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Chapter Text

She found him hiding in the library.

"You’ve been spending too much time with my sisters," she said. "Their bad habits are starting to transfer to you."

"I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Cinders," said the prince.

She laughed. “Oh, I see. I suppose you came in here out of an urgent need to peruse an outdated geography book, and not in order to avoid the esteemed company of my lovely guests.”

He sighed. “I know you run one of the most gracious salons in the kingdom,” he said.

"And I find it very gratifying indeed," said Cinders. Though she knew he had more to say, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.

"And you do great work as a patron of the arts," he continued, blithely talking past her interruption.

"I’m quite proud of my work," said Cinders, her shoulders stiffening just a little.

"Which is why your house is always full of noble guests," he concluded, rather weakly she thought.

"May I remind you, my prince, that you are one of my noble guests," said Cinders ever so sweetly.

"I know," said Basile, "but we so rarely see each other. I can see the nobles of my court on any given day, and in fact I usually see them more often than I like."

"Your reforms are not going well?" asked Cinders, her face creasing with sudden interest.

"No one listens to me," he said. "As though I were a prince of air. If I had a wife…"

"You know my feelings on the matter," said Cinders, softly but flatly.

He huffed. “Who says I was talking about you?”

Cinders actually laughed out loud.

Basile grumbled, but her point was not lost on him.

"If I were your wife," she said, "I would be buried up to my nose in nobles and their demands. I see enough of your troubles not to wish them upon myself. The life of a queen is not as my father’s old storybooks would have me believe."

"And so you strand me alone in the viper pit," he said. "At least when I come here I’d like to push those worries out of my mind. I’d like to have you to myself, even if just for a day."

Cinders smiled. “That, I think I can do.”

His face brightened. “Really?”

She nodded. “Gloria can host tomorrow on my behalf, and I will show you the lake my father used to take me to, as a girl.”

He sighed, but less heavily. “That sounds wonderful.”

Chapter Text

There’s a first time for everything.

Merrill couldn’t be certain that this was the first time she saw the sea. She couldn’t quite remember the last arlathvhen she’d been to, when her mother had handed her off to Keeper Marethari to be her First. Perhaps they had traveled over water then, too, although Merrill couldn’t help but think she would have remembered it if they did.

There was only a brief moment when the sea stretched out before her, dark blue under the sharper autumn blue of the sky, a snatch of beauty before they boarded the ship. She felt the sailors’ eyes on her, on all of them, as they climbed down into the hold, one by one. Belowdecks, the air was still and smelled of rotting fish. Did saltwater fish smell worse than river fish, and if so, why should they? Fish were fish, no matter what water they swam in. When they set sail the smell only got worse.

She thought of the others often. The Keeper told her not to dwell on it, but there was very little else to do and the rocking of the ship made it hard to fall asleep. They could both be dead, by now. They never did find Tamlen, he could have been killed by Darkspawn. And Mahariel… Master Ilen had said that the Grey Wardens’ Joining was often lethal.

She tried to dream better dreams. She thought of Tamlen finding one of the other clans, who hadn’t yet left the Brecillian woods, and being healed by their Keeper. Then she felt guilty for thinking that another Keeper could do what Marethari said was impossible. To soothe her guilt, she thought of Mahariel becoming a Grey Warden and helping to defeat the archdemon and end the Blight. It could happen.

It was a long journey.

Chapter Text

It was a balmy night in one of the finest springs that Amaranthine had known. Far too pleasant an evening to spend cooped up inside foot-thick stone walls. The battlements of Vigil’s Keep were fairly swarming with those who had stepped out to enjoy the pleasant weather and clear, starry night. But when the off-duty soldiers and the castle staff had retired to their beds, a few tenacious souls had remained outdoors, late into the night. 

"Commander." 

Alim turned reluctantly at the sound of her voice. “Sigrun.” 

Uninvited, she climbed up to sit beside him, turning her eyes back up to the sky. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I can’t imagine ever getting bored of this.” 

Alim swallowed a sigh. “Yes, it is quite… remarkable.” 

"I bet you’re used to it by now," she teased. "You’ve seen these stars every night of your life." 

"They’re different," he said. "They change with the seasons, and over the years." 

"So, these aren’t the stars you saw as a child?" asked Sigrun. 

"No, they’re close enough," he said. "Much the same as they were this time, last year." 

"If changed by distance." 

While they were chatting, Velanna had sneaked up on them. 

