appeared to be around nine years old. His black hair was neatly combed, though a few strands had fallen out of place, and his hazel eyes bore a resemblance to her own.
His hair, at least, seemed to have come from their mother.
Reen regarded him for a moment before shifting her gaze towards the other person nearby.
The boy's tutor sat at a separate table, occupied with several documents. He had clearly heard the question, yet made no attempt to intervene. If anything, he appeared content to let the conversation proceed.
Reen looked back at the boy.
This was Warren Hiregrea, her younger brother.
She had been told to expect his company.
Earlier that morning, before Reen had left her chambers, Ecrivain had reminded her that Warren would probably seek her out. He was fond of his elder sister and would likely spend a considerable amount of time around her, particularly now that she had recovered sufficiently to resume her usual activities.
Breakfast would be one occasion. The library would be another.
Ecrivain had delivered the warning with the same calmness she applied to nearly everything, though she had seemed faintly amused by the prospect of Reen having to accommodate a younger sibling.
Reen had not considered it particularly troublesome.
Now, with Warren standing beside her, she began to understand what the spirit had meant.
She closed the book halfway, keeping one finger between the pages.
"Because I want to read it again. I've forgotten what happens."
It was a reasonable answer. She had not read the book before, but Warren had no reason to know that.
The boy seemed to consider her explanation.
Then Reen asked, "Why do you remember what I've read?"
Warren blinked.
"Because I always watch you."
Reen paused.
Warren, apparently unaware that his answer might invite further questions, continued.
"Every day. I'm here almost every day, too, because I have my studies. But you always read the same sorts of books, and sometimes you pick one you've already read."
He leaned slightly towards the open book, as though attempting to recall its title.
"I remember seeing you with this one before."
Reen studied him.
Every day?
The statement was not particularly surprising in itself. If Warren spent much of his time in the library, he would naturally see her there. Nevertheless, the ease with which he admitted to watching her was noteworthy.
He did not seem embarrassed by it, nor did he appear to think that his behaviour required an explanation.
"I see," Reen said.
Warren nodded, evidently satisfied that the matter had been settled.
He did not immediately leave, however. Instead, he glanced at the book again, his curiosity still apparent.
"What is it about?"
Reen looked down at the page.
She had only just begun reading it, and she was not yet familiar with the contents. Fortunately, the question was simple enough to answer without pretending to know more than she did.
"I haven't read enough to tell you."
"Oh."
Warren fell quiet.
He did not seem offended by the answer. Nor did he attempt to look over her shoulder or insist that she explain the book's contents. He simply remained beside her for a little longer, apparently content to share the same space.
Reen found herself observing him more closely.
He was still young, with the open curiosity and unguarded manner one might expect of a child his age. There was nothing particularly unusual about his behaviour. If anything, he seemed rather comfortable in her presence.
Yet Reen had to remind herself that she knew almost nothing about him.
She knew his name, his approximate age, and the fact that he was her younger brother. She had been told that he had gone to sleep early the previous evening and would probably be eager to see her the following morning.
That was the extent of her knowledge.
She did not know what he liked, what he disliked, or what sort of relationship he had shared with the princess before the ambush.
More importantly, she did not know how he had dealt with their mother's death.
The thought came unbidden.
He wasn't able to attend the funeral, either, was he?
Reen kept her expression unchanged as she considered the matter.
She had not yet learned why her father had been unable to attend his wife's funeral, and she knew even less about Warren's circumstances. Perhaps the boy had been kept away for reasons she had not been told. Perhaps there had been other considerations.
She could not draw any conclusions from the absence alone.
Still, there was something she found difficult to reconcile.
Warren appeared bright. He was curious, talkative enough to ask questions, and entirely unburdened in his manner. Nothing about him suggested that he was struggling with anything particularly distressing.
It was not that Reen expected him to behave differently simply because their mother had died. Children grieved in different ways, and outward composure was hardly proof of indifference.
Nevertheless, she wondered.
Does he not miss her?
The question lingered, unanswered.
Reen returned her attention to the boy.
Warren had begun looking around the library, apparently distracted by something on a nearby shelf. His tutor remained occupied at the other table, allowing him a degree of freedom so long as he did not stray too far from his studies.
The arrangement suggested that this was not an unusual occurrence.
Warren glanced back at her.
"Sister?"
"Yes?"
"Can I sit with you?"
Reen looked at the empty chair opposite her.
