Eolh refused rooms in the Hanging Palace, no matter how many times Ryke offered. He wanted to near the Doctor, in the leaning tower, “so I’ll know when Agra wakes up.”

Ryke found herself wondering what, by all the divine, had happened since Eolh left the Cauldron, so many months ago. She prayed there would be time to ask, to talk and to know. Ryke knew it was a deeply selfish prayer—perhaps she should instead pray for the wellbeing of her people, or of the cyran soldier’s recovery—but she prayed it anyway.

The Queen strolled to the tower with Eolh and his companion, a curious reptilian xeno called Yarsi. Eolh stared up at the new buildings, and the old repaired to be better than new, with wide-beaked awe. And this Yarsi seemed to have no fear of the city or its denizens, and down each street she pointed out some building or object or person, and asked, “What is that? What are those? Why are they doing that?” To Ryke’s surprise, Eolh answered each and every question with the patience of a saint.

Yes. Eolh was changed. When Ryke first met him, he was cynical and jaded, and grouchy. To say the least. Now, she couldn’t help but smile as Yarsi interrupted his explanation with a dozen more questions, and Eolh could only sigh, and start explaining anew. They crossed paths with a clutch of gaskals, the Cauldron’s own brightly-colored reptilian xenos, and suddenly Yarsi went still as a statue. Her eyes were wide, and Ryke waited for her questions to come pouring out.

But none came.

Instead, Eolh pulled Yarsi close, hugging her to his side. After that, the child was eerily quiet until they reached their room in the leaning tower. There, her chattering questions were a flood once more. At one point, she tried to asked if the pillows were foodsacks, and before Eolh could answer, she tore one open and started filling her mouth with feathers. Ryke stifled a laugh at the face the hatchling made when she tried to chew.

Ryke stepped out into the hall, and asked a local guard to bring them food. When it arrived, Eolh leaned over their table, laden with local butters and fruits and dried meats, “I bet I can eat twice as much as you.”

Yarsi’s answer was to spear an entire flank of salted packdragon with a fork, and shove half of it into her mouth.

By the end of the meal, there was no clear winner. Yarsi was clutching her belly, groaning loudly, and Ryke had to carry her to the mattress. The xeno fell asleep in her arms, where the xeno curled into a ball and fell asleep. Eolh was standing in the doorway behind Ryke, a smile playing at the corners of his beak as he watched her tuck the hatchling in.

“She snores louder than Agraneia,” Eolh said. Then, the smile fell as a darkness passed over his features.

He’s worried about the cyran. Worried she won’t live.

Ryke walked to him, and took one of his hands. “Come, let me show you my city.”

***

A humid breeze blew through the Cauldron, gently ruffling its fingers through Eolh’s feathers as he gazed out over a city he couldn’t recognize. It was like looking at an old painting, one he was so familiar with, except that the artist had come back to paint over the faded colors, and to add a thousand more details.

New cobblestones gleamed in the starlight, the crumbling facades of old buildings now clean and growing with new vines. Slanted houses and tired apartment blocks had been supplanted by lofty buildings that were so elegantly shaped, they looked like they might catch the breeze and glide away. The warm lights of aerial rigs dotted the sky, floating under new skyways and passing slowly around new, grasping towers.

The aged character of his city was still here, but somehow it felt more alive than ever before.

The changes of his home were only one reason for his distraction. Ryke’s arm was so close, her feathers grazing against his elbow. He knew he should move away, to give the Queen the royal respect she deserved but…

He wanted to say so many things to her. But these were the words that came out, “How did you do all this?”

“The other human.”

“She built this?”

“She gave us the power to change our world. These miraculous tools, these printers—the things she could do with them, Eolh. We are hatchlings, imitating a master. Khadam is truly divine.”

“Poire would have loved this,” Eolh said.

“Why did he not come back?”

“He said he had something he had to do. The more I learn about him, the less I know. Does that make any sense?”

Ryke nodded. “They are divine.”

“The other human. Khadam. She changed her mind, while we were gone. Said she went to the Black Library, that the android opened her eyes. Poire seemed to believe her, but…”

“She is different,” Ryke said. “But Khadam has no malice in her heart. Nor lying treachery. If she says a thing, I would take it as the truth.”

