It was worse when everything was quiet.

Ako shivered as she sat down on the bench, her clothes fluttering in the wind lightly as if mocking her grief.

Ever since she had arrived in Mesaai a few days ago, she had come to King Haradon’s private gardens whenever she could. The king encouraged it, saying that he had cultivated his gardens in the middle of the desert because “beauty is meant to be found even in the most desolate of places,” never mind the fact that his palace was the richest Ako had ever seen.

I can’t believe he’s gone, Ako thought. She blinked as tears slowly traversed down her face. She wiped them away and sniffed. Her shoulders shook, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the scents of the garden.

The garden itself was huge, much more expansive than Esai’s. Everything here was bigger than Esai. The walls were bigger, the city was bigger, and the palace was much bigger. Jakub had said that—

Jakub. The name struck Ako like a physical blow, and she cried out softly as she bowed her head. Jakub. The wonderful old man that had shown her the world was far bigger than she could ever dream of was gone. It had been a week since he died, but things had happened so fast that she could barely spare a thought for Jakub.

The times she’d been able to think had been nearly crippling, but she’d had to soldier through her grief. First had been the mad dash from Mesaa to Mesaai, then she and Marek’s company had been personally rescued by King Haradon and escorted through Mesaa. Tonight was one of the first times she had some time to herself.

“Ako?”

Ako raised her head, blinking and scrubbing away at her face until her blurry vision cleared.

“Marek?” Ako asked as Marek sat down next to her on the bench. He looked good—wearing flowing brown robes that fit him perfectly. He had also shaved his face to a fine beard, looking more a nobleman than the vagabond-looking man she had met a week prior.

Ako frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“Sitting with a friend,” Marek said. He leaned back on the bench and closed his eyes. After a moment, he breathed in deeply and sighed. “It’s been a frantic week.”

Despite herself, Ako smiled. “It has been,” she said, appreciating immensely the effort Marek was putting in to put her at ease.

Marek turned to her, and Ako’s smile died. His expression was grave. “Ako,” Marek began, his voice and bearing screaming hesitance. Initially, he looked over Ako’s shoulder and everywhere else but her face until he visibly forced himself to look into her eyes.

“I’m not good at this,” he said. “I’ve never had many friends, and I’ve been accused of being emotionally distant more than once.”

“But?” Ako asked, curious even though she knew where this was going.

“I’m here for you,” Marek said. He swallowed and took a deep breath, looking down for a moment. “I know we barely know each other, but I like to think we’ve become friends. If not, then I’d like to be,” he said, meeting her eyes again.

Ako’s chin quivered as she struggled to keep her roiling emotions down. “Marek,” she whispered.

Marek stood, moved over, and sat down closer to Ako. Their knees were nearly touching. “I’ve seen how you suffer,” Marek said. His face was close to hers. “I saw your face when you screamed his name, Ako. From what I’ve gleaned from you over the past week, he was a great man, and I’m sad that I’ve never got to know him.

Ako wanted to look away, to run, but she found herself captivated by what Marek was saying.

“He was,” Ako whispered. She sniffled again and let the tears fall. “He was old enough to be my grandfather, but he acted like a man half his age. He was family.”

Marek opened his arms, and Ako fell into them, crying into his shoulder.

She didn’t know how long she cried, but as she did, Ako went through all the moments she could remember with Jakub. She remembered his stories, his arrogance, and his juggling. She remembered the way his eyebrows twitched when he was particularly animated and how he crumpled comedically she had bested him in an argument. Most of all, Ako remembered Jakub’s smile, a radiant thing that shone clear in her mind.

I’ll always remember you, Ako thought, even as she cried into Marek’s shoulder. I promise, Jakub.

Eventually, Ako calmed down and separated herself from Marek, who nodded to her and moved back to his former position on the bench.

“Thank you,” Ako rasped, her throat raw from her crying.

“Of course,” Marek said, bowing his head slightly. He looked around the garden, hesitant, and extended his hand toward the garden.

“What’s your favorite color?” Marek asked.

Ako’s eyebrows rose. “Purple,” she said, unsure of where the conversation was going.

Ako smiled as she remembered Jakub traipsing through Empress Catherine’s palace while wearing the most expensive clothes money could buy. He had delighted in outraging anyone, noble or peasant, if he thought they were a particularly odious person.

Jakub had favored a purple set of robes that made him look like a foreign dignitary, and one memorable incident had almost started a war between the cities of Esai and Javen before Empress Catherine had managed to calm both sides down.

“Purple,” Marek muttered, his voice pulling Ako from her recollection. He stared off into the distance for a moment until he nodded.

Ako narrowed her eyes when she felt something trickle at the edge of her mind. A wind, stronger than any before, flowed over her, making her shiver again.

