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  Katalin led Laszlo through the halls of the residence, moving with the ease of someone who had spent years weaving through these corridors. The stone walls were draped in banners of deep azure and silver, the colors of House Stonehaven, while narrow windows let in slivers of cool morning light.

  As they walked, Laszlo hesitated, then asked carefully, “May I ask you something?”

  Katalin glanced at him, catching the uncertainty in his tone. “Alright.”

  “If it’s not too forward… how old are you?”

  “I have eleven harvest festivals,” she answered. “And you?”

  “Twelve, by the way nobles count years.” He paused, thinking. “But I was born just before the new year, so we’re probably about the same.”

  Katalin nodded. “I don’t know when I was born for sure.” They walked a few more steps before she glanced sideways at him. “Why do you ask?”

  Laszlo opened his mouth, then hesitated. “Oh, well… it’s just because you’re… um.”

  Katalin grimaced, shaking her head. “Oh. Because I’m so small. Yeah, I hear that a lot.”

  Laszlo gave a half-shrug, clearly relieved she’d said it first. “Well… not that small.”

  Katalin smiled and nodded her head. “I’ll grow.”

  They continued on and passed a few servants carrying supplies for the feast—bolts of fabric, polished silver trays, and baskets of fresh bread. Katalin gave them brief nods in greeting, at ease in the space, while Laszlo kept silent, his sharp eyes scanning everything around him. He was taking it all in, studying the layout, the movements, the way people stepped aside to let them pass.

  As they neared the main exit, Laszlo slowed, glancing toward the guards posted by the door. Their presence wasn’t unusual, but something about them seemed to make him reconsider his next step.

  He leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. “I bet a place this large has a lot of ways in and out.”

  Katalin grinned. “Oh yes. There are all sorts of ways in and out. There’s a door in the kitchens that leads to the back gardens, and if you take the right passage in the lower halls, you can slip out near the armory without anyone noticing.” She glanced at him, watching for his reaction. “Oh, and there’s a little stairwell near the library that opens up onto a side courtyard. Barely anyone uses it.”

  She let the words hang for a moment, then grinned. “But the best way out? The roof. If you know the right path, you can go up and see the whole city from there. Want to?”

  Laszlo hesitated just a fraction, then nodded. “Yes. That sounds great.”

  Katalin led the way, her steps confident as they navigated the winding halls and staircases of the keep. They climbed higher and higher, passing through narrow corridors that saw less foot traffic, until they reached the exit to the roof.

  A single guard stood at his post, leaning against the stone archway with the relaxed ease of someone who didn’t see much excitement at this station. His hand rested lazily on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes flicked toward them as they approached.

  Katalin smiled. “Hello, Wilmar.”

  The guard straightened slightly, nodding in greeting. “Morning, Katalin.” His gaze shifted to Laszlo, scanning him with mild curiosity. “And who’s this, then?”

  Katalin gestured toward him. “This is Laszlo. He’s Lord Tamas’s son.”

  At that, Wilmar blinked, his posture shifting immediately. He glanced at Laszlo again, this time with sharper interest. “Ah. I’d heard Baron Westguard and his son arrived last night.” He hesitated only a moment before straightening fully and giving a short bow of his head. “My lord.”

  Laszlo gave a small nod in return, not reacting to the shift in tone. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Wilmar’s lips twitched, but he didn’t relax as he usually did around Katalin. He stepped aside, pulling open the heavy wooden door leading onto the roof. “Watch your step,” he said. “The wind’s sharp up there today.”

  Katalin led the way out, Laszlo following close behind. A gust of cool air greeted them, carrying the crisp, clean sweetness of the Pride Sea mixed with the faint smoke of the buildings below. The sky stretched endlessly overhead, brilliant and cloudless.

  From up here, they could see everything.

  The keep stretched below them, a maze of courtyards, barracks, and sturdy stone towers casting long shadows in the morning light. Guards moved along the battlements, their steel catching glints of sun as they patrolled the walls. Near the fortified front gate, the High Mage’s Tower loomed over everything else—a smooth spire of pale stone, its narrow windows dark and unreadable. From where they stood they could see one lone guard standing on its upper balcony scanning the horizon.

  Katalin tilted her head. “I’ve always wondered why the mage tower isn’t near the keep’s halls, like the others.”

  Laszlo followed her gaze. “It’s for defense,” he said. “From up there, the mages can see beyond the walls. And if the city is ever attacked, they can strike down from above.”

  Beyond the keep, the city of Crestport spread out in a patchwork of narrow streets and clustered rooftops, bustling with life. The docks were a flurry of movement, ships of all sizes moored along the piers as workers hauled crates and barrels. The wind carried snatches of sound up to them—the distant clang of metal on wood, the creak of rigging, half-heard voices calling orders—faint and scattered, pieces of a world just out of reach. And beyond the city—the Pride Sea, its vast waters shimmering under the sunlight, stretching all the way to the horizon where it vanished into blue infinity.

  Laszlo braced his hands on the low wall, scanning the view. “Westguard doesn’t have a tower like that,” he said, nodding toward the High Mage’s Tower. “We have four smaller ones, one on each side of the fortress. A battlemage and his apprentice live in each.”