“Good.” Eolh said. “That’s good.”

Down in the trees, insects rattled in gentle waves. Fountains that Eolh had never seen before splashed playfully, and were filled with the trilling of amphibious creatures. The two of them held onto the balcony, and Eolh could not help but notice how close her hand was to his. It felt like there was an electric current running through his fingers, eager to leap into hers. Not allowed. For someone as lowborn as him to be this close to the Queen, this was already against so many rules. I should move away. But Eolh found that his hand was stuck to the railing, and there was nothing he could do to move it.

“So, if Khadam didn’t build all this, then who?”

“We hired builders from the Midcity, dreamers from Lowtown, and of course, the Redenites. They’re so clever when it comes to making things work. They’ve taken to Khadam’s gifts like eager fledglings take to the skies.”

“It’s incredible.”

“It is.”

“And so are you,” Eolh thought. Only, he didn’t think it. The words tumbled out of his beak before he could stop them. His throat closed up, and he dared not move a muscle. Hoping that she hadn’t heard him. Staring straight ahead, as if through stillness he might make himself disappear, and avoid the burning embarrassment altogether-

Ryke set her eyes upon him, two golden pools, more wonderful than all the gifts of the gods. It sent a jolt of ecstatic fear through his gut, made his knees weak. He could not look away. Her beak was so close to his.

“I want to hear you say it again,” Ryke whispered.

“Say what?” Eolh said, as dumb and blundering as a three-legged cargo construct.

“Your promise. Tell me you’ll never leave again.”

“Never.”

“And if you must, promise you’ll always come back.”

“Always.”

She came closer, and he was drawn to her. Moving closer himself, until their beaks slid against one another. Hers, hooked and yellow as the sun, his, straight and black as night.

“Promise me.”

“Never,” Eolh said, “And always.”

His arms were around her, before he could stop himself, and she sank into him.

“I want you,” she said. And so did he. “I love you,” she said. And so did he. Her words walked warm shivers down his spine, and the heat of her breath cut the world into pieces. Because it could not be. I am a thief. I am a lowborn, a nothing. She is the Queen of all Aviankind. But he couldn’t stop saying the things he felt, and her voice was honey to his ears, and breath in his lungs. Sweeter than life itself. How could he ever find the will to say no?

But when she tugged on his hand, and whispered that there was another—unoccupied—bedroom she wanted to show him, Eolh found the very last of his strength. “My Queen,” Eolh said, breathless with the agony of the truth. “We can’t.”

“Eolh.”

“It’s against the law.”

“I’m the Queen. I make the laws.”

If Eolh could have blushed, he would have been as red as a robin.

***

In a week, Eolh knew it was love. In two, he knew it would last forever.

But it did not matter how pure this truth was, not everyone was meant to know it.

The two of them lay in her bed, in the highest chambers atop the Hanging Palace. Eolh had once lived in a roost smaller than this bed, let alone her room. They left the heavy drapes open, so the breeze could stir the white lace curtains and let the sunlight play across the sheets. Their legs were intertwined under silken sheets, hands clasped together, and their talons sliding against each other’s. Ryke’s face filled Eolh’s vision, so that there was nothing else in the world but her and her eyes.

“We cannot tell anyone,” Ryke said.

“Never?”

“Maybe not never,” Ryke said, “But this is not an easy thing to do. I do not know how it works in Lowtown, but this—we—must keep our meetings secret-”

“Meetings?” Eolh interjected, gesturing down at his lack of clothing. “This is how you conduct your meetings?”

“Yes, meetings,” Ryke said, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “I thought thieves were supposed to be discreet.”

“I thought you were the Queen. You make the laws.”

“And laws cannot flagrantly ignore the reality of the situation. I know what I want, Eolh. But there is history here. Ancient traditions. There is no point in wishing it was any other way.”

Though Eolh had already made up his mind, he let her keep talking, because he loved listening to her. The sound of her voice, the way she got so practical about anything that had to do with her rule, and her people.

“It may not make sense anymore, but everything began with a reason,” Ryke continued, “You don’t know the rules like I do. Nothing about this will be easy. Dangerous, even, if my political rivals catch wind of us.”

