With the swiftness needed to get to the Throne room, Aster had his hand lightly grip Zyran’s shoulder to keep up. While he knew the castle like the back of his hand, allowing Zyran to guide him was faster.

  “I honestly didn’t think they’d arrive so quickly,” Zyran commented.

  “Oh, you know my mother,” Aster answered, his staff gripping his hand tightly. “She likely sent the invitations out a while ago. These are just the first to arrive.”

  “That’s fair,” Zyran answered. “Now, I wish I had listened to the maid’s gossip a little more.”

  Aster chuckled. “A moral lesson learned then.”

  Zyran chuckled in answer but quickly schooled himself as they found the doors to the Throne room. Taking a deep breath, Aster gave Zyran a thankful shoulder squeeze before letting go and stepping inside. The idle chatter from inside stilled, and Aster tilted his head at the slight gasp he heard. It may have just been a steadying breath.

  “Ah! Aster!” Queen Y’vaine greeted as Aster followed his mother’s voice. “According to the messenger, you were difficult to find.”

  “I was practicing Archery, Mother,” Aster explained as he stood with her and his father. “I pray you forgive my tardiness.”

  “All is well, your Highness.” An unfamiliar voice spoke — a woman’s voice, likely Lady Lysandra. “We only arrived shortly before you did.”

  “Aster, this is Lady Lysandra and her father, Count Luelle of Chernik.” King Emeris spoke.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” The Count replied. “I’m happy to meet you in good health.”

  Aster smiled, painting a picture of what the Count and Lady might look like according to their voices. To him, the Count sounded no taller than his daughter, likely roundish from how deep his voice sounded. Aster wondered whether the Count wore his hair in elaborate braids or a single braid. For Lysandra, she had the Chernik accent, holding hard vowels when she spoke, though her voice itself was light. He pictured her with a dark complexion, perhaps with vibrant eyes like a Fox Drake’s. Was she wearing the traditional thawb of the desert or something that would keep her warmer this far North?

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both as well,” Aster said, placing a hand over his breast and bowing politely.

  “And this is my handmaiden, Myra,” Lady Lysandra added.

  Aster smiled again, but his ears caught the sound of Zyran coughing. That wasn’t a usual cough, either; it was to cover a laugh. “A pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Myra.”

  “You as well, your highness.” Came the quiet, if not taunt, voice of the handmaiden.

  Aster tilted his head. He knew that voice and had heard it recently. It was the woman who had scolded him not a half hour ago while he was practicing archery. He smiled in recognition, knowing she recognized him, too. And he knew she knew she had yelled at the Prince of Myth.

  “I hope you find your stay comfortable,” he told his guests, schooling his face again. “I understand it may be chilly here for you all. We’ll have your rooms ready shortly.”

  “You’re most kind, Your Highness.” The Count answered. “We look forward to the ball and our stay.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone go as pale as she did when you walked in!” Zyran laughed once they were alone. “I’m pretty sure she was sweating as you greeted them.”

  Aster chuckled, listening to the details his manservant offered. He was in his eyes, after all, and picturing the scene struck a funny cord with Aster, getting him to chuckle as well. “I suppose she didn’t expect me to be attempting archery.”

  Zyran laughed again. “I’m certain she was praying to Aba, Gaia, and Terra all at once, hoping you wouldn’t recognize her voice.”

  “Oh, but I did.” Aster grinned. “I’m glad she can speak her mind, though I believe she’s holding the fire of the desert in her veins.”

  “People know Chernik Elves very well for their tempers,” Zyran commented as he led the prince to his chambers. “At least Lady Lysandra is calm looking.”

  “What does she look like?” Aster asked, stepping through the door and setting his staff by it. He didn’t need it in his own bedroom. “I picture her as dark-skinned, bright-eyed, and perhaps a head shorter than me.”

  “You’re not too far off,” Zyran answered as he stood off to the side, more relaxed now that they weren’t in public eyes. Aster had asked him to be himself around him. Since he’s his manservant, Aster also wanted him to be his friend, as those were scarce, at least for a blind prince. “Her eyes are bright amber, much like the Lupin Clans on the Lost Moon Mountains. Her hair, from what I could see under her veils.” He trailed off a moment, trying to describe the color in words. “A deep auburn? Though the shade of the veils could have altered that perspective.”

