He left the library without saying goodbye to the librarian and started towards his room, then thought better of it. The royal children's wing was heavily guarded, and thus all of his nosy siblings frequented those hallways. And if they didn’t, his maid Fanny would smell his scheme in the air. Cecil turned and started walking back to the library, but the thought of infiltrating the library while in the library seemed… wrong.

  He turned around once again and hoped that no one had seen his indecisive pacing. But now he was glad of his choice. Out of all of his quiet spots, the cellar wasn’t one he often frequented because there was always some feast going on, and thus many people coming in and out to get food stuffs. But since the attack, there had been more meetings than eatings. So, he should be able to think in peace.

  Only, there were people already there. He was right that there were no chefs among them, except maybe the black haired one. But they were all sitting cross legged on the floor around some candles. Cecil turned as he rolled his eyes. Only babies believed in ghosts. And now he was out of his good thinking spot. But maybe one of the empty ballrooms?

  Cecil scowled as he turned away from yet another door. The first ballroom had some sort of meeting in it, the second had a gossip session punctuated by horrified gasps, and the third was filled with the sound of kisses and horrible poetry. If that was all it took to make a girl fall in love, he didn’t want one. Geas forbid he ever fall in love and think poetry a good idea.

  His increasingly unsuccessful attempts at finding solitude led him to the garden. And now he was outside in the wind. A terrible place to write on paper. But he could just think about his plans really well, then put pen to paper later. Except, as he looked around, the gardens were full of people too. Didn’t these people have better things to do besides pretend to be garden ornaments? All of their bright colors and strutting around. Although, what was it about the assassination that had them act like this? Or, maybe it was the political reforms?

  He shook his head and walked forward.That had nothing to do with him right now, and he had other pressing matters to consider. But surely if he continued deeper into the gardens, he would find an unoccupied spot.

  The palace gardens were large and full of sculpted bushes, fountains, and places to sit. The perfect place to wander without seeing anyone. Usually. He walked around with an eye for a secluded place. After he had found a good place to think, he could go to the library and finish casing the place. The thought brought him to a stop in front of one of the older buildings in the garden. It was surrounded by a low stone wall with thick vines rooted deeply into the stones. But as he got closer, he saw a gap in the mortar where the vines and moss had eaten it away. The house had wallows of sand, a fountain, and a pond.

  Why had it been deserted? He could probably find a book on it in the archives or library. For now, if it was as deserted as it looked, no one would bother him.

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  Cecil climbed up one side of the wall, and back down the other with ease. He breathed in and sighed. The walls had blocked off many of the sounds of the outside world and left only the faint sound of birdsong and drake warbles. The spring air still had a chill to it, but as he went to one of the fallen stones, he could feel the heat rising from it. Cecil sat down against it and felt perfectly cosy. He should come here more often. It was the perfect place for a good think.

  First, he needed the trust of the old librarian, which he already had. Somewhat. The old man was usually sleeping at the desk when Cecil went in there to study, and he rarely needed to wake him up to borrow something. Then he would need to learn to lockpick the doors, and have the tools to get the block loose. While he was at it, he needed to come up with more solutions to getting a carving knife to practice with, since a teacher was not going to happen. But once everything was in order, it would just be a matter of time.

  The sun beams beat down with a gentle weight to them, which caused Cecil to blink sleepily. Turns out there was another good use for this place.

  “Oi! whatcha doin’ in my spot?”

  Cecil started awake and found an older boy blocking his sun.

  “Your spot? Do you know who I am?”

  “Dunno, don’ care. What I do care is that you’re here.” he stepped back and pointed at the nearest wall, “Leave”.

  Cecil stood huffily, “I’ve got more of a right to be here than you do! My name is Cecil.”

  “Yea yea. My brother was named after the old king too. Didn’t give him any rights neither. Get out, or give me a reason to let you stay.”

  Who was this boy? Just demanding random things like that in this strange corner of the palace. But this was too good of a spot to fight over every time he wanted to come. And he couldn’t throw the true weight of his name without revealing the spot to the well intentioned people he wanted to avoid. But there was more than one way to lobby a supporter.

  Cecil suddenly grinned, “what if I can get you some cookies?”

  The boy frowned over him, his curly brown hair unkempt and short.

  “Hmph. I suppose I can allow that. Just don’t tell anybody. My father doesn’t know where I am, and I don’t intend to find another spot. Especially since people think that this one is haunted. Names Oakley by the way.” he grinned then flopped down in a patch of clover nearby, a piece of long grass stuck in his missing front tooth. It swirled round and round with the end flipping gracefully back and forth.

  “Don’t just gawk, relax or skedaddle. You’re ruining my peace.”

  Cecil shook his head and laid back down next to the rock he’d been snoozing against. And a new calming sensation enveloped him. It was like being alone, but better.

  Eventually the sun reached some arbitrary point, and Oakley said that he needed to go. The older boy stretched then hopped up the wall and down the other side like it was nothing. It wasn’t like he was that much taller.

  Secure in his lack of witnesses, Cecil got up and tried to do what Oakley had done. He walked up and stretched for the vine, then jumped for it. It brushed his fingers, but was nowhere close to being able to grab it. Fine. He didn't want to work that hard anyway. It made more sense to be efficient anyway.

  Cecil walked to the spot he’d climbed down and exited the same way. When he was taller he’d be able to do what Oakley had done. And better too probably. Until then, this way was more efficient.