The petal lay flat on his open palm invitingly, seducing him for a lick.

Should he really? Was now a good time?

Any time these days was a good time, so Rowan believed. This was, what? His third or fourth try? The anticipation still made him shake.

“Master Rowan?”

Rauna was calling him from downstairs. Rowan found the new maid so annoying with her “Master” and “Mister” and whatever the fuck else in her annoying formal accent.

“What is it?” he called back.

“The main party has arrived. Your mother wants you to come down. Have you finished dressing yet?”

Shut the fuck up.

Rowan snapped a tiny piece of the gritty yellow petal and stuck it onto his tongue. The petal instantly dissolved. In a few minutes, he’d feel the welcome tingling in his mouth spread down to his toes, then would come the blissful, floaty feeling that would last him the rest of the day. He stashed the rest of the drug back into the vial with the second petal—he had only been able to afford two of the least potent vida. The shaggy guy that frequented the red-light bar—Emran—and his pretty cousin had taken pity on his dark mood on the night he’d been there alone and discounted him for a quarter of the price, charging him at a “first timer’s fee.” The girl, Cina, was also a friend of Zara’s. Maybe that had been a factor too. He didn’t care. He wanted to use, and he wanted to be numb.

Emran had shown him that the key to feeling good wasn’t by consuming the entire petal at once, unless he wanted to black out from a heart spike. Take a bit at a time, increase the dose gradually, and it would also save him money in the long run.

Even with that discounted low price, Rowan came home that night with very little coin in his money pouch. He minded to do his house chores properly, and had made a deal with his father, promising to behave and do better in his studies and not pick fights with Naz (even though he never fucking did so in the first place, but while on vida he barely cared about it), so as long as he’d start receiving a fair allowance again.

He’d also steer clear from Zara. He ignored her when she escaped the house this morning, and he didn’t bother snitching either. He’d steer clear of all her shit. Her witchcraft had caused nothing but trouble for him. And to think he had started feeling bad for her, almost wanted her on his side after Naz came home…

The dark thoughts lifted, and he smiled a stupid smile. There it was, the tingle—the oncoming bliss.

No matter. They can both go fuck themselves.

“Master Rowan?”

“I’ll be down,” he called back lightly. He didn’t know if he’d said it loud enough for her to hear. He didn’t care. “Imbecile,” he grouched under his breath.

He ran his hands down his face, then stood in front of the mirror to fix the collar of his golden floral button-down. His thick hair was freshly oiled and combed back in a high bun. Many of his skin spots and bruises from his father’s beating had sort of healed here and there, but he still looked shitty enough to where people were definitely going to point it out (as if he didn’t already fucking know) and ask him “What happened?!” in that stupid, pitchy shrill that Rowan always knew was fake. His teachers always did it to him, and the all the stupid shits walking the streets of this town did it too.

Today he’d smile. He’d smile politely, and maybe tell everyone who asked it was none of their fucking business. To maybe worry about their own ugly faces before talking to him about his.

“I didn’t expect for you to turn out this way. So lanky and unremarkable….”

“You haven’t been taking those dreaded vida petals have you?…I hear they can make one’s appearance, well, like yours?”

He chuckled as the mirror’s distorted image. At the memory of his older brother’s marked, bloody face.

It was so funny how much he didn’t care.

Dolly had grown not much taller, but definitely wider. Her pale green, sparkling dress hugged her curves, the matching accented dupatta draped and pinned over her head dragged along the pathway as she bobbed towards Zara, gown bunched in her hands.

“My goodness, look at you,” Dolly squealed radiantly.

Zara grinned back and let herself be encased in Dolly’s tight embrace. “Look at you! You’re…you’re getting married.”

“I know! Last time we saw each other we were practically like babies and now, look at me! Grown up and engaged. Crazy, right?”

“It is…”

“I feel the same way. I mean, we played in this field. It feels so recent, but it isn’t!”

The more Zara looked at Dolly, the more she pondered the time gone. Dolly had always been a cute girl, but the baby fat on her face was replaced with a slimmer, mature, and elegant expression. Her face was made up beautifully, and the classy silver tikka on her forehead made her look like a real woman. She would be, once she was officially wed.

