The city of Kivv is notable for its size and its loose mode of social organization. It’s the largest city in the Wanderer’s Vale, yet operates with the society of a village little more than a tenth its own size. During my time there in my travels through the Vale, I’ve frequently stayed with the same families again and again, and they welcome me back with open arms each time. There are guest-houses of course, set aside specially for the use of visitors. And no one, whether they come from near or far, is left for long without a roof over their head. But I preferred to, in my time there, try and bring myself closer to the real social life of the city, so that I wouldn’t just be on the margin, appreciating the just and right kindness of these people.

A few monuments still stand from the old world, in which I am told this city was once the birthplace of a great empire, which fell half a dozen times, which faded, which turned in on itself… yet the city remained, and its spirit remained. It’s a very nice story, one whose only confirmation lies in inherited memories and in the fragmented pages of old history. But I’ve been there. And I believe it.

-From “From Core to Corod”, a travelogue of the Scholar Geshor

244 YT, Winter: Over a season since the battle of Etyslund

Hilda Zelenko awoke in her apartment when the sun finally rose so high in the sky that it was bright behind her eyelids. The orange glow washed through her apartment, and when she pulled away from her piled heavy blankets she felt the chill of the outside air, even through her insulated window. Hilda went to the window, pushing hair out of her eyes and blinking away the early-morning tears. It was so cold, her fingertips were already beginning to ache. So she flexed her hand and let the Reaper’s Gift fall over her, warming her just a little, widening her eyes and opening her ears and setting every hair of her arms and legs on end.

Out at the lake beyond the city walls, a few figures were moving about. A small boat or raft floated out toward the center of the lake, some kind of black machine seated precariously on it. Hilda blinked curiously at the boat and wondered if it would capsize under the construction, but it drifted gently toward the center of the water.

Sighing, Hilda leaned down next to the cold window and checked the icebox. She hadn’t had to refill the ice compartment in weeks, thanks to the insufficient insulation. Well, that was what she got for living in a repurposed pre-Desert building. Inside the icebox were a few thin slices of meat and some fresh cabbage – with spots of ice on it. She groaned, picked a couple of ice crystals off the outer layer of cabbage, and closed the box.

On the opposite side of the room, over the stove, she checked the pantry. A quarter loaf of bread, a tiny pat of butter in its tray, a near-empty jar of pickled vegetables and meat. It was enough for a light meal, perhaps. She brushed some of the crumbs on the stove into a pile, picked them up in her palm and dropped them into the kitchen sink before brushing her hands off.

Still with her mind fuzzy from sleep she walked around the apartment. The bedsheets were tangled up from Hilda’s tossing and turning in her sleep. She pulled them up and righted them. Her accordion was still sitting out of its case on the chair. She returned it to the case. The book by Hans Rolvsson was thrown underneath the chair. She let it stay there. The hot water in the bathroom wasn’t working. With her heightened senses the cold water hit like a truck and she pulled back with a shout, letting the Gift leave her. She rubbed her hands together to warm herself and, leaving aside the Gift, reached out toward the Aether. The Veil was woven tight this morning near her, as though the other world itself did not want anything to do with Hilda. She flexed her fingers, twisted her hand and imagined a diagram from one of her mother’s science books. Hilda perceived a sound of the rushing of air, and it was hot – she channeled that hot air through and around herself, a careful effort. Unpracticed, Hilda feared she might go too far and boil the water, but though she worked quickly, she worked expertly, and soon the water was comfortably warm.

It sparked a memory in Hilda’s mind, the water – of a time when she’d worked alchemy to draw concepts from one world to the other, just as she’d done now. Only in her memory, the Aether was everywhere – not an isolated other world with a thin boundary between her and it. In her memory the Aether breathed, it flowed over all, it was the very fog in the air and the salt in the soil. And she had another name.

