I was only away from Veymaw for two days. But when we emerge from the forest and step foot upon the cobblestoned streets, the soft morning light creating a haze along the horizon, my stomach settles.

Casimir and I walk silently back to his cabin. I've never been away from Veymaw for longer than a day before. Being back is more grounding than I expected. It's too early for most people to arise, aside from a few opening shops, who wave us past, eyeing the frumpy dress Trina managed to find for me to return in since mine was ruined. Despite the freedom the trousers gave me, there's a certain comfort in the familiarity of a skirt swishing around my ankles.

The cabin has been left in a disarray, a mug of tea knocked over on the bench, tea leaves dried to the side. Casimir quickly brushes it to the side, straightening to crooked wooden chair.

"Sorry," Cas murmurs, cheeks pinkening. "I didn't have time to clean up."

I conceal my smile, settling in the chair. He's always prided himself on keeping his quarters clean, so much so that when I first moved in, we had several passive aggressive conversations on how to properly tidy the kitchen.

He brushes the leaves carefully into the palm of his hand. "How much time do you spend down there?" I ask. "I can't believe I never noticed you were missing."

"Not that often. When I was first placed in Veymaw, Trina didn't contact me for two years. It was important I was acclimated to life here. After that, I attended monthly check-in's during the night. This past year, however, I've been more frequent—maybe once a week."

"Is that because of what Trina said about shifters coming from Torrine?"

Casimir sighs as he takes a seat, running a hand tiredly through his hair. The dark circles under his eyes have deepened, and his cheeks appear hollower. I can't remember him every looking this exhausted.

"She'd kill me if she knew I told you any of this," he says with a slight smile, like the thought pleases him. "It's becoming a lot more dangerous to be a deserter."

"Because there are more shifters?"

He nods. "What did Killian tell you about why he came to Veymaw?"

"He said it's because he didn't have a choice." I pause. "Is that a lie?"

"No, it wasn't a lie," he says, seeming slightly annoyed by the thought that Killian would tell me the truth.

"He also said his father was a trader and went missing, so he didn't have a place in Portson anymore."

"A half-truth," Cas says. "His father did go missing, but they were no traders. Killian was a high-ranking member of the deserter clan in Portson. That used to be the biggest clan in the entirety of Elel. They were extremely important to the entire network of deserters as they were able to trade with others in Torrine and Ayrith for weaponry and distribute them to the rest of us."

"What happened?"

His eyes darken. "A large storm rolled in from Torinne, wrecking the Portson village. The shifters came during the chaos. Nobody saw them or heard them. But in the morning, the deserters were slaughtered. Nearly every single one of them. Only Killian and a few others survived. About thirty are still missing, Killian's family included."

A chill crawls down my spine. "How did the shifters know who to attack?" I whisper.

"A traitor," Casimir spits. "Killian said he was second in command of the Portson crew, captured by the council in Portson a month before. He must've given the names of the deserters there in exchange for his life. And they used the storm as cover to attack."

"Where is he now? The traitor."

"He got what he deserved."

"And the councillor?"

"Dead." Casimir meets my gaze. "Killian brought the Portson councillor's head to Trina when he first arrived. He suffered for all the lives he was responsible for."

I wrap my arms across my chest and look out the window, the thought chilling me. Deep down, a seed of guilt sprouts as I think of Killian. I'd been so awful to him when he'd arrived. How long had it been since he'd lost his family? Since he'd endured such a terrible experience? But I certainly wasn't the only one to do so.

"Why don't you like Killian?" I ask.

He wrinkles his nose. "He's fine." I splutter a laugh. "Ok, fine. You're right, I don't like him."

"Why not?"

"Well, if it weren't for him finding out who you are, you never would've been dragged into any of this."

"Perhaps I should be thanking him, then."

He frowns at me but sighs. "I don't know. He's good at what he does but ever since he showed up..." he trails off. "Everyone is enamoured by him. He has all these new ideas and experiences from Portson. You should've seen the look on Trina's face when he brought her the councillor from Portson."