"Still sleeping on the roof?" asked Sigrun sympathetically. 

"It keeps the nightmares at bay." 

Alim huffed skeptically. “Do the stars really change by distance?” he asked. “I’ve never been outside Ferelden.” 

"I remember," said Velanna, her eyes hazy as she leaned against the battlements, "when I was a child, we lived far to the south of here. My father taught all the children to read them, so we would never lose our way during night hunts. I never became a hunter, but I remember what he taught me." 

"So it’s wrong what the books say," said Alim, turning around the lean back casually against the cold stone. 

"I do not know of what books you speak," said Velanna. 

"The love stories," he said. 

"Oh!" said Sigrun suddenly. "I know what you mean. In stories about lovers who are separated by fate, they take comfort in the fact that they’re both looking up at the same stars." 

"An idle fancy," scoffed Velanna. 

Alim straightened and glanced at her sharply. “I suppose you’re right.” 

She smiled. “Of course I am.” 

Chapter Text

writtenkitten  left the following comment on  The Devil You Know : 

Oh, that was lovely! No one writes quite like you. 

writtenkitten  left the following comment on  A Friend in Need : 

I like your stories best. People seem to like each other a lot more than in other stories. 

writtenkitten  left the following comment on  Playing with Fire : 

I think this is my favorite of your most recent ones. 

writtenkitten  left the following comment on  Skin Deep : 

This one isn’t like the others. I quite like it. 

writtenkitten  left the following comment on  Culture Shock : 

That was amazing. I wish I could write like you. 

shegotthebootie  has replied: 

There’s nothing to it, really. You should try it sometimes. 

writtenkitten  has replied: 

Oh, I couldn’t possibly! I’d be too self-conscious to write about sex like that. What if I got something wrong? I’d feel so silly. 

shegotthebootie  has replied: 

Nonsense! You should never let feeling silly keep you from doing something fun. I bet you’d be great at it. 

writtenkitten  has replied: 

That’s so kind of you to say, but really, I don’t think I’m suited for this kind of writing. 

shegotthebootie  has replied. 

After all the thoughtful comments you left for me, it’s the least I could do. Let me know if you change your mind about the writing thing. I could give you a few pointers. 

writtenkitten  has replied: 

Thank you! Maybe I will. 

Chapter Text

"The time of the arlathvehn is approaching.” 

Garan looked up from his fletching. “So soon? I must have lost track of time.” 

"I’ve been keeping track," said Velanna, gesturing with the leather-bound notebook clutched in her hand. 

"Good," said Garan. "Someone should be doing it, and If I tried my hand at melavallas I would probably misplace the moon.” 

Velanna blinked twice. 

"Nothing, pay it no mind," said Garan, waving a hand dismissively. 

"I have not yet spoken with Keeper Lanaya," said Velanna, "but I imagine she will be taking her clan west, soon." 

"I imagine she will," said Garan. "It’s a long walk to Halamshiral." 

"Commander," said Velanna. 

Reluctantly, he looked up from his work again. “Yes, Velanna?” 

"Do you intend to travel to the meeting of clans in high summer?" 

"We are Grey Wardens, Velanna," said Garan. "There is no place for us there. We have no say in the decisions made by the council of elders, and nothing to add to the craftmen’s circles." 

"Your clan will be there," said Velanna, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"So will yours," said Garan, raising an eyebrow. 

She scowled. 

Garan sighed. “We are Grey Wardens, now.” 

"That does not mean we cannot be a part of the Dalish people!" she said heatedly. "You told me that when I took the Joining. You promised me.” 

He drew his hand over his eyes, sighing deeply. “Do you truly wish to go where you might meet with your former clan? I thought you had reconciled yourself to how you parted. It would only reopen long-closed wounds.” 

"Perhaps," said Velanna, "but they are my wounds to open. I wish to attend the arlathvehn. Do I have your leave, Commander?” 

"Of course," he said. 

Velanna drummed her fingers. “Will you attend with me?” 

He was still for a moment, twiddling a half-finished arrow between two fingers, and finally said, “Maybe.” 

She looked as though she might say something else, but only shook her head. 

"Let me think about it," said Garan. 

"As you wish," she said, and turned to leave. 

Chapter Text

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. 

“Surely,” she replied, “given the extent of your travels, you’ve observed something similar before.” 

Emmett shook his head. “Observing something and understanding it are very different things.” 

“Very true,” she said with a small smile. 

