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Chapter Text

Eugene held many titles within the Vranovan court. He was head of the Royal Alchemy Institute, the most esteemed university for alchemical research on the continent. He was also a trusted advisor in the king and queen’s council. But there was one position he treasured above all else; the one responsibility that kept him rooted firmly in this kingdom instead of roaming the realm as he imagined in his youth, was mentoring and teaching Princess Yula.

When he was initially tasked with her schooling, she was six and he was freshly twenty-one. Before he realized what’d happened, she was fifteen and he loved her as though she were his own flesh and blood. His attachment was strong enough that sometimes he even forgot the way wanderlust tugged at his heart.

Sometimes.

Then there was summer. Like so many years past, it was languidly bearing down on the kingdom of Vranova, the slow heat coaxing the princess away to visit relatives in her mother’s homeland. For a few months, Yula’s only agenda would be playing in the ocean spray on Almazia’s beaches and racing through the palace’s orange groves. A lonely tome or two would no doubt languish in her quarters, but Eugene wouldn’t be there to make sure she minded her studies. He always stayed behind.

In the summer, suddenly his roles felt more nebulous. With his pupil abroad, he let his soul ache a bit more openly for the world beyond the kingdom.

The princess’s holiday entourage was an hour outside the capital and Eugene was on the brink of brooding when he saw Mavra Vidov, approaching him as he walked the long path back to the keep. He sensed from her expectant bearing that soon he’d have plenty to occupy his mind.

“You’re looking very dour, Lord Alchemist,” she said.

“Observant as ever,” he replied with a small smile. “Useful trait in a spymaster.”

She fell in step with him as he continued his trek toward the palace grounds. Behind them the road carved back and forth across the mountainside, each side lined by terraced homes and shops adorned with window boxes bursting with vines and cascading flowers. The carved stone path eventually dipped down into the valley where the capital city of Vranovagrad lay nestled. He knew the buildings were stone and brick, but looking back down from where he’d come, he was momentarily awed by how green it all was. Verdant moss speckled the roofs and bridges in the shade of the mountain while colorful blush and teal banners swayed playfully above the thoroughfares.

If the city below was wondrous to behold, then the royal palace was a true feast for the eyes. It towered tremendously high and looked as though it’d been sculpted into the face of the mountain itself. Greenery and assorted fauna blended it seamlessly into the massive forest to either side, leaving the main keep cradled in the mountainside like a polished marble in a carefully woven nest.

“So the princess’s escort departed without any trouble?”

He nodded. 

“I always feel a little aimless the first few days she’s gone,” he sighed. 

“Then I may have something that’ll lift your spirits,” she said, handing him a small scroll, the kind that was spooled up and sent by raven.

“Some correspondence, hm?” he replied, squinting to read the minuscule script. “You mean you didn’t come to the gate just to see your favorite colleague?”

“We’re about to be seeing each other quite a bit,” she smiled wryly. “Special assignment in Shuran. We leave tomorrow.”

It always amazed Eugene how fast you could travel across the realm when unencumbered by a royal accompaniment. No heraldry. None of life’s comforts. Just a few swift horses, some well-kitted knapsacks, and anonymity.

It was barely outside of a week since they’d left Vranovagrad and Eugene could already see the Shurani coast from the deck of the clipper they’d boarded at a port in Czelka territory. The delta rose slowly out of the sea like the ridged fin of a leviathan.

He braced against the railing, taking in the lilt and lean of the ship and savoring the smell of the water. Ports and marinas were all barnacle rot and brine (which Eugene had a shameful nostalgia for as an expatriated Myrkosi), but this was the clean, cold scent of sun and salt you only experienced on the open ocean.

Mavra emerged from the hatch and stood beside Eugene. 

“The captain said we’ll be docked in Iskanda by noon. A baron and someone from the Shurani higher courts will be meeting us almost directly after we tie off,” she said.

“Right to business then.”

“I’m afraid so.”

For a moment they just looked out over the water. Within a few hours, they’d be covertly delivering their cargo and diving full-tilt into the investigation that’d brought them all this way, but for a few quiet minutes, Eugene wanted nothing more than to keep watching the waves with Mavra. 

She was inside herself, transforming for the job to come. She had shed her standard black castle attire for light layers of overlapping shawls and sashes, all colorfully woven but appropriately pedestrian; she’d blend in seamlessly once in port. Her hair wasn’t much longer than her chin, but she’d kept it all pinned off her face for the voyage, and the sea sun had left her brown skin a shade darker. He saw a small but serene smile on her lips before he furtively turned his gaze back to the horizon.

He wondered what it’d be like to go on a holiday where they weren’t in danger of triggering a diplomatic incident, but he banished the thought just as quickly, lying to himself that he’d be bored to tears inside a day.

He pushed away from the railing first, and her smile faded. It was too easy to get comfortable with moments like this. Best to keep moving before things had time to settle. Luckily there was always a dossier to re-read or cargo to inspect elsewhere.

“I’m going to give the shipment another once over,” he called back as he crossed the deck toward the hold. “I don’t want them blaming us if something goes missing from this one as well.”

She nodded and watched him disappear down the ladder into the groaning belly of the ship. 

Mavra had recruited two agents to join them on assignment. The four of them disembarked together at the port and began assisting the crew in unloading the cargo. Luvenia, a short brown-skinned woman with bright auburn hair, scaled the rigging easily while Yuri spotted her from below. They were tall, thin, and pale as the moon. Though mostly silent, Yuri held a connection with Luvenia that made for tremendous spy work. Indeed the two were probably Mavra’s top progenies, and it showed by how well they disappeared into the busy crowd. They blended in so well that the diplomatic delegate approached Eugene on the docks first, completely missing Mavra and her cohorts. 

He was helping guide a large crate from the ship to the pier as it was lowered by pulleys when he heard a quiet but firm cough behind him. Mavra was looking intently over his shoulder so he carefully turned around.

