III. The Boys

On nights too lonely to bear, I now call the lights. They slither from under my bed, bringing books to spread across my knees, their glow whispering stories against my cheek.

The loneliness that once crept into my evenings is gone. My mother, who’d smiled nonstop since Sandora and I returned hand-in-hand to the estate, asked why I seemed so content. Grandfather, of course, declared it the “optimal outcome” and rewarded us—permission to leave the grounds, albeit with escorts. A rare privilege.

But I’ve no interest in going out. Grandfather warned that once you’ve seen the light, the world changes. He was right. I’d rather stay buried under blankets, summoning lights to marvel at their glow.

I’d postponed going out, but Sandora staked her life on it. Thanks to that, the carriage I’d prepared for my outing was entirely hers now. Maybe it was the difference between her, who grew up inside the walls, and me, who grew up outside. The outside held no interest for me—just as the inside held none for Sandora.

Day by day, I grew accustomed to everything. But don’t they say trouble always comes when you’re most comfortable? Without me noticing, something lurked just beyond the walls, ready to turn into a full-blown nuisance.

Some of it was dragged in from outside; some of it brewed within. The first to bring trouble in was Sandora herself. She’d sworn her outing would be “worth no regrets,” yet she returned to the castle before sunset. But the girl who left alone came back with company.

“I couldn’t just let him die in front of me.”

She’d hauled in a blood-soaked stranger, dumped right into the carriage. At her words, Mother and Grandfather masked their shock—but then swallowed their protests when Sandora’s guard muttered something under his breath. The person she brought back wasn’t just any outsider.

No, this was one of the wall-dwellers.

As someone who’d lived outside the walls, I’d crossed paths with his kind often enough. Their skin was usually sun-browned, and they traveled in packs, skilled at causing trouble. This one, according to Sandora, had been stealing when things went south, then stumbled upon her carriage and passed out.

I couldn’t fathom her change of heart, but Sandora had scooped the stranger up anyway. She insisted it was just pity—that she’d send him away once he recovered. The adults seemed to accept it as another one of her merciful whims, and the matter was settled.

The next headache, though? That one was mine.

The castle had been buzzing for days. Mother wore her skirts thin with all her rushing, and Grandfather popped up more often, barking orders left and right. Naturally, the chaos spilled over to me. My workload piled up like a mountain. Suddenly, I was drowning in “basic etiquette” lessons. If this kept up, I’d be pulling ten all-nighters just to keep up.

“The prince is coming.”

All of this was because of that damned prince’s visit.

Unlike me, who couldn’t care less whether he came or not, the maids were practically floating with excitement. I turned my gaze away from their giddiness—only to spot my cousin Edryd standing outside the window.

That brat had been loafing around our castle instead of returning to his own, either pestering me while I studied or gambling over chess games with Grandfather. According to Grandfather, since the prince was coming anyway, it’d be ‘good for Edryd to stay.’

I didn’t get it.

‘How is having that idiot around “good” in any way?’

‘Oh, heavens! Did you hear that? She’s even nastier than I warned!’

Grandfather just laughed. Edryd threw his hands up in exaggerated offense.

‘Just you wait—I’ll be the one saving your hide.’

‘From what, exactly?’

Grandfather poured red tea into Edryd’s cup, telling him to calm down, then said to me like it was sage advice:

‘He’s someone you’ll need to serve one day, after all.’

His tone was gentle, but there was an odd weight to it. Edryd, emboldened, smirked at me from behind Grandfather’s back.

‘If you don’t humiliate yourself in front of the prince, it’ll be a miracle.’

Edryd had apparently met the prince at some high-society gathering. The prince—heir to the Dome’s throne, the person I’d ‘serve’ someday, as Grandfather put it. I pictured the princes from books: silent types who loved dramatic entrances and played at being kind.

‘Silent? Ha!’

Edryd nearly leapt from his chair when I mentioned that.

‘When I first greeted the prince—must’ve been two years ago—he was fourteen, I was fifteen. The southern court was in an uproar over his visit. Even my father shoved me forward to pay respects. And then—’

‘Get to the point.’