He had returned only a few moments after leaving, while Jienne and Jasper were busy cleaning up. She’d thought it all right to take a moment or two to stop and greet him. It was only courteous, after all. Of course, they had gotten caught up in their conversation and Jasper had ended up finishing up the cleaning on his own. Jienne did feel a little guilty about this, but she reasoned that she would have a chance to make up the difference next week. 

“I spoke with Lady Avalie a bit on our first evening here,” said Emmett. “She is… well, I found her baffling. I can’t quite tell whether she’s being polite to a fault or just is very clever about insulting people.” 

Jienne laughed. “Yes, I would say that is an accurate assessment of her virtues.” 

“Why do you tolerate it?” he asked with a frown. 

“Lady Avalie is very brilliant,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. 

His frown deepened. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” 

“One of the first things one learns in Jiyel high society,” she said, “is that the very brilliant and the very dull are most prone to boredom. The dullards, because they are not bright enough to follow the typical Jiyel dinner party conversation. That is self-evident enough.” 

“And the brilliant?” he asked. 

“Are bored,” said Jienne, “because they have already followed all the arguments to their logical conclusion, and judged them sound or wanting, before the other guests have even finished speaking.” 

Emmett blinked at her. “Lady Avalie bought an expensive tea blend for your event… because she was bored.” 

“As I said,” said Jienne with a small smile, “she’s quite ingenious.” 

“And insulting other people?” he asked. 

She shrugged again. “Just another form of entertainment to her.” 

“Well,” said Emmett, squaring his shoulders, “I think you’re every bit as clever as Lady Avalie, and she shouldn’t treat you so callously.” 

Jienne’s smile brightened. “You are very kind,” she said. “One doesn’t often find magnanimity at diplomatic events.” 

“Sometimes I worry,” he said quietly. “Everyone here is so…” 

She nodded. “But the summit seems to have drawn an unusually heterogeneous crowd,” she said, putting her hand on his. “Not everyone is up to their ears in schemes and machinations, you can depend on it.” 

He nodded gratefully, but the line between his brows didn’t disappear. “Well,” he said. “I oughtn’t keep you from your plans any longer.” 

Jienne smiled and said, “Don’t forget your scarf. That is why you returned, isn’t it?” 

He smiled and ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling a thank you. She followed him with her eyes briefly, then sighed and turned to head back to her room. Sometimes, she worried about him, too. 

Chapter Text

“A perfect solution,” said Belle, “if you ignore the looming possibility of war.” 

Hamin shrugged. “Would they really notice one or two missing delegates? We wouldn’t be gone long.” 

Belle raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right? Nothing happens on this island that doesn’t get snooped, spied on and monitored seven times over.” 

“You say this as a professional snoop, I assume,” he retorted. 

“That is for me to know,” said Belle. 

“And me to find out,” said Hamin. “Come on, Glitter. Do you really want to go through another four weeks of this madness?” 

“If by madness,” said Belle, “you mean throwing glamorous parties, befriending powerful people, and eating the best cuisine in the known world, then yes. I do. Who wouldn’t?” 

He grumbled. 

Belle crossed her arms over her chest. “Now you’re just sulking, and that’s not fair because I know you don’t hate it half as much as you make yourself out to. Best behavior and all.” 

He grumbled some more. 

“If you want to go sailing for an afternoon,” said Belle patiently, “I’m sure I would find that delightful. I’ll even help you draft the invitation.” 

“But that takes all the fun out of it!” he said. 

“All the fun?” she asked. 

More grumbling. “Stop being right all the time,” he said. “It’s a very terrible habit.” 

Belle smiled brilliantly. “I think you’ll find that in the future, I’ll be right even more frequently than now.” 

“What exactly did I sign up for?” asked Hamin. 

“A lifetime of me being right all the time,” she said, smiling even more brightly. 

“Is it too late to back out?” 

Belle laughed. “No, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.” 

Chapter Text

“You seem to be more than usually enamored of that thing." 

Lori raised an eyebrow. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean.” 

“That rock,” he said, gesturing at her hands. 

She looked down and found that she was turning it over and over in her fingers, though she did not recall having taken it out of her pouch. “Ah,” she said. “Well, but it’s a pretty thing, isn’t it?” 

Zarad laughed. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the type,” he said. “Very sentimental.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning. 

“More the type to demand the finest gemstones ever cut,” he said, “set into some unusual design which you could then bring into fashion yourself.” 

Lori quirked her mouth. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she said, “but there aren’t very many black gemstones.” 