After her shower Hilda quickly dressed. Over her winter shirt and red waistcoat and her long, narrow underskirt she wore a long, closed-front leather coat much like one she’d had in Etyslund. On her feet she donned tall boots made for long-distance walking, and on her head a thicker and heavier version of the flat cap she’d brought with her all the way from the village. She took a thick scarf, and instead of letting the ends drape down over the fronts of her shoulders, in the normal way, she wrapped both ends further around her neck and face and tucked them into the scarf. A sea of grey, of dark reds and blues, she pulled on her gloves last and exited the apartment.

The interior of the Reaper Monastery was not much better heated than her own apartment, Hilda found as she went for the stairs and started spiraling her way down toward the outside. Indeed, these wide open chambers toward the center of the building were colder still than her apartment, for the outside door was large. The fireplaces crackled below, but their warmth was channeled through the walls, and larger rooms benefited far less from such heating.

As usual, she did not find herself interrupted by any on her way toward the outside. None stopped her, not even Antonin Voloshko. In these past weeks he’d rarely been in the Reaper Monastery – strange, as Hilda had for a time grown used to passing him on the way out where he sat by the main staircase. Why hadn’t she seen him around? It hardly mattered, of course – Zil-Antonin hadn’t asked for anything from Hilda in a long while, as he felt that she still needed more time to recover. In truth, she was starting to grow impatient with it. She’d taken nearly a season to rest, but wasn’t she a proper Reaper now?

I wonder if this is some sort of test, Hilda thought as she stepped out of the Monastery and into the streets of Kivv.

As she made her way toward the marketplace, she idly checked the purse of coins Zil-Antonin had left her shortly after she’d moved into the apartment. “And let me know when you need more; the Order will provide,” he’d said, but Hilda hadn’t found herself needing the money. A kindly older man waved at Hilda as she passed, and she smiled back at him under the scarf, raising a gloved hand to wave. She wondered how he could still recognize her while so thoroughly bundled up. She certainly couldn’t recognize him, but then, it seemed half the city knew Hilda and she knew only a few of them.

Though it was the height of winter, no snow had yet come this season. Spirits were low – it was cold everywhere in the city except out north, by the lake, where an oasis of almost spring-like warmth lay thanks to the radiance of that strange water and the pipes that helped channel that radiance just below the earth’s surface. Frost clung to windows and rooftops and doorframes, and everywhere Hilda went she felt the anticipation of snow in the air. When it snowed, that meant the cold would not be so bad for long – the air would shed some of its moisture, and the cold would take form on the ground instead of torturously clinging to every person who dared walk the streets.

Few were out, now. But when Hilda came to the market street and looked out in the direction of the great western Rust Gate, she saw fire. Metal torches lit the way, casting light and heat on the few market stalls that stood still along the road. She began to pick up her pace, letting the light exertion warm her muscles even as the air coldly whipped at her face. There, not far ,was Miss Yekra’s market stall. Hilda lowered her scarf, smiled, and waved as she approached. The old woman who ran the shop was facing away from Hilda, looking in the direction of the Gate where several people carried a box between them. “Excuse me!” Hilda said, smiling and waving again and coming up to the table.

The old woman turned toward Hilda. “Oh, Hilda,” she said. “Very nice to see you. How are you holding up?” She was dressed as though it were only early in the winter, and not bitterly cold, and her cheeks were bright red. But she didn’t tremble, and looked quite comfortable as she leaned against the table, tapping with the fingers of her thinly gloved hands.

“I’m well,” Hilda said. Then, “I’m managing. I still don’t know what exactly I’m supposed to do, I feel like I should be helping out more around the city but…”

“Oh, Hilda.” Miss Yekra smiled. “Like I said last time, and the time before that, I’m keeping an eye out. And if I or anyone I know needs any help, I’ll let you know. Oh! Actually, you know, I heard something’s happening out by the lake tonight. Some kind of party, I guess. Maybe you could help them set that up later. Maybe you could even attend yourself – I’m sure you’d have a wonderful time.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Hilda said, her smile faltering. A party? “I wanted to buy some food. Do you have any –”

“Bread, pickled vegetables, cheese, butter, carrots and potatoes, beans, lake-fresh fish, late-harvest apples, I even threw in a couple of cookies for good measure.” The old woman nodded excitedly and gestured downward, then bent down to reach for something unseen behind the table.