She blinked, and then blinked again when a beautiful flower with purple petals was floating right in front of her. A delighted laugh burst of Ako as she tentatively grasped the flower and held it up to her nose, breathing in its earthy scent.

“Thank you, it’s wonderful!” Ako proclaimed, turning to Marek, who was looking bashful. “Did you make it with magic?”

“In a sense,” Marek said, smiling as he settled back into the bench. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me,” Ako said, raising an eyebrow in challenge like how she used to with Jakub. “You think I won’t understand because I’m uneducated?”

“What?” Marek asked, his eyes widening in alarm until Ako couldn’t contain herself and laughed again at the suddenly terrified look on Marek’s face.

Marek ran a hand through his hair and sheepishly smiled at her. “Of course not,” Marek said, his expression sobering.

“Then tell me how you did it,” Ako said. “It’s not everyday I can pick a mage’s brain after all.”

“That’s true,” Marek conceded. “Hmm. Where to begin?”

He stared into the gardens for a moment, thinking. Ako followed his gaze.

Like the rest of Haradon’s palace, it was elegant as it was beautiful. Rows upon rows of flowers of every type grew here in all manner of color, ranging from the deepest reds to the brightest blues and everything in between. There were a few footpaths that were artfully maintained to make them look natural, and aside from a few maintainers that kept the grass green and the flowers blooming, they were alone. No one was within earshot, and they were as alone as one could be within Haradon’s royal palace.

Ako looked up, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the sun, which was mostly set on the horizon. She looked back at the gardens, and its glow illuminated the place with such beauty that it took her breath away.

If there is ever a paradise to be found on Diev, it’s here, Ako thought.

“Magic is everything,” Marek said.

Ako turned back to Marek. He was still staring into the gardens, but there was an air of concentration around him that was different compared to how he had just been.

“It’s a force that only dwells in a few of us, but within those few, there’s a power that can affect us all,” Marek continued.

“How?” Ako asked. “How does magic affect us?”

“Many think that magic is a tool to be wielded like a cudgel,” Marek said. His eyes moved to look at the ground. Blades from a tuft of grass flew up from it, forming what was unmistakeably a cudgel before it they returned to the ground, leaving it unmarked.

“Magic cannot be manipulated, coaxed, or tricked,” Marek said. “That’s the most important thing you ever learn at the Citadel. It’s a force in of its own, and while we magic-users are special, magic itself isn’t.”

“You haven’t answered my question yet,” Ako noted.

“I was getting there,” Marek rebuked, taking any sting she could feel from his words with a soft smile.

“Magic is not a tool,” Marek lectured. “Our minds are. Magic is a facilitator, a joiner between mind and magic. It is within the mind that magic can be shaped to accomplish anything.”

“Like what you did with that mage in Mesaa,” Ako whispered. She swallowed, feeling faintly nauseous as she recalled the man rolling on the ground, yelling and screaming as if he was falling from a great height. “You used your mind and magic on him.”

“It was that, or we all would’ve died,” Marek said bitterly. “He would’ve killed us all without a second thought.”

“I know, Marek,” Ako said. She’d heard Marek say it more than a few times over the past week when Wyatt had accused him of recklessness. “Even Wyatt understands that now.” I think.

“I hope so,” Marek said, huffing before he calmed himself down. “Let’s not talk about him right now, anyways. I was teaching you about how magic works.”

“So, how does it work?”

“Well, when mind and magic are in-sync with one another, that’s when the world around the mage can be changed. “It cannot create something from nothing, but grains of sand can form a grainy lance that can still kill. A skilled mage can also take water droplets in the air and create a tidal wave, but such an act without a Focus would probably kill the mage. There are many other examples, but a mage is usually only limited to their imagination.”

“A Focus,” Ako echoed, before her eyes went to his wrist where his wand of Dominion Wood was strapped to his arm. “Your wand?”

“Yes,” Marek said, smiling at her. “In truth, anything can be used as a Focus, but it is Dominion Wood that works best. It’s why it’s almost impossible to get unless you’re graduating from the Citadel.”

“Can people be used?” Ako asked Marek. “Can they be used as a Focus?”

“Yes,” Marek said, frowning. “Up until a decade or so ago, Rituals were taught at the Citadel. They have a dark reputation as while there is much potential for good, it can and has been abused. Why do you ask?”

“Well, if your wand broke or you didn’t have access to one…” Ako said, her voice trailing off as she grimaced at the idea of Marek needing a wand and not having one.

“Yeah,” Marek said, grimacing as well. “Wands can last generations if they are cared for properly and a mage doesn’t overdo it. There’s more than one mage that’s channeled too much Essence and has died almost immediately afterwards. Apparently, it’s incredibly painful.”

“Essence?” Ako said, cocking her head. “I’ve never heard of that word before.”