  Katalin’s brows lifted. “You’ve met a real mage?”

  Laszlo nodded. “Yes. I have to attend most of my father’s councils and they are always there. The youngest one, Aldrich Moonfell, is friendly enough.”

  Katalin frowned. “Our High Mage is named Corvus Nightweave. I go in and out of Stonehaven Hall all the time but I’ve never met him. And I’ve never met anyone from the Nightweave family, either.”

  Laszlo chuckled. “There probably isn’t a Nightweave family.”

  Katalin blinked. “What about his parents?”

  Laszlo turned slightly, leaning against the stone railing. “His parents aren’t named Nightweave. And they probably aren’t anywhere near Stonehaven. Mages take new names during their training. Father says it is just mystical nonsense. No one knows if they choose a name or if their masters give it to them. But once they take the name, their old one is never spoken again.”

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  Katalin glanced back toward the High Mage’s Tower, and shrugged. “Sounds like bards. But I know one bard who changes his name all the time.”

  Laszlo shrugged. “Mages, bards…I guess all magic users are odd.”

  Laszlo looked back toward Crestport, then out past the horizon. “You have the Pride Sea right at your doorstep. Have you ever been out on the water?

  Katalin shook her head. “No. I’ve been to the city a lot, and I like watching the boats come and go, but I’ve never been on one.”

  Laszlo turned toward her. “Would you want to?”

  She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe. It looks exciting, but I don’t know if I’d like being stuck on a boat for very long.”

  Laszlo nodded, then looked back toward the horizon. “I’ve never been either. Westguard only has a river, and not a very big one. But I’ve crossed it a few times in rowboats.”

  Katalin remembered the Westguard soldier she had seen earlier. She glanced at Laszlo. “A soldier by the doors was wearing Westguard colors. Did he come with you and your father?”

  Laszlo gave a small shrug. “A lot of soldiers came with us. He’s probably one of them.”

  Katalin studied him for a moment, but before she could say anything, Laszlo stepped closer to the edge of the roof, leaning against the low wall. His gaze shifted to the busy courtyards below. “I guess it’s not always this crowded down there.”

  Katalin also turned to watch the people below, “No. Everyone is getting ready for the feast.”

  Laszlo pointed toward a field beyond the city walls. “What about those people?”

  Katalin followed his gaze and spotted the field between the keep and the city. A small crowd had gathered along the edges, watching two teams dart across the grass, wooden sticks flashing as they battled for control of a small leather ball. The crack of wood striking the ball echoed through the open air, punctuated by bursts of cheers and shouts.

  “That’s shinty,” Katalin said. “It’s really popular here. The big guilds and the city guards have their own teams, and the smaller guilds group together to make theirs. Even the villages outside the city play against each other.”

  Laszlo studied the game for a moment. “We don’t have anything like that in Westguard.”

  Katalin arched an eyebrow. “What do you play, then?”

  “All our games are combat-related,” Laszlo said. “Archery contests, capture the flag, things like that. But the most popular is folk football.”

  “Folk football?”

  Laszlo gave a short laugh. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

  Katalin shook her head.

  “It’s simple,” Laszlo said. “Two teams, as many players as you can get, no real field—just a ball, two goals, and one rule. Get the ball to the other team’s goal however you can.”

  Katalin stared at him. “That’s it?”

  Laszlo nodded. “It’s rough, but it’s good training,” Laszlo said. “You have to be fast, stick with your team, and do anything you can to score. I played a match just before we left Westguard.” He smirked slightly. “It ended in a draw. Because we ran out of daylight.”

  Katalin laughed. “I can imagine.” She watched the shinty players as they fought for the ball, weaving and dodging with quick footwork and well-placed strikes. “This is still better. It’s fast, and you have to be smart to win.”

  Laszlo considered that for a moment, then nodded. “It does look like good exercise. But the people watching—what do they get out of it?”

  Katalin grinned. “It’s fun to watch.”

  Laszlo blinked, looking genuinely puzzled. “Just… watching?”

  She laughed. “Yes! You cheer for your team, yell at the players when they mess up, argue with your friends about who’s better. Haven’t you ever watched a game before?”

  Laszlo shrugged. “I suppose. But not for fun.”

  Katalin rolled her eyes. “You sound like my brother.”

  Laszlo gave a quiet laugh but didn’t argue. Instead, he asked, “What do you do for fun?”

  Katalin thought for a moment. “Now? Mostly riding with Aunt Teo. Or reading.” She hesitated, then added, “Before my father left for Butterridge, I spent most of my time with him in the smithy.”

  Laszlo raised an eyebrow. “You like the smithy?”

  Katalin nodded, then looked back down on the keep, scanning the streets below. “Look, over there,” she said, pointing toward a familiar set of buildings nestled against the inner wall near the gates. “That’s where my father’s smithy is. And where we live. Well, for now.”

  Laszlo found where she was pointing, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the structure. “It looks… smaller than I expected.”

  Katalin huffed. “It’s not small. It’s just not as fancy as the rest of the keep. But it’s the best place in all of Stonehaven—at least, I think so.”