“How much will that –“

“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense,” Miss Yekra said loudly from behind the table, slowly bending back up to place two large paper bags bristling with groceries on the tabletop. “These are yours, Hilda. You don’t need to pay. Everyone here knows to help you out.” The old woman gave a quick thumbs-up. “You can always rely on us.” Hilda tried to smile at that, but found herself suppressing the urge to cringe at the excessive attention. It was still a little strange to Hilda that the old woman was being so kind to her – when she’d been an occasional visitor to the city, the grocer had been awfully strict, but now that she was a resident…

Of course she knew it was also because of the circumstances under which she’d arrived, but she didn’t want to think about that that didn’t make her any less taken aback by the grocer’s extreme beneficence. Still…

“Thank you, ma’am. Thank you so much. This is really, really kind of you and I can’t overstate how –“

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the grocer said. “We aren’t going to starve on your account, so you shouldn’t starve on ours. It’s only right. Oh, would you look at that.” Miss Yekra’s gaze drifted toward a lone figure, dressed in a heavy coat with the hood up over their head, walking down the market street. The figure, no taller than Hilda herself, had their hands in their pockets as they walked along the street, stopping every few moments. Whatever caught the figure’s eye, they would stare at that for a while, before slowly turning away from it, rotating on a heel, and continuing to walk down the road. Until Hilda and the figure made eye contact, and Hilda cracked a smile.

“Lucian!” she called out, and broke into a run toward him. “Hey! What are you doing out here?”

It had been weeks since she’d seen him – the strange boy who wandered the streets of Kivv. She still remembered him from all those years ago, when she’d come to learn in the city, and he still remembered her – though he said the memories were fuzzy. He said he’d been a different person back then. He didn’t want to talk about how.

But Hilda hadn’t seen Lucian in weeks. He hadn’t left a note, he hadn’t told anybody what he was doing, he just… disappeared. “And why haven’t I seen you?” Hilda asked. “Are you afraid of a little cold?”

Lucian laughed and pulled his scarf tighter around himself, lowered his hood over his head. “It is really cold, yeah. I’ve been staying inside a lot. You know, I wouldn’t normally be outside at a time like this but I was just coming to the market to get some things…”

“Yeah, me too.” Hilda nodded and turned back toward where her bags were waiting. Oh. “Actually, I left my things there.”

They walked quickly back to the food stand, and Hilda picked up the bags and held them at her sides. Then something occurred to her: “Hey, where do you even –“ she started to say quietly, before being interrupted by the grocer. “You kids should run along and enjoy the day, I heard there’s going to be a dance later at the lake!” When Hilda looked up toward the grocer, she winked down at her. Hilda wanted to scowl, but she couldn’t return an act of generosity like that, so she gave a practiced smile and turned back toward Lucian.

“Do you mind walking with me a ways?”

Lucian nodded and the two turned down the market street, making their way with uneven pace back toward the Reaper Monastery.

He stopped more than once to stare at the trees, and Hilda joined him – they had long since lost their leaves, and not enough rain had yet fallen to coat their branches in ice. Yet even without adornment, Hilda had to admit there was something particularly beautiful about the trees of Kivv. Their color-shifting bark could certainly draw the eye. But soon Lucian saw that Hilda was never the first to stop, and he matched her pace, forcing himself to keep going even when he was distracted by some scenery.

“So,” he said, “How have you been holding up, Hilda?”

“I’m managing,” she started to say, then stopped herself. “Well, honestly, I’m not doing very well. I can’t stop thinking about what happened in Etyslund, and on top of that there’s going to be war soon.”

“Oh…” Lucian’s voice was distant, distracted. “There’s going to be war.”