“I love danger,” Eolh said.

She pulled back, blinking at him. Searching his face for flattery or falsehood. “Eolh, this is serious.”

“As am I,” Eolh gently pressed his beak against hers, “Tell me what I must do to keep being with you, and I will do it.”

Ryke breathed in, her chest heaving with emotion. And then, the Queen threw her body at Eolh’s, tackling him deeper into the sheets. He yelped playfully for help, calling to no one as she pulled him close. He laughed, until she whispered into his ear, a few words that made him shiver.

“Right now, the only thing you must do is what you did last night.”

“Again?” Eolh asked, feigning surprise.

“Again,” she said, a deep longing in her voice.

Eolh needed no further command. He slipped under the sheets and-

Someone knocked on the door.

“My Queen?” a muffled voice, from some servant or messenger.

Ryke sighed, and said, “My realm calls.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Eolh said from under the sheets.

But Ryke pulled him back up, saying, “You’re the most famous Listener in the city. You hear everything.” Ryke slid her fingers up Eolh’s beak, and then slid out of his embrace, and out of the bed. Eolh turned himself over to watch her walk. Ryke shrugged off the thin slip she was wearing, and Eolh half-wondered if she did it that way for his benefit.

Then, her words finally struck him.

“Wait,” Eolh said, “I’m famous?”

Ryke looked over her shoulder, smirking. “I blame Horace. He tells your story to everyone who will listen. At banquets, political functions, every meeting. I saw him in the market, telling a merchant about the Guardian of Lowtown. When I made him Governor, he even tried to make a holy day in your honor.”

Eolh propped himself up on one elbow and watched her get dressed. A fine silk dress, red and gold, with open slots running down her arms for her dark brown wing feathers to fit through.

“What did you say to him?” Eolh asked.

Ryke only smirked, the corners of her beak quirking up into a smile.

Eolh threw himself back onto the bed, hands behind his head, a disbelieving grin on his face. It wasn’t the fame that made him smile, but her. Who knew anything could ever be so sweet?

The Queen selected one of her woven crowns, and carefully placed it on her head. She preened her face feathers in the mirror and was about to head out of the door when Eolh sat up.

“I meant to ask. You know how I’ve…” He coughed. Uncertain how to put it into words. “How I’ve never been with someone like you before.”

“You’ve never laid with a queen?” she said. It was her turn to feign surprise.

“Forget it.”

“No. Ask.”

“Are you the first? I mean, have any of your family, your ancestors ever been with-”

“A corvani?”

“-a lowborn,” Eolh finished.

Ryke’s lifted her proud beak, and carried herself regally over to the bed. In that sweeping dress, she looked like every painting of nobility he had ever seen. Only, somehow, more noble. The Queen sat down next to Eolh. “My father would disapprove. And my mother. They were strict, but not harshly so. They would say I owe a lifelong service to my people.”

“Ah,” Eolh’s face fell.

Ryke’s feathered finger touched his chin, lifting his beak to hers, until he was drowning in her huge, golden eyes.

“But neither of my parents were Monarchs. I was low in the line to inherit the throne, before the cyrans came. And besides, there have always been stories. The Good King Skyrsken, my grandfather’s grandfather, fell in love with a merchant from the Midcity. And before him, Queen Ryukauva the Blessed married a half noble.”

“Married?” Eolh said.

“Oh!” Ryke’s eyes went wide with surprise at the words that had come out of her own beak. “I didn’t mean, I mean, I wasn’t implying that you and I-”

“Get married.”

“Yes,” Ryke said. “I mean, no, I wasn’t trying to ask you. I was just saying-”

“Would you?”

“What?”

Eolh placed his hand in hers. Black feathers fit so perfectly with her regal brown. “I promise you, Ryke. I will never leave you. And if I must, I will always come back.”

Her emotions broke over her face. And when Eolh tried to embrace her, she shoved him back onto the bed, and herself with him. This time, they both slid under the sheets.

Minutes later, there was another knock on the door, but neither Eolh nor Ryke answered it. When the messenger put her ear to the door, her eyes went wide at the sounds she heard. “Oh,” she muttered to herself, “I suppose I’ll come back later.”