A stocky man with wide-set shoulders and square-like facial features was a few paces behind her, along with the rest of his party—an older gentleman and woman, two young adult men, and one little girl in a cute pink dress. The groom and his family, Zara presumed. They all wore lighter colors as well, a mix of pinks and yellows. The groom was wearing white with a tight fancy gold vest and matching thick bracelets on each sturdy wrist.

After a quick hug with her aunt and a polite greeting bow to her uncle, Dolly aligned herself with her fiance. Noina started the customary family introductions.

The groom’s name was Varun, and while he wasn’t the most handsome man ever with his stout, wide build and average-looking face, he did exhibit a humor similar to Dolly’s, and with the way Dolly looked at him, it was as though he was the most precious thing in the world to her.

When Noina finished introducing Varun’s child sister—and trying to swallow her distaste when introducing Zara by name to Varun’s family—Zahir turned to his wife and, disguising his annoyance, asked her of Rowan’s whereabouts.

Leyli’s brow twitched, but her expression remained pleasant enough in front of the other family. “I sent Rauna to fetch him,” she replied simply.

Zahir sighed, looking back at the house.

Noina was not impressed, but she quickly laughed Rowan’s pitiful absence off. “I’m sorry. It seems we’re missing a member, sister,” she assured Varun’s mother. “He will be out soon, I’m sure.”

“Well I’d hope so,” the other woman spoke. Her voice was kind of crackly, liked she’d had too much pipe tobacco in her lifetime. “It would be a shame otherwise.”

It was important for a wedding or engagement party’s family to meet all members of the household they were holding their function at, and it was extremely rude if all parties were not present to greet each other. Otherwise, it could lead to a bad start of the relationship. An ill-omen of sorts. Presumably.

The kingdom’s first royal family thousands of years ago, back when it consisted of mostly mages, had slighted the then-human Goddess Lilith and her royal family in a similar manner, because apparently mages were “too important” for common human decencies. This was shortly before the first war between humans and mages broke out, and while there was quite a bit more that eventually led up to that, some people—people like Noina, who taught Zara of this custom’s history during one of her school lessons—believed that this event was a significant part of it.

The customs and its rules have naturally changed over time, and Zara honestly couldn’t remember every piece of biased religious history Noina shrieked into her ear. But she did know that in some places more superstitious, whatever the shit Rowan was pulling now would be considered like a blasphemy. Thankfully, Pria was not the place for that. But she heard Varun’s family was from south east, and from the look of his parents’ faces, this exchange might just be a tad offensive.

It was a good thing Rowan decided to come bustling out the front door right then now, wasn’t it? He almost tripped over nothing on the way over, but at least he was smiling, and looked somewhat decent.

“There he is,” Noina exclaimed, pulling Rowan further forward, holding him in front of Dolly’s new family by the shoulders. “This is the son I’ve told you about.”

“Hi,” he blurted in a casual tone. “I’m Rowan.”

“Stay quiet,” Noina demanded lowly before more properly introducing Rowan to the parents, the siblings, and then Varun himself.

“Did something happen to him? Why is his face like that?” Varun’s mother asked Noina, after pulling her aside. She probably meant to sound hushed and discreet, but from the uncomfortable looks from everyone else, she had all but failed.

Rowan’s teeth looked like daggers in that strained smile.

“Could you talk louder, please?” he said with a laugh. “I couldn’t hear, with you not speaking directly to me.”

The old woman’s forehead wrinkled, puzzled by Rowan’s manners. Or lack of them, really.

Noina’s beady eyes grew wide and scary. “Rowan, perhaps get back in the house and find a tray of refreshments for us all.”

“Have Rauna do it. Or, hell, any one of these other slaves you hired. They’re supposed to, right?” He dissolved into giggles.

“Now!” Zahir hissed, practically shoving him away.

Rowan left without another fight back, his clunky footsteps retreating back into the house.

“What in Mother’s name is wrong with him?” Leyli whispered.

Even Zara couldn’t figure that one out.

“…Okay. Now we’ve met everyone,” Varun announced lightheartedly. “Happy, Ma?”

Among the wave of nervous chuckles, Varun’s mother rolled her eyes, displeased, but didn’t argue back. Dolly took his hand and held it. A strange twinge was what Zara could describe happening in her heart. Dolly was like a new person. A new, interesting woman that Zara knew nothing about.

It’s okay. She knows nothing of me either.

But what was there to tell?

The twinge turned into heavy lead. Zara had nothing. Nothing good, nothing pure. She had nothing, unlike Dolly…who had everything.