“It’s your lifespan,” Marek said. “Everyone has Essence, even the non-magicals. It’s how we know that our lives are predetermined, in a way. It was determined decades back that if one was to somehow live perfectly, there’s a time limit of sorts on our bodies. It’s through living our lives that we grind down our bodies and eventually die before we’re naturally supposed to.”

“Fascinating,” Ako said. “And your wand has—”

“Hundreds of years of Essence,” Marek interrupted. His eyes were bright with excitement. “It’s one of those things that those who don’t believe in Diev or Velaire, Noam, or Azmar cannot refute. I can use a regular wooden stick, but it wouldn’t last me a year until its Essence is drained. A wand of Dominion Wood that was supposedly created by Diev himself? It can last centuries.”

“But if it was still broken,” Ako pressed, desperately wanting to know. “If you didn’t have it but had to use magic, what would happen to you?”

“I would get tired as magic is first taken from my energy levels,” Marek said, raising a hand to scratch his beard. “Then I would have a choice: I can either fall unconscious and let my body heal itself naturally or push onward and use my own life’s Essence.”

“Don’t worry,” Marek added when Ako went to ask another question, feeling incredibly worried. “The chances of that happening are incredibly remote. I would essentially have to lose my wand and channel enough magic in a situation where I would need a lot of it.”

“You have lots?” Ako asked, still a little scared.

“More than most,” Marek said, looking down at the ground again. “There’s no strict measurement, but after a while in the Citadel, it’s determined how much magic you can do. You do drills like holding a pail of full water for as long as you can every few months or so. Out of my class of thirty, I was usually in the top five.”

“Good,” Ako said, breathing out a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

“I’m sorry, Ako,” Marek said. He moved closer again to her. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“That just makes me want to worry more,” Ako said, which caused them both to laugh.

They settled into a comfortable silence after that, staring out into the garden. It was growing dark and colder, but Ako was content. Her grief was still there, and she knew that she would still mourn, but she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“You know,” Marek said, breaking the silence. “I wasn’t planning on this, but this is almost romantic.”

“Almost?” Ako said, turning to face Marek and glare playfully at him, but she stopped at how serious he looked.

“Mhm,” Marek agreed, still looking out into the garden. “You’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, and you’re everything that I would be looking for in a woman. You’re clever, athletic, and have a keen wit.”

“For someone who’s supposedly not romantic, you’re doing a good job of it,” Ako quipped.

Marek laughed and turned to Ako. “It’s strange,” he said, still smiling. “I should be interested in you in that way, but I’m not. Instead, I feel as though you were a sister that I’ve never known, but I’ve always been looking for, if that makes any sense.”

Ako’s first inclination at Marek’s rejection was to be upset, but then she thought about it. Am I attracted to Marek? Ako asked herself. Marek was courageous, smart, and handsome. She was undoubtedly fond for him, but there was no lust there. The closest comparison she could make to how she felt for Marek was how she felt for Jakub.

“Ako?” Marek asked, sounding worried. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ako said, pulling herself from her thoughts and smiling. She reached over and hugged Marek, who froze for a moment but then hugged her back.

“I feel the same way,” Ako said softly, pulling apart and ending the hug. “I’d never really thought about it until now. Like Jakub, I feel like I can talk to you about anything.”

“Anything?” Marek asked, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe about how you feel about Wyatt and Anton, perhaps?”

“Marek!” Ako said, laughing as she cuffed Marek’s shoulder. “You know that Wyatt is still grieving, and that Anton is still a boy.”

“He won’t be a boy forever,” Marek joked.

“That’s fine,” Ako said. “He can pine away at a distance if he wants. I’m not interested.”

“I don’t think either of them are interested either,” Marek said, and then his eyes widened when Ako glared at him. He crossed his arms and stared down at her with a superior look on his face, like he was some idiot noble in King Haradon’s court.

“You’re far too hideous,” Marek eventually said, keeping his face smooth. Ako put her hands on her hips and continued to glare at Marek until he broke and laughed again. Ako tried to keep a straight face, but soon she was laughing with him.

I missed this, Ako thought as she laughed with Marek. I missed the camaraderie I had with Jakub.

It had only been a week since Jakub had died, but it had felt much longer. Now with Marek, she wouldn’t be so alone, and hopefully the hole in her heart that had been torn open by Jakub’s death would be filled. Never completely, but enough so that she could begin to move on.

When Ako had stopped laughing, she impulsively threw her arms around Marek, hugging him again.

“What’s this for?” he asked over her shoulder, sounding nonplussed but returning the hug all the same.

“That’s just for being you, Marek,” Ako said. She ended the hug and looked into Marek’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Marek smiled at her. “No problem,” he said.

The two of them then settled back onto the bench and then stared out into the garden as the sun continued to set. It grew darker and colder, but Ako didn’t mind. She was warm with contentment as she sat with Marek, thinking about where they could go next after they left King Haradon’s palace.