"Oh, bugger. I'm turning into your brother."

Grumbled Meya as Zier stood her on her feet. Zier straightened up and eyed her warily.

"Impertinent question," He warned. Meya raised her eyebrows. "When's the last time you bled?"

Meya blushed red-hot; she could guess what Zier was hinting at. She reached for the folding screen, pulled it out to full width, and began undressing.

"Three days ago. It was late and I was getting nervous. Thank Freda..." She swore under her breath. She undid the last knot on the bodice, then shrugged the soiled kirtle onto the floor. Zier's hand poked under the screen and whisked it away. She called over her shoulder at him. "I'm using the Silfum, don't worry."

Silence fell as Meya changed into a chemise for bedtime. Zier was just straightening up when she emerged. He tossed her sweaty smock onto the pile on his arm.

"Neither dwale nor poison work on your folk. Are you sure Silfum would protect you?" He strode off and deposited her laundry in the basket. A jolt of horror rushed through Meya. She brushed it aside.

"At least I'm human down there, according to your brother." She jerked her chin at her lower half, folded the screen, then slumped onto her mattress. "At any rate, we're back to courting. That should assuage your fears."

Meya grinned up at him, hands clasped over her folded knees as she rocked back and forth. Zier blew a sigh of relief. Yet, he still looked troubled as he sat down on Coris's mattress.

"So, what was it, then?"

Meya bit her lip, then sighed in surrender.

"Last night I learned that I sucked all the minerals out of Crosset's soil, created a famine and starved a hundred people to death." She forced out a bitter grin as she picked at her nightdress, "And it seems my body is stopping me from using that ability again. Ever."

"Maybe you could just learn the other abilities and ignore it. It's enough if you could transform and fly and breathe fire, right?"

Zier suggested. Meya shook her head; she had toyed with the idea herself.

"I have to fly across the ocean." She sprang up and began pacing, "I must feed like a dragon and fill up my metal stores while we're in the Sands and the Blue Mountains. They're the only places I can feed safely without destroying a village or two!"

She burst out in desperation, flailing arms falling to her sides with a clap. Zier scratched his nape and avoided her gaze. Embarrassed, Meya closed her eyes and rested her burning forehead against the wooden tentpole. Then, a sudden inspiration hit her.

"The Axel—" She perked up. She heard the sound of hay chafing; Zier must have jolted hard on the mattress. "Coris—How did you deal with the guilt?"

Zier's eyes were like diamonds; hard and flashing. He picked up a stray pebble.

"I didn't have to. It's not my fault." He shrugged, his fingers exploring the blunted edges of the tiny stone. Meya's grip on the pole fell slack. She blinked in disbelief.

"It is your fault!" She snapped. Zier glared back, eyes blazing with fury.

"If Father and Coris had shown me one shred of appreciation, Graye would never have been able to turn me." He said coldly, then sneered, "And I've never asked Coris to take the blame for me—unnecessarily too, as it turned out."

Zier spat. He flung the pebble at the ground with a forceful smite, then cradled his head in his hands. The suffocating silence echoed with their heaving breaths.

"Look, I love my brother." Zier's voice softened to mournful, but still he refused to show his face, "I hate seeing him like this as much as you do, but it's not like I forced him to do anything."

Meya closed her eyes and pushed down the ever unrequited urge to scream and land a Hadrian brother a well-aimed blow.

"I see." She met Zier's glare with a sardonic grin,

"You never blame yourself, whereas I blame myself for everything."

"Exactly. The two of you should learn from each other."

A familiar voice chimed in from the tent door. For all their enmity, Meya and Zier jumped and spun around with flawless synchronization. The eavesdropper greeted them with a sly smile, silvery eyes glinting in the lamplight.

"How come you're here?" Meya demanded. Coris smiled wider, then strode in,

"I said I'd only be a minute. A knight keeps his word." He claimed a spot on his mattress beside Zier, who had scooted aside to make way. Meya narrowed her eyes.

"Who's overseeing the training?"

"Who do you think?"

Meya blinked, then recovered with a savage smirk.

"I see. Whatever happened to 'We'll learn it together'?" She shot Coris a wide-eyed look, which slid off to reveal a sneer, "I guess a knight does keep his word—to the fair maiden he hopes to get back to bedding."

