“Will I be king like Papa?” Ailea asked, perched in the seat next to you. She was holding herself very still, back straight as she could make it. She’d watched Papa sit like this. “I want to wear a crown.”

Everyone told her she was King Aiwin’s heir. She’d only recently begun to understand what that meant. It was all so confusing. Papa seemed proud when she was cooped up in the library with her tutor, so she never complained about being bored or her legs cramping. She wanted both of you to tell her how smart she was.

Ailea didn’t mention what she heard the maids say earlier today. They didn’t seem fond of humans. Or she guessed they weren’t from the way they spoke about you. Ailea didn’t understand. What was wrong with humans? Papa and you weren’t that different, and Papa was an elf.

None of it made sense.

When she was given her crown like Papa she’d make it a rule nobody could be mean to you. She’d been given a similar rule after she pushed Xirin. It wasn’t her fault he decided to yank her toy out of her hand. He should’ve listened to her words.

But it was important to be kind. That was what Papa and her tutor said. Papa didn’t like when anyone talked badly about you. It was the first time she’d seen him get angry.

Ailea used the charcoal to draw a bird onto the paper in front of her. “I’ll make sure everyone is happy,” she continued absentmindedly. Her tutor said she wouldn’t get her crown for a longtime. She was only five-years-old, after all. Papa was much older than that when he became king. “Even Xirin. I don’t want anyone to be sad again when I get the crown.”