“I see,” he said. “A simply valuable stone won’t do. It has to have some additional poetic meaning.” 

“No girl,” said Lori solemnly, “wants to be told that she has eyes like dead coals.” 

He mulled this over, humming. “Are there truly no black precious stones to be had? I’m certain I’ve seen black pearls around the neck of at least one over-puffed busybody of the inner court.” 

Lori pulled a face. “Did you get a close look at them?” 

“Definitely not,” he replied, grinning. 

“They look exactly like lead bullets.” 

“I agree, then,” he said. “That’s not very flattering. What about… onyx? Obsidian? Jet?” 

She tsked. “Those are all semi-precious. Don’t you know how to tell the difference between a precious and semi-precious stone?” 

“My gemology,” he said, “is a little rusty. How do you know all this?” 

“I’m a pirate,” said Lori with a crooked grin. “Or have you forgotten already?” 

“True,” said Zarad. “I suppose evaluating jewels is probably on the standard curriculum in Hise.” 

“Something like that.” 

Chapter Text

“And no one has recorded these stories, at all?” 

She had wondered in the past, primarily on the long sea voyage to the summit, why she knew less about Skalt than about any of the other nations, even the famously secretive Imperial court of Corval. For reasons she could not fathom, there were so few books about Skalt in even the best libraries in Jiyel. Most of those proved to be accounts from foreign travelers, some of them highly sensationalist and of dubious fidelity. Not that she would go so far as to call them propaganda. Out loud. 

Anaele shrugged. “Stories are passed on from generation to generation. The wise women of each tribe are the keepers of the traditions. It would be most unwelcome to be questioning of the wise woman’s memory in recalling.” 

“Yes, quite rude, I understand,” she replied distractedly. 

“It is not that we are hiding our folk stories from the other kingdoms,” Anaele went on. “We are not secretive about our traditions, that is very greedy-like. Any traveler is welcome to sit with the elders and hear their stories. It is part of the hospitality, very importantly.” 

“Do you think the wise women would be amenable to me transcribing their stories?” asked Hana. “And then having them copied and distributed to the libraries around the world? Like the library here, on Vail Isle. I’m certain the Isle natives would be delighted to include such a vital recording of oral history.” 

Anaele frowned, clearly struggling to parse the dense torrent of words. “Yes, I think so, if I understand what you are asking.” 

“Oh,” said Hana. “That sound auspicious. And exciting.” 

“Sweet Hana,” said Anaele, “maybe when we speak to the wise woman, you should use less of the twisty words?” 

Hana tilted her head thoughtfully. “I think I can do that.” 

Ana’s sigh of relief was almost visible. 

Chapter Text

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.” 

Felicity spun around, completing her pirouette with a flourish, and took a graceful bow. “Good morning, Lord Emmett. What brings you out here on this fine morning?” 

Emmett frowned at her. “The castle has a perfectly lovely ballroom, if you want to practice your dancing,” he said doubtfully, “although it doesn’t seem to me like you need the practice.” 

“Nonsense,” said Felicity. “It is the best way to stay in form.” 

“All right,” said Emmett, “but do you have to do it out here? And do you have to do it so close to the edge?” 

The princess glanced to her right, down the sharp edge of the cliff to the rippling surface of the lake below them. “I like it here.” 

“Really.” 

Felicity quirked her lips. “Fine,” she said. “I’m doing it to build up my nerve.” 

“Even if someone does come after you,” said Emmett, “it’s not going to happen the exact same way as before.” 

Felicity stumbled and almost tripped, spreading her arms out at the last moment to recover her lost balance. “How did you–” 

“I’m not stupid, Joy,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. 

“I never said you were,” she replied. 

“Really?” he asked. “Then why–” 

There was a short silence. 

“You said you were all right,” said Felicity, clasping her hands distractedly before her. 

“Just come inside with me, Joy,” he said. “Please.” 

“All right, I will,” she said, “if you help me practice my partnered dance move. I can’t do them alone. Well, I can, but I look ridiculous.” 

Emmett favored her with a wobbly smile and held out his arm. “Your highness.” 

She took it with a grin, and replied, “My lord.” 

She followed him back to the castle proper and they spoke no more of it that day, but she knew that the matter had not been quite laid to rest. 

Chapter Text

“Of all possible things, why did you pick that?” asked Julietta. 

“You’ve never been sailing before,” he said. “What makes you think you can navigate?” 