“Let’s head to the tables,” Leyli said, gesturing to the open field where a pretty display of dining seats for the future bride and groom’s party stood among a vast arrangement of outdoor quilts and seat cushions for other guests. The staff was carrying the appetizers out now. Zara could smell them from where she stood. She could even hear the oil frying from the courtyard.

More carriages were starting to pile in front of the house. The musicians lingered around the gates smoking their pipes. Zara hadn’t even noticed when they arrived, and it excited her. She wondered what music they would play, what their part will be in the show later on. This was a party, after all, and Zara was present for it. For once, she was a part of something exciting. No need to feel so pathetic right now.

Feeling a bit more optimistic, Zara started following Dolly to the table, but Zahir held her back firmly.

“I have some friends coming, and then I’ll find you after we settle in,” Dolly assured. “We should catch up.”

“Sure,” Zara said plainly. She guessed the table had no room for the likes of her. Gloom trickled over once again, as quickly as it had left.

When Dolly and the rest of their families were out of earshot, Zahir let her shoulder go.

“Stay in my line of sight,” he ordered. “You are not to sit at that table.” He grimaced. “And neither is Rowan for that matter.”

They heard Rowan snickering from the open doorway; he had come back with no refreshments in hand. When Zahir regarded him with disdain, Rowan shrugged and said, “I’m not sorry at all.”

Zara was hopelessly out of place.

It wasn’t just that Dolly’s friends were here, chatting about places and people Zara knew nothing about. It was also clear that these ten girl friends surrounding Dolly on the embroidered quilt—either applying henna on her palms or just sitting around gossiping—came from well-off and distinguished city families of jewelers, designers, barristers, educators, and so on.

Dolly fit right in. She and Varun were in the “educator” category. She was studying to teach, and he was a researcher. They had met in a damn library. What a dream that must have been.

It’s not as though Zara didn’t come from an upper class family herself because she obviously did. What was eating at her was the fact that she had nothing going for herself, unlike these other girls who had lives outside their bedrooms.

Zara sat quietly on the grass at the outer edge of the group, tuning out the idle talk. She nibbled at a beef patty from the plate of appetizers. No one paid her any mind. She was fine with that. The less inquiries they had about her, the better.

She hadn’t gotten any alone time with Dolly for the past hour. When they were little, they meshed together like lentils in a boiling pot. Now they were like oil and curry, separated and unable to recombine. Even if Zara had her alone for a minute, she would be anxious about the conversation turning onto herself, and Zara didn’t want to talk about herself. She didn’t have anything noteworthy to say—or at least anything that wouldn’t get her in trouble. She couldn’t tell Dolly that the most interesting thing about her was that she was a mage in training—with a Sorcerer teaching her nonetheless. It sounded ridiculous, and even if Dolly miraculously managed not to believe it, the tale would eventually drift over ears Zara did not want hearing of this. Like Noina’s ears. Or her parents’.

Perhaps Zara could talk about her new, albeit shaky dance routine she made up in the forest that morning. But the more she thought of it, the lamer it seemed, and she didn’t want to risk Dolly or any of these women asking for an improvised performance.

Dolly was unaware about Zara’s nature; Noina had purposefully kept it that way. But she had also wrung their companionship dry by sending Dolly far away to school, and now this annoying stiffness was the result. Though it was obviously just Zara feeling this way. Dolly seemed better than fine. Like she didn’t even care that Zara was sitting alone, excluded.

“You should visit me more,” one of the women said to Dolly. Although Dolly had introduced her, Zara didn’t remember this woman’s name. She had very curly reddish hair that was prettily decorated with little flowers. Dolly’s long black hair was braided back and also florally ornamented. She had unpinned the dupatta to show it off. “I rarely even see you anymore. Remember how much time we spent together—”

“And how stressed out we were all the time?” another woman with sharp cheekbones chimed in. They all giggled.

“School is the worst,” the redhead said. “I’m glad we are almost finished with that nonsense.”

“Without that ‘nonsense’ we wouldn’t be heading where we are now, right?” Dolly said.

The redhead smirked. “I agree. But I’ll still complain.”

“You complain about everything,” Dolly replied, laughing.

“But that’s what you love about me!”

“Hmm…”

“Seriously, I know you have a man now, but you need to come and see me more. You need to help me pick out a husband. It’s my turn next, to get married.”