‘This is the point! Someone stuffed dozens of live snakes into my chair. I sat down, felt something slithering, and—bam!—yellow eyes staring right at me. I screamed, jumped up, and everyone looked at me like I’d lost my mind. When I checked again? Nothing there.’

I was too disgusted to even speak.

‘That prince’s skill with light manipulation is no joke. Think about it—how many people in our circle could pull off a prank like that? Especially in front of the prince. I was just unlucky enough to be his target, that’s all.’

‘Grandfather.’

I stared at him, deadpan.

‘You actually believe this nonsense?’

Grandfather winked.

‘You heard. Just like those princes who swoop in during crises, our Edryd here will take all the pranks meant for you.’

‘Excuse me?!’

Edryd, thoroughly offended by Grandfather’s teasing, boycotted his study for days. He even gave me the silent treatment—though, being too soft-hearted to hold a grudge long, he eventually loitered outside my window like this, waiting for me to cave and apologize. Not that I was counting, but it’d definitely been over ten days.

I was about to shut the curtains—no good ever came from locking eyes with that chatterbox—when Edryd suddenly bellowed at the top of his lungs.

For all his sulking, he rarely lost his temper. My interest piqued—if Edryd was angry, something serious must’ve happened. And if it was close enough to see from my window, I couldn’t risk missing the spectacle.

I rushed outside, and true to form, Edryd didn’t disappoint. He stood fuming, so furious he wouldn’t notice a bee flying into his mouth and back out.

“Sandora!”

But the opponent was unexpected—it was Sandora, the very person Edryd usually adored. And Sandora was equally defensive, arms crossed, posture tense. Both of them held wooden practice swords.

“Are you out of your mind? Letting some nobody into the family—even teaching them swordsmanship?!”

“I told you, Ed. It was just a whim.”

“That’s not the point! Why are you so invested in some stray like that?”

“He’s my responsibility. Even Mother doesn’t interfere—why are you making a scene?”

“She’s not ‘not interfering’—she’s tolerating it! And I refuse to watch my cousin rub shoulders with filth!”

“Filth?”

“Yes! Filth!”

This was messier than I’d anticipated. I stepped forward, positioning myself beside Edryd. Neither noticed me, too busy shouting. Through the chaos, I finally saw the so-called filth: a slumped-shouldered boy standing behind Sandora, looking well past fifteen.

I’d seen plenty of brown-skinned outsiders on the streets. Most were either unhinged or did things even wall-rats avoided. Pickpocket kids in back alleys wouldn’t even acknowledge them—true bottom-feeders.

“I’m telling Lady Yereka. You’re clearly not thinking straight.”

Even after I’d finished sizing up the boy, the fight raged on.

“Why wouldn’t I be thinking straight?”

“Because you’re just trying to escape your—!”

Edryd cut himself off, clamping a hand over his mouth. He roughly wiped his lips and spat, “Damn it.” His eyes flicked to Sandora—a mistake he couldn’t take back.

“Regardless, this ends now.”

Edryd flung the wooden sword aside with a flick of his wrist. It clattered across the ground, coming to rest at the boy’s feet. Sandora stood silent while Edryd fumed, his chest heaving. The boy simply picked up the sword with unsettling calm, his face blank—utterly indifferent to the chaos around him.

“What’s his deal?”

My voice made both Sandora and Edryd jolt in surprise. But then, as if they’d been waiting for me, they each grabbed an arm and yanked me toward their side, each assuming I’d take theirs.

“Iyara, tell me you don’t actually think this is okay?” Edryd shook my left arm.

“I was just about to ask you something anyway,” Sandora countered, tugging my right.

They pulled so hard I thought my arms might pop off. Irritated, I shook them both loose.

“Get off me.”

I took a breath, recentering. Then, with my chin, I gestured to the boy standing between them—the real problem here.

“What’s the issue?”

I knew the scent of back alleys well. Maybe not filth, as Edryd claimed, but something undeniably off. People with that skin color stuck together like glue. They didn’t mix with outsiders, and if one got hurt, the rest swarmed like hornets. That’s why there were no orphans among them—or so I’d heard. If one existed, some self-appointed “auntie” or “uncle” would claim them in a heartbeat.