When she arrived back at home, her father and Luha threw their arms around her as soon as the door was closed.

“How did you do that!” Luha demanded.

Father shushed her. “Whisper, dear. What’s going on, meesha? Have you looked at your scar?”

She pulled the neck of her tunic aside again, pushing her shoulder up through it and showing them. Her father studied it with wonder, grazing his fingers across the surface; Luha stared, perplexed.

“I don’t know any better than you do. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened to it.”

They all exchanged glances, unsure of what to do or how to even begin to understand what was happening.

“Except your last mission,” her father whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I went out. Outside. That’s where I ran—outside the border. Into the woods. Nothing stopped me. It seems to be… gone.”

Again her father and Luha exchanged wondering glances. They were shocked into silence for a moment, until her father burst into action, darting to the closet where she kept her traveling gear.

“Then you have to go. While you can. You have to get out of here, meesha, while you have the chance—”

“No, Father, I can’t—”

“You must.”

“There’s something I have to do first.”

He turned to stare at her with sad, worried eyes. “You’re not thinking revenge, M—”

“Of course not,” she said quickly. “It’s Aven—the prince I brought to them. I have to undo the harm I’ve done him.”

Her father came back near them so he could speak more quietly. “Come, let us move away from the door, toward the fire. Could that prince have something to do with this? He is Akarian. Perhaps they have some weapon against the Masters?”

“No. He is a mage, to my surprise, but he knows nothing. He’s had no training. He said they didn’t train him, because they hoped his magic would fade away. Can you imagine? Just brushing it under the rug?” She was shaking her fist when she suddenly realized—the map he’d given her! “Wait! There was one thing. I didn’t know he had it until the very end, but—” She pulled the map from her pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her father. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

Her father’s eyes searched frantically, scanning the map back and forth. “It’s a map—of the stars. This is an ancient mage language. I only know a few of the words, but here, look—freedom.” He glanced up, fire in his eyes. “This is deeply forbidden magic, Miara. If they find this, they will destroy it. This is star magic—the very magic used to enslave the king.”

She took the map from him again and scanned the symbols. None of them made sense, although now she could see some of the star patterns of the sky. “If this records how to enslave, could it also tell us how to free someone?”

She glanced from her father to Luha and back again.

“A good hypothesis,” her father said, “and a good reason for them to ban such magic. Of course, without knowing these symbols, we can’t be sure. But you can’t try to interpret them here. If you really are… free, meesha, then you must get away from here and discover what this map means. That would be the best way to help all of us.”

She stared at the symbols, finally ending her eyes on the one her father had indicated—freedom.

“Aven,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “You bastard, you never told me. Why?”

Immediately, she knew, though. He couldn’t have known much more about this piece of paper than she did, or her father did, probably less. Even if he had been up to something with it, with his training he couldn’t have been very sure it would work. And you couldn’t go giving people hope about things like this if it was unfounded. Especially if chances were you would fail.

And yet—somehow—perhaps he had not failed. If she ever had him alone in the woods again, she was at least going to kiss him.

“First, I have to try to help him. He’s the one who brought us this map, after all, and maybe he even used it to free me. I have to try.”

Luha and Father nodded in unison. She had almost expected them to try to force her on her way. She should have known better.

“What can we do to help?” her father said.

It wasn’t until nightfall the next day that Daes and the Tall Master were able to discuss the situation again, alone. Seulka had had her eyes on them all day, but he couldn’t risk her tendency to employ flawed logic slowing them down or throwing them off track. It had thrown them too much already, since she had insisted it was impossible that the Akarians had kept the star magic or any magic at all.

And yet, here they were.

“Same, again,” the Tall Master whispered.

“Did he speak while you branded him again? Could you catch the words?”

“Not this time.”

“And the old wound?”

“Still too fresh, can’t quite tell.”

Daes shook his head, trying to think. What could the prince have discovered? How could he have discovered it? How could he have been a mage his whole life, and the Masters were only learning of this now?

“He was visibly exhausted afterwards. I think he’s expending energy each time. It’s possible if we tried several times in a row, he might run out of energy. Perhaps not be able to defend himself. We could wear him down. But aren’t we going to kill him anyway?”

Daes shrugged. “The king ordered his death, after his arrival.”

“It could be useful to taunt Akaria with their beloved prince on puppet strings.”

“It could be if we could actually do it,” Daes said. The Tall Master scowled at him. “Let’s see. The king did not know that the young prince would be a mage.”

“Indeed, none of us did.”

“So he will not expect him to be enslaved.”

He nodded. “So we will not necessarily need to tell him that the brand is not working. If we can keep that knight out of the way.”

“Perhaps the best strategy,” Daes agreed, relieved he didn’t have to spell out every little detail. Just then there was the faintest knock on the door. “Hmmm?”

The door cracked open slightly. “Sir, the king has arrived. His carriage has just reached the stable. He will not accept visitors tonight but will be ready to see the prince in the morning.”