  Laszlo’s mouth quirked slightly, but he didn’t argue. “And after you move?”

  Katalin hesitated, then gestured beyond the city, toward the distant hills where Butterridge lay. “Out there to the east. My father’s building a new smithy. We’ll have a house, too. Bigger than our rooms here.”

  Laszlo was quiet for a moment, still looking at the smithy below. “I see.”

  He turned back to her, studying her face. “Are you looking forward to it?”

  Katalin shifted on her feet. “I guess so. I mean, yes.” She lifted her chin, firming her voice. “It’ll be different. We’ll have more space. A real home of our own, not just rooms in the keep.”

  Laszlo raised an eyebrow. “But?”

  Katalin exhaled, crossing her arms as she looked down over the city. “I’ll miss it here. I’ve lived my whole life in the keep. I know every hall, every shortcut. I know the guards and the servants, the way the bells sound at different times of the day. I’ll miss Aunt Teo and my brother. I’ll miss Smokey.”

  “Your brother is staying at the keep?”

  “Yes. He lives here in the residence. He is learning to be a land manager.”

  “He is? I will probably see him often then.”

  “You’re staying in Stonehaven?”

  “I think so. My father doesn’t tell me much.”

  “It’s funny then. That this is your first day here and it’s my last.”

  After that they were both quiet. Just watching the people below.

  Without looking up Katlin asked, “Will you look after her?”

  From the corner of her eye Katlin saw Laszlo nod, “Yes. I wouldn’t say I can look after her, but I’ll see her often. I heard Father Odran say he was worried about her.”

  Katalin smiled wide. Happy that Laszlo understood without asking. “Thank you,” she said.

  Laszlo gave a small bow, mimicking what Father Odran had done earlier then continued, “As you command, My Lady.”

  Hearing her own words thrown back at her, Katalin grinned and gave a short laugh. If she knew him better, she would have punched Laszlo in the arm. The urge was hard to resist.

  But then a serious expression crossed Laszlo’s face, “I only just met my Great Aunt today, well, other than when I was too young to remember, but I think she is the nicest noble I have ever met.”

  At that, warmth spread in Katalin’s chest, easing some of the worry she hadn’t even realized she was carrying, “She is the nicest person you will ever meet. Noble or not.”

  Laszlo just nodded, “You are probably right.” And they went back to watching the crowd below.

  After a few minutes Laszlo turned to Katalin. “So,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “Besides the front door, show me your favorite way out of the keep.”

  Katalin perked up. “Oh, I know the perfect way!”

  Without hesitation, she grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.

  Katalin led Laszlo back down through the winding halls, slipping into a quieter corridor away from the usual foot traffic. The walls were lined with unlit sconces, the stone floor cool beneath their steps. They passed a storeroom, its heavy wooden door slightly ajar, the scent of dried herbs and grain spilling out, before reaching a small side door.

  With a practiced push, Katalin swung it open, revealing the dukal stables.

  The familiar scent of hay, leather, and oiled tack greeted her, mingling with the earthy musk of horses. The space was alive with quiet movement—stable hands murmuring to their charges, the occasional scrape of a hoof against packed dirt, the rhythmic clink of harnesses being adjusted.

  She stepped forward, glancing around under the pretense of making sure the way was clear—but in truth, she just wanted a quick peek at Smokey.

  There.

  Her gaze landed on the familiar gray gelding, his dappled coat catching the morning light where it streamed through the stable’s high windows. Smokey stood calmly in his stall, ears flicking forward as if sensing her. A smile tugged at her lips, her feet already shifting toward him.

  Before she could take another step, a stablehand approached, wiping his hands on a rag. He was a broad-shouldered man with hay clinging to his tunic and the easy confidence of someone who had spent his life around horses. His gaze landed on Katalin, and he broke into a friendly grin.

  “So the Grand Duchess gave you the big news, huh?” he said cheerfully. “Guess she finally—”

  Before he could finish, Laszlo smoothly stepped forward, cutting him off with practiced ease. “We’re just passing through,” he interjected, his tone polite but firm. “Sorry to bother you.”

  At the same time, he placed a light but insistent hand on Katalin’s elbow, guiding her forward with deliberate purpose.

  Caught off guard, Katalin blinked as she was steered away, leaving the stablehand standing mid-sentence, looking slightly puzzled.

  Once they were a few steps away, Katalin pulled her arm free, frowning up at him. “You didn’t have to be rude.”

  Laszlo blinked. “Was I rude?”

  Katalin crossed her arms. “You interrupted him for no reason.”

  Laszlo hesitated, just for a moment. It was so brief that if she hadn’t been watching him, she might not have noticed. Then he let out a slow breath and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just thinking about the festival.”

  Katalin narrowed her eyes at him. She was beginning to think Laszlo was hiding something from her. But she had no idea what or why. Before she could decide if she should question him, he was already moving ahead like nothing had happened.

  She shrugged and hurried to catch up. “Fine. So what would you like to see next?”

  I'll show you the best parts and Chapter 07: The Legend of Ervand the Mad will be posted Tuesday, April 1