There was no particular reason to refuse. The library was large, and Warren had already demonstrated that he was capable of keeping himself reasonably quiet. Besides, she had no intention of spending the entire morning pretending that she did not know her own brother.
"You may."
His expression brightened.
"Thank you."
Warren pulled out the chair and sat down, taking care not to disturb the books on the table. For a moment, he appeared content simply to be there. Then his gaze wandered towards the volume Reen had been reading.
He seemed to be considering whether to ask another question.
Reen recognised the expression.
She had been told that the princess preferred silence, and Warren appeared to understand that preference well enough. He had asked permission before sitting down, and he had not interrupted her again until she had acknowledged him.
Perhaps he had learned to distinguish between the moments when his sister wished to be left alone and those when she would tolerate his company.
Or perhaps he had always been permitted to ask questions, provided that he did not expect an answer to every one of them.
Either way, Reen decided that there was little harm in allowing him to remain.
She reopened the book.
Warren watched her for a few seconds before quietly settling into his own work.
The library returned to its usual silence.
Reen read the same paragraph twice, though she could not have explained what it said afterwards.
Her attention had become occupied by a different matter.
Warren was sitting across from her, turning the pages of a book with the unhurried concentration of a child who had not yet found his studies particularly burdensome. Every so often, he glanced up at her, apparently checking that she was still there, before returning to his work.
He looked perfectly well.
That, Reen supposed, was what made the question difficult to put aside.
She had no intention of asking him about their mother merely to satisfy her own curiosity. She had no way of knowing what he remembered, what he felt, or whether he had found some private means of coping with the loss.
For the moment, it was enough to observe him.
She would have to learn who Warren was before she could begin to understand what his behaviour meant.
Reen lowered her eyes to the page and resumed reading.
This time, she managed to finish the paragraph.
...
By the time Reen left the library, she had read considerably more than she had originally intended.
The morning had passed into the afternoon with little interruption. Warren had remained with her for some time before returning to his studies, and the hours that followed had been largely undisturbed. With the language presenting no difficulties, she had been able to move through the books at a satisfying pace.
Her reading habits from her previous life had proved particularly useful. She was accustomed to processing written information quickly, identifying the central arguments of a text without having to linger over every sentence. It was a skill developed through years of reading, and one that now seemed to serve her even better than before.
Consequently, she had already made considerable progress.
She had familiarised herself with the broad outline of Taran's history, its aristocratic hierarchy, and several aspects of the kingdom's administration. She had also examined some of the mathematical and scientific texts available in the library.
Those had been especially interesting.
The notation, mathematical symbols, and underlying principles were identical to those she remembered. There were minor differences in terminology, but nothing substantial enough to impede her understanding. Even the more advanced material followed familiar conventions.
The discovery had saved her a considerable amount of time.
It also meant that she could devote her attention to matters for which her previous knowledge would offer less assistance.
For the moment, however, her studies had been interrupted by a different obligation.
Reen sat in one of the palace's guest rooms, accompanied by her father and younger brother. The room was comfortably furnished, with upholstered chairs arranged around a low table and tall windows overlooking the palace grounds. A servant had brought refreshments earlier, though Warren had been more interested in the small pastries than the tea.
He was currently occupied with one of them, while the archduke sat across from Reen, apparently awaiting the arrival of their visitor.
The new personal guard.
And, more importantly, the person who would instruct her in magic.
Reen had been informed of the arrangement during the previous evening's dinner, but the particulars had been limited. Her father had mentioned that the appointment had been made through his efforts and the king's, and that the individual concerned was among the kingdom's most accomplished practitioners of magic.
That alone had been enough to attract her interest.
She was about to ask her father when they might expect the visitor to arrive when the door opened.
A man entered the room.
He appeared to be in his middle thirties, with long, bright blond hair that fell well past his shoulders and a pair of striking emerald eyes. His clothing was elegant without being unnecessarily ornate, and his movements possessed an easy grace that suggested he was entirely comfortable in his surroundings.
There was something unusually vivid about his presence.
It was not merely the brightness of his hair or the clarity of his eyes. Rather, he seemed to carry an impression of light with him, an almost tangible radiance that made the room appear a little less sombre in his company.
Reen regarded him with quiet interest.
Then she noticed that he was not alone.
A younger man entered immediately behind him.
He appeared to be around Reen's age, perhaps a little older, and shared the same bright blond hair and emerald eyes. His hair, however, was considerably shorter, neatly framing a face that had not yet acquired the maturity of the older man's features.
The resemblance was too pronounced to ignore.
