Two days after the High Herald’s visit, there was a knock on her door. Ani was sitting on a wooden chair in the corner, perusing a very dull history of House Barym. It was the only book Fidelia had that wasn’t a romance novella.

Ani was more or less fully healed. She had planned to take advantage of their hospitality for one more day before subjecting herself back to the gruel of poverty.

“Come in,” she said, pulling the dense volume toward her face and feigning an avid interest in learning about the founding of the Azhallan Library. It would win her favor to show enthusiasm over the book and, in her most absurd fantasies, perhaps the family would take her in.

It was a Barym family member, but not the one that she had been expecting.

“It looks like you’ve been well,” Gallus said, taking a seat on the bed. It was strange to see him in a crisp linen coat of white instead of his usual loose brown robes. On his lapel was a large golden pin. A hand with six long fingers was engraved onto it. He really was a Foretoken.

She didn’t know what to say to him. She was mad at him for not corroborating what she saw but also overwhelmingly grateful for saving her life.

“Your ponytail,” she finally said.

“My parents,” he explained, running his fingers through his cropped hair. “They were furious when they learned I was a Hound. They’d been too lenient, says my father. My parents had to go beg my uncle, our Forespeaker, to ask for a pardon.” A flash of guilt crossed his face.

“Then, they learned that I had asked my aunt’s family to take you in,” he continued, “and that was a whole ordeal. Before I knew it, they got me a job as a lower court scribe that starts next week. I had to make several promises for them to allow me to come here.”

It was the most he had ever said about his personal life, but perhaps that was because he had nothing to hide now. That softened her.

“Why did you become a Hound?” she asked.

He thought for a second. “No reason, really. I was never one for balls and there’s only so much you can learn from reading. I knew I’d have to become a scribe eventually and I didn’t want to. That’s it.”

She nodded, but she couldn’t understand. Not truly. She was a Hound because it paid best. Her childhood friend had gotten her a job as a housemaid to a merchant, but she had hated it. She could pretend to be servile and flattering for hours, but she couldn’t imagine a lifetime spent curtsying and sweeping.

“It’s not that I looked down on any of you,” he said as if he could guess some of her thoughts.

“No, I don’t think that you did,” she said gently. She had gone enough hunts with him to know his loyalties. “After all, you came back for me.”

He shifted on the bed, looking uncomfortable. “I figured the best chance of survival was to trail the assailant. After I left you two, I circled back around and waited for him to pass.”

“Clever.”

“I was too far away when the fire started,” he said, shaking his head. “Your burns wouldn’t have been so bad if I was faster. And Miriam...”

“No, you did what you could,” she said firmly. “You’re the only reason I’m alive.”

Fortunately, the fire had caught onto her robes, leaving her with mostly superficial burns. Her legs, though, had been exposed. The doctors warned her that the burn marks on her thighs may never fade, but she wasn’t bothered. It was a small price. “What about Harald?”

“Took off in the wagon and cut all the other horses loose,” Gallus said in a low, angry voice. It was rare to hear him angry. “The Veants followed the trails of hoofprints and killed most of them. I was fortunate enough to find one grazing by a brook.”

“Bastard.” She’d deal with him later. There was a more pressing matter to be addressed. “You told them you didn’t see the Worldrender,” she said, trying to keep the accusation away from her voice.

“I saw a human,” he said slowly.

“He could Worldrend.”

“I don’t know. It all happened so quickly.”

“You saw him cut men down, men we knew. With his bare hands!” She couldn’t help raising her voice. “And he left a path of destruction wherever he walked. You said you were following him from behind.”

“I told you, I was too far away. I kept my distance. I didn’t know how he was moving so quickly.” He sighed. “None of this means he was a Worldrender. Maybe he was doing something with his halberd.”

“No, I saw him using his left hand,” she insisted.

“I don’t know what else to say, Ani. Let’s say you’re right. What can we do about it?” His dark eyes looked into hers. “It’s been almost two hundred years. No one knows why the Worldrenders haven’t attacked. But if they really are coming, there’s not much else we can do but wait.”

She bit her lip. He was right – there was nothing they could really do. Perhaps she just wanted someone to confirm what she had seen that night.

Gallus stood up from the bed. “Well, this is farewell. I’ve been forbidden from meeting you again, and my parents are having me monitored for the foreseeable future.”

“Just like that?” she said with a bitter smile. Her world had shrunk so incredibly fast. It wasn’t the first time, but the flood of loneliness was never easy to navigate.

He walked over, his arms hesitating between a hug or a handshake. Gallus had never been good with social cues, so she stood up and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“You’re a smart guy,” she said warmly. “It’d be a waste to be a scribe.”

“It was a good time,” he said. “One that I’ll look upon fondly for the rest of my life.” He pulled away from her, gave her an awkward bow, and then he was gone.

Three years had passed just like that. She’d have to find a new crew, one that shared her sensibilities. But all of that felt so inconsequential to the danger that was headed their way.

Of course, Gallus was right. If the Worldrenders were coming, there wasn’t much else they could do. Foretoken propaganda claimed that humanity would easily fend them off, but she had met the Worldrenders twice now. They were too powerful. Even a human one.

But there was something she could do before the end came. One last loose thread to cut.