"So what's the problem?" I ask, examining his expression. "Are you jealous of him?"

"No." Casimir is reasonable and all logic, he's never been a jealous person, and from his expression, I'm not so sure even he understands what he's feeling. "Maybe. Sometimes... it feels like Trina wishes I was more like him." He frowns. "I've never expected anything from her as a mother, hell, she never acted like much of one, but it never bothered me until I saw the way she treated him."

"I'm sorry, Cas. That she was like that."

He looks at me, his gaze softening. "We've all made sacrifices for the cause."

I reach over to grab his hand. "I don't care what the cause is. Nothing justifies leaving your child in an unfamiliar place and not contacting them for two years."

There's an ache in his gaze I see beneath his soft smile, and I want to destroy Trina for ever causing him pain.

"He's not so bad, you know," I say, thinking of the way he looked at me in the forest, after he'd saved my life. "Killian, I mean."

"I know," he sighs. "But even so, I don't like the way he's so willing to put you in harm's way. He's as obsessed as Trina in bringing down the shifters. You're expendable to him. It's a miracle you're still alive after last night."

I bite the edge of my lip. Once, I thought the same. But after last night, I'm not so sure. "Cas, I didn't kill Tetterman's son."

"What?"

"I tried, and I almost did, but something in me... I let the shifter go, and Killian saw."

He furrows his brows. "He didn't tell the others?"

"I was going to come clean. I thought it was over, but before I could say anything, Killian lied for me."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. But it makes me feel a lot better about my life being placed in his hands."

Casimir looks out the window. I wish I could read his mind, understand what he's thinking, but I assume he's just as thrown as I was by the cover-up. After a few moments, he rises to his feet. "I should get going," he says, "I'm expected at the fields."

"And school?"

"You're still covered," Cas says. "Professor Fin thinks your wound got infected. Cadence might show up, though, I had to ward her off a few times."

I smile, the thought of seeing Cadence lifting my mood. "See you after work?"

"We'll meet at the festival. And stick close to me, okay? Just in case Tetterman shows."

I think of what Trina said about Tetterman and possible retaliation, fear crawling up my spine. His son isn't really dead, but I remember what he did to Anton unprompted.

Casimir moves about the cabin, shouting a quick goodbye before escaping out the door. I move to my bedroom to change. It's exactly as I left it, the bed half made, my pile of clothing Killian gave back to me folded neatly atop the pillow. I pick up the skirt, thinking of the night I'd worn it, in Killian's cabin during the storm. I was so drawn to him, but I knew he was hiding something. I never would've guessed he was a deserter.

As I fold the skirt again, something slips from the pocket and rattles against the floor. I pick it up, turning it over in my hand. It's the twisted metal piece Myers shoved in my hand. I shudder, remembering the encounter, and discard it in the drawer of my dresser before moving to the bath.

#

The entire day, I half-expected her to bombard the cabin with a basket full of garments. It's been our tradition ever since we were young, after all, a gift her mother offered the both of us. The moon festival was an exciting night for everyone, and Cadence and I loved prancing around in beautiful dresses her mother tailored specifically for us.

But I spend the day alone, watching the sun cross the sky from my bed by the window. Cadence never shows up. Nobody does.

I stare at my reflection in the cracked mirror on the back of Cas's door, tugging at the square neckline of my burgundy smock. The scratch that marked my neck the past few weeks has healed, replaced by deep purple bruises in the shape of finger marks. Nothing I owned covered them, so I let my dark hair fall over my shoulders to conceal them, pulling half back in a braid off my face.

Last year, I wore a beautiful emerald gown from Cadence's mother. I remember scowling at Samu when he tugged at the hemline, annoyed that he'd ruin it. I'd felt beautiful as I arrived at the festival on my father's arm, warming from the stares of my peers as we danced beneath the moonlight. In comparison, tonight, I look rather bland. But I can't bring myself to care as I exit Casimir's cabin.

A baby blue paints the sky, the moon a silver coin lingering on the horizon line, tinged orange from the remnants of the setting sun. It's hard to believe that tomorrow it will be stained a vivid red, the first time in a year.

