“That sounds great.” He grinned. “I haven’t really seen much outside of the walls of my house or the palace. It’ll be good to get out.”

While it wasn’t exactly balmy outside, it’d warmed up just enough that the snow had begun to melt. When we stepped out of Linus’s house, we were both treated to several huge droplets of water coming down from the roof.

It was the warmest day of the year thus far, and the gray skies had parted enough for the sun to shine through, so everyone seemed to have the same idea. On the south side of town, where Linus lived and the palace and all the royal mansions were, it was usually fairly quiet. But even the Markis and Marksinna were out, going for walks and enjoying the weather.

I showed Linus around his neighborhood, pointing out which mansions belonged to what royals. Astrid Eckwell was standing in front of her expansive house, letting her rabbit roam in the carefully manicured lawn, nibbling at newly exposed grass.

She smiled smugly at me as we passed, and while I told Linus that she lived there, I neglected to explain that her house should’ve belonged to my dad, if he hadn’t married my mom and been disinherited. But he had, so everything that should’ve been his was passed down to the Eckwells.

As we got to the edge of the south side of town, the houses began getting smaller and sitting closer together. In the center of town, they were practically on top of each other.

What little yard the cottages did have usually had a small chicken coop or a couple goats tied up in it. It wasn’t unheard-of to see chickens squawking about on the cobblestone roads or the occasional cow roaming free from its pen.

In the town square, I showed Linus all the major shops. The bakery, the general store, the seamstress, and a few other stores I thought he might find useful. He was surprised and somewhat appalled to learn that we had a taxidermist, but many Markis liked to stuff their trophies when they went hunting.

“What’s that?” Linus pointed to a brick building overgrown with green vines, untouched by the cold. A small orchard sat to the side of it, with apples and pears growing from the trees. A swing set, a slide, and a teeter-totter were practically hidden below the branches.

“That’s the elementary school,” I said.

“How are the vines still green?” He stopped to admire the building with its vines and white and blue blossoms. “Shouldn’t they die in the winter?”

“Some Kanin have an affinity for plants,” I explained. “It’s a talent that’s much more common in the Trylle, but we have a few special tricks in play, like keeping these alive and bright year-round.”

The front doors were open, and he stepped forward to see that the greenery continued inside, with the plants twisting up over the walls and on the ceiling. Then he turned back to me. “Can we go inside?”

I shrugged. “If you want.”

“This is the most unusual school I’ve ever seen,” he said as he walked through the threshold, and I followed a step behind. “Why are the floors dirt?”

“It’s supposed to take us back to our roots and keep our heritage alive. Some trolls even choose to have dirt floors in their homes.”

He looked back at me. “You mean because we used to live with nature?”

“Exactly.”

Drawings were posted up on the walls outside the classrooms. In child’s handwriting, the pictures had “My Family” written across the top, and then stick figures of various moms and dads and brothers and sisters and even the family rabbit.

“All the kids go to the same place?” Linus asked, noticing that some pictures were simply signed Ella or James, while others had the title of Markis and Marksinna in front of their names. “The royals and the other town kids all go here?”

“Doldastam is really too small to support two elementary schools, especially when so many Markis and Marksinna are changelings,” I said. “When we get older, we split up, with the royals going to high school, and the others going to specialized vocational training.”

That was in large part why my childhood experiences hadn’t been the greatest. Standing inside the school brought back all kinds of unpleasant memories, usually involving one Marksinna or another making fun of me for being different than the other kids. Astrid had been the worst, but she was far from the only one.

If it hadn’t been for Tilda, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve made it through. She was the only one I had by my side, through thick and thin.

But I found my thoughts drifting away from school to the King’s Games as I looked down the long hall to the courtyard that lay beyond. Every summer we’d have the King’s Games, which were sort of like a Kanin Olympic event, held out in the courtyard behind the school. Members of the Högdragen as well as elite trackers and occasionally well-trained townsfolk would compete in games of sport, like swordplay, jousting, and hand-to-hand, which was similar to kick boxing.

I remember once when I was ten or eleven, and I’d gone to see Konstantin in the games. Tilda had helped me climb up onto a fence so I could see, and we’d sat together, watching with equal fervor as Konstantin knocked his opponents to the ground. Konstantin held his sword to each young man’s throat until he finally yielded, and the crowd erupted in applause.

“I almost thought that the other guy wouldn’t surrender,” Tilda had admitted breathlessly as Konstantin held his hands triumphantly above his head.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked her, with my eyes still locked on Konstantin. “Everyone always surrenders to him. He’s unstoppable.”