Hilda blinked. Did this boy live under a rock? “Yes, war – the Invictan army is gathering in the south. They’re going to come and lay siege to this city some day, it’s just a question of when. Have you been paying attention to anything that happens outside the city?”

“Oh, yes, I have,” Lucian said. “But what makes you so certain there’s going to be war?”

“Oh, everybody knows it!” Hilda exclaimed. Had her hands been free she would have gestured angrily. She was glad for the burden, now. “Everyone knows they’re going to come for us and they’re going to try to kill us all and I’m going to have to fight them!”

“We’ll both fight them if it comes to that,” Lucian said. “Why should you have to fight alone?”

“Because I’m a Reaper, because it’s my duty – only nobody is willing to be honest with me and treat me like I’m actually capable of it! I mean, I haven’t seen Zil-Antonin in forever, he won’t let me train for more than an hour a day, I’ve barely learned anything since officially becoming a Reaper… I can’t even get any fresh tattoos, either, because ‘that might hurt me in my condition’. I’m in fine condition, thanks!”

“Tattoos?” Lucian asked after a brief pause. His voice still sounded distant, but not bothered.

“I…” Hilda stopped. “Tattoos of power, I mean. Like this one.” She set down one of the bags and pulled aside her scarf to show the golden bear salient on her neck. When she indicated it with a hand, she felt it burning slightly, and that feeling had nothing to do with the cold exposure. The ink within was working to reinforce her muscles as she walked. “I could handle a lot more of these, and I’ll need them when the Invictans come.”

“Oh, yes.” Lucian nodded. “I have a few of those myself.”

Hilda gawked. “Then how come you didn’t know what I was talking about?” She bent down to pick her groceries back up.

“It was a moment of confusion. I’m sorry, you know I can be a bit absent-minded.”

It was true, Lucian did tend to be a little spacey, but this was more pronounced than normal. Hilda looked up at him, and noticed sweat running down his brow. Sweat… in the cold.

“I’m sorry for ranting,” Hilda said. “But you’re sweating – what’s wrong?”

Lucian quickly moved his hand to pull his hood down over his forehead, but he sighed when Hilda narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t act so mysterious toward an old friend, come on!”

“I was sparring,” Lucian said. “Sometimes the militia has me help out with training as a sparring partner for their trainees.”

At that, Hilda huffed a breath and nodded. It sounded genuine, at least, and while she’d known Lucian to be evasive she didn’t think him the sort to lie. Now, perhaps he wasn’t telling the whole truth, but that was okay. He was under no obligation, after all.

“Alright,” Hilda said.

Only a short time after that, as they continued walking and reached the edge of the market area, Devani called out from her weapons shop nearby. “Hilda!” she shouted. Hilda turned, and saw Devani – behind the Orrmisti woman, the forgemaster Erik was working on some new mundane tool that Hilda didn’t recognize. “Hilda, I have something for you!”

When Hilda approached, Lucian behind her, she noticed Devani’s eyes flickering in Lucian’s direction a couple of times. “Hey, Hilda,” she said. “I’m supposed to get this to Kamila, but I haven’t seen her around today. Can you give it to her?” Devani reached under the table and set on top of it a small package, wrapped in paper and bound by a yellow ribbon. “Just hand this to your sister and tell her Devani sent it, alright?”

Hilda nodded. “Okay, I can do that. But my hands are kind of full right now.”

“I’ll carry –“ Lucian started to say, then paused. “I’ll carry one of those bags for you. We’ll drop the food off first and then we’ll head back to Kamila’s apartment. That sound reasonable?” Lucian spoke uncharacteristically quickly and directly, but he was right.

Devani shrugged. “Well, as long as it gets to her. And you two, don’t open it, alright? It’s for Kamila only.” Hilda nodded, and then Lucian as well. Hilda glanced up at Devani as Lucian picked up one of the bags. When Devani put Kamila’s package into Hilda’s hand, she saw Devani glancing over at Lucian again. Furrowing her brow. That was…

Somehow Hilda got the sense Devani didn’t like Lucian very much. And that made her curious.