"Ouch." Zier dissolved into a bout of stifled snickers. Coris appeared unfazed, but Meya glimpsed a streak of annoyance in his eyes.

"So, Zier. How is leadership treating you?"

Zier hiccupped to a stop. He whipped around to Coris, who looked as if he would have whistled innocently had he known how.

"You were never sick, weren't you?" Zier deduced, his voice cold as fratricide.

"And you made a better leader than you'd thought, didn't you?"

For a moment, it seemed as if Zier's soul had departed his body, then blossoms of pale pink appeared on his cheeks, growing more pronounced the brighter Coris beamed with pride.

"From now until we reach Safyre, I'm trusting the entourage to you." He clapped Zier's shoulder, his expression solemn, "I'm afraid I'll be quite busy with dragon training and—" A mischievous grin crept onto his lips as his eyes slid to Meya. He tilted his head, "—getting back to bedding my fair maiden."

As much to hide her burning face as to not have to bear the sight of that infuriating smirk, Meya plonked down onto her pillow and flipped away, stuffing her ears against the Hadrian brothers' chortles of triumph.

"Thank you, Brother. I should go talk to Sir Jarl."

Still sniffling from tears of laughter, Zier bade goodnight then left.

Peace and quiet returned. Meya felt her mattress sink. Coris's bony arms slithered under hers and coiled loosely around her waist. His cold was a soothing salve to her feverish fears.

"I should learn from Zier?" She whispered. Coris rested his cheek on her braid.

"Thanks to you, I finally realized what is wrong with my brother." He heaved a labored sigh.

"I agree The Axel Heist was his fault—but not entirely. He was young and vulnerable, and Father and I played a crucial part in that. The same applies to you."

Meya tensed in his arms. Perplexed. Skeptical. Coris reaffirmed his embrace.

"The Famine is your fault, but you must forgive yourself where it is due. Acceptance leads to action, yes, but it also means acknowledging things that are out of your control—"

Meya cracked a wry grin. She blew a snort, and Coris froze in alarm.

"—Yes. My body." She forced out a bitter laugh then sprang up. Flashes of the past pierced their way through her battered heart, and she dug her nails into her scalp, hoping the pain would anchor her to the present.

"How can I be sure my powers wouldn't go berserk again? I saw what I did. I sucked Crosset dry in my sleep! I—I—"

The lump in her throat dropped into place. Meya broke off, trembling against the tide of pent-up grief and shame. Her eyes burned, but she held back; she didn't deserve the relief freefalling tears brought.

Coris sat up and gathered her back into his arms. Meya tried to resist, but her struggle was feeble, and his will was firm.

"Perhaps, seeing other dragons using their powers safely would cure your trauma." He met Meya's gaze with a tender smile, "Tomorrow, I'll set aside some time during the day for the nine of you to swap tales. Like Zier, you simply need proof."

He shrugged with a smirk, satisfied with his plans, and Meya felt her heart flutter to life. She scoured deep within those silvery eyes, and once more, her eyes could see hope. He truly was the tempest, lifting her gigantic wings when she couldn't find the strength to move them on her own. And in the sky she would remain, soaring on, even long after he had dissolved into thin air.

Meya shuddered at the thought. She averted her gaze and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Guess you're right. But I doubt Lady Heloise would have much of a tale."

Coris chuckled in agreement, and Meya smiled in relief. Her sense of humor was back, at the least. Still, it did little to expel the creeping dread that had risen at the mere mention of their suspect.

"How much longer will we wait? I fear for Zier."

Coris tightened his embrace.

"He'll be safe." So he said, but his arms shook. Meya nuzzled close, willing the warmth of her hand over his heart to drive away the cold fear gripping it.

"Wish Agnes would make her move soon."

⏳

Heloise was still in her day clothes when Agnes dropped in with new sheets and a basket to collect her laundry. She didn't pause her troubled pacing. She didn't turn around, nor made any gestures to acknowledge her entrance.

Gritting her teeth to steady her resolve, Agnes knelt down and set to work making the lady's bed.

"Good evening, my lady." Heloise skidded to a halt and shot her a glance.

"Good evening, Haselle." She huffed in annoyance then resumed pacing.

"How was the training?" Agnes braved another attempt at conversation. She would've gone to watch her little...big sister herself, of course, if she hadn't had to oversee the maids in Heloise's place.