“So desperate,” someone else within the group joked, but Zara was unable to place a face to the voice.

“Shut up,” the redhead snapped before turning back to Dolly. “You’re like a sister to me, you know. The sister I never had.” She pursed her lips cutely.

Zara wondered what it must be like to be so carefree, so liberated and secure, that getting a proper education was equated to a hassle. Noina, with a chunk of widow’s money, had sent her daughter off to a closed off, religious boarding school in a town in between the main city and Pria, where there was good education without the tension of unsafe roads and people. When Dolly left Pria, Zara had cried because she hadn’t been able to go with her.

Dolly hadn’t come back after she had graduated that school; her entire life was better over there, with her new friends who had now become an extended family. Noina went on frequent visits and Dolly introduced her to the man she wanted to be with. Smart, successful, respectful, and a match for Noina’s belief system—what could be better than that, honestly?

He also had money, which leveled with faith in terms of importance. With his family’s help, Dolly was able to attend a prestigious college within the better parts of the city.

Zara couldn’t help comparing her own future. It was bleak, in some ways. She envied the normalcy—no, better than normalcy—of Dolly’s life. Right now, Zara couldn’t see how her power would get her anything more than a long life hiding from execution. Revan said that thought will change with time. The least she could keep praying for was freedom, and the more she exercised her magic, the freedom would eventually come. It just couldn’t come soon enough.

“Zara,” Dolly said.

Zara jolted. “Huh?”

Dolly laughed. “You’re so quiet, girl. Why are you all the way over there? Come sit with me.”

At the center of the group—the center of attention.

“Um…no that’s ok,” Zara tried to say but Dolly was already trying to make room on the quilt, ushering her friends to move aside. “No, really. You don’t have to go through the trouble—”

“Hey,” the redhead piped up, looking at the direction of the house. “Are they going to apply henna over there?”

Dolly turned back to look as well. Near the table where Varun was sitting with a few other men, including Zara’s father, three middle-aged ladies were walking from the house towards the stage. Two of them carried seat cushions and a folded quilt, the other a bowl with mixing supplies and a jug of water. It seemed like they were about to set up their station there, and a few curious female guests were standing by, watching as the ladies set their things down.

“Yes, they’re professionals,” Dolly answered. “My mom hired them.” She looked back at the redhead, then at the other women. “You should go. My hands are done, let them dry. They look gorgeous by the way. Love you all.”

The girl friends tittered lines of “see you later” or “we’ll be back” before leaving Dolly and Zara to themselves. Dolly joyfully gestured to the open seat next to her, and Zara finally felt comfortable enough to comply.

“You know, you’re looking really good,” Dolly said once Zara had settled.

Zara chuckled. “Not as good as you.”

“Don’t disregard yourself, girl. That color suits you.”

“Purple suits me?”

Dolly shrugged. “Purple suits most people, I think. Gold is nice on you, too. And your hair. It’s so long and beautiful. Way thicker than mine too.”

Zara patted her half-up wavy hairdo self-consciously. “Thanks, but, well…you look better than I do. This is the first time I’ve seen you all dressed up.”

“That’s right, huh? I’ve gotten kind of used to it. In the city, you’re always trying to look your best.”

“Every day?”

“Most days, yes. Though for the big events, like weddings and festivals, I like to look even more lavish. Everybody does.”

“Have you been to the palace?”

“Yes! But not inside, obviously. Just on the grounds, and around the public garden. It’s amazing. Better than how I imagined it.”

Zara smiled, reminiscing. “Remember when we used to dream of living there together?”

Dolly laughed. “Any castle would have been amazing.”

“But that castle…”

“That was supposed to be our castle.”

They giggled at the silliness of their childhood fantasy. Playing together, pretending to be queens, saving all the good people from the bad people….

It was all so silly. Obviously the “playing” around within the luxuries of the palace walls was completely unheard of as an adult, but living together? Ruling together? Even if a stupid fantasy like that could have fathomable before, they hardly knew each other to do anything like that now.

But this was progress. Dolly was talkative and a naturally friendly person. That hadn’t changed.

“We were so close, weren’t we?” Dolly said, staring off at the distant mountain peaks.