She knew she could use the practice, and so she let the Reaper’s Gift flow over her for just a moment.

Lucian smiled and gave a wave with his free hand, starting to depart from the stall. “Angels walk with you, Dev – I’ll see you later.” Devani visibly flinched at that, and Hilda heard the sharp intake of her breath as her heartrate quickened. And, Devani’s hands were trembling too. Then Hilda felt something strange.

It was like… she was holding the end of a chain, and that chain continued into the mist. With her hand on the end of the chain, Hilda could feel where it led, and could begin – if only begin – to guess at what each link in the chain meant, and where the chain’s ultimate destination was. Who held the other end? Where did it go? But then somewhere in the distance, somewhere Hilda couldn’t perceive, one of the links was moved – the chain’s destination shifted slightly, or at least its path toward that destination shifted. She couldn’t see through the thick fog, she couldn’t feel what the chain meant, but she knew it had changed.

And that chain was Devani’s decisions, the sum of them, the choices she’d make.

Then the feeling was gone, the Reading brief. Hilda’s surprise at the strangeness of it ended the connection almost at once, and she, too, waved to Devani. She started off toward the Reaper Monsatery, Lucian beside her, at a quick pace.

As soon as they were out of earshot Lucian said: “there’s something off about Devani today, isn’t there?”

“I don’t know her,” Hilda said quickly. “Not well. But… yeah, there was something off about her. I could feel it. Hey, how much do you know about Reaper magic?”

“A bit,” Lucian said. “But feel free to enlighten me.”

“Well.” Hilda led Lucian down the street and into the courtyard that led to the Reaper Monastery. “Sometimes when I activate the right forms of magic, I can Read people. A little bit. It’s a skill that only older and more experienced Reapers are really good enough at to get useful information. It’s not quite like the Scrying that Sowers can do. Sowers can sense the past – and vividly. We sense the future – it’s a sort of mild precognition. Well, except the future isn’t set in stone at all, so you can’t really sense the future. Nothing decides what will happen, per se, but everybody makes decisions about what they will do, and you can sort of… read that. Tell what people’s decision will be before they make them.”

“Fascinating,” Lucian replied. “That seems useful indeed.”

“Well, not all that useful in this case. I can’t tell what any of those decisions are, only that they’re there. But one of those decisions, for Devani, changed when you said ‘Angels walk with you’ to her. What does that mean anyway?”

“Well, I said it for Devani, it doesn’t mean anything special to me. It’s just a farewell, I guess.” Lucian shrugged. “These decisions you talk about… how do you imagine them? I mean, do they feel like anything in particular?”

Hilda nodded as they started up the stairs toward her apartment. “Yes. Like I’m holding the end of a giant chain.”

“Huh.” Lucian grunted. “Well, we’re here.”

After they left the groceries inside, Hilda tucked the package into one of the bags and rushed out, almost running past Lucian, motioning for him to follow along with her as she made for the stairs. They went out, then got onto the street, and going around the market (Lucian said that Devani was scaring him a bit, now that he thought about it), they made their way toward the old watchtower where Kamila lived.

The tower stood in a clearing, tall enough to stand over some of the ground-level buildings across the way. The architecture in the city generally was far taller than the buildings in Etyslund, everything built with at least a little verticality especially in the confines of the old city. Hilda crossed the clearing at a quick pace and rapped twice on the door.

From inside Hilda heard the tapping of feet on floor, and then the sound came closer. The door opened, and Kamila leaned against the doorframe, breathing heavily. Her hair was a mess, strands hanging loose from their typical braid, and her eyes went straight to Lucian before she even acknowledged Hilda. “Hold on, weren’t you just…” She trailed off.

Hilda glanced up at Lucian, who raised an eyebrow toward Kamila.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” she said, holding out the package toward her older sister. “Devani sent it.”

Kamila hmphed and eyed the package. “Devani sent that? Is this something from Voloshko?”

