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disappear again if he wasn’t paying attention.
    â€œYou’ll come straight home, my lad?” he asked.
    â€œYes, Nevery,” I said, because I knew it would make him not worry.
    Nevery nodded, then strode from the room, his cane going tap-tap on the stone floor.
    Embre smiled at Rowan. “You’ll keep me informed?” he asked her. He leaned forward and brushed the back of Rowan’s hand with his fingers.
    She blushed, then jerked her hand away and gave him an annoyed nod. “Of course, Underlord.”
    Captain Kerrn followed Embre as he wheeled himself out. Sure as sure Kerrn would wait outside the door, then hustle me out of the Dawn Palace when Rowan was done with me.
    The office door clicked closed.
    Just me and Rowan. My best friend. Who wanted me to be someone I really couldn’t be.
    A tappity-tap on the door. “Duchess Rowan?” Miss Dimity. “I implore you to forgive me for interrupting,” the secretary said. “But I must remind you, Your Grace, that according to our daily agenda, it is time for you to change into your formal gown for this evening’s musical gala.”
    â€œYes, I’m coming,” Rowan answered. “I just need a moment. Please wait outside.”
    â€œYou don’t want to be late, Your Grace,” Miss Dimity reminded, and with a sniff, went out and closed the door.
    Rowan blew out a sigh. “Musical gala. It’ll be harps again, I expect.” She turned briskly to me. “Look, Conn, I know you’re happy as you are, and I really am sorry to insist, but the ducal magister has to be you.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    She was barely holding on to her patience, I could tell. “It has to do with power,” she said. “The duchess, the Underlord, and the ducal magister. We each do our jobs and the city stays . . .” She held her hands palm up. “Balanced. Do you understand?”
    I understood that, but why me? “Nevery’d be better at it.”
    Rowan took off her golden spectacles and tossed them onto her desk. Then she came ’round and flopped into one of the padded chairs. She glanced at me, then studied the tips of her black shoes. “Conn, I’ve been training all my life to become duchess of this city. I’ve had lessons in swordcrafting, diplomacy, government, budget management, etiquette, architecture, city planning, and in magic. But”—her voice quavered a little—“my mother died before she should have. I’m the duchess, but I’m only sixteen years old.” She sat up straight and pointed in the direction of the Twilight, where my cousin Embre, the Underlord, lived. “And Embre is nineteen. Both of us are very young for our positions. Nevery is much older and very powerful.”
    And so he threw off the balance. I got it.
    Rowan pointed at me. “You, on the other hand, don’t overbalance me and Embre. You’re the right age, and, like us, you’re still discovering the reach of your power. It has to be you. Especially now, with the magics settled here so precariously.”
    I didn’t think she was right about that. I didn’t say anything.
    â€œAnd, well,” Rowan went on, looking at the tips of her shoes again. “I’m so busy right now, trying to become a good duchess, as my mother was. I work all the time and it’s—well, it’s lonely.” She gave a tired sigh. “You’re my friend. I want you here.”
    Maybe, even with all that training she’d done, and even though she was good at it, she didn’t like being the duchess. Still, I couldn’t be the ducal magister, not even if saying no to Rowan made my heart hurt a little.
    It wasn’t just about not wanting to go to meetings or live in the fancy rooms in the Dawn Palace. I could do those things if I had to, even if I didn’t like them. The problem was that ducal magister was a title, but it