Zara chose not to answer. To distract herself, she let her eyes roam at the activity around them, something she thought she’d never see after years with hardly anyone but Noina stopping by. Now there were dozens of people mixing around outdoors and within. Food, tea, and coffee were constantly being brought out and served. The table for the bride and groom’s party was filled with platters and people. Others surrounded them on quilts and cushions. Children were dancing around the stage. The dancers and musicians were enjoying each other’s company; two out of the four musicians were playing soft tunes on the drum and sitar. Shyla caught her gaze and gave her a little wave before turning back to the flute man she’d been talking to.

Women and young girls in fancy garb were hustling back and forth, from stepping inside the house to chasing after their children outside, or just lingering about the grounds, waiting for their turn to get henna. Some of the young men and boys played games of running and throwing around small rice sacks out in the field, and now a few young girls wanted to join in, despite having to play in dresses. Many of these people were relatives from her father’s side, Dolly’s friends, and others were friends of friends of Noina’s and Leyli’s, and then who knows who else.

Zara was not used to this many people at her house. Though, she could say she wasn’t used to much of anything.

“Want some?” Dolly asked, pointing her head at a plate of fried snacks that had been left abandoned.

“But what about you?”

Dolly held up her hennaed hands. “These still need some more drying time. I already had some anyway.”

Zara took a fried lentil ball, even though she wasn’t so hungry. But it gave her something to do with herself while Dolly’s previous question dawdled in her mind.

“…So,” Dolly started, “Rowan’s grown tall, I see.”

Zara huffed out her nose. “And he made quite the scene today. Sorry about that.”

“I don’t think he even noticed I was standing there. Maybe he forgot about me.”

Zara laughed out loud. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s always been an odd one, and lately he’s been moody too—”

“I think it’s because he’s reached that age.”

“Maybe…but he knows better.”

“Are you two close?”

“….No.”

“Ah. Sibling relationships must be fun.”

“It isn’t.”

“You were the closest I had to a sister before.”

The redhead with the whiny attitude popped into Zara’s mind. And now I’ve been replaced.

“Also, where is your other brother?” Dolly asked.

“What?” As natural of a question this was, it still caught Zara by surprise. Even she wondered about where that man was.

“Nazeer, right? Or…have I truly dreamt him up?”

“Wait…I don’t understand?” But Zara did actually understand, and it made her burst into giggles.

Dolly giggled too. “Is he even a real brother of yours? I think I’ve only ever seen him once in my entire life.”

“You’re joking!”

“I’m not! He’s like a ghost. I don’t remember what he looks like.”

They laughed about it a little longer before Zara gave Dolly an overview of the person Naz was now, and that he would probably arrive later. She left out the part about his injury, though. She was hoping that history would repeat itself tonight—that Naz wouldn’t show up at all and that Dolly would never see him.

“I can’t believe he’s married,” Dolly said. “And living in Darhai, too. I’d really like to meet him and his wife formally.”

“Sure. Maybe.”

“Have you always been this thin by the way?” Dolly looked Zara up and down. “You’re a lot thinner than what I remember. I could be remembering wrong.”

“Hm…no I don’t think you are. I think I did get thinner. I don’t eat much.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Not the hungry type.”

“I’ve always been fat, I think.”

Zara giggled. “No, not really.”

“Okay, but I am now for sure. Come on. Look at my mom. But even she has a better figure than me, I would say. I think my father might have been bigger. I’m sure that’s where I got my weight from.”

“I don’t remember much of your father. Well, besides that he was pretty big, now that I think back on it.”

“Right?” Dolly sighed, but she was smiling. “I wonder what he would think of me now, if he were here.”

“Do you miss him?”

Dolly shrugged. “We were, what, seven when he got sick?” She shuddered. “Ugh just thinking about those black rashes all over him before he passed…yeah, I do miss him. Even though I was so young and didn’t remember much about him.”

“Our fathers were busy men.”

“Yup. Especially back then. Trying to move up the political ranks is not an easy task. And unfortunately, it takes time away from family.”

“Well, I think he would be happy to see you happy.”

Dolly blushed. “I would hope so. I’m really trying to make something of my life.”

“He’d be so proud.” Zara’s heart sank as she said this though.

Dolly grinned, looking up at the clear sky. “Beyond teaching, I really want to help people. You know, fight poverty. Get it off the streets. The city has grown rampant with it. Drug-induced psychos are always running around, causing trouble for everyone. I want to help get rid of them.”

“You’d be like a…humanitarian?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

Dolly looked at her, questioning. “Of what?”

