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Queen’s Castle.”
    Miri parted the curtain a slit, squinting past her own reflection in the glass to see what waited beyond.
    The carriage was starting onto a bridge. The river split in two around a rocky island where a red-brick building rose, the top peaking into towers roofed in the now-familiar green copper.
    “The Queen’s Castle,” Miri said softly.
    The name alone delighted her. Surely all the knowledge of the world was contained inside. If only she could learn it, she could teach the others at home, and at last Mount Eskel would have the same advantages as the lowlands.
    Miri started to open the door before the carriage had completely stopped.
    “Wait!” Britta said. “It’s bad manners to fall to your death on your first day! Besides, you’re supposed to wear these over your dress. They’re your scholar robes.”
    “What’s a scholar?”
    “Well, you are. A person who wants to know things, whose job is to learn.”
    Miri pulled her arms into the wide sleeves and did up the hooks in the front. The robes were pale blue, the Mount Eskel sky in the morning. A crown and an open door were embroidered over her heart.
    Britta gave her a cheek kiss and wished her well. “The carriage will return for you at the end of the day. Go learn for all of us.”
    Miri knew Britta meant the sentiment in kindness, but the words felt heavy. Go learn for all of us. For the other academy girls, for her family, for all of Mount Eskel. As well, she needed to meet other commoners and find out for Katar if it’d be safer to join in their cause or to stick with the king. Miri could not let anyone down.
    I won’t , Miri promised herself.
    The robes were thick and long, made to cover clothing and keep it clean, not to be pretty. And yet as Miri walked through the massive wooden doors into the stone entry, she felt as beautiful as she had in a gown at the princess academy ball. She, little Miri of Mount Eskel, was an Aslandian scholar.
    And apparently she was one of thousands.
    The castle teemed with people in robes just like hers in a dozen different colors. She stared. And stared. So many! And so many gray heads. She smoothed her own brown hair. She’d noticed Aslandian girls often wore their hair down, so Miri had not braided hers that morning. It felt strange hanging free.
    A group in orange scholar robes jostled her in passing, so she moved out of the way. A scholar in brown bumped her, and she scurried into a corner. Her toes curled in her boots; the thuds of her heart were achy. She let her arm hang at her side and pretended her sister was holding her hand.
    An older boy in blue robes stood where Marda was not. He glanced over and Miri winced, waiting for him to remark that she looked too young to be a scholar. And then she’d have to explain that she was not as young as she seemed, just short, thank you very much. But perhaps she was too young after all. Perhaps there had been a mistake and she’d be kicked out and—
    “The robe colors represent different courses of study,” said the boy.
    “Oh. I didn’t know.”
    “You have that first-day look in your eyes. It hasn’t been long since I rubbed that same look out of my own. I arrived last year, full of hot powder and ready to learn! And then I stood in that very spot, waiting for someone to tell me what to do.”
    “And did someone?”
    He shook his head. “Everyone was too busy being scholarly. If you don’t mind skipping the part where you wander this castle aimlessly, you can follow me.”
    She looked him over as they walked. His hair was so pale it seemed more white than yellow, and he had a good face with a prominent mouth. She was not sure why she noticed his mouth.
    “Um … Does light blue mean novice?” she asked.
    “Precisely. Every first-year scholar wears open sky, as they call it. Cat’s-eye,” he said, nodding toward a clot of green-robed scholars, “indicates a focus on teaching.” He taught her the chant that named all twelve fields of