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have used the pillow. By the way, they think it’ll be Kythshire.
    Kythshire. Land of Fae. I wonder why they would think that. It seems a little farfetched that the king would send his best guild off to chase after fairies when everyone knows they no longer exist. Actually, it’s a ridiculous notion. No one can even find the land let alone enter it. I wouldn’t put it past Rian to tell me such a thing just to see if I’d believe him. Then he would laugh when I bring it up to the rest of the guild.
    I shake my head and toss the note onto the shelf holding my helm and boots. It’s just the kind of trick he’d try to pull, and he’s not getting me this time. I’m not saying anything to anyone until I know for sure what the quest is. The pages will deliver the declaration at sunset tonight, and then we’ll have one day to plan and ready ourselves before heading out. My pulse quickens as I imagine riding through the gates on my first true quest alongside my parents, holding the guild’s banner high as the crowds cheer farewell. It’s been my dream for so long, and finally, now that I’m a squire, it’s coming true.
    I’m still smiling as I dress in trousers and a light tunic and go downstairs barefooted. In the kitchen I grab an apple and crunch into it as I step outside into the courtyard where my father is working. My mother sits under the shade of a canopy beside him, and my previously bloodied chain tunic sparkles beneath the surface of a pail of water at her feet.
    “I should be doing that.” I gesture to the bucket as I lean in to kiss her cheek. “Good morning.”
    “Good morning. You have more important things.” She smiles and holds Margy’s purple ring up to me, looped over one finger. “The official invitation is inside on the table.” I take the ring by the ribbon and turn it in my hand, remembering the panic I felt being dragged by horse, trapped by my own glove, and the triumph as I hooked the ring into place.
    “But I have so much to do...” I tap Da on the shoulder as he hammers out a dent from the inside of Mum’s helm, most likely dealt by Dar yesterday. I fight back a scowl as Da leans his cheek down to me for a kiss.
    “We’ll manage,” he says as he holds up the helm and turns it one way and another to check for imperfections. It looks perfect to me, but he sets it down again and strikes it gently with the rounded peen of the hammer. “So I’m forgiven, then?” 
    “I suppose,” I say as I hop up to perch on the stone wall along the side of the forge where the coals have cooled to black. Mum bends again to scrub the red from my mail and Da works diligently at the dent I can no longer see. “I wish I could stay here, though.” I take another bite of my apple.
    “Azi. You can’t ignore a royal summons. Not even from the youngest member of the family.” Da is right, I know. I finish my apple and slide from my seat to return to the kitchen where the tiny folded note rests on the table. The purple wax seal is pressed with the little princess’s crest: a tiny winged lady dancing on a daisy. It’s so pretty I hate to break it, so I peel the wax away from the paper carefully and slip the hardened disc into the pocket of my trousers. The note inside is a colorful child’s drawing of a girl with blonde hair in a blue and yellow tunic raising an enormous sword over her head. The sword has been gold leafed, and flakes of it glitter as they drift to the table like snow when I raise it to read the inscription. Written in a page’s impeccable hand, it says:
     
    Her Royal Highness Princess Margary and Her Royal Highness Princess Sarabel request the presence of Squire Azaeli Hammerfel at court this morning. Please present this invitation to the gateman upon arrival at the palace.
     
    I find myself walking a little taller as I pass other girls my age who are escorted by their housemaids as they rush here and there along the city streets. My new title of Squire affords me a freedom