“Crime?”

“…There will always be crime. There’s a lot of terrible crime. It’s up to us to not let it get too out of hand. Besides, I’m doing all of this with Varun. We share the same goals. He’s such a great man, Zara, you wouldn’t even know. A perfect match for me. I couldn’t have prayed for better.”

After some silence, Zara spoke again. “So city life is working out well for you, then.”

Dolly nodded. “I love it there. Not a dull day goes by for me. With my husband, it’s become a true home. You should come visit sometime. I’d love to have you.”

Zara smiled wanly. “Yeah. Do you ever miss it here?”

Dolly regarded her for a moment. “When I think of the past, sure I miss it.” She looked back out at the mountains again, out at the vast greenery and the trees that lay far beyond. “Being here again has brought back many memories. Especially ones of you.”

“…Right,” Zara whispered to herself.

“This town really is beautiful,” Dolly said. “And there’s so many wonderful people. I really took it for granted when I lived here.”

“It tends to happen.”

“Mount Lilith is truly something to be worshiped still, isn’t it? I prayed at its temple the other day. My mother took me there so much when I was little.”

“I remember it.” Zara hadn’t stepped into any temple since she was a little girl and she meant to keep it that way now. The local temple was at the eastern grounds of the mountain, and it was beautifully structured from the inside out. The Goddess Temple, however, was said to be magnificent, but it was situated high up the mountain and required hours of hiking up a rocky trail. It was popular during pilgrimage season in the summer months, but it was also the site of many fatigue-driven deaths.

Dolly rubbed the dried henna off her hands and wrist. The simplistic design left on her brown skin was a sharp, dark red. A small glass bottle of oil lay next to the bowl of henna paste. Dolly picked it up and made good use of it on her dyed skin.

“Lucky it wasn’t destroyed by the quake.”

Zara frowned, startled by Dolly’s words.

“Not that there was a real quake, apparently.” Dolly’s face turned serious. “I keep hearing different stories. Pria is a hot spot for news right now, though I’m sure you know.”

Zara’s mouth ran dry. She dropped her half eaten lentil ball on the quilt.

“Zara, what really happened up there? Ma is acting dodgy and unsettled, and I don’t blame her, but…did you really try to step in and…and actually help that thing?”

Her head swam, and her body heated up because this was something she did not want to discuss.

“Did you know what she did the other night?” Dolly was still talking. “She hung black cloths in front of our house and then set them on fire.” She scoffed. “I don’t know what she was raving about under her breath…why she went and bought a bunch of red peppers and whatnot—”

Zara scoffed, but it was to cover up how nervous she was.

“Seriously!” Dolly persisted. “Look, Ma’s superstitions can get the best of her sometimes, but she seemed really scared about today. At one point this week, I even asked her whether we should have the party elsewhere, but then I learned you wouldn’t be able to attend. She wouldn’t tell me why. Is there a reason why?”

“Um…no.”

Dolly shifted her weight, alarmed. “Are you sick? Do you have an illness that prevents you from leaving or—”

“N-No!” Zara replied impulsively. Although describing her nature as an “illness” that kept her from leaving home and doing anything made sense, it’s not like Zara could explain it away should Dolly ask for bothersome details.

“Then what? Why would you do that? For a mage—” She whispered that word. “—of all things. How could you?”

“H-He…I don’t know. He was so little and friendly with me. I don’t know—” She didn’t know. When it came to mind, she still didn’t know if what she tried doing was right. She jumped back and forth from being “right” to outright “idiotic.”

“Friendly?!” Dolly was aghast.

“I met him once before, in town. My father took me to get books and I was waiting on the street for him to pick me up—” Kind of the truth. “—when we met. The boy was by himself, his mother had kicked him out of the house—”

“For good reason.”

“Okay…but he was a child.”

“A homeless no-good child. A wicked thing.”

Zara frowned deeply. “Dolly, you sound like your mother.”

Now it was Dolly’s turn to frown. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Zara said quietly. She regretted even saying it.

“Do you have something against my mother? She’s your tutor, is she not?”

“What do you have against homeless children?” Zara accused, veering off the more dangerous subject of her weary relationship with Noina.

Dolly scoffed. “It’s not just children, Zara. It’s all of them. Adults, adolescents—all the same. Why shouldn’t we be offended by them? They are the reason why any humanitarian efforts are needed at all. They bring crime into our homes, to our streets. They go against everything we believe in—”

“What? Believe in?”