“Lord Alchemist.”

Before him stood a stately woman dressed in richly textured gold robes embroidered with elaborate blue and fuschia threads. As she peered out from a headdress lined with dangling golden beads, he saw that her features were severe but elegant, and her eyes were the color of dark honey. The hair at her temples was beginning to gray, but the rest was tucked under the intricately folded pleats of her headwear.

“Lady Nabila, a pleasure,” he replied, bowing his head. It was then that he noticed a nobleman standing to her left. His clothing was just as splendid, but where Nabila was composed and austere, he was tired and flagging. His face was still handsome, with a sharp jawline and a small scar on the bridge of his nose, but the skin under his eyes was dark from fatigue.

Eugene was about to ask after the man’s name when Nabila spoke.

“I was expecting a trade emissary and maybe someone from the academy, but they must expect some real mischief is afoot if they sent the head of the Institute to oversee this delivery.” 

“The King and Queen were very troubled to hear that supplies meant to offer some relief to an ally had not reached their intended destination. I was more than happy to accompany this shipment and see that it arrived without incident.”

It was the nobleman who replied this time.

“It really wasn’t necessary for you to go through all of this trouble. In a few more days we could’ve dispatched our own escort to Vranova to retrieve the replacement.”

Eugene suppressed a frown and hoped the sun glaring off his glasses hid his resentment.

“It’s Vranova’s way,” Mavra said, suddenly at Eugene’s side.

“Ah, not just any agent,” Nabila smiled. Was this amusing to her? “Ser Mavra herself. Welcome to Shuran, my dear.”

The man radiated ire at this point.

“I appreciate the sentiments of the Vranovs, truly I do, but I assure you that this matter could’ve been handled domestically without wasting the time and talents of dignitaries such as yourselves.”

“I promise Lord Adid, it’s no trouble at all,” Mavra replied. Her voice was controlled and pleasant in a way that was wholly unnerving.

He squinted at her.

“Have we met before?”

“We have not,” she said.

Lady Nabila cleared her throat (was she covering up a snicker?) and gestured toward several carriages hitched to glossy-coated camels waiting on the street beyond the piers. 

“Come. We will discuss the situation on the way to palace grounds.”

“What about the cargo?” Eugene asked.

“No need to fret. It will be loaded onto the wagon between our two carriages. Those crates won’t be out of sight until they’re safe and sound in our alchemy institute.”

He nodded and they all followed her to the bustling street. If he’d been worried about standing out with a royal entourage, that anxiety was dissipating rapidly. Everywhere he turned were stalls buzzing with activity and people clamoring to unload goods of all sorts. A short woman with bolts of flamboyant fabric stacked ten deep on her shoulders pushed past him while a fishmonger bartered loudly with a man so covered in jewelry that he glittered like the tail of a merman. No one batted an eye at their party.

Lord Adid helped Nabila into the carriage, but when he moved to enter it himself, she held up her hand.

“I think it best if you ride in the other wagon so we have people on either side. You understand,” she smiled. 

“By myself?” he huffed back.

Mavra looked to her two agents. “Yuri. Luvenia. Go with him.” They nodded wordlessly and moved swiftly to the second carriage. Adid loudly rustled his robes as he disembarked and stalked after them.

Eugene and Mavra climbed in with Nabila, sitting opposite her on the plushest cushions to grace their backsides since leaving Vranova. There was a snapping of reins, the grumble of camels, and then a gentle lurch forward. 

“I hope you’ll forgive Lord Adid for his lack of tact,” Nabila sighed as she watched the merchants roll by. 

“Oh? I just barely got the hint that he doesn’t care for our involvement,” Eugene replied with a smirk. Mavra very discreetly elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m aware of his role within the tribal confederation, but I don’t understand why specifically he’s privy to our investigation,” Mavra said.

“He’s the tribal baron of an area that’s been devastated by this drought. I think he mistakes the directness of Vranova’s response as an attack on his ability to act as a proper steward to his people.”

“Then I hope he understands we’re only here to make sure nothing else interferes with the aid Vranova promised,” he said. Eugene had little patience for the pomp and puffery that came with the aristocracy; too many nobles cared more about receiving accolades and coin for good deeds than seeing the good deeds done at all.

Eugene surveyed the market outside the carriage. It moved quickly enough that at first, he hadn’t noticed the throngs of people crowding around stands selling meager bundles of dehydrated rations, some of them shoving and yelling. He spied beggars young and old leaning in shaded doorways, eyes sunken and weary. 

Shuran’s river delta was no stranger to dry spells, but this year was different. Something upstream was leaching into the water, rendering it so acidic that people were beginning to sicken. Crops grown from the tainted water were puny and scant.

“Don’t tell him I said anything of course, but he’s really very young for a tribal baron. He inherited the position from his late father, poor thing. What he lacks in statecraft though, he more than makes up in passion. Give him some grace and he’ll come around.”

Through a flap in the rear of the wagon, Eugene could see Lord Adid sitting between Yuri and Luvenia on the open cart behind the cargo. With his arms folded and his face scrunched into a scowl, he looked every bit like a petulant child.

“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed,” he replied, earning himself another swift jab in the side as soon as Lady Nabila’s head was turned.

Chapter Text

The Vranovan Academy of Alchemy was the oldest and most revered of the world’s alchemy institutes, but the Shurani research building outshone it for elegance and grandeur. The floor was a deep red stone that’d been polished to a wet shine, and sunlight from the hundreds of arched windows illuminated on the gold veins traced through every surface. Huge golden hoops hung from towering domed ceilings, each strung with dozens of opalescent glass globes that looked lit from within. The enormous door they’d entered through was lacquered in some kind of a sky-blue finish, and once inside, they saw that every other door was the same, drawing the eye to the impossible number of classrooms and laboratories.

“It’s beautiful,” Yuri said quietly. They were a person of few words; this remark alone showed what an impression the facilities made. 