“I can read a map,” said Julietta, propping her fists on her hips. 

“That’s great,” said Hamin, “and very useful for navigating overland, but not on the open water. There are some things you can only learn by experience.” He flashed a smile. “Which is fine, because very soon you’re going to get a lot of experience sailing.” 

“You’re very optimistic,” said the princess. “Don’t you use star charts?” 

“What?” 

Julietta smiled, pleased at finally having caught the pirate off-guard with a question he couldn’t immediately counter. “For navigating,” she said sweetly, “at night.” 

“Oh,” said Hamin, still gaping. 

“I’ve studied hundreds of star charts,” said the princess, crossing her arms. 

“You can’t learn everything from books!” he objected heatedly. 

Julietta raised one eyebrow. “I’m not convinced you know what a book looks like.” 

“Harsh,” he said. 

She smiled even more sweetly. “The sun rises from the same East in Hise as it does in Arland,” she said. “Face it, pirate boy, you’re not going to make an apprentice out of me so easily.” 

Hamin groaned. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.” 

“At least you know when you’re beat,” she replied. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The girl who walked into the classroom looked like she shouldn’t be any older than him. Oh, she had the harried look of a mother of twins, hastily shoving something into an overlarge, overstuffed handbag, her dark blonde curls clipped up in a messy ponytail. Still, she had to be too young to have two five-year-olds. She had to be an aunt, or a stepsister, or a girlfriend. Something like that.

“Ms. Arling?” asked Claude, straightening up in his chair.

She was rummaging in her handbag, still.

“Yes, yes,” she said. “Is this the right classroom? And you’re Ms. Isley?”

Claude cleared his throat.

Finally she looked up. And blinked at him. “You’re not Ms. Isley.”

Well, that was a relief.

“Ms. Isley has been indisposed,” said Claude. “I’ve taken over her class for the rest of the semester.”

Her face creased in concentration. “Wait,” she said. “I remember you from this morning.” And then, “You teach kindergarten on triple espressos?”

“Uh,” said Claude.

“Coffee shop,” she said. “Corner of Garden Street? Blue disposable cups with a porcupine drawn on them?”

“The barista,” said Claude, unnecessarily, and felt incredibly foolish for it.

“Usually people remember me and I don’t remember them,” she said, “not the other way around.”

Claude decided it was time to turn the conversation back to the subject at hand. He wasn’t about to defend his caffeine consumption to a parent, after all.

“As I said, I’ve taken Ms. Isley’s class for the duration while she’s recovering from an unexpected illness,” he said. “I take it you’re Ms. Verity Arling?”

Verity nodded. “Zoe and Paz’s mom, yes.”

“The girls’ school records–” Claude started to say.

She interrupted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “My ex-husband’s name. I’ve been meaning to change it. They’re Paz and Zoe Arling. End of story.”

That certainly brooked no argument. Not that he could blame her. He could even sympathize. “Of course,” said Claude.

She relaxed minutely and eventually took a seat on the chair across from him.

“Wait,” she said, once she was seated. “You never gave me your name.”

Claude sighed. “We seem to have gotten off to a rough start.”

“I’m not sure why,” said Verity. “Frankly, you were the best tipper I had all morning.”

That made him smile. “Ms. Arling,” he said, as formally as he knew how. “Welcome to Karsten Elementary. My name is Mr. Isley.”

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re subbing for your wife?”

“Sister,” he replied. “Nissa is my twin sister.”

This time, she was smiling. She waved a hand dismissively and said, “Oh, no, it’s nothing. It’s just, I also have a twin brother.”

“Really?” asked Claude with a smile. “The girls never talk about their uncle.”

Her smile dimmed. “I’m not in contact with most of my family. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

He didn’t pry, but privately thought that between the estrangement from her family and the obvious resentment for her ex-husband, he might finally have an explanation for her age, too. Single mother of twins, and working at a corner coffee shop. He didn’t envy her.

“Well, firstly, you have nothing to worry about,” he said. He liked to open the conferences with a reassurance, if he could, and Verity seemed to need it more than most.

Verity sighed audibly. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“The girls are delightful,” he said. “They have plenty of friends in class. Well, Zoe does. Paz is a little more shy, but she definitely gets on with the other kids just fine. Zoe is just a little, uh, livelier, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

She giggled softly, before clapping a hand over her mouth.

It was the most dispiriting thing he’d seen all day, and he had no idea why it made him so unbearably sad.