“I don’t know.” Hilda shrugged. “Have you seen him recently?”

“Well, yeah,” Kamila said, a look of slight confusion on her face. Then she blinked. “Well, I mean, isn’t he always at the monasteries?”

Hilda nodded. “At least, that’s where I always see him. But I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“Well, he’s supposed to be your teacher, isn’t he?” Kamila sighed. “You should seek him out if you can, and let him know if he keeps avoiding you, I’ll kick his ass.”

“Uh.” Hilda chuckled. “Sure, I’ll let him know.”

“So what’s in the package?” Kamila stood up straight, trying to appear nonchalant.

“I don’t know.” Hilda shook it lightly, feeling the rustling inside the paper wrapping. “Feels like papers, though. I don’t think I’m supposed to read it.”

Hilda heard a chuckle, and it took a moment for her to realize it wasn’t Kamila, but Lucian. “Now I wonder what that could be for…”

“Yeah,” Kamila said. “Me too.” When Hilda bent to set the package down she caught a glimpse of Kamila, teeth gritted, still leaning lightly on the doorframe but turning her head away from her sister. Hilda let the package rest, half on the ground and half inside the doorway. She backed and stood up.

Kamila sighed and glanced back down at the package. “Thanks, Hilda,” she said. “I’ll see you later, alright? And, uh…” Kamila trailed off again, and again Hilda saw her teeth for a moment – gritted.

When Kamila did not say anything more, Hilda simply nodded and stepped away from the door. “Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

After the door closed and Hilda had walked halfway across the field, Lucian caught up with her. “Well, that was awkward,” he said, wearing a forced smile. Hilda rolled her eyes and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“For being your sister, she didn’t seem to appreciate your being there very much,” Lucian said. “I never had any sisters, but that kind of coldness doesn’t seem normal.”

Hilda’s heart thumped, the rhythmic rush of her own blood in her ears.

“Is something going on between you two?”

Growling as they reached the end of the field and got onto the street, Hilda hissed, “Well, I assume you mean something other than her trying to kill me, in which case I don’t know.” She emphasized those last words by turning on a heel and narrowing her eyes at Lucian. Their gazes were level, his eyebrow cocked, arms crossed. “It’s not like we talk casually every day.”

“Maybe you should,” Lucian said. Then: “Wait, she did what?”

Hilda stepped toward Lucian and did not relent; she wanted him to squirm a little, leaning in close enough that he could feel her breath…

“I could ask you why she seemed to recognize you. What was that she said to you when she first opened the door? She talked to you before she talked to me.”

“Like I said, I had just come back from sparring with the militia.” Lucian put his ungloved hands in his pockets and returned Hilda’s angry stare with his own calm regard. Something about it made it difficult for her to stay angry, and she slowed her breath. “Your sister also happened to be training with them today. And Antonin Voloshko was there too, overseeing it.”

“Ugh, why don’t people tell me anything?” Hilda turned around and started walking.

Lucian, quickly catching up and jogging past her, replied, “I just told you something, didn’t I?”

“I guess so. Thanks.”

“Yeah. Exactly. And if you need any help getting Voloshko to stop stonewalling you about the whole Reaper training thing, I’ll gladly help out.”

“That would be great, actually,” Hilda said, her voice returning to its usual tone, only a bit above a whisper.

“Okay, noted. But first, you should take some time just to relax. Do something fun, just something you want to do, not because you ‘have to’ or it’s ‘your duty’.” Lucian pointed to the north – the direction they were already walking. “Didn’t that grocer say something about a party at the lake?”

“Something like that.”

“Great!”

“…And I’m guessing you think I should go.”

“Yeah! It’s right this way.”

Hilda walked just behind Lucian, following a path behind the northernmost row of houses in Kivv. The road became narrow, though still paved with cobbled stones. That road ran past freestanding trees and cultivated flower gardens, toward a northern gate that stood open, a pair of sentinels watching from the walls above. They wore armor of metal scales and leather straps and thick fabric, carried spears and slung crossbows over their shoulders. The sentinels waved Hilda and Lucian through, smiling down toward them.

