“That’s…horrible.” This was all Dorothea could say.

Cerid’s sad smile said that he felt sorry for her in her ignorance. “It is the truth. I know it is difficult to bear.”

She’d have thought such beliefs impossible from someone so sweet and clumsy, but… “Shark? Is that what you think, too?”

They were mid-yawn. “Oh. I mean, it’s definitely, like, a thing that’s always happened. Sacerians don’t go around starting wars. We just go around winning them.”

“But you’ve lived with Ghurians in Sirpo and never had a problem! And what about Ariana? She’s sitting right there, as your ally, and you believe all of that stuff? For the Gods’ sakes, my father was a Ghurian!”

Shark laughed. “Ariana’s not exactly the best example you could give me, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you too,” Ariana muttered.

She had a point. “Sharkie. Be serious,” Dorothea admonished, stern.

They caught the genuine anger creeping up in her tone. “I get what you’re saying, Thea, but those aren’t Ghurians. Once you’re a Sirpoan, you’re not a Sacerian or a Ghurian. Ariana’s a Sacerian, and you and your father, regardless of lineage, were and are Sirpoans. I mean, you can’t tell me after seeing them that those bastards aren’t scary. They kill without a second thought and they like it.”

A chill raked up her spine. For the first time, she understood one thing about Shark. They had left the war behind at one point, but they had never stopped identifying with it. She had mistakenly conflated Shark leaving their family and homeland with them not believing in what their people believed in. But she had no right to criticize, not really, given how terrified she was of the Ghurians herself.

“Sorry. I guess this is all still new to me, somehow. I just need to keep reading.” Trying to push further was a waste of time. She simply couldn’t understand. No people were merciless or without redemption, and no people were wholly good, either. Her perspective was entitled and naive, but it was what it was. Regardless of the truth behind Sirpo, the epidemic caused by the Ghurians had still taken her father and her mother by extension, and hatred lingered in her heart, but… Even so, they…

A light pat landed on her arm beneath the table, and she forced herself not to jump or look to the side. Rhys, after all, was reading while maintaining silence, and now both hands were on either side of his book as they had been before. They had agreed that morning before leaving the house that it would be best for their relationship to remain as discreet as possible especially in front of Iree and Ariana, so this was the extent of the comfort he could offer at the moment. That he even tried was more than enough.

Cerid cleared his throat. “May I make something clear to you?”

Dorothea hesitated, afraid of what he’d say. “By all means.”

“I do not hate all Ghurians. Hatred is not necessary to fight. We are simply all trying to protect something and accomplish our goals, and this creates a situation in which we must enter into conflict. That is all.”

“I understand that, but can I just ask one thing?” Dorothea looked into Cerid’s eyes, then Shark’s. “In your vision of the future…” She left the specifics of their goals unspoken. “Where is Ghuria? What’s happened to the Ghurian people?”

The two shared a surprised glance. “Well,” Cerid began delicately, “it would be best not to be made to worry about external threats moving forward.”

“So, they’d be…uh, gone,” Shark concluded.

The end goal of this battle, the one she had agreed to so thoughtlessly, was genocide.

Speechless, she nodded and kept her mind on the pages in front of her. At a crawl, flipping back and forth between texts, reading closely while burning in the fire of her friends’ violent conviction, she pieced together a picture, one she should have seen and acknowledged long before.

Yes, the Ghurians were frequent instigators of conflict, but this was largely a result of a comparative lack of privilege. There was no mincing words on the tragedy of the Wither epidemic; that was the fault of the Ghurians and the Fall family. Wither had always been understood as a threat but had never been deployed so fiercely on the battlefield until the current war. Likely, there was nothing left to lose. The texts mentioned nothing of the double standard of regarding a magic like Wither as a scourge while ignoring equal or greater threats held by the Sacerians like Thaw and Shower. The Wither contract had come after the epidemic… But what had caused the epidemic itself? And what was this mysterious thing that Cadby had wanted to tell her?

As she descended into words that settled, sickening, into her stomach, she was oblivious of how much time passed.

“Thea?” In the end, Shark’s voice made her jump. “It’s been a hot minute. You got what you came for yet? Either way, we should get lunch. Or early dinner, at this point.”

The ache that had settled behind her eyes had told her she’d been concentrating too hard for too long, but she was craving something more, something to tell her the right path. Gods, she had already committed such violence against Ghuria. There was no redemption, but the conclusion she reached stood firm, and it was one along the lines of Shark, Cerid’s, and even Iree’s sentiments: their world needed to be corrected. But how?

“Right…” She yawned, rubbing at her eyes. “Yeah, we should go.” Maybe moving around would help her organize her thoughts.

“Erm, excuse me, but…” Cerid piped up nervously. “I would like to discuss something. With just Shark and Miss Dorothea, please.”

“Be my guest,” Ariana muttered. After their conversations that morning, Dorothea had to admit, the swordswoman’s hatred of Cerid and of all Sacerians except for a few made blatant sense.

Rhys stood, offering her a slight nod before ducking out. She just wanted to hug him and wallow in the air of their mutual sense of isolation, but they had to wait.

“So, what is it you need, Cerid?” Dorothea asked, struggling to keep her thoughts straight.

Cerid paused, looking between them.

“Cerid?” Shark smiled. “What’s up?”

He jumped. “Would it be acceptable to both of you if… If I were to attend the Zeal’s Web festivities with Miss Dorothea.” The last words came out in a rush.

“Ooohhh…” Shark’s shoulders slouched. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it. Why would I?”

Cerid shook his head. “You are distressed. Regardless, it would only be for the sake of appearances. Do not mistake me.”

Shark coughed, embarrassed. “Naw, really, don’t mind me. I’m disappointed, but it’s not as if we can actually go together. It’s a good idea, actually, based on how your Dad’s acting. What do you say, Thea?”

“If that’s what you both want, then of course.” It made her glad to be able to help in this small way, and it wasn’t as if she and Rhys could attend together. It was awful for Cerid to have to hide who he was, as his conversations with Shark and Cinder Creed had made amply clear to her. The world they were envisioning was one in which they could be happy. Everyone deserved that chance, but…

She didn’t know what to do anymore.