“Anyway,” said Claude, pushing away the thought as irrelevant, “Zoe and Paz are doing well socially, and they’re both very bright. It’s obvious they come from a loving, supportive home.”

Verity’s smile was wobbly, and her eyes very bright. “Thank you for saying so,” she said, and laughed shortly. “I hope to see you at the coffee shop again, too.”

“You probably will,” said Claude. “Normally I teach fifth and sixth graders.”

She laughed again. “No wonder you need a triple espresso.”

“I’m glad to find you so understanding,” he said. “It’s very painful to be judged for your caffeine intake by a barista.”

“Anyway,” she said, her smile fading slightly, “I’d better get the girls home for dinner. Thank you again, Mr. Isley.”

For no particular reason, he smiled and said, “Please, call me Claude.”

Chapter Text

Sacred Dawn was much as she remembered it being. It was awful to think that she almost lost the chance to come and visit, one last time, even if her mother insisted that she was too old for such nonsense anymore. A young lady, said Lady Flora, should spend her time in the company of her peers and age-mates, not a bunch of musty old nuns and their charges. Allegra didn’t bother trying to tell her that many of the novices at Sacred Heart were young noblewomen like herself, much as Aunt Geraldine had been when she’d joined.

At least her aunt welcomed her warmly enough. Mother Gertrude, the sharp-eyed old abbess, had long since departed for the charge of a larger, more prominent abbey in the lowlands. Most of the older nuns recognized her, and among the youngest there were a few who had sat in lessons with her, on previous summers when they were still novices. She’d always sat with the older girls, of course, ever since she first came there as a small child.

But the abbey’s lessons had very little to teach her, anymore. She knew all the sums and figures she was ever going to grasp, theology bored her witless, and all the histories they taught these days were approved by the new King’s ministers. There was nothing to be learned from them but the most brazen lies, and Allegra had quite mastered those. In the morning she did her work as assigned by the sisters, but after the midday meal she would often slip away before the bell was rung for lessons.

Perhaps it was for the best that this would be her last summer in the mountains.

“Are you going down to the waterfall?”

Allegra froze with her hand on the door handle, just as she was about to sneak out of one of the back doors.

A musical laugh sounded behind her, and a lilting voice said, “Oh, do calm down. I’m not here to drag you back to class.”

She turned around slowly to face her accuser. The girl standing before her was half a head taller than her, with wide, dark eyes and her hair in a long, black braid. She was dressed in a dusty kirtle with the sleeves rolled up against the day’s heat, but there was a novice’s band around her arm.

“Renate,” she said, sticking out her hand, still flecked with fresh dirt from the garden.

“Were you also weeding in the garden this morning?” asked Allegra as she clasped Renate’s warm hand in her own. “I didn’t see you there, but then, I was bent double most of the morning.”

Renate laughed and nodded energetically. “I’m glad we got back inside before the rain started.”

“Rain?” asked Allegra, and shot a puzzled look at the sky, which looked perfectly clear to her.

“It will start in an hour or so,” said Renate. “Still want to go to the waterfall?”

“Better now than later,” said Allegra with a shrug.

She held the door while Renate slipped through and followed her, shutting the door behind them both, gently, so as not to make more than the slightest sound. She didn’t really think any of the nuns were paying attention to them, though. As long as they didn’t act suspicious, no one would think to stop them. This bravado carried them all the way through the grounds, to the crumbling down part of the outer wall. They scrambled over the toppled stones and down a steep, barely visible track, until finally they reached their destination.

The mountainside was crisscrossed with little streams and pools, all of them tumbling down the mountain to converge on the great rivers that ran through the fertile plains below, on both the Wellish and the Revairian sides of the border. This early in spring, the streams were swift and merciless, swollen with snow-melt. The smaller pools were clear and icy cold, perfect for a quick swim on a sunny afternoon, when one knew that one could climb out and be dry again before long. This particular pool was fed by a stream that poured over a rocky cliff face, forming a small waterfall that caught the spring sunlight, refracting it into pale, luminous colors.

“I think I’ll just dip my feet in,” said Allegra, glancing again at the sky above.

Renate laughed her musical laugh. “I see I have got in your head, as they say, with my dire warnings of rain.”

“And the water is very cold,” said Allegra, bending down to trail her fingers over the pool’s rippling surface.

Renate was already peeling off her boots and stockings. “Don’t worry, I’ll warn you in plenty of time to get back to the abbey before the rain begins.”