"Good." Heloise shrugged, then slipped behind the screen. One by one, her old clothes leaped over and hung themselves halfway down the frame. She was silent save for the rustling of linen as she donned her nightwear, not inclined to elaborate.

"I heard you were reading dragon eyes." Agnes pulled the dress down into her basket. She cocked her head at the reemerging Lady Dunstaal, "What did you see?"

"Well, a number of bloody wars." Heloise stepped around her, determined not to answer her gaze. "I wouldn't want me to go into detail if I were you."

She plonked down on her mattress and picked up her comb, tugging at the knots in her hair. Agnes unfurled a slight grin.

"Understandably. Lord Frenix said you couldn't see anything at all."

Heloise's comb froze halfway through a tangled sheaf of golden brown. She whipped around, eyeing Agnes with flaring green eyes. So absent-minded was she, she had neglected to put her bracelet back on once training was over. The scar on her wrist gleamed white in the lamplight; four raggedy lines scored into her flesh by Agnes's own fingernails.

"You got me. I'm a scatterbrain. I can't ignore my senses and empty my mind. Satisfied?" She rolled her eyes and resumed combing with increased viciousness, "Now, would you be so kind as to deprive me of my own company no longer?"

She shifted to the side, her snarl echoing in the silence. Agnes left the basket behind as she approached, rubbing each foot firm on the yielding carpet to compensate for her trembling legs.

"I've never known you to be a scatterbrain." Heloise tensed under the cool of her stare and smile, even as she feigned indifference, "You have perfect concentration. I remember maids banging pots and pans to rouse you whenever you had your nose in a good story."

"I remember nothing of the sort." Heloise snapped. As Agnes blinked, taken aback, she turned around with a sneer, "I've never known you before Hadrian. I've no idea where you came up with all that from."

"Oh, but you do." Agnes retorted in a seething whisper, then dropped her act with a sharp call, "Give up the pretense, Persephia. You know there's no fooling me."

Charged silence, like one just after lightning had struck. Persephia stiffened as if paralyzed by a jolt of pain. She turned around, pale yet brazen,

"I beg your pardon." She twisted up a mirthless smile, her icy voice dripping with venom, "Last I remember, my name is Heloise, and you will address me as lady."

"I shall address you as who you really are. You're my twin sister Persephia, the rightful firstborn of Graye."

"What's this madness? I have no sister. Especially not one as hideous as you."

Persephia gasped at her own unwitting outburst. Agnes was so numb, she'd just realized she had faltered. After the years of hatred and disgust she had endured, she thought she had risen above, that words would no longer hurt her the way stones did, save for the occasional moment of weakness.

Persephia's eyes betrayed a flash of regret and guilt, replaced by torturous determination. She whirled away, her chest heaving as she stared ahead into nothing.

"Would you leave? I'm trying to forget the sight of your ugly face and you loitering around my tent doesn't help."

Agnes shivered. She remembered Amara's scream, that day she snatched off her mask. Still, she stood her ground. Persephia turned back with a glare. Her sister was impatient, as she had always been.

"Get. Out. Do I need to start throwing things?" She brandished her thick wooden comb, madness in her bulging eyes. "You want a cracked skull to add to that mangled face?"

Agnes shook her head as she drew back, one staggering step then another.

"You wouldn't, Persie." Her voice rippled with tears even as she smiled, taunting, "You can't bear to hurt me more than you already had."

"My name is Heloise." Persephia insisted through gritted teeth, her knuckles blanching around the comb's handle.

"Isn't it time you see sense, Persie?" Agnes rushed forth, beside herself in frustration. "There's nothing wrong with you. Coris gave you an empty eye! He's keeping you from using your powers against him. He's growing suspicious and you know it. How do you plan to get your hands on The Axel, exactly? Threaten Zier and get yourself killed?"

"GET OUT!" Persephia reared back and let fly. Agnes skidded sideways. The comb smashed into her mirror. Shards of glass rained onto the carpet. "Out! OUT!"

Persephia's shrieks lambasted Agnes as she fled back out. She staggered to her knees, teardrops darkening the rough gravel as they leaked through her fingers and splattered on the ground. Had she been any less immersed in her anguish, she would have heard that hers was not the only cry of despair.

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