I try to shove the thought to the back of my mind, smiling as a group of children skitter past. Jovial music filters through the air, drawing me towards the marketplace. I round the corner, pausing on the edge of the crowd, the festival coming into full view. My heart skitters, the strung-up lanterns and music taking me back to last year's festival, when life felt warmer.

A group of children skip together in the centre, moving to the music and swirling around the legs of the elders. Vendors set up around the edges, calling out with wide smiles to the clusters of villagers gathered in the middle. My stomach clenches as I catch sight of the bakery stall, Anton's son handing out baskets to a family, his face lined with wrinkles. I scan the rest of the crowd, searching for a tall head of dark hair, but Killian is nowhere to be seen. I spot Casimir by the flower stall. He's still wearing his work clothes, beige shirt dirtied. When he catches my eye, he waves.

"Frey!"

Twisting my head, I spot Cadence. She's standing beneath the glow of a warm lantern amongst a group of students from our class, her wide smile glistening. I'm speechless for a few moments as she ushers over to me, a navy-blue gown swaying around her feet like an incoming tide. She shoves through the crowd to reach me, pulling me into her arms. I hug her tight, the scent of the lilies adorning her golden hair wrapping around me.

"I missed you so much," she says.

I pull away, scanning my eyes across her face. "Wow, Cadence. You look beautiful."

"Do I?" Her cheeks blossom pink as she reaches up to touch her hair self-consciously. "I wasn't sure about the colour, but mother said it complimented my skin tone."

"She was right." I reach forward to brush a dusting of pollen from her shoulder. "Really. You'll have half the village gawking at your feet tonight."

She giggles, swatting my shoulder as if the idea of it embarrasses her. "Mother had a green dress for you, but I wasn't sure if you were coming. Casimir said you were sick. I tried to come over a few times, but he didn't want me to catch anything."

"I'm feeling better now," I assure her. "I've missed you too. And tell your mother thanks."

She grins, her eyes scanning down the length of my dress. It's one I've worn multiple times, and amongst the beautiful gowns and intricate braids of the other women in the marketplace, I look entirely dull. Cadence plucks one of the lilies from her hair, reaching forward to secure it behind my ear.

I smile at her. "Better?"

"You always look beautiful," she says, "just let me..."

She turns me around, plucking her fingers through my hair. I stay still as she fiddles with the braid, looking back at the crowd of people. A deeper blue covers the sky, the moon glowing above us. But the marketplace glows a warm yellow, different coloured moon stones littering the edges of the cobblestoned centre.

I scan my eyes across the crowd, halting my search when I see Killian. His back is to me, but he towers above those gathered around him, and he's unmistakable in the way that the crowd seems to unknowingly gravitate in his direction. He's leaning over one of the stalls, a brown paper bag in his hand, his white, long-sleeved shirt straining against his back.

He turns around, expression relaxed as Celia, a girl in the year younger than me, initiates a conversation with him.

All day, I thought of what Casimir told me about what happened in Portson, guilt hounding me at the way I treated Killian when he first arrived. But another thought pressed at my mind—why did he lie for me? I haven't been kind to him, and he owes me absolutely nothing.

"Perfect." Cadence spins me around to face her, grinning at her work and hooking an arm through mine, drawing my eyes away from Killian. "Come on," she says, "you need to show face before people start believing the rumours Jakob spread."

"What'd he say this time?"

"You've fallen deathly ill and lost all your hair."

I laugh, but Cadence's expression is entirely serious. "Let's go."

She pulls me to the crowd, a settled feeling spreading across my chest. Because despite the trivial conversation, Cadence's smile brings a warmth to my chest. I don't want to spend tonight thinking of last year, of what I've lost, of what's to come. I want to think of Cadence, and Casimir, and even Jakob and his silly rumours.

Because with the Red Moon right around the corner, and Trina's risky plan, I don't know how much of that I have left.

~

Why do you think Killian lied for Freya?

Are you surprised to hear Killian's back story?

What do you think might happen next?