“It’s like a work of art,” Eugene remarked. “It’s a wonder any work gets done in a place like this.”

“Oh, we manage,” Lady Nabila said with a teasing smile. “And there’s much work to be done now that we have what we need.” She guided them through the lobby, the wheels of the cargo cart echoing off the cavernous ceilings as their party continued forward.

They entered a spacious room full of tables and equipment. Every surface was decked out with assorted beakers, tubes, small torches, measuring apparatuses, and scales. At first glance, Eugene thought the shelves lining the walls were inlaid with colorful glass mosaics, but upon closer inspection, he could make out multi-colored jars filled with different powders and liquids.

Space had been cleared out in the center of the room for the crates they’d hauled in, and now that they were finally where they needed to be, Nabila dismissed the handlers who’d rolled the cart in with them. 

Mavra signaled to Yuri and Luvenia, and they pried open the boxes with ease.

Lord Adid let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw each crate contained barrels upon barrels of aquafleur ash.

“Thank the Lords. When they cracked open the first delivery, it was all sand,” he said. This triumph had immediately transformed him from a crumpled bureaucrat into a beaming young man.

“I’m sure your alchemists know the ratios needed and where to introduce upstream to achieve the best effect,” Eugene said. “I hope this will be enough to take you through the end of the dry season, but please know that Shuran can always reach out if more is needed.”

Lady Nabila smiled and took Eugene’s hand, clasping it tightly. “Thank you. I cannot begin to tell you the weight that’s been lifted with this gift.”

Not one for great displays of emotion, Eugene very gently tried to retrieve his hand from her grip after she’d held it for an acceptable amount of time.

“Given how scarce aquafleur is here, it would’ve been criminal to withhold it,” he replied. Aquafleur was a flowering plant that grew abundantly in the mountains of Vranova, and when burned down, the resulting ash was a potent acid neutralizer. It was standard in every Vranovan herbalists’ kit for everything from indigestion to chemical burns, but it didn’t grow in the biomes of Shuran. Having lived in a place prized for its alchemical and botanical ingenuity, sometimes Eugene forgot what it was like to not have almost any ingredient readily available.

“I’m sorry again that you came all this way just to oversee its delivery,” Lord Adid interjected, “but now that we have it in hand, I must admit that I’m relieved to know your errand was successful.”

“Well, we can’t really deem it a success until we’ve concluded our investigation,” Eugene said. Adid’s newfound perkiness faltered.

Mavra spoke up.

“The missing shipment. We need to find out what happened to it.”

“Don’t you think that falls under Shurani jurisdiction?” Adid asked. “Can we not be trusted to punish our own criminals?”

“Of course you are,” Eugene replied. “We merely want to ensure that nothing malicious comes of the lost alchemical supplies. With any luck, we may yet recover them and you can add them to your stores.”

Mavra nodded. “As long as they’re unaccounted for, Vranova could be considered liable. We don’t want any materials sent by us possibly falling into the wrong hands.”

Lady Nabila’s brow creased in concern.

“Is there any chance this is a simple case of mishandled cargo? I must admit, I too was hopeful that once the replacement was delivered that this matter would be considered remedied.”

Mavra crossed her arms. She was losing patience.

“You said the original shipment had been replaced by sand? That doesn’t sound like a lucky thief who lifted the wrong crate and made off with it. Whoever they are, they want you to look foolish.”

“But why would someone steal something like this? What’s a layperson going to do with a bunch of ash?” Adid asked.

“Aquafleur ash is quite versatile,” Eugene said with a smile; he couldn’t help it when it came to the subject of alchemy. “It can be used in everything from digestive aid to explosives and narcotics.”

His grin faded as he continued. “Sometimes when people are suffering, it’s not unusual for vices to take hold. Has there been more unrest or crime as of late?”

“Nothing so serious that the city guard hasn’t been able to keep a handle on it,” Lady Nabila replied. “A slight uptick in activity from the Thorns of Acacia, but certainly nothing as dramatic as bombings.”

“Thorns of Acacia?” Eugene queried.

Lord Adid looked like he was about to respond, but Mavra was quicker.

“A group from the outer tribes of the confederation. They want more representation within the royal court, or possibly outright independence.”

“They’re a gang of ruffians is what they are,” Adid scoffed. “They say they want more resources for their people? To have a bigger voice in the federation? But instead of working with the council, they pick-pocket and skulk around smoke dens intimidating addicts. They’ve set outer tribe relations back years.”

“Lord Adid, please compose yourself,” Lady Nabila said. He was starting to resemble a ruffled bird with the way he puffed up. Taking a deep breath, he smoothed his hair back with his hand. 

“I apologize. They are more of a nuisance than anything. I’d be surprised if they could pull off anything this sophisticated. They’re scattered and poorly organized,” he said.

Eugene and Mavra stood unspeaking while Adid readjusted one of his sashes and cleared his throat. It wasn’t often they dealt with nobles who were so easily flustered, and Eugene swore he could feel Mavra coiling up to strike. She’d drain him of intel until he was a husk of knowledge. Lucky for him, Lady Nabila put a hand on his shoulder and spoke like a mother embarrassed by her unruly child.

“We’ve had a few scrapes with them, it’s true. But at their core, I believe they are just people desperate for relief. I doubt very much that they’d do something that would delay aid meant for their tribe,” she said. Her posture was exceedingly proud, as if to make up for Adid’s lack. “I don’t wish to keep you from your investigation longer than necessary. While I hope that the lost ash can be recovered, my present concern is remedying the lack of potable water and seeing to the sick. I offer you any personnel we can spare as long as it does not interfere with that.”

Lady Nabila nodded politely and made a move to leave with Adid in tow, but before they could exit, Eugene called out. 

“Is your clinic holding up alright?”

Nabila’s brow creased wearily. For a moment she looked every drop as exhausted as the baron.

“We have decent supply but not enough physicians. They’ve been run quite ragged I’m afraid.”

