Til climbed the stairs of the King’s tower slowly, hand running over the smooth walls as he tried to keep his balance on the dark stairs that had grooves worn into them from time, unable to see where the next dip would be.

  He was still unsure of what exactly had possessed him to volunteer.

  His departure from the throne room had been waylaid by the other knights and Honored. All congratulated him on his boldness and bravery, and everyone wished him luck on his journey. Some who had found their tongue asked if they could go with, excited about what he’d see, the people he’d save, while others slapped him on the back, telling him that even with all the money in the Kingdom, they couldn’t be paid to take his place.

  Til wasn’t sure who made better points, and now, as he walked up the stairs, he wished he’d kept quiet. Though it did allow him entrance to part of the castle he’d never been in before.

  The entrance to the King’s tower was hidden; the only people other than the King, Noan, and the Kingsguard to know how to get inside were a few of the maids. Hiding the entrance kept the King safe and made it more obvious when there were people who sought to do him harm in the area.

  But even as he made the unsteady journey to the war room the King had asked to meet him in, he wondered where the Kingsguard were. Noan had been Til’s guide this time, showing him the entrance that Til had walked past so many times without realizing. But this time, he was allowed in, invited even.

  All without any Kingsguard. Even if the King had sent his personal guard out in advance, there still should have been some with him. It wasn’t safe to be a king, and even with the relative peace, even with the apparent focus on another plan…

  Someone should be here with King Donner.

  The war room wasn’t as far up as the King’s personal chambers, or even the rooms that Kingsguard were to live in. Noan had told him as much when he’d shown Til the door, though Til didn’t know exactly how much further up either of those floors was.

  Instead, he stopped outside the war room to catch his breath and to admire the large, banded door leading in. The dark wood of the doors has been treated, shining in the light provided by a lantern hanging across from it. The iron bands looked sturdy. Fit for a king. Fit to keep an army out.

  Despite the heaviness, the door swings open easily when Til pushes on it.

  “Close it behind you.” The King says once Til enters.

  Pushing the door closed, Til turns around to examine the room while he has the chance. The King stands alone at the back of the room, riffling through something on a shelf.

  Again, the King was without any of the Kingsguard; he’d rationalized it away previously. Perhaps the King thought himself safe enough in a room full of people who’d sworn themselves to protect him. But now he was alone, with just Til.

  There should have been at least one in the room, no matter how safe the King thought the hidden tower.

  Unsure if he should say anything when the King so obviously knew he was there, Til busied himself by looking over the maps already laid out on the table.

  Though Til had seen maps of the Kingdom before, these ones were more ornate, more detailed than anything he’d ever seen. The routes on the maps were labeled, along with the towns themselves, in a small but still clear script. Besides the towns, there were other numbers, though they had no labels.

  Suddenly, the King turned, bringing with him a small chest that he placed gingerly upon the table.

  Tid didn’t have a chance to do more than catch a glimpse of the brightly colored items in the box before the King grabbed a handful and scattered them over the maps with a flick of his wrist. It takes Til a second to recognise that they’re crystals of all shapes, sizes, and colors, glittering and beautiful as they hit each other and the table. Some stop quite suddenly, freezing as though stuck to something on the table, with no apparent rhyme or reason to it, while the rest fall off the edges opposite the King from the force of the throw.

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  It takes everything in his power for Til to avoid watching the way the ones that fell from the table continue to glitter and bounce; instead, he focuses on the ones still on the table. Still, he’ll have to watch his steps when he leaves, lest he trod on one accidentally.

  Though the King had to have thrown at least a hundred of the crystals, only a dozen or so remained on the map. Most were fairly scattered, though there were a few areas that had multiple crystals together, even piled on top of each other.

  Til leaned closer, resting his hands on the table as he leaned in to examine the remaining ones.

  “You’re interested, good.” The King says, his croaking voice somehow more startling than the booming one he used when addressing the public. When Til makes him look at him, the King points to one of the crystals, a pale green one with sharp-looking edges, “Look closer. Here you see crystals, but these aren’t just crystals. These crystals are the children we search for, the Touched ones.”

  Looking over the map, Til couldn’t believe that there were so many of the Touched in the Kingdom. Should he even be allowed to know this much? Know that there’s a system for finding them that is apparently so easy that anyone would be able to do it?

  He’s distracted from his thoughts by the King speaking again.

  “Each of these crystals is a child, one who may, or may not, know that they can do things the other children can only dream of. They run and play like the other children, and there’s nothing outwardly that can tell a Touched child from one who isn’t.”

  It doesn’t make sense to him, even with the knowledge that these were the Touched children. And how could these crystals show where the Touched were? “Is this how you knew something was wrong?”

  “Yes, see here-” Nodding, the King points to an area with more crystals than the rest, “-this area used to have a couple, now it has a dozen alone. They rarely move far; the towns are their homes, and they have no need.”

  Til struggles to understand why it would be an issue, especially when he thought the problem was children disappearing, “Perhaps more Touched children were just born there this year?”

  “One could hope, but the birth records for this town don’t match the increase.” The King pauses, jaw clenching, lips working as though he’s mulling over his words. “This area having increased is not the only thing that has changed. There used to be many, many more of the Touched children, enough that scattering my crystals would have covered this map, enough that only a few of the crystals may have fallen to the floor, if any at all.”

  From the floor, the dozens of glittering crystals seem to sparkle in warning, and Til can’t make anything leave his throat. Why is he privy to this information? Surely the King wouldn’t want this information falling into the wrong hands?

  The King continues, pointing to a few towns, “There used to be children in those towns, but now they’re gone, all gone.”

  Spanning his withered hands in a circle rising from the bottom corner of the map, Til can suddenly see the conspicuous circle that’s completely void of crystals. At the bottom of that area is a name that Til thinks he recognizes, but when his King speaks, he can’t help but pay attention.

  “There’s no sign of them, any of them. No plagues, no battles. And the areas around them stay the same. I fear that because they haven’t shown up anywhere else, they might be-” A choked noise escapes the King, causing Til to freeze. The King looks away, clearing his throat, “I have hopes the children have only been stolen, not killed. But I cannot be sure without going myself.”

  The King pauses once more and, if possible, seems to shrink in on himself. Somehow so much smaller than he’d been when inviting Til to this room, and smaller still than when Til had entered.

  “I fear that, I am no longer capable. Not of surveying my Kingdom, nor of protecting the children who would fall under my care.”

  Til’s jaw drops behind his helmet. He can’t believe the King would tell him, of all people, this, that he would admit weakness at all. He closes his mouth, trying to think of something, anything that he might be able to say to assure the King.

  Without thought, without any idea of what’s going to come out of his mouth, Til blurts, “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know how. How to find them—the Touched children, and how I’m supposed to protect them from other Touched. I’m not Touched. I’m just, I’m not special.”

  The King’s gaze lifted to Til. Brows furrowed once more, eyes piercing, and it’s as though he’s looking through the armor, seeing right through it, right through Til to the core of him.

  Assessing him, appraising him.

  Judging him like a lamb for slaughter.

  But then a soft smile relaxes his face, and his gaze becomes much warmer. “You have no need to worry. It would be foolish for me to send you alone. You will not be the only one on your quest; there will be another to lighten the burden you carry. Now, go and sleep, gather your supplies. In the morning, your guide will be waiting for you, and your quest will begin.”

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