Relatives?
Before Reen could consider the question further, her father spoke.
"Lucienne? What brings you here?"
The archduke's expression had changed to one of genuine surprise.
The younger man smiled.
He placed one hand against his chest and inclined his head in a small, respectful bow.
"I simply followed my uncle, Uncle. I heard that Reen was to receive a new instructor, and I thought I might accompany him."
His gaze moved towards Reen.
"Besides, I was worried about my fiancée."
Reen studied him.
Saint Lucienne Rochefort, Crown Prince of Taran.
Though his full name was known to the court, he was ordinarily called Lucienne. Given the long-standing friendship between the king and the archduke, the prince had been accustomed to addressing Reen's father with a familiarity that would have been improper between most subjects and the heir to the throne. The archduke, in turn, treated him less as a distant royal figure and more as the nephew he had watched grow up.
Their exchange reflected that familiarity.
"I see," the archduke replied. "I was not aware you intended to accompany him."
"I decided rather spontaneously."
"So I gathered."
There was no displeasure in the archduke's voice. If anything, he seemed to be taking the unexpected visit in stride.
His attention then returned to the older man.
"Since you have both arrived, allow me to introduce our guest properly. Reen, given how much time you spend reading, you may already be acquainted with his name. Nevertheless, an introduction is in order."
He gestured towards the long-haired man.
"This is Prince Étienne-Raphaël Rochefort, the king's younger brother. He is more commonly known as Prince Étienne, and he is one of the most respected mages in the kingdom."
Reen inclined her head.
"Your Highness."
Prince Étienne returned the greeting with a pleasant smile.
"Princess Reen."
"My father has already informed me of the arrangements," she continued. "I understand that you will be instructing me in magic."
"Among other things, yes."
The prince's gaze rested on her for a moment. His emerald eyes were bright, but his expression was measured, as though he were making a preliminary assessment without wishing to be conspicuous about it.
"Your father and the king have asked me to take responsibility for your personal security and magical instruction. Given the circumstances of the attack, I believe it is a sensible arrangement."
He paused, then added with disarming frankness, "There is also a personal reason. I would hardly be able to bear it if my nephew's fiancée were killed while I remained comfortably uninvolved."
Lucienne gave his uncle a sidelong look.
"That is a rather direct way of putting it."
"Would you prefer a more elaborate explanation?"
"No, I suppose not."
Prince Étienne's smile widened slightly.
The archduke gave a quiet sigh, though the expression in his eyes suggested that he was accustomed to such exchanges.
"I am grateful that you agreed to the arrangement, Étienne. Your reputation is well established, and I trust your judgement. Given your position, I cannot imagine that you have much spare time."
"I have enough."
"That is not quite what I have heard."
"Then perhaps you should pay less attention to what people say about me."
The two men continued their discussion, moving from the practical details of the appointment to matters concerning the security of the palace and the recent attack. Reen listened without interrupting. Much of what they discussed concerned arrangements that had already been settled, and she saw no reason to insert herself into the conversation.
Lucienne, meanwhile, remained beside his uncle.
He appeared perfectly content to let the older men talk, occasionally glancing towards Reen or Warren but making no attempt to interrupt them. His manner was relaxed, without the stiffness that might have been expected from a crown prince visiting another great noble's residence.
Eventually, the archduke rose.
"Étienne, there are a few matters I would prefer to discuss in private. Would you accompany me?"
"Certainly."
Prince Étienne turned towards Reen.
"Princess, I shall have an opportunity to speak with you more thoroughly later. For now, please do not hesitate to raise any concerns you may have with your father."
"I will. Thank you, Your Highness."
The two men left the room together.
The door closed behind them, leaving Reen, Warren, and Lucienne in relative quiet.
For a moment, Warren looked between his sister and the crown prince, as though considering which of them he ought to address first.
His decision seemed to come easily.
"Your Highness, I heard that Sister awakened her magic. Is that true?"
Lucienne turned towards him.
"It is."
Warren's eyes brightened.
"Then Sister really has awakened?"
"She has."
Warren glanced at Reen, his expression growing more animated.
"That's wonderful! Now both Sister and Your Highness have awakened. I wonder when I will awaken, too."
Lucienne laughed softly.
"You need not be in such a hurry. Your time will come."
"But what if it takes a long time?"
"Then you will have more time to study before it happens. That is hardly a disadvantage."
Warren considered this with the seriousness of someone weighing an important proposition.
Then he nodded.
