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Asher's been your bodyguard since you were small, and was the obvious choice to accompany you on this journey. Even bundled up in a scarf and flying cap, as Asher raises a hand to give you a brief salute, you can easily picture bright blue eyes and their earnest smile. Their expressions are as familiar as those of your own family.

The Garnetts have been in service to the royalty of Westerlin for generations. Asher's father guarded your elder sister, and as soon as Asher was old enough to handle a sword and pistol, they were assigned to you.

And so they have come with you to Archambault Academy, the country's most prestigious boarding school. Even if their flying leaves something to be desired.

The engine judders. Is something wrong?

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Your voice is hoarse over the wind and the noise of the engine. Asher usually keeps calm in tricky situations, but then they usually have a backup team, and they could hardly fit in a small plane like this. Still, if Asher doesn't pull themself together, they will only get in a literal tailspin.

As they recover, the engine grows smoother. You fly down at a light incline, descending gently in slow circles through the clouds. A smooth lake comes into view, its vast expanse undisturbed at this distance; as you grow closer, you spot small buildings clustered beside the water.

The plane gently touches down.

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Sheep in the next field glance up with incurious gazes as you grind to a halt. Asher hops out of the cockpit, grabs the supply satchel and holds out their arms to help you out of your seat.

"Would you like a hand?" they ask diffidently.

You lower your head and hold your breath, counting to four, then exhale slowly. When you step down to solid ground your legs are shaky, and you steady yourself against the side of the plane.

Asher looks poised to catch you should you faint or otherwise need assistance. But you recover your composure.

You hear shouts from inside one of the sheds, and a pair of nervous, middle-aged fishermen emerge, rolling a tank of gasoline on creaking wheels. With bows and an abundance of "Your Highness"es, they get to work refueling the plane. You follow Asher to a cluster of rocks beside the water, and settle down for a picnic dinner.

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Barely a breeze disturbs the early evening sunshine, though you feel a faint bite in the air. This close to the mountains, fall is colder than in Fenburg, the capital. Without the rumble of the airplane engine around you, the open air feels strange.

Eighteen years old, and attending Archambault Academy, Westerlin's most prestigious boarding school. This will be the first time you've ever been away from home by yourself for any length of time.

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In principle, your move to Archambault is for you to discover more about yourself. According to the prospectus, the Academy specializes in teaching "the leaders of the future," and that is what you are. You may be the middle royal child—your sister Josiane is the crown princess—but your responsibilities will only grow as you get older. This is where you are to brush up your skills of leadership, and take your place amongst the highest echelons of society.

In practice, the royal family has been under greater scrutiny lately, in the wake of heated discussions in the papers about the governance of Westerlin. Many say that the royals are out of touch with the life of Westerlind citizens, and that sentiment has begun to bleed into parliamentary debates as well. And so, your mother decided to send you to Archambault to round out your studies, rather than continuing your tuition at home.

You'll be the first member of the royal family to attend a school like this for two generations. Now, sitting by the lake on this crisp evening, it's odd to imagine that only this morning you were in the palace, saying your farewells to your family.

The Queen wasn't entirely keen at first, especially given the scandalous events that occurred at Gallatin College, a neighbor school to Archambault, a few years ago, but you convinced her in the end. Besides, you argued, Asher would be with you. With their protection, there would be no danger. Eventually, she gave in.

When you hugged her goodbye this morning, you breathed in her familiar orange-blossom perfume; when would you have the chance to see her again? She blinked away tears.

"I ought to be used to this, from when Josiane went to university," she said. "But don't worry about me. I'll write to you within the week."

She turned to smile at Asher, who was already dressed in their flying gear.

Your mother smiled at you, bright-eyed. "And you never know," she said. "You might find someone appropriate to get engaged to while you're there. We'd love for you to make a suitable connection."

There had always been an expectation surrounding you that you'd marry someone of high standing at some point, but it was never stated so overtly. With regard to your own feelings…

Perhaps you will find someone to get engaged to who will satisfy your mother's plans for you, and who matches what you want and need. Your mother will be exacting, whatever happens.

And now here you are, having nearly completed your journey to your new school. Your new home.

You pull off your flying cap and goggles, allowing the air to play over your face, then sit beside the water. Asher wipes their dirt-smudged face. Their smooth, pale hair is damp with sweat. They're your age, and tall, too…

Asher's always been taller than you, since you met as children, but during adolescence, they shot even further past you. Still, they never treat it with any superiority.

They stuff their gloves in the pocket of their heavy flying jacket, then shuck off the jacket. "Time for dinner?" they say.

Asher nods briskly. While you take a brief walk to the edge of the lake, they spread a cashmere blanket on the ground and smooth it out. It's only when they open the picnic basket that you realize how hungry you are.

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