Dolly blinked like she couldn’t fathom what Zara couldn’t understand. “The Holy Mother always respected those who kept our towns and cities free of dirt, corruption, and scum—”

“Maybe she meant literal dirt?”

“No…do you not pay attention to what my mother teaches you?”

“Trust me, I pay attention.”

“So what? You ignore it then?”

Zara bit her lip, annoyed and afraid of where this was going.

Dolly shook her head. “Unbelievable. If you hadn’t done so, if you had been a better student, maybe you wouldn’t have put yourself in direct danger like that. Zara, what were you thinking defying the witch doctor? He’s a priest, too, for crying out loud! And then that little shit accused you of the same sin he was being put to death for in the end anyway! This is exactly why they are corrupted. They don’t care about anybody but themselves. And then that awful quake.” Dolly’s bottom lip quivered. “When I heard about it, I almost cried my eyes out. It could have been so much worse.”

She gripped Zara’s shoulders. “Zara, you need to be careful. You’re lucky no one believed that stupid boy, but that was too risky. You’ve always had a soft heart, but in this case, it’s misplaced.”

By this time, Zara’s blood had risen to a simmer. She chuckled sarcastically, caressing Dolly’s hands that were still on her heated shoulder. “It’s so funny to me. That witch doctor.”

“Huh?” Dolly was confused.

“He couldn’t even tell whether I was a witch or not. Who knows then, if he truly knew about the boy.”

Dolly let Zara go like she’d been set aflame. “What are you saying?”

Zara shrugged, leaning back on her hands.

Dolly squinted. A sudden gush of air blew strands of hair into her face, and blew some of the adorning petals off it as well. “Zara, what exactly are you saying? Can you explain the quake then? The one that no one on ground claimed to feel? Huh?”

Zara refused to answer, watching one far corner of the quilt fold over against the sudden change in wind. The lowered temperature bit at her hot skin.

“Not talking again? That’s how you are, I see. Just an untalkative, unsocial girl with a withering belief system.”

“What in the hell would you know anything about me?” Zara said through clenched teeth. “You left. You don’t know anything anymore.”

“How is it my fault? I don’t want to fall into assumptions, but you don’t make it easy. You don’t say anything. You haven’t and it’s been almost two hours since I’ve been here and this is the most we’re talking and now look, we’re practically fighting because of what you started—”

“I didn’t fucking start anything—!”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

Zara looked back to see some of Dolly’s friends and other distant guests peering at them curiously. Zara tried to get herself under control, before she did something she regretted.

“What good is talking when there’s nothing to say?” she muttered. “I’m sorry I don’t have a life as great as yours that I can brag on and on about.”

“Life is what you make it to be.”

Zara snickered. “Says the woman who’s been granted every opportunity from the start. Even now, you’re reaping off your future husband’s money. How nice for you.”

Dolly gaped, disgusted. “You have become such a bitter and resentful person. I don’t like this at all. Don’t blame your jealousy on me. Your life being hollow, your lack of friends—which don’t think I haven’t noticed or heard from Ma that you don’t have any, being the way you are—that’s all your own doing, Zara.”

Her palms felt like they were burning. She should probably just leave Dolly altogether, but she wanted to know one thing.

“Just how is it my doing? Tell me, since you’re so fucking smart.”

“You’re not faithful enough! That’s why you weren’t blessed with opportunities. That’s why Ma took me away from you the way she did!”

The heat in her body began to cease immediately, almost like Dolly had poured a bucket of ice over her head. Zara swallowed, biting back her frustration.

“That’s what she told you?” she said.

Dolly’s kohl lined eyes were red and watery. “I didn’t want to leave you like that. Not so suddenly. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Dolly?” It was the redhead standing behind them, glaring accusingly at Zara. Sharp cheekbones was with her too. The other eight girls were a couple yards behind them, slowly approaching like they didn’t really want to interfere in whatever was going on.

This glaring redhead was obviously Dolly’s closest friend. Sister, practically. She’d taken the mantle Zara had been forced to ditch. Zara turned away, trying not to visibly roll her eyes and make her grudge obvious. She took her palms off the quilt and rubbed them together. Her plain, hot, itchy palms among the sea of beautified ones. The smell of henna and oil was making her sick now.