"I suppose so."
"I'm certain you will awaken when you are ready," Lucienne added. "Until then, you should continue with your studies. There is little benefit in worrying about something that has yet to happen."
Warren appeared satisfied with the answer.
Reen watched the exchange in silence.
Lucienne had handled the question easily, without dismissing Warren's excitement or making promises he could not guarantee. It was the sort of reassurance that a child would appreciate, and it seemed to have worked.
Before Warren could ask another question, a voice sounded from the doorway.
"Young Master Warren."
His tutor stood just outside, holding a book beneath one arm.
"It is time to resume your studies."
Warren's expression fell slightly.
"Already?"
"You have had a sufficient break."
"But I have only just started talking to His Highness."
"And you may continue to do so on another occasion. Your lessons cannot be postponed indefinitely."
Warren turned towards Lucienne, looking faintly reluctant.
"I must go."
"Then you should go," the prince replied. "Your tutor is unlikely to be persuaded otherwise."
Warren sighed, though he made no further protest. He rose from his chair and straightened his clothes.
Before leaving, he turned to Reen.
"Sister, will you still be here later?"
"I expect so."
"Then I shall see you afterwards."
He gave her a small smile and followed his tutor out of the room.
The door closed once more.
Reen turned towards Lucienne.
The crown prince watched the doorway for another moment before looking back at her.
"Your brother studies rather diligently."
"He does?"
"Certainly. His tutor keeps him occupied, but he does not seem particularly inclined to avoid his work. I remember being much the same at his age."
He settled into the chair Warren had left vacant.
"You were, too, as I recall. The two of us could spend entire afternoons in the library without noticing the time. I suspect Warren has inherited that tendency."
Reen regarded him.
The observation was useful, if only because it suggested that the princess's habits had not been unusual within their family. Her preference for reading had apparently been well established, and Lucienne was familiar enough with it to recall her behaviour from years earlier.
"I suppose he is rather dedicated," she said.
"He certainly appears to be."
Lucienne's expression softened, though his tone remained casual.
"Speaking of which, how are you feeling, Reen?"
Reen looked at him.
"Fine."
He did not respond immediately.
Instead, he studied her for a moment, his emerald eyes thoughtful.
"I doubt that."
Reen remained silent.
"I attended your mother's funeral with my father," he continued. "You looked rather different from your usual self that day. Then, scarcely a short while later, news arrived that your convoy had been attacked and that you had nearly died."
He paused.
"That is a great deal for anyone to endure in such a short period."
His voice was neither solemn nor overly sympathetic. He seemed to be stating something he regarded as obvious rather than expecting her to respond in a particular way.
Reen lowered her gaze briefly before meeting his eyes again.
"I am managing."
It was a more accurate answer than her previous one, though it did not reveal much.
Lucienne appeared to recognise the distinction.
"I suppose that is as much as I can expect you to tell me at present."
There was no reproach in his expression.
"Do not misunderstand me. I am not asking you to explain everything you feel. But if there is anything you would rather avoid, or anything you need me to take into consideration, tell me. I will adjust accordingly."
Reen regarded him quietly.
It was an unexpectedly considerate offer, particularly because he had not attempted to dictate what she ought to feel or how she ought to behave. He seemed content to accept that she might not wish to discuss the matter, while making it clear that he would accommodate her if necessary.
"I understand," she replied.
"Good."
Lucienne leaned back in his chair.
"Besides, you are hardly the only person who has been concerned. The news has caused quite a stir among the aristocracy. The attack alone would have been enough to unsettle people, but your awakening has added another matter for everyone to discuss."
He gave a small, rueful smile.
"My friends have been asking about you, too. Every one of them seemed astonished when they heard what had happened. Some were concerned, others merely wanted to know whether the reports were accurate, and a few appeared to have more questions than was sensible."
Reen could readily imagine that.
The Hiregrea family occupied a prominent position within the kingdom's aristocracy, and an attack on its heiress was hardly an inconsequential event. The fact that the princess had survived and awakened her magic in the aftermath only gave people more reasons to speculate.
"I imagine they will continue discussing it for some time," she said.
"I have no doubt."
For a brief moment, Lucienne seemed to consider adding something else. Instead, he shifted the conversation towards a more practical subject.
"At least, there is one matter we no longer need to wonder about."
Reen waited.
"Since you have awakened your magic, you will be attending the Taran State Academy of Magical Development."
He said it as though the matter were already settled.
