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“What does Prince Ladon think of the plan?”

She reaches inside her book bag and pulls out a dark blue Solarball jersey. “He was an easy sell. Gave me his jersey almost immediately.” Her brows crease before she tosses it back into her bag.

“You are utterly diabolical Ramona,” I say. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Ew. No.”

“I love both of you,” Esther says, voice surprisingly reserved. Almost a whisper.

Before things can get awkward, I improvise—like any good Teller in training—and slap her on the knee. “We love you too, Esther.”

Castor looks different. His shoulders are more rounded, broader. Larger. Dark brown stubble lines his jaw from weeks away at the front, his bright blue eyes now dimmed from battles. The pressure of a war is evident in the tightness of his posture. The flex of his jaw.

I take a seat in the wingback chair at his desk now scattered with trade routes and strategy plans. What was Elder Superior Markus making his son lead exactly? The whole damn army?

Castor doesn’t look up until I clear my throat.

His eyes snap to mine, pupils dilating slightly before returning to their normal size.

“How was it?” How was it? What type of person asks, “How was it?” right after someone returns from battle? How was your coffee this morning? How was your trip back home? Did Lux make it to the stables alright?

Idiot.

Castor, luckily, doesn’t seem to realize that I’m preoccupied chiding myself, instead taking a seat opposite of me. “If I’m being honest… exhausting.”

“War will do that to you.” Okay. What the actual fuck. “I mean, uh…” I squeeze my knees instead of the alternative—banging my head against the desk.

Castor chuckles, low and soft. Some of the color returns to his face.

Perhaps being a rambling, awkward Prentice Teller is helping in this instance.

“Where were we before I was called to the front lines?”

“Before we rehash our last lesson, I have something to share with you.”

“Oh?”

“During Winter Solstice, Leaf and Ramona went to retrieve the Moon Stone.”

Castor sits back in his seat and crosses one leg over another. “Did your vision lead them to the right place?”

“The Forest Tribe?” I huff out a breath. “It was there. But apparently, it was given away long ago to someone else.”

“Fuck!” He abruptly slams a hand down on the desk. Castor sees my wince and immediately forces his shoulders to lower and takes a breath. “It’s the front lines on the Southern border.”

I nod almost imperceptibly at the man before me, the facade of a professor peeling off to reveal the friend, and savior, beneath. One that is very, very tired.

“There’s something wrong with the Underlings. It’s almost like they are going rabid. Fiercer than before, not reacting to pain as much. It takes twice as many blows to render them dead.”

The disease has gone beyond Terraguard to hit the Jord then. I reach for his hand across the desk. “I know.”

His azure blue eyes snap to mine.

“It’s been affecting Terraguard too.”

“How would you—” Something shifts in his gaze, from the azure of the ocean to the coldest snap of winter. “You’re going there, aren’t you?”

The words hit their mark, thrown bitterly with a sharpness he didn't have before.