“What happened? Why are you crying?” the cheekbones asked Dolly, shivering. “And why is it so cold here all of a sudden? Is the weather going bad?” She looked up at the clear sunny sky, confused.

“What did you say to her?” the red hair snapped at Zara while trying to rub some heat into her bare arms.

Dolly wiped her eyes delicately with her hands. “Stop it, Melega. We were just…talking about old times. That’s all.” She chuckled lightly. “It was getting me emotional.”

Melega—apparently was the redhead’s name—looked taken aback. “Um, are you sure? You were getting kind of loud. And the way she was talking—”

“I’m fine, she’s fine. Everything is fine,” Dolly claimed with a smile, caressing Zara’s tense arm like harsh words hadn’t been thrown around.

“But—”

“Let it go,” cheekbones said coolly, sitting back down on Dolly’s other side. The rest of the women finally reached the quilt.

“It’s kind of chilly here, isn’t it?” one of the other women commented.

“But how? It was just fine when we were getting our henna,” another woman pointed out.

Dolly shrugged. “That’s Pria’s odd weather pattern for you….I guess?”

“Excuse me,” Zara said in a dull manner, gathering her skirt to get up. Dolly did not look at her.

“Leaving so soon?” cheekbones asked. Though it wasn’t because she actually gave a damn where Zara went, that much was obvious.

“Tina, what does it matter?” Melega piped in rudely. “She was barely even present from the start.”

The other women laughed.

A strange, blackish brown patch was visible under the dent where Zara’s palm was flat on, at the edge of the quilt. She lifted that edge. The grass underneath was dead, the soil charred black. The other side where her other palm had lain had been affected the same. The quilt itself, however, was unharmed, strangely enough.

Zara stood up and walked away from the group with a conflicted heart.

“Oh it’s getting warm again!”

“Must have just been her then, huh? Such a cold thing, she is.”

“Hush, Melega. That’s my cousin you’re speaking ill of.”

More cackles ensued. The chill had not left Zara’s shoulders as she distanced herself from Dolly.

4 hours later

He had been watching the Mirror for only an hour, just to check on how his apprentice was faring. Before that, he had been mapping his next destination, the next person he and Zara would meet on their way out of Pria. The next phase of his plan. That was when he realized things were about to go to the shits and he needed to get to Zara’s house before she could do any more damage. Now, after polishing up his beard, Revan combed his hair as neatly as he could in the hurry he was in. He needed to be a convincing wedding party guest—or in this case, it was an engagement party.

Revan shook his head. He saw no point to an extra party before the wedding; that was so much work. Where he came from, couples were married quickly, though it made sense since most of those marriages were arranged, so there was no true love in need of celebration. Love marriages usually had a happy party with intimate friends and family, but even then it was all held in one day; there was no “pre-wedding” or engagement gatherings that the northern folks here tended to do. These were just an excuse to be frivolous—to show off the wealth that meant nothing at the end of the day.

Revan buttoned up his formal dress shirt—black and gold design running down the middle, his favorite combination of colors. It was also the only really nice shirt he could find in his clothes chest at the moment. He really should have thought to flatten out a few of the wrinkles before putting it on, but now it was too late, as it was already worn and buttoned and he didn’t want to bother taking it off again for something so inconsequential right now. There were more pressing matters.

The conversation he’d just witnessed between Zara and her brother had raised some alarm already. Not long after, Zara was forced into a position that she wasn’t prepared for, and in turn, it was making her magic unsteady. He could sense it even from where he stood, astoundingly.

And to top it all off, the damn witch doctor had come, because the scene at Mount Lilith just hadn’t been enough for him. Revan had no real clue as to what that joke of a man was doing there, but he had some ideas. Of course, no witch doctor was going to leave business unfinished. At least no “doctor” with prestige held behind his name.

The sun dipped behind the cliffs as Revan approached Zara’s neighborhood. He could sense the waves of untamed magic in the cooling air and in the ground—even in the pebbles hiding in the dirt.

What is she doing? He hesitated. Zara’s magic was growing. She was being purposeful this time, for whatever ill-thought-out reason. Still lacking control, she would not be able to pull back if the situation got out of hand. She was going to be caught.

This reminds me of…

The gruesome image of a stoned boy, half-buried in the sand, crossed his mind.

He contemplated, then moved onward. Revan needed to get her out. He refused to lose another apprentice.