“It is nothing to die; it is dreadful not to live.” — Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

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  Darkness had already fallen, with the millions of stars above glittering like diamonds on black velvet by the time Yulia had left the Black Blade, feeling better than how she had felt when she’d first arrived.

  The rain had stopped, and most of the villagers’ homes were already cloaked in darkness, with only the faint glow of porch lights hanging by the doors, and a few lampposts lining the village paths being the only sources of light.

  Despite the silence, save for the light chirps from the crickets and the few flickering fireflies heralding summer, Yulia didn’t find it unnerving or eerie. In fact, she found solace in the silence.

  She took the familiar trek towards Nightray Manor, guided by the stone lanterns that had lined the paths for as long as she could remember.

  The lanterns help guide the shadows of Alathia back home, Yulia recalled her father telling her once when she was a child. Even shadows need to find solace in the light sometimes.

  As the familiar gates of Nightray Manor came into view, Yulia slowed, her eyes narrowing when she noticed the familiar figure standing in front of the gates. His cloak was still damp from the rain, and Goddess only knew how long he’d been standing there.

  Ewan Nightray straightened as she approached.

  “My lady,” he murmured, inclining his head towards Yulia in quiet respect.

  It had been years since Yulia last saw Ewan. The last time had been the night when Luca was banished from the Imperial Palace, and Ewan had gone with him as his guardian. Ewan had made periodic returns to Evershade occasionally over the years, but their paths never crossed.

  The teenager she remembered was now a grown man, lean with a slender frame, and the signature Nightray dark hair falling just below his earlobes, with the fringe partially concealing his right eye—the trademark silver, like most members of House Nightray. A small silver earring, shaped like a sword and a wolf’s head, hung from his left ear. His attire had changed, too. Ewan is now wearing a loose black shirt beneath a hooded coat, with dark trousers and boots, with his sword slung across his back in a sash.

  “Ewan,” Yulia murmured. “Is something wrong?” she asked, her mind immediately leaping to a dozen worst-case scenarios.

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  “Don’t worry, nothing happened,” Ewan assured immediately, brushing water droplets from his collar. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small folded envelope, handing it to Yulia. “I’m just here as a courier.”

  Yulia’s breath hitched when she recognised Luca’s handwriting scrawled across the front. It wasn’t unusual. Ewan had carried letters between Yulia and Luca for years, though in recent years, those letters have lessened.

  Yulia’s responsibilities in managing the Nightray lands and territories, and the recent turmoil in the kingdom, had left her with little free time. Not to mention that Ewan doesn’t often return to Evershade. Thus, Yulia always savoured Luca’s letters whenever Ewan brought one with him.

  Ewan bowed to Yulia again. “I’ll take my leave,” he said simply, before he then disappeared into the night without a word.

  Yulia stood alone outside the gates of Nightray Manor for several moments, her eyes devouring the sight of her name written on the envelope in Luca’s familiar handwriting. Her grip on the letter tightened, as if it might vanish if she let go.

  Like how Luca vanished all those years ago.

  Swallowing nervously, Yulia quickly entered Nightray Manor, offering only a distracted nod to the maids who bowed as she passed. She removed her boots at the entrance, then made her way through the halls to the top floor.

  Yulia only relaxed once she was in the safety of her room, with the door shut and locked behind her. Thunder was already rumbling in the distance as Yulia lit the wick of the oil lamp at her desk, almost tearing the letter in her haste to get it open.

  Luca’s familiar and neat handwriting greeted her immediately.

  Yulia,

  Summer is coming. We’re fourteen, now. Turning fifteen next year. And with the changing of seasons, I imagine you’ll be heading to the Officers Academy soon. It’s tradition, after all. Lord Hamilton attended in his time, as did most of the lords and ladies of the Ten Great Houses.

  It’s tradition for the members of the royal family to attend the Imperial Officers Academy as well. I always thought we would go together. But if wishes were horses…

  I heard from Jonah, and even Ewan, too, that Rem will be attending the Academy next year as well. Do take care of him, will you?

  How is he doing? I heard things. That you’ve been cold with him for years. I can’t blame you, truly. But my exile wasn’t his fault. Please don’t hold it against him too much. Give him a chance.

  He will need your help and advice in the years to come, especially in light of the current turmoil plaguing the kingdom. Jonah and Ewan have been keeping me updated on the current state of affairs in Alathia.

  Don’t worry so much. Things will get better eventually. With you by Rem’s side, and even Lord Merren, Rem will be a good king. The kingdom doesn’t need me.

  Take care of yourself.

  ~Luca

  Yulia sighed, folding the letter carefully.

  It would join the other letters that she’d received from Luca over the years—inside a handmade pinewood box tucked at the back of her drawer. Crafted to preserve what was placed inside, the box had long safeguarded the only connection she had left to him.

  “Luca, you’re too optimistic if you believe that Rem would be a good king when all he does is listen to Parliament and let people lead him around by the nose,” Yulia muttered, feeling irritated all over again when she recalled her meeting with Rem and Lord Merren earlier in the day. “If you were here, what would you do?”

  Not for the first time, Yulia wished that Luca were still here, and was still Crown Prince. If only King Edric hadn’t let fear cloud his judgment. And now, look at the mess that the kingdom is in. Alathia was falling apart, and Yulia had no idea what to do. There were fires everywhere, and Yulia only had a bucket of water to douse it.

  Unlike Rem, Luca would spring into action, Yulia knew. The moment that he knew that the people were suffering and starving, Luca would do something, even if it meant threatening half of Parliament or banishing them.

  Even if it makes people think of him as a tyrant. Luca had never cared about the consequences as long as he knew he was doing the right thing.

  Yulia got to her feet and crossed her room, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpet, as she stood by the window, staring out over the darkened village of Evershade. Rain had begun to fall again, pattering gently against the glass.

  “There isn’t much I can do,” Yulia whispered, “if Rem won’t listen to me.”

  And again, not for the first time, Yulia found herself wishing that the prince she served wasn’t Rem.

  But Luca.