She did, or very nearly so. They spent a short but pleasant hour soaking their feet in the icy pool, listening to the croaking frogs and humming insects, and chatting about nothing. Allegra learned that Renate was two years her senior, and would likely complete her novitiate by the end of summer. She told her in turn about her family and her sisters, and her life in Arrowfield.

“My mama would rather I spend my time dancing and flirting, I think,” she said. “I suspect she believes I ought to already be looking for a husband, though Papa said he wouldn’t let me marry before I was twenty one, anyway.”

“Twenty one was the age of majority in the old empire,” said Renate, “though you’d never hear such a thing slip from Sister Carolyn’s mouth.”

“And the Wellish warlords considered their sons men at fifteen,” replied Allegra. “You wouldn’t really want to wait another three years to be considered a grown woman, would you?”

“Ah, but for me, my vows give me power,” said Renate. “All you have waiting for you, my poor, noble girl, is a lifetime of being chained to the first spotty boy who asks you to dance at a country ball.”

She was about to compose her withering retort when she felt something strike her cheek. She looked up. While they had been placidly climbing the path back to the abbey, the sky above them had grown gray and heavy. As she watched, another drop of water struck her face, this time on the very tip of her nose.

Renate laughed. A few drops of rain had caught on her braid, sparkling like broken glass.

“You said you would get us back dry,” said Allegra.

“And so I shall,” replied Renate, “but we’d better hurry.”

And she grasped Allegra’s hand with her own and pulled her after her, running across the grounds to seek shelter under the abbey’s eaves. Their boots slipped and slid on the muddy path, and Allegra was certain, more than once, that she would trip and fall into the mud, full face first. Renate, though, moved through the abandoned grounds with fleet certainty, as though dodging between the raindrops. By the time they reached the outer wall they were both breathless, leaning back against the cold stone wall to escape the streams of water that trickled down from the roof.

Renate was flushed from running, and her dark eyes shown with mischief. She glanced sidelong as Allegra, laughing breathlessly. Her hand was still clasping Allegra’s, and she didn’t seem inclined to let go.

“What?” asked Allegra. “What is it?”

Renate reached over with her free hand and brushed her fingers down Allegra’s cheek.

“You have raindrops in your eyelashes,” she informed her, and laughed again.

She reached up instinctively, and their fingers touched, just for a moment.

“Yet somehow, you’ve managed to remain completely dry,” she said. “What sorcery is this?”

“Shh!” said Renate. “Not so loud, someone will hear.”

She didn’t seem really worried, though. They huddled close together against the abbey’s outer wall, their hands twined.

“We should go get cleaned up before the dinner bell,” said Allegra reluctantly.

“Yes,” agreed Renate. “No use showing up for dinner muddy and disheveled.”

She was pulling closer and closer to her when the sound of a door hinge creaking made her suddenly leap back, dropping Allegra’s hand as she did.

“Quick!” she said. “There’s a side door around that corner that no one ever uses.”

Renate held the door for her when she slipped inside.

“Go on,” she said, “go get changed. I’ll wait a moment, so no one will suspect.” She smiled brightly and added, “We should do this again, some time.”

Allegra was just about to agree, when Renate suddenly shoved her into the room beyond, shutting the door behind her. She tiptoed out and dashed as quickly as she could to the novices’ dormitories. There was no warm water to wash, and her boots were hopelessly muddy, but she did find dry towels folded on a stool in the corner. Her hand lifted to her face for just a moment before she caught herself, shook her head smartly, and scrubbed herself dry until her cheeks tingled from the rough fabric’s bristles. Before long she was as clean and dry as could reasonably be expected, although not quite as neat as a girl who’d sat obediently in her history lessons all afternoon, and just in time for her to hear the dinner bell ring.

Chapter Text

“You don’t have to leave so soon.”

Hamin sighed, and stretched, and sat up in bed, throwing off the thin covers. “I do, actually,” he said. “Regretfully. Time and tide wait for no man, and all that.”

Yaling hooked a bare leg to catch him and, when that failed, sat up herself, leaning against his back. “You promised me your nights, and the night isn’t over yet.”

It was part of the fairy tale bargain they had struck, when she followed him back to Hise.

“I know, Glitter, and I’m sorry,” he replied, catching her hand and kissing the back of it. “It’s been a long honeymoon, but the season has started, and if I want to catch my prey I have to actually be there when the fat ships pass by. Which means we both need to make some sacrifices.”

Yaling sighed, rubbing her cheek against his back. “I hate sacrifices.”