"Assuming my own instructors have not changed their minds about me, I will be there as well. We shall probably see one another quite often."
Reen gave a small nod.
The academy was a logical next step. If magical awakening determined admission, then her own circumstances had evidently placed her on the same path as the crown prince. It would also offer an opportunity to develop her abilities under proper instruction, rather than attempting to understand them through trial and error.
"I look forward to attending," she replied.
"As do I, though I suspect the workload will be considerable."
"That does not trouble me."
Lucienne smiled.
"I did not expect it to."
There was a quiet familiarity in the exchange. Neither seemed particularly concerned by the prospect of attending the academy together, nor did either treat their engagement as something that required constant attention. It was simply another part of their lives, an established arrangement whose practical consequences they could discuss without difficulty.
They continued speaking for a while longer, touching upon the academy, the likely structure of their studies, and the circumstances surrounding her new magical instruction.
Lucienne did not interrogate her about the ambush, nor did he insist upon discussing her grief. He spoke to her as he ordinarily would, allowing the conversation to proceed at a comfortable pace.
Reen found that she appreciated this approach.
There was no need for every interaction to become an examination of her state of mind. A conversation about ordinary matters offered its own form of relief, and Lucienne seemed to understand that without requiring it to be explained.
Eventually, their conversation reached a natural end.
The room fell quiet.
It was not an awkward silence. Lucienne appeared content to sit without speaking, while Reen found herself able to leave her thoughts undisturbed for once. Afternoon light lay across the floor, and the distant sounds of the palace grounds reached them faintly through the windows.
Reen glanced towards the empty space beside the table.
Ecrivain had appeared.
The spirit stood a short distance from them, her familiar expression as composed as ever. Her presence did not seem to affect the prince, who remained unaware of her arrival.
Reen turned her attention towards her.
Have you finished processing the information you gathered?
"More or less."
Ecrivain looked towards Lucienne, considering him for a moment before returning her gaze to Reen.
"I imagine you have already noticed that the relationship between the princess and the crown prince is rather simpler than you might have expected."
Reen waited for her to continue.
"Based on what I have been able to determine, both of them regard their arranged marriage pragmatically. Neither considers the arrangement particularly objectionable, and both view the prospect of marrying one another as an acceptable outcome."
Reen glanced at Lucienne.
He was looking out of the window, apparently content to let the silence continue.
They do not seem particularly troubled by it.
"Indeed. There is little evidence of significant reluctance on either side. More importantly, their relationship is not defined solely by the engagement."
Ecrivain paused, her expression remaining neutral.
"They are on friendly terms. Both are rational individuals who value pragmatism, and they share similar opinions on several subjects. They understand one another reasonably well and are capable of adapting to each other's preferences without much difficulty."
Reen considered this.
It aligned with what she had observed. Lucienne had been considerate without being overbearing, familiar without presuming too much, and entirely at ease in her presence. There had been no obvious tension between them, nor had he attempted to turn their conversation towards the expectations associated with their engagement.
Ecrivain summarised the matter with characteristic simplicity.
"In other words, they are friends."
Reen looked at the crown prince again.
I see.
"That should make your circumstances considerably easier."
Ecrivain's expression acquired the faintest trace of amusement.
"Provided, of course, that you do not decide to treat him as another source of information to be exploited."
Reen turned her eyes towards the spirit.
I have already apologised for that.
"And I accepted your apology."
Ecrivain sounded entirely untroubled.
"I merely thought it worth mentioning."
Reen chose not to respond.
Across the room, Lucienne finally turned away from the window.
"Is something the matter, Reen?"
She looked back at him.
"No. I was thinking."
"About the academy?"
"Among other things."
Lucienne accepted the answer without further inquiry.
"Then I shall leave you to it. I expect we shall have plenty of opportunities to talk once our studies begin."
He rose from his chair and straightened his clothes.
"I should return to my uncle.
Reen inclined her head.
"Thank you for visiting, Your Highness."
"Lucienne will do."
He smiled, then made his way towards the door.
"I shall see you again soon, Reen."
After he had left, the room grew quiet once more.
Reen remained seated for a little while, reflecting on the meeting.
Reen turned towards Ecrivain.
You mentioned that their relationship is relatively simple. Is there anything else I ought to know?
Ecrivain considered the question.
"Perhaps. But I believe it would be more useful to let you discover some things for yourself."
Reen looked at her for a moment.
Then she returned her gaze to the window, where the afternoon light continued to spread across the palace grounds.
For once, she found no reason to disagree.