“If you’ll allow me privileges, I could lend a hand for a few hours?” He turned to Mavra. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t scowling either. He was in the clear.

Nabila accepted graciously.

“It would be a great kindness to the clinic and the patients. Maybe you can show them some of that famous Vranovan healing.”

Eugene looked to Mavra again and said just to her, “Try not to solve the mystery before I catch up.”

“I don’t want to hear you complain when you miss all the fun,” she said wryly, then also addressed Nabila. “While you have my alchemist, I’d like to begin by comparing intel with your agents.”

My alchemist? Eugene prayed no one saw the tips of his ears going red as he stood slightly to the side.

“Of course, my dear. I’ll send for-”

“If I may, I’d like to request we work with Riza specifically. We’ve collaborated together many times and I think his knowledge in this area would be indispensable.”

All the lightsome feelings fluttering in Eugene’s chest plummeted at the mention of Riza. He was too busy recomposing himself to notice the palpable unease in the air as Nabila looked from Mavra to Adid.

“Ser Mavra, I’m afraid Master Riza is-”

“He’s specifically been banned from this inquiry,” Adid burst in, voice full of disdain. “He’s too wrapped up in conspiracies to do his job properly. Maybe if he had, the original shipment wouldn’t have been lost in the first place.”

“Lord Adid, please,” Lady Nabila said with a harshness they hadn’t heard before. Even Adid was caught off guard, but it took only a moment for her to take a long breath through her nose and regain her tranquil mien. “I’m sorry to say that Master Riza has indeed been temporarily relieved of his duties. He has served the crown well and long, but this has been a very trying time for all of us. I’m happy to connect you with our remaining intelligence network.”

Mavra’s expression betrayed nothing.

“That’s unfortunate. He was a good agent. I’ve no doubt we’ll find what we need from whoever you assign to this case.” 

She turned to the alchemist. “Eugene, I’ll expect you sometime this evening. I’ll send for you to join us when you’re ready.”

Nabila looked confused. “Will you not be rooming at the palace with us during your stay? We’ve prepared quarters for you all.”

“Your hospitality is noted, but our work is best done in the city. Once we leave the institute, it will be best if you don’t know where we go.” 

She signaled to Yuri and Luvenia and they came to her side. They all exited the grand alchemy building, but before there was a chance for any sort of polite goodbye, Mavra and her team split off into a crowd of students and were gone. 

“How will you find her when it’s time? Does she even know where the clinic is?” Adid asked with a raised brow. His eyes flitted through the crowd as they continued toward their destination.

Eugene smirked. “That’s half of her charm. You almost never know how she’s going to do something, but you can be certain that she will get it done.”

Adid grimaced as if he’d bitten into a sour pear. “I don’t know if charm is the word I would use. If I may speak candidly, Lord Alchemist, she’s rather odd.”

Through a clenched jaw, Eugene offered a cool smile. Nabila was walking ahead of them by a few paces, so he replied in a voice low enough that only Adid could hear, “Odd though my spymaster may be, there’s no one I’d rather work with, present company included.”

Before the baron could respond, Eugene picked up his pace until he was striding beside Lady Nabila. He offered his arm to her and the three of them continued in silence to the clinic.

Chapter Text

The sun was just slipping below the skyline when Eugene emerged from the city’s makeshift mass clinic. He stopped and rested against the wall of the building, taking in the billowing orange clouds as they bled upward into the purple twilight.

Lady Nabila hadn’t minced words when she said the situation was weighing heavily on the physicians inside. He’d shared what knowledge he could and aided in mixing salves and distributing rations supplemented with powders to make them more substantial. So many gaunt faces and blistered tongues. So many tired eyes and whimpers of discomfort. The aquafleur ash couldn’t have arrived a moment too soon.

The moon emerged noiselessly above the city, its pale mottled face bisected by the horizon. Approaching evening in a place far from home always filled Eugene with a faint buzzing sensation, like a foreign heartbeat vibrating up from the street into his body. Though some of the city buildings were tall, this was no valley town. Stars and sky stretched out wide with no mountains to corral them, and the breeze curled in and out of the numberless alleys, carrying the scent of hot earth from the desert beyond. The smell of sweetened smoke laced itself through the wind as well, and Eugene closed his eyes and inhaled.

That same breath was knocked out of him when something crashed into him at the waist.

No, not some thing . Some one . He looked down to see a small child reeling away from him. They were shrouded in layers and layers of rags and accompanied by at least two other children, all running and snickering in an amorphous blob of horseplay.

“Sorry mister!” one of them shouted back as they continued on, rollicking and shouting as they went. The foot traffic had slowed down but was still heavy enough that he quickly lost sight of them.

He’d begun straightening out his cloak and readjusting his satchel when he realized he’d probably just been handily pick-pocketed. 

Shit.

Instead, when he patted down the pockets sewn into his cloak, he discovered that something had been deposited rather than stolen.

I’ll send for you to join us when you’re ready, she’d said. He chuckled to himself and unrolled the tiny scrap of parchment he found within. It was a map, complete with symbols that only made sense when filled in with his specific cipher. Add a right angle here, adjust a slash here and suddenly he knew exactly where he needed to be.

-

The foot traffic thickened the closer he got to the rendezvous point. He passed through a large city square, alive and thrumming with night market vendors, and eventually found himself stepping onto a cramped side street. There was no missing his destination once he laid eyes on it.

At ground level, he could make out a large mural on the building’s face, and it literally was a face, with the door painted red like a lolling tongue rooted in a wide, smiling mouth. Each eye was a swirl of hues aimed skyward, and on the second level in rough Shurani script was the name of the establishment. The Traveller’s Mirage . Lanterns embedded in the bricks threw undulating shadows on the scene, giving it a wholly unnerving appearance. The face gave way to wild hair that stretched up to the other floors of the building, eventually intertwining with depictions of palm trees, flowering vines, and beautiful, scantily clad figures. 