“Believe me,” said her husband, “I’d be much more content staying here, in bed, with you.”

“But the ship won’t run itself,” said Yaling, with an air of resignation.

“The ship won’t run itself,” he agreed, “and Leala has taken on enough on my behalf. She’s more than shouldered her share. That’s why I was able to stay with you so long.”

“I know,” said Yaling, “and I’m grateful for it.”

Hamin smiled. “I’ll pass on your thanks to her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

She kissed his shoulder and unwound her arms from around his waist, starting to get up. “I suppose you’re right. It’s high time I stopped lazing around and found an occupation of my own. I don’t think I’ve ever been idle for so many weeks in my life.”

“Hey!” said Hamin. “That was a pretty fast turnaround. Are you trying to get rid of me now?”

Yaling smiled but said nothing, turning to the trunk at the foot of the bed to fish out something to wear. As she was starting to get dressed, Hamin leapt to his feet and caught her in his arms, making her yelp and drop the dress she was holding.

“Not so fast, veiled lady,” he said. “I’m not gone yet.”

“Then let me have a kiss goodbye,” she said, “so you have something to remember me by when you’re far from home.” 

Chapter Text

The house was hers, of course. It was settled on her as part of Quentin’s will, an arrangement that had been set into the terms of their marriage contract, over a decade ago. Unlike the Dawnview family’s ancestral estate, Allegra could say that the townhouse was hers and hers alone, and so felt no compunctions in settling into it with her second husband. That meant that when she was staying in the capital, as she was now, her routine was not much different than it had been during her years as a scandalous widow. She kept her same bedroom, with the same things in it. Her dressing table and looking glass were in the same place, set to catch the light of the same west-facing window.

Allegra sat at that dressing table now, putting the last touches on her hair and makeup. She examined herself critically in the mirror. Though she’d never been accused of being any great beauty, it was still a point of pride to never leave her home looking less than put-together, however mundane the occasion. And today was hardly a mundane occasion.

“You look perfect,” said Clarmont, coming up from behind her to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Stop fretting.”

“I’m not fretting,” replied Allegra. “I’m perfectly calm, in fact.”

She turned her back on the mirror and got up, smoothing her skirt with her fingertips. Everything was perfect. Not a stitch out of place.

“Of course,” said Clarmont with a smile. “Why wouldn’t you be calm? You deserve this position. There’s no one more qualified.”

Allegra regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “No one more qualified?” she asked. “It’s the national treasury. I’ve never managed a purse larger than Namaire’s annual income.”

“You’re brilliant with money, and a natural head for numbers,” he argued back. “And Lady Bianca put you up herself. She said she wanted someone hardheaded and down-to-earth. I’ve never met anyone who fits that description better.”

“What you mean,” said Allegra, a smile creeping onto her own face, “is that I was chosen because all other possible candidates were loyal to the previous regime.”

“And corrupt to the bone,” added her husband, deadpan. “They chose you because they trust you. The council will ratify. You’re their best possible choice, and you’ll do a brilliant job.”

Allegra sighed. “I hope so,” she said wistfully. “I wish I weren’t entering into the position starting from the most difficult task. The debt to the imperial bank is so much larger than our worst imaginings.”

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his forehead against hers. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you talk the Corvali ambassador around. He’ll agree to a payment plan. He knows that if the throne doesn’t hold steady, that gold is as good as gone.”

She sighed again. “Well, that’s certainly true,” she admitted. “At least there’s no chance that His Imperial Pompousness will try to recoup the debt through piracy.”

Clarmont laughed softly. “Very little odds of that,” he agreed. “Do you feel more confident?”

“As much as I ever will,” replied Allegra, “until I get my hands on the books. I’d better ring for the servants to bring the carriage around. It wouldn’t do to be late.”

“Do you want me to come and meet you at the palace, after the meeting is done?” asked her husband.

Allegra shook her head. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

“How about a kiss for good luck?” he offered.

She smiled up at him, resting her hand on his chest. “Didn’t you once tell me that I didn’t need luck?”

“Just a kiss, then,” he replied.

He pressed his hand over hers on his chest, and then lifted it to his lips, kissing the heel of her palm. She shook his hand loose and instead, wound her arms around his neck, leaning against him, his solid weight warm and comforting. They stayed that way, standing quietly together until a knock on the door interrupted them.

Allegra sighed and reluctantly pulled back. “That would be the carriage,” she said. “I’d better go. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”