Reincarnated As An Archmage’s Daughter

The East Solar Hall was a cathedral of excess.

Chandeliers the size of fishing boats hung from a ceiling painted with scenes of imperial triumph. Long tables draped in gold cloth stretched the length of the hall. At the far end, on a raised dais, sat the Emperor.

Hania recognized him immediately. He was older now, greying at the temples, his face carved with exhaustion. But the golden hair was the same. The emerald eyes, still sharp, still flicking across the room like a merchant appraising livestock. He wore the same confidence she remembered from the cave, the same way of holding himself like he owned every space he entered.

But something was different. The confidence was still there, but it was brittle now. The Empress sat beside him in frozen elegance.

"Princess Hania." Raylas appeared beside her. "Your father is being detained by nobles near the east entrance. They're terrified of him but also desperate for his attention. It's very entertaining. Lusha is surveying the room for threats. I'm supposed to escort you to the children's section, and ensure you don't break the local nobility."

"I don't start incidents. Incidents start around me."

"That's what concerns me."

The children's section was a smaller table positioned near the dais. Several young nobles were already seated, all looking like they'd been warned not to embarrass their families.

And at the center of the table, Jareth was talking.

"—don't even know why she's here. The Noctis heir, the famous prodigy. My father says she's important to imperial interests, but she's seven. What can a seven-year-old possibly do that matters?"

He was speaking to a boy about his own age, who was nodding along eagerly. Nearby, a girl with lavender curls and a white-and-silver gown was very carefully not looking at either of them.

Princess Thalira Solene of Celestara was eight now. Her gown was clearly expensive, but she had already managed to get something sticky on her sleeve. She looked bored and lonely.

Hania paused. Thalira wouldn't remember her. The last time they met, Thalira was two years old. To her, Hania was a stranger.

"—probably not even that powerful," Jareth was saying. "My tutor says the Noctis family spreads propaganda about themselves. It's a classic intimidation tactic. They're probably not even—"

"Probably not even what?"

Jareth turned. Hania stood directly behind him, the golden sphere bobbing beside her shoulder.

"Princess Hania." Jareth recovered quickly. "I was discussing historical analysis."

"That's not what it sounded like."

"Then you misheard."

"I don't mishear things. I have very good ears." She smiled. "You were saying something about propaganda. I'm very interested in propaganda. We don't have much of it in the North. We have books. Books are harder to argue with."

Jareth's composure flickered. "I wasn't—"

"It's okay. You were saying things you didn't think I'd hear, and now you're embarrassed because I heard them. It's a very common social error. My nanny says it happens to people who talk too much."

"I don't talk too much."

"You were talking just now. And I heard you. So you were talking too much and too loud. That's two errors. Do you want to go for three?"

A strangled sound came from somewhere behind Hania. Raylas, choking on laughter.

Jareth's face went red. "You can't speak to me like that. I'm the Crown Prince."

"And I'm the heir of House Noctis. My father cut the sea in half yesterday. What did your father do?"

The silence at the children's table was absolute. Jareth stared at her. Somewhere behind them, a servant nearly dropped a tray.

Oops, maybe a bit too aggressive for Stage One, but the look on his face was worth it.

"That's what I thought," Hania said, and sat down.

The next ten minutes passed in strained quiet. Jareth retreated to the far end of the table. The other young nobles busied themselves with their food.

But Jareth's mood hadn't improved. Hania watched as he turned his frustration on an easier target.

"Princess Thalira," he said, his voice carrying down the table. "I heard you're starting at the Royal Academy next term. That must be exciting. What classes are you taking? Oh, wait—you can't take magic classes, can you? No mana at all. I forgot."

Thalira's shoulders tightened. "I'll be taking history and politics."

"History and politics." Jareth nodded sagely. "Useful for someone who'll never cast a spell. You can advise people who actually matter."

"That's enough," Hania said.

Jareth turned. "Excuse me?"

"I said that's enough. You've insulted the Noctis family and the Celestara family in the same conversation. Do you want to insult the Emberlyns next? Raylas is right there. I'm sure he'd love to participate."

"Don't drag me into this," Raylas called from his seat. "I'm just here for the food."

"You're here because you're my escort. Escort better."

"I'm escorting. This is escorting."

Thalira was staring at Hania with wide eyes. Hania met her gaze.

"Don't listen to him," Hania said. "Academies are for learning. If you can't learn magic, you'll learn something else. Politics. History. How to balance spoons on your nose."

Thalira blinked. "Spoons?"

"It's a talent. It's a very underrated talent. I can teach you if you want."

"You... you want to teach me spoon-balancing?"

"Why not? You look like you'd be good at it. You have the right kind of focus."

Thalira stared at her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. "You're very strange," she said. “Oops… Sorry! That was a compliment."

"I know that. Thank you.”

From the far end of the table, Jareth was watching them with narrowed eyes. Hania ignored him.

Thalira scooted her chair slightly closer. "Are you here for the Royal Academy too? Is that why you came to the capital?"

Hania's expression didn't change, but her mind sharpened. The Royal Academy. The place where all noble children received formal education in magic, politics, and courtly arts. The place she needed to attend if she was going to stay in the capital longer than this banquet.

But she couldn't say that. Not until her plans were further along.

"Maybe," she said carefully. "I'm still deciding."

"You should. I mean—" Thalira ducked her head, suddenly shy. "If you were there, at least there'd be someone who doesn't think I'm useless."

"Who called you useless?"

"No one. Everyone. They don't say it, but they think it. The princess with no mana. The spare heir who can't even light a candle."

Hania leaned closer. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Thalira nodded.

"I can't light a candle either."

"But you're a Noctis... everyone says you're a prodigy."

"So what? If you asked me to light a candle right now, I'd have to ask someone else for a match. Does that make me useless?"

"No, but—"

"No buts. Different people are good at different things. The world needs people who can light candles and people who can balance spoons and people who can do neither but are very good at being kind. Which one are you?"

Thalira was quiet for a moment. "I don't know yet."

"Then you'll find out. That's what academies are for."

From across the table, Jareth's voice cut in. "Are you two done whispering? It's very rude to have private conversations at a banquet."

Hania turned to him with her sweetest smile. "Are you feeling left out, Your Highness? Would you like to join us? We're discussing spoons. I'm sure you have opinions about spoons."

Jareth's eye twitched. "I don't have opinions about spoons."

"Then you're not qualified to join. Maybe next time."

Thalira giggled behind her hand.