Magnus frowned. He was lying on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the discomfort to drain from his tense body. He had dreamt of her again. She was laying there in the field, surrounded by red flowers, blood staining her clothes. His whole body ached, but he forced himself to move, to crawl to her, to reach her hand. He had gotten so close this time, before the pain of the memory became too real, too unbearable, forcing him awake.

He ran his hand through his hair, his fingers just barely grazing the scar at his temple. The girl's screams still echoed in his ears. He wondered, if he could manage to reach her, would those screams finally stop?

He heard a knock at the door.

"Enter," he called, hurriedly scooting off the bed and pulling a robe over his night clothes.

Magnus heard the clink of armor as Sylvan stepped in and shut the door behind him. "Good morning."

Magnus's shoulders dropped a little. "Thought you were Mina."

Sylvan raised an eyebrow. "Is that disappointment I hear?"

Magnus just smiled to himself and disappeared behind the curtain into his bathroom. "Did you need to tell me something?"

"Just thought I'd check up on you. Are you doing alright?"

Magnus sighed. "I dreamt about that girl again."

"Was it any different this time?"

Magnus emerged from the bathroom a few moments later and crossed the room to his dresser. "I almost made it. She was so close, and yet still out of my reach." He picked up a brush and began to run it through his hair.

"Like that maid of yours."

Magnus paused, shooting Sylvan a look. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Magnus looked away again. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You've been distracted lately," Sylvan pointed out gently. "You were never late to any meeting or behind on any task before. I doubt you're getting enough sleep either."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not being the perfect little prince anymore," Magnus retorted, his voice coming out harsher than he intended.

Sylvan raised his hands. "Look, I don't want to act like an overly concerned parent, but I've known you for almost a decade now, and you've never been like this before. And I think we both know why."

Magnus was quiet for a moment. "Sylvan...I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing." Sylvan didn't respond, allowing him a moment to collect his thoughts. "Am I blind? Do I just want to believe that she's different? Hell, I don't even know if she...if she sees me as more than just the prince or my father's son."

Sylvan tilted his head. "She does strike me as someone who would rather disappear and fade into the background than be noticed, and she doesn't know what to do with the attention you give her."

"See, I'd say the same, but again, I just can't tell. I can't see through her like I could with the others."

"But you still trust her."

"With my life," he admitted, his voice weak and vulnerable. He sucked in a breath. "Sylvan..."

"Yes?"

"I went outside with her."

Sylvan froze, ice prickling through his veins. "You did what?"

"We snuck out to the inner city last week, and I want to go again."

Sylvan's eyes widened. "Magnus!"

"What—"

"Magnus, you could've been killed!"

"By her?"

"If not her, literally anyone out there. Do you know how dangerous it is?"

"Yes, but I'm not a child. I can defend myself."

Sylvan shook his head, not almost not believing what he was hearing. "How? How did you do it?"

"There's a secret passageway in my dressing room. Micah helped us hitch a ride on a merchant's cart and we went from there."

Sylvan stared at the ground. How could he have been so oblivious and careless? "And nothing happened? No one recognized you?"

"Well..."

"Magnus!"

Magnus shushed him. "Calm down. We had it under control. I wouldn't have gone if I didn't think I could handle it."

Sylvan slumped onto one of the couches, feeling a little lightheaded. He had fought and lied and even killed to keep Magnus safe for all these years. He had buried truths and loose ends, burning anything and everything that could be used against the young prince. And yet, a scrappy maid and a reckless moonlit excursion could have made all his effort amount to nothing.

"You could have been killed for what? A stroll through the market? The thrill of rebellion? What were you thinking?"

Magnus crossed his arms. "I was thinking of all those people out there who need me. Isn't that what you've said? That I need to be someone people could look up to? How can I do that if I'm stuck in here?"

Sylvan was silent, tapping his foot on the ground as he tried to collect himself. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because you would have never agreed to it."

Sylvan let out a dry laugh. "That's probably true."

"But you see," Magnus continued, his voice growing stronger. "I did it and it worked."

"Yes, but how much longer until your luck runs out?"

"It's not just luck. And we'll never stop being careful."

Sylvan frowned, still unsure. "Let me go with you next time, then."

"No, I need you here. If you're not posted at my room like you always are, someone is going to notice."

"So you're going just with her again?"

Magnus nodded. "The less people involved, the better. I'm already putting Micah in danger by having him help us but..."

Sylvan smoothed out the corner of a rug with his foot. "Still want me to train him?"

"Please." Magnus looked at him, his eyes shining with purpose. "Sylvan, there are good people here and out there, and they need us. Not everyone has been crushed under my father's thumb just yet."

Sylvan fixed his gaze on his prince and his friend in understanding. A bit of pride rose up in him, seeing the promising traces of a compassionate king in the young boy he had always known. Magnus wasn't hiding behind him anymore. He was walking forward, arming himself with all his courage and strength. After everything, the king still hadn't gotten the best of him.

Magnus drifted over to the balcony, looking out to the rising sun over his future kingdom. As long as the sun continued to dispel the night, he would fight for every single voice that had been silenced during his father's reign, like that girl in his dreams whose screams and cries for help went unanswered. He would reach her and he would reach them. As black as the present was, he would not let the darkness conquer all.