Out beyond the north of the city it was not a difficult walk to the lakeside. The place was some distance away from the city walls, yes – a path over fallow fields and cold plains bereft of tree or river. But in less than half an hour they stood close enough to the lakeside that they could smell the fresh water.

Already the dancers were gathering – as from the center of the lake, on a great raft, music drifted out of a device. Several musicians gathered by the lakeside, while another with them monitored the thing at the middle of the lake. Their song was slow and rhythmic, a stepping song, a gentle and proud song. It was a song suited to a city emerging from war, not one preparing for it.

Hilda found herself watching from a long way off, eyes flitting between the dancers. They went from circles to groups to pairs and switched off from one another, twirled around, stepped towards and away. In the distance it was a sea of colors, the whirling brightness of dyed coats and vests and dresses and hats and boots. She felt drawn to them, but she remained, glancing once or twice over her shoulder toward the city wall as though to head back.

Lucian approached at her shoulder. “Why don’t you go and join?” he asked. “I was hoping coming here would lighten your mood a bit, but you look as dour as ever.”

She continued to stare at the crowd. “I’d like to join them,” she said. Her next words stuck in her throat and for a while she didn’t know what to say. How to describe what it felt like to watch these happy people, carrying on with their normal lives secure in the knowledge that they were safe for now. The world might be a dangerous place but tonight, all were truly safe.

“I’d like to join them,” Hilda said again, “But I’m not really… one of them, you know?”

Lucian stepped in front of Hilda and, holding his hands out toward her, shook his head. “I don’t know. What do you mean, you’re not one of them? Hilda, you’ve lived in this city for months, you’ve been here back and forth for as long as I can remember, you’re as welcome here as anybody else!”

“Look at all of them.” Hilda’s fists balled at her sides as she stared at them. So distant, so cold… “They just want to moe on with their lives; they don’t need someone like me around to ruin that for them.”

“To ruin…” Lucian started to laugh in disbelief, but then he shook his head again and grabbed Hilda’s shoulders. Lightly. She stiffened but did not flinch. “Hilda, I’ve walked around this city with you and seen for myself how much everyone here cares about you.” His voice was soothing, but he didn’t understand. “You think they don’t want you around?” Hilda wanted to lean in, wanted…

She scoffed, quietly, not an aggressive sound but one of frustration and disappointment. “They care about me… but they don’t see me!” The words tumbled out before Hilda knew what she was saying or what it meant. “I’m just a symbol – they just care about what I can do and more importantly – what my being here means!” She thought about Plato Arap, the Aether-Touched who could have brought ruin between Etyslund and Kivv, who could have torn apart the countryside if he hadn’t been so singularly focused on his target. “And when they do see me they act like I’m still just a child – I’m not a child!” And then she did lean forward, breath coming in short gasps. “I’m not a child!”

Lucian’s hand on her shoulder was the most comforting thing Hilda had felt since learning that her father was still alive. “I know you’re not a child,” he said. “And you don’t have anything to prove to me, or to them.” He pulled away and gestured toward the lake. “You don’t need anyone’s permission to be happy.”

And he walked toward the dancers.

From a distance Hilda continued to listen to the music, sitting on her hands and watching the sea of colors. But among the colors she saw him, in glimpses, dancing alone in the crowd. He joined a circle, and when the dancers all broke away, Lucian danced alone, his footwork perfectly on time, practiced, as graceful as Kamila.

It was still cold this far from the lake, and though the sun warmed her it was not enough. Hilda wrapped her coat tighter around her, and glanced toward the ground. The dead grass was buried in thin frost, blades standing up as though they were still alive despite how the cold had destroyed them from within. She raised her gaze to the lake, and then to the mountains in the north behind the lake.

Hilda stood up and began to walk, and when next Lucian appeared between the others in the crowd, she smiled at him, and he smiled in return.