  “She was wearing veils?” Aster asked, stepping behind a privacy screen, woven in a way that depicted birds and flowers from what his fingers could feel.

  “She was. They were all golds and reds,” Zyran confirmed. “It is their custom to wear veils and thwabs.”

  “I know; I guess I didn’t expect them to wear lighter fabrics this far north,” Aster answered as he changed out of his day clothes. “What about the Count? What did he look like?”

  “A beanpole,” Zyran answered. “Also dark-skinned, but his hair is white and long enough to reach his knees. It’s mostly braided up though, not as ornate as the King and Queen, but still very decorated.”

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  Aster nodded, feeling around for less formal clothing. It was a custom among elves to braid their hair. He braided his hair into a half-circlet to hold his royal circlet, adding elaborate braids to signify his status as crown prince. “Putting his best foot forward, I suppose,” Aster commented, slipping his day shirt off for a soft wool tunic.

  “I’d say the same,” Zyran answered. “Though I admit, both were hard to read.”

  Aster scoffed. “Well, with the Count wishing to be in my father’s good graces and Lady Lysandra wearing a veil, I’m not surprised. Though I’m certain they’ll let their guards down once the ball gets underway.”

  “I agreed; most people do,” Zyran answered.

  Once Aster had changed, he stepped out from behind the screen and looked towards Zyran. “Is there a full moon tonight?”

  Zyran remained silent for a moment; “It is. I don’t know how you manage to tell.”

  Aster grinned. “I’m always restless on Full Moon nights.” He answered.

  “Then perhaps folks should call you the Moon-Eyed Prince instead of the Starlit-Eyed Prince.” Zyran mocked.

  “Oh please, Moon-Eyed is far too overused,” Aster answered, laughing with his friend. “Though I am restless. Care to accompany me on a stroll?”

  “Yes, well, about that, Sire…” Zyran said, and Aster could hear him shifting on his feet.

  He tilted his head towards his friend. “Is something the matter? You never use ‘sire’ around me in private.”

  “Nothing of great importance,” Zyran answered. “It’s just… well, I have come into conversation with someone…”

  That got Aster’s full attention. He smiled and approached Zyran, almost running into him. “Well, don’t leave out details! Who is she?”

  Zyran laughed, putting a hand on Aster’s shoulder. “Just someone from the market. I promised to meet her for a late-night meal tonight.”

  Aster smiled and nodded in understanding. While his parents would parade suitable brides before his blind gaze, Zyran didn’t have such a luxury. “In that case, who am I to keep you from a fair maiden?” Aster asked. “You’d best go before she gives up on you.”

  “Thank you, Aster,” Zyran said, bowing before moving towards the door. “And, since I know you want to know. Her name is Amabel.”

  Aster smiled brightly towards his friend. “I hope you’ll tell me all about her tomorrow.”

  Zyran laughed. “You’re worse than the maids!” He heard him call, listening to his footsteps retreat out the door and down the hall.

  Aster shook his head and laughed. He was happy for his friend. He wondered how Zyran and Amabel had met, though he’d press for those details when Zyran returned. For now, he’d enjoy a moonlit walk. While he couldn’t see the moonlight, he could almost feel its gentle glow and its pull on the surrounding air. It made him restless, but a walk usually helped with that.

  He wandered the halls of his palace home, knowing every turn, darn near every stone. He knew his mother would prefer someone walk with him, especially after that first week of losing his eyesight and losing track of where he was within the palace walls, but since then, he’d made it a point to quiz himself on where he was so that wouldn’t happen again.

  “I’m surprised you’re still awake, Your Highness.”

  Aster stopped short and looked toward the voice. He didn’t recognize it at first, though he’d only heard it earlier that day. He smiled to cover his surprise and dipped his head. “And I’m surprised to hear you’re still awake, Lady Lysandra. I hope the arrangements are to your liking.”