The higher the paint ascended, the more chipped and faded the pigments became. It was just as well since the uppermost level was almost fully open and left little stonework for an artist to work with. Many of the city’s buildings boasted large, open floors to allow airflow and harness the wind power for simple machinations within their structures. It also made it easier for the sound of revelry to buoy up, out, and into the rest of the city. 

A mountainous woman guarded the door, sitting casually with one foot hitched up on the opposite knee. Eugene cleared his throat and he swore she flexed her bicep at him.

He was about to try and explain his way in, but she squinted hard, taking in his round spectacles, the memorable scar on the left side of his face. People often lingered on it when first meeting him, but she seemed to be running down a checklist of features in her head.

“Go on in,” she grunted. “You got a pass from some regulars.”

He tipped his head in thanks, grateful he didn’t have to rely on charisma he did not possess, and entered the smoke den.

Eugene scanned the room, searching for Mavra’s face. The far wall of the tavern had several alcoves carved into it, and each one was furnished with a globular contraption coiled round with pipes for the individuals clustered around them. Every booth was festooned with tasseled pillows and cushions, and translucent veils of all colors partially occluded the view therein, giving them a semblance of privacy. A rather festive place for spy work and general skullduggery.

The center of the establishment featured a circular bar that was carved out of a single, gnarled piece of wood, and directly above that, the ceiling opened up into the second and third floor, creating a bustling little courtyard of smoke and drink. 

Behind the bar was an old man with a black scarf wound around his neck and head, sorting jars of tobacco and jugs of liquid. Despite the many customers saddled around the bar, the man in the black scarf was the only one tending to anyone, but he wasn’t overwhelmed in the least. Probably the owner, and judging by how deftly he scooped tobacco leaves and poured drinks, he’d been at this trade a long time.

“Excuse me-” Eugene tried to cut in, but the man continued without acknowledging him. He sighed and was about to try again when someone beside him chuckled.

“He’ll get to you. Old man’s got a mind like a steel trap, but he never breaks out of that flow once he’s got a few orders to fill.”

It was a man around Eugene’s age with dark, close-cropped hair and amber eyes. “I already ordered mine, but I can stick around till you get yours if you’re looking for company,” the man offered.

Eugene rolled his eyes and responded tersely, “I’m meeting someone here, but thank you.”

The man smirked as the denkeep handed him a glass of dark red spirits. “I’ll be here if you change your mind.”

The alchemist pushed back from the bar and wandered along the alcoves, trying his best to not be conspicuous. For such a small space, it was much harder to find anyone than he’d expected. 

Then he heard Mavra laugh. 

He shouldn’t have been so shocked. He’d heard her laugh before. Mavra had a chilly disposition, but she was still human. Of course she laughed occasionally.

It made his heart quicken to hear it.

He followed his ear until he caught a glimpse of her through a sheet of gossamer blue. She finally saw him too.

“Eugene!” she called, her voice hissing with a low urgency. 

Pulling the veil aside, he started to ease down into the booth across from her.

“You picked quite the place,” he said.

She took a pull from the golden spout of the shisha pipe and let the smoke drift out as she spoke. “Oh, I didn’t pick it. This was a compromise,” she said, gesturing across the alcove to someone he hadn’t noticed yet. A man put out his hand to help him into the pit.

“Nice to finally meet you, Lord Alchemist,” he said. “I’m Riza.”

Eugene paused before reluctantly taking his hand, easing himself down into the nook and sitting heavily on the pillows piled around them. 

“Where are Luvenia and Yuri?” Eugene asked, pulling back the hood of his cloak.

“Scouting around nearby buildings, keeping an eye out for anything unusual,” Mavra replied.

“A bit crowded for a clandestine meeting place, isn’t it?” Eugene said, finally turning his attention to Riza.

“It’s easier to blend in with so many people. All the noise and chatter,” he motioned toward the busy bar counter. “Harder for someone to listen in this way.” Then he turned and grinned at Mavra. “And I’m a sucker for nostalgia. We’ve cobbled together some pretty impressive plans here over the years.”

She took another hard pull on the pipe. The smoke smelled like cinnamon and cloves.

Riza was an excellent agent. Eugene knew this; he’d worked with his intel before, although it was usually secondhand through Mavra, but time and time again, it proved to be detailed, accurate, and useful. Somehow, the alchemist had never met him in person until this moment. 

He was lithe and relaxed, both sinewy arms laid casually over the rim of the sunken booth. He had dark skin with a dimple in each cheek and eyes that sparkled like garnet stones. His hair was short on the sides with shiny curls pulled into a bundle at the back of his skull. Eugene always expected other agents to wear drab, unnoticeable clothing, but Riza’s scarves and vest were a bright, golden yellow with elaborate black patterns embroidered at the edges. The vestments opened at the front, leaving his bare chest and a jeweled dagger nestled at his waist in plain view.

“I’m not one to question Mavra’s judgment, but just a few hours ago, a certain baron told us that you specifically were to be left in the dark about this case,” Eugene said, reaching for the pipe hose closest to him.

“I’m not certain that Adid’s acumen can be trusted just yet. I’ve worked with Riza more times than I can count. We’ll take our chances with his leads,” Mavra cut in.

Eugene blew out a slow trail of mauve smoke. 

Riza and Mavra had a storied history. He knew they’d collaborated on a myriad of missions, especially before she was made Vranova’s spymaster this past year. He’d never been entirely sure, but watching the two of them now confirmed what he’d long suspected; at some point, they’d been paramours.

“Why did Adid take you off this assignment?” Eugene asked, suddenly eager to drown his thoughts with talk of business.

“Someone in the court is involved, and I think they turned Adid against me because I was getting close to finding out who it is,” Riza replied.

Eugene remembered Lord Adid mentioning something about conspiracies, but nobles committing acts of chicanery were not altogether uncommon, so he leaned in to hear more. “The original delivery arrived without trouble. It made it off the ship. That means whoever took it has connections deep enough to infiltrate the institute and replace it,” Riza continued.

