Needless to say, Fiera couldn’t sleep.

Mistral Squell had found her in one of the corridors during dinner and dragged her to the dining hall, where he forced her to eat. He didn’t say anything about their interaction, and when Kai came up to them after dinner, he shooed him off. How was Aaron planning to explain their absence? She had felt heavy climbing to her room, almost as if that one sneaky trickster god was pulling her feet down. What was the Master of Shadows saying? That it was her fault the rangers died? Should she have taken the chance to tell Aaron about the Old Gods too?

Her room was dark. It was located on the second floor and curved inwards, which cut off any possible entry of light into the room, sunlight or moonlight.

She cast her mind back, trying to recollect all the promises she had made and concluded that telling Aaron about that particular tidbit was perhaps too much. She would be relying a little too much on his confidence, and she didn't want to put him in that position. For all the harshness she had endured, he had been on her side.

So far.

Perhaps he would only see blood on her hands henceforth.

She wondered vaguely what the time was.

Zare had dropped by her room hours ago with a backpack and a long fur coat that had been heavier than she expected. She hadn’t said much; perhaps she had other things to think about than sending off Fiera on short notice. Would Aaron tell her about Fiera’s lapse of morality? She didn’t think so.

There was a quiet knock on her door, and she sprang up. Her muscles were tense, almost as if she had been waiting to get out of here. What did that say about all the shit she went through to get revoked of banishment?

“Fiera,” Zare poked her head in and switched the lights on.

“Is it time?”

“God, did you even sleep?” Zare slipped in as Fiera began pulling on the fur coat and tying up her shoes. Zare helped her pull her hair back into a braid and push it under the hood, and with her backpack, they tiptoed down the stairs.

“What will you tell the others?” Fiera asked, unable to meet Aaron’s eyes when they met them at the gates.

“That Mist’s mother fell sick, and you offered to go with him.” he plucked two tickets from his pocket. It had snowed all night, and it looked like the snow had taken a brief respite. Clouds hung low and dark.

“We’re going to Pauza?” Mist scanned the tickets.

“Yes. But please get down somewhere in between.” Aaron whispered, “Patrollers have been employed throughout the kingdom.”

“What for?” Zare asked.

Aaron pressed his lips, “The Crown will be employing the Search.”

“For me?” Fiera whispered. She had read what The Search was in the book Aaron had assigned her when she was with Rose. The Search was when the Crown took an active role in the seizure of particular individuals. It plunged the kingdom into a semi-emergency state where all rights of citizens were temporarily suspended.

“No.” Aaron muttered, “I don’t know who she is looking for. It will be announced today.”

“Will they be okay?” Zare asked, squeezing Fiera’s shoulder.

Aaron looked at them. He pulled Fiera and Mist into a hug.

His hand trembled against Fiera’s back.

“Take care of yourselves.”

Zare hugged them. And Mist sniffled a little. Why did this feel like a more permanent parting than she wanted it to be?

“When can we come back?” Fiera asked.

“Soon,” Aaron whispered. “Safe travels, children.”

The snow crunched under their feet as Fiera and Mist made their way to the car parked at the gate. Cars were rare in Inima because of complications that arose with Practitioners. It would be risky to travel in a car all the way to the railway station, as that would be easier to trace if she happened to be the target of the Search.

She turned to Mist to tell him that maybe they should consider running to the station than taking a car there when he stopped.

“Do you know him?” he whispered, pointing at the one who was sitting in the car at the wheel. Fiera narrowed her eyes to look and was unable to make out much, so she dragged her feet closer to the car, ignoring Mist’s frantic hands trying to pull her back.

And who should it be, but Mr Blake at the wheel?

“Get in.” He said sourly.

Why did Mist ask if she knew Mr Blake?

Fiera bundled into the back of the car, and Mist quietly followed. It was after a minute of the engine running quietly that Fiera whispered to Mist,

“You don’t know Mr Blake?”

Mist pulled his backpack closer to his face and looked at her.

“This isn’t Mr Blake,” he whispered back.