  “They are, thank you,” Lysandra answered, a smile in her voice. “Though, why are you roaming the halls so late at night?”

  “I’m just restless. There’s much going on, and I find the evening air helps.”

  “I see,” Lysandra answered.

  There was a hesitation in the air, and Aster found she didn’t just happen across from him. He smiled and tilted his head. “Perhaps you’d like to join me for a moment?”

  “I would, if it’s no trouble,” Lysandra answered, her steps coming closer until he could feel her body heat beside him. She moves much like a cat, nearly silent. He wasn’t sure if he liked that. Usually, those with light steps either didn’t want to be noticed or were trying to hide something.

  He smiled at her all the same. What would she be trying to hide? Perhaps her soft steps came from growing up in the desert. He offered her his arm, as his mother told him was what gentlemen do, and held still until she lightly wrapped her arms around it.

  “I was heading for the gardens,” he told her. “While I understand they’re lovely at night, I much prefer how it smells at this time of night.”

  “Is that so?” Lysandra answered, her tone holding polite laughter. “So you truly take the phrase ‘stop to smell the roses’ in a literal sense.”

  Aster chuckled. “Well, when one can’t stop to admire a rose for its looks, he admires its other attributes.”

  Lysandra hummed. He guessed it was in consideration. “I’d think you wouldn’t want anything to do with the garden. Not after what befell you there.”

  Aster chuckled. “That was an auspicious moment in a very unlucky event.” He answered. “Just because there was a basilisk in the gardens does not mean I should fear those gardens of new threats.” He didn’t want to admit that it had taken him nearly four years before Zyran convinced him to step back into the garden again.

  “Auspicious indeed,” Lysandra answered. “Your Highness, you very well could live in this very garden if your luck had changed at any point of that day.”

  “I don’t need reminding,” Aster answered. “I don’t dwell on that day. It happened, but I’m alive. That is what matters.”

  “I agree,” Lysandra answered. Aster could feel the change in the ground as he walked from the stone floors of the palace to the soft crunch of gravel that marked the paths in the garden. He could also smell the nocturnal flora that bloomed just off the path. “Besides, on nights like this, I’d almost say the garden is at its loveliest.”

  “It is exquisite,” Lysandra answered, still holding onto Aster as they walked. “I’m surprised at how many flowers are blooming here. We have a large garden in my home palace, though it’s not quite like this.”

  “Perhaps you could describe it to me?” Aster asked, tilting his head a little.

  “Perhaps,” Lysandra answered. “Once I find a way to put sight to words.”

  Aster chuckled. “That can be a challenge. Though I look forward to hearing those details when you find the words.”

  He smiled, though silence soon enveloped the two as they walked. Aster took a slow breath. This would be tricky. It had taken Zyran a long while to figure out how to detail what he was seeing to Aster verbally. It was a learned skill, though he wondered if Lysandra would be willing to learn.

  The walk didn’t last long after that. The hour grew late, and Aster led Lysandra back to her quarters.

  “It’s impressive how well you know your home.” She said as they reached her door.

  Aster smiled. “I’ve made it a point not to get lost in my palace.” He told her. “How else can I give visitors a tour?”

  “Isn’t that a servant’s job?” Lysandra asked.

  “Normally, but to be honest, it’s fun surprising guests.” He told her. He smiled and dipped his head. “I hope you find your stay comfortable, Lady Lysandra.”

  “I’m certain I will, Your Highness.” She answered. “Sleep well.”

  “You as well,” Aster answered, turning to head back to his room as his thoughts ran through his unexpected walking companion. She said little, certainly not much about herself or her home. He chalked that up to her still settling in and likely being brought here on her father’s request, much like how the ball was at his own mother’s whim. He took a slow breath as he reached his door and opened it. Tomorrow was a new day. And he was certain that a new day would bring clarity to what his gut was telling him. Besides, for what purpose would she want to hide secrets aside from just being in a new space? With this in mind, he sighed and fell into bed, removing his blindfold and setting it on the bedside table.

  “What a day…” He sighed, closing his quartz eyes and letting sleep fall around him.