“What do you have on Adid?” Mavra asked. “I have a decent dossier on him, but he’s pretty low in the pecking order. I was surprised he came to the docks with Lady Nabila.”

“Not well-liked. Inherited his position after his father died, and rest assured that’s the only way he’d ever have landed it. He’s not good at it. At all. He’s too outspoken, can’t play the game like other nobles.” Riza looked at them both with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I think he’s someone else’s fall man.”

“You think someone else is using him?” Eugene replied.

“I do. He’s extremely vocal about aid to the tribe he hails from, to the exclusion of his other duties. Someone in the confederation is tired of his grandstanding and it’s too easy to make it look like he’s nabbed the ash for his people exclusively. Once he’s ousted, there’s a convenient little power vacuum for someone to step into,” Riza explained.

“Do you know for sure that he didn’t actually take it?” Mavra asked.

Riza nodded.

“That’s why I got cut off. We were doing sweeps of his properties to make sure it hadn’t been planted there. We didn’t find anything, but you should’ve seen the conniption he threw when he realized why my agents were there,” he laughed.

“He thought you suspected him?” Eugene said.

More nods from Riza. “Believe me, if I thought he was capable of something this convoluted, I wouldn’t have sent my people to his door in broad daylight.”

 Riza wasn’t wrong. Lord Adid had been instantly unbearable, but he had no subtext, no proclivity for deception. Eugene almost felt sorry for the man; his desire to help a disenfranchised people had made him a ripe target for scandal.

“What about the Thorns of Acacia?” Eugene asked. “They were the only faction Lady Nabila mentioned by name when we questioned her.”

Riza pondered for a moment. “They’re angry about a lot of things, but this doesn’t really fit their style.”

“That’s what Lady Nabila thought as well,” Mavra replied. Riza swirled some drink at the bottom of his cup.

“In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think they’re a threat. If anything, I commiserate with them. The confederation isn’t always kind to outliers, and the tension rises higher every day the water situation isn’t remedied. Whoever did this delayed help to thousands, and the Thorns are desperate, but they aren’t cruel.” 

Mavra nodded in agreement and turned to Eugene.

“Riza has a contact with a solid lead from inside the federation, but they’re skittish. Didn’t want anything in writing that could be intercepted. We have tentative plans to rendezvous in person later tonight, so right now we just have to hold until we get word that it’s time to move. Then Riza and I will meet up with them,” Mavra said.

Riza and I. Eugene frowned. 

“Where should I be when this happens?”

Mavra put a small roll of parchment in his palm. He quickly unrolled it and saw it was another small diagram of the city. 

“We’re scattered among a few inns on the waterfront. After Riza and I leave here, stay awhile longer, mingle, and then regroup with us.” Eugene stared hard at the map, hoping that by the time he looked back up at her, his sour expression would have softened. Once it was memorized, Eugene shredded it and fed the scraps into the coals at the top of the shisha. “We need to blend in as much as possible, so until it’s time for us to leave, we need to look like we’re having fun,” she continued.

“You do know that you’re allowed to actually have fun and not just pretend, right?” Riza teased. Eugene expected her to sneer at a waggish response like that, but instead she gave him a playful nudge.

“I’ll consider it once I have a drink in my hand,” she said. Riza laughed and started scooting toward the alcove opening. 

“Alright, alright. This round’s on me.” He glanced at Eugene. “What will you have, my friend?”

He shook his head. “One of us should probably keep their wits about them-”

“Eugene.” Mavra glared at him. “No wallflower antics tonight.”

Before the alchemist could respond to either of them, Riza said, “No worries. I’ll pick something for you. You’ll love it.” He patted Eugene on the shoulder as he stepped up and out of their booth, making straight for the bar with a confident stride.

Mavra was staring daggers into him when he lifted his face to meet hers.

“What?” he asked with an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know what happened between now and when I saw you earlier, but you need to focus and follow the plan if you want this to go smoothly.”

“I’ve never met this man before and suddenly I’m supposed to send you off with him to meet some mystery mole?”

“Are you listening to yourself? That’s basically my job.”

“How do you know for sure that this isn’t some kind of set up?”

“That’s always a chance, but Riza’s no amateur. If anything does break bad, we’ll disengage and regroup.”

“Why can’t I come with you to the rendezvous point? What was the point of bringing me to Shuran for this assignment?”

Mavra looked perplexed. “I needed you for your alchemical expertise. You may not be on my full-time team, but you’re a valuable asset on missions like this. Just because you aren’t by my side at every point of the plan doesn’t mean you aren’t essential.”

She didn’t offer praise easily. Under different circumstances, his ego would’ve devoured words like this, but there was a sour feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t chase away.

 “If something happens and I’m here, I can’t...” He crossed his arms and sat back. “I’d feel better if I knew it was safe.”

She shifted her eyes from the pipe to Eugene and out to the main tavern. “Since when has safety ever been a guarantee? On any mission? You know I can’t promise that.”

Eugene sighed and took a hit off the mouthpiece in his hand. A moment passed. Finally he let out the smoke with an audible huff.

“You’re right. You’re right. I trust you.” He floundered for a second, running his hand over his buzzed scalp. “I… I trust you.”

“Good.”

There were a few seconds of silence, punctuated by whooping and laughter from the denizens of the bar. 

At last, she leaned forward, and her expression softened. “You know, I think that shift at the clinic has you on edge. Seeing people hurt like that can be hard to stomach, but you’re not going to be at your best like this. Riza’s right. Blending in is part of the job, but it can still be fun. Let some of that tension out.”

He forced a small smirk. It wasn’t true. The clinic had been grueling, but he knew why his guts were in knots right now, and he knew he’d say anything to move onto another topic.

“You’re probably right,” he said with a weak laugh. “Where’s Riza? Fraternizing would be easier with that drink he promised.”

As if on cue, Riza stepped back down into the alcove with a few crudely carved goblets balanced in his hands.  He passed them around and then raised his toward the two Vranovans.

“To blending in,” Mavra said with her customary wry smile.

Riza shook his head. “Let’s toast something worth celebrating,” he said, nudging his drink into both of theirs. “To old friends.”

Mavra rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a brief smile. Eugene mustered a passable grin and took a long draught of drink.

“To friends.”

Chapter Text

The cups and goblets were piling up in their corner of the smoke den. Eugene hadn’t been wrong when he said someone had to keep their wits about them though; they all did. A drunk spy was more than a liability. They were dangerous.

  Luckily, there were powders created for this exact situation. Like any field alchemist worth their salt, Eugene had a functional kit strapped to his person with just about anything one might need on a covert assignment. Antitoxins. Adrenaline boosters for pain. Solvents to clot a wound. All they needed was a dash of alcohol nullifying agent and one could imbibe with barely a buzz. They only needed to keep up a ruse after all, not end up sick in the side street.

So while they looked like three people having a lot of rowdy, sloppy banter, they were actually two people having a genuinely good time scheming, and the other was Eugene, who was putting on an adequate performance given the circumstances.

Mavra showed off an empty cup to her two colleagues. 

“I’m going to take my next round to the top floor and check in,” she said, casually flicking the mirror-like disk hanging from her ear. Jewelry was useful when it came to signaling someone stationed a few rooftops over, and she carried them off well. “Don’t cause trouble while I’m gone.”

Eugene dreaded being alone with Riza. So far he’d proven himself to be handsome and funny and clever. Every time the alchemist looked at him, all he could imagine was what a kind and doting partner he’d probably been to Mavra, and his stomach flipped. 

Up until now, he’d volunteered to visit the bar for drinks several times and insisted on doing more than one rooftop check-in to avoid being left with this perfectly pleasant young man, but this time Mavra was too quick. She was halfway to the stairs leading up to the third floor before he could make any excuse. 

Musicians tucked away on the second story had begun playing music that spilled down into the atrium of the tavern, and the jovial thrumming had drawn a throng of people into a fast-paced dance. They watched her try to sidestep the crowd, but when she couldn’t, she seamlessly slid into the group, moving between the spinning, laughing patrons with a wide smile. It looked genuine. Eugene couldn’t tell. She looked beautiful.

He was still watching her when Riza spoke.

“She’s something else.”

Eugene cleared his throat and turned away from the atrium, avoiding eye contact with his companion.

“She’s extremely competent,” he replied. He focused on taking a long draught from his glass, hoping that somehow an empty one would summon Mavra back faster.

“I can’t blame you for wanting her all to yourself.”

Eugene choked. 

“E-excuse me?” he shot back, wiping the back of his hand across his chin from where he’d spit out a little beer.

Riza laughed. “I just meant we haven’t seen much of her since she became a full spymaster. When she was a regular field agent, it seemed like she spent more time in Shuran than Vranova.”

“Mhm,” Eugene grunted in half-hearted agreement. “It was bound to happen. She’s very capable.”

Riza leaned back, stretching his long limbs in the space left by Mavra’s absence.

“I don’t know. The way her father carries on, I thought he’d never let her move up in the ranks,” he said. All night his tone had been jocular and loose, but his voice sharpened at the mention of Mavra’s father.

General Vigtor Vidov was the highest-ranking official in Vranova’s royal army, but despite his high standing in the court, he had never offered any upward mobility to his oldest daughter. There was a cold rift between them, a schism so total that if it weren’t for their shared name, Eugene never would have guessed they were family.

“The way I hear it, you had a lot to do with her finally being promoted,” Riza continued, his voice settling back into a friendly timbre.

The alchemist was running out of beer to chug instead of making conversation.

“I despise seeing good talent go to waste,” he replied tersely. “She’s the best at what she does, and the information and materials she provided helped my research immensely.”

“Ah, so that’s what finally got her noticed!” Riza looked very pleased with himself. “I was wondering why someone from the alchemy side of things had taken such a keen interest in her.” 

As far as Eugene was concerned, their work was intricately intertwined. Mavra understood how valuable alchemy was in a profession where people were as easily plied by stupor and poison as by brute force, and he was one of the most celebrated alchemists to graduate from the Royal Academy Institute. Why wouldn’t he appreciate her contributions? Why wouldn’t he want to see that they were recognized and rewarded?

Instead of blurting all of that, he took a final sip from his cup.

“Don’t get me wrong. She should absolutely be running things. She’s amazing,” Riza said wistfully. “It’s a shame that it keeps her on the move all the time though.”

It was true. Sometimes assignments kept her away from Vranovagrad for weeks or even months, and yet none of those trips felt as long as the one she’d taken to the roof just now. Eugene felt like he’d been listening to Riza for eons.

“It must be hard on you,” Riza continued.

“What do you mean?” Eugene asked. If he sounded bored enough, the exchange was bound to peter out.

Riza’s coy grin showed off his dimples.

“I mean since you’re sweet on her.”

If Eugene had had any drink left, he would’ve choked again.

“For sea’s sake, Riza,” he growled back. “Y-you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm,” Riza replied with a teasing laugh. 

“We’re colleagues. Nothing more,” Eugene insisted in a hoarse whisper.

“So were we. You work closely with someone for a while though, sometimes it just happens,” Riza replied. Why did he sound so damn genuine?

Eugene closed his eyes and tried to pretend this wasn’t happening. “That’s not any of my business. Whatever happens between you two-”

“Oh, we’re not together anymore if you’re worried about that,” Riza cut in. He leaned close to the alchemist with unfeigned concern on his face. “When she became Vranova’s spymaster, things cooled down and she told me it’d be better if we went back to our old working relationship.” 

“Again,” Eugene hissed, “it makes no difference to me who she is or isn’t with because I don’t feel that way about her. You’re mistaken.”

“I don’t know, friend. I’ve sort of got an eye for this, and I see the way you look at her-”

Eugene grabbed ahold of Riza’s cloak cowl.

“I said, you are mistaken,” he glowered. “Now drop it.”

Riza’s smile flickered for an instant as he calmly put his hand over Eugene’s. “Hey hey, let’s not cause a scene. We gotta blend in, remember?”

Eugene released his grip, immediately embarrassed for lashing out like that.

“Look, I didn’t mean to-” Riza started, but the alchemist put his hand up in a halting gesture.

“Not another word. Let’s just sit quietly until Mavra gets back.” Eugene’s scowl intensified. “And I swear if you breathe a word of this nonsense to her-”

“Breathe a word of what?” Mavra said as she stepped down into the alcove.

Eugene’s heart raced as he clamored for a response, trying to gauge how much she could’ve heard, but Riza moved over to make room for her, and replied calmly, “I was getting antsy about the rendezvous. Eugene’s psychin’ me up so the jitters don’t get the best of me.”

She gave them both a quizzical look.

“Well I hope you’ve gotten them all out of your system because it’s time to move.”

Eugene’s chest tightened.

Everything would be fine. She could handle herself. This time was no different from all the other missions they’d done.

They stood and gathered their effects, behaving like friends parting after a night of fraternizing. Riza clapped Eugene on the back, gave a hearty farewell and stepped out into the main atrium. Mavra trailed behind him but stopped and wrapped her arms around Eugene’s shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“Keep an eye to see if anyone follows us as we leave,” she whispered to him. “We’re headed north, so watch us from the third level until we’re out of sight. Signal once if you see anything suspicious.”

The embrace stupefied him enough that at first that he didn’t respond, but he blinked away his surprise and replied, “What then?”

She pulled away and started to head for Riza. “Then you stop worrying and mingle with the locals. Just for an hour or so until it’s time to regroup.”

He grimaced. “I can do the second part at least.”

She gave a small smile, pulled up her hood, and quickly disappeared through the front entrance.

He approached the bar, scanning for anything or anyone suspicious. The late hour had thinned the crowd some, but the night was still humming with revelry. When no one trailed out the main door behind Mavra and Riza, Eugene ascended the narrow stairs that wove in and out of the main room until he reached the third level. Several walls featured large, arched openings overlooking the city below while the vast sky sparkled above.

The view was dizzying, and while fanciful, he thought the design all but begged drunkards to accidentally stumble into a multi-story plunge. He moved to a north-facing arch and peered down into the street. Just beneath the lip of the ledge was a wide net, and Eugene nearly laughed aloud at the blunt ingenuity. Indeed there was netting and ropework of all kinds strung between many of the buildings, casting latticed shadows into the alleys and side streets below.

That was good news for anyone unlucky enough to find themselves fumbling over a scenic ledge, but it made hard work of finding his cohorts on the ground. At last he spotted them; they put on a believable show of stumbling here and there, holding onto each other’s arms as though the ground below them was shifting from drink. He saw her clutch onto Riza’s arm as she looked back over her shoulder. Her earring glittered in the moonlight, flashing one, two, three times.

The street behind them was clear. He produced a polished coin from his pocket and flipped it nonchalantly through his fingers, making sure it glinted as it passed over his knuckles. One, two, three.

The three flashes let them know that they were clear from where he stood. Soon they’d teeter out of his sight, and after that, they’d need to depend on Yuri and Luvenia, wherever they might be. 

“The nets will catch you, but they’re a huge pain in the ass to crawl out of,” said a voice behind him. Eugene had been so absorbed in spotting Mavra that he hadn’t heard anyone approaching. He turned to see the man from the bar, the one with the dark hair and amber eyes. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Eugene replied. He cast a furtive glance at his cohorts below just as they slipped out of view. 

“Since you’re alone again, I’d wager you’ve got a higher tolerance for carousing than the rest of your party,” the man said.

“Something like that. Just wanted to get a little air before calling it an evening,” Eugene said. It wasn’t fully untrue. The sight of torches blinking down in the streets and wispy clouds floating across the moons was a welcome respite before he launched headlong into an hour or so of forcing himself not to fret about how Mavra was doing.

“Sorry to hear I caught you at the tail end of your night,” the man replied. “I was hoping for another chance to convince you to share a drink with me.”

Sea’s sake. This again.

“Thank you but I believe I’ve reached my limit for the night. Work in the morning and all that.”

The man shrugged and sipped from the goblet in his hand. There was a long pause, punctuated with the din of distant music and the hum of the night wind.

“It’s hard to beat the view from up here,” the man finally continued, leaning against the opposite side of the arch. “Even if you’ve seen it a thousand times.”

“Mhm,” Eugene affirmed with a vague mumble.

“So what do you do?”

The alchemist sighed. It wasn’t that he disliked a little attention every now and again, but this sort of mundanity smothered any enjoyment he gleaned from it. At least there was no small talk in silent pining. 

“I’m a merchant. Or I work for a merchant rather. Overseeing some purchases in town.”

“Sounds boring.”

Eugene chuckled with relief.

“It can be terribly dull. The traveling itself is exciting enough though. See some interesting places. Make new acquaintances.”

“That seems a cue enough to introduce myself,” the man said, extending his drink hand toward Eugene in a toasting motion. “Name’s Zahir.”

“Jovan,” Eugene replied with a nod. This man seemed harmless enough, but no one was getting his real name tonight.

“Jovan, eh? I pinned you for a Myrkosi.”

Eugene smirked. “Afraid not. I’m not nearly handsome enough to be Myrkosi.”

“I disagree,” Zahir said, taking a smug sip and looking out at the sky.

Eugene failed to hide a small, self-satisfied smile. Maybe he could afford to enjoy himself a little.

“Perhaps I can make time for one more drink.”

Chapter Text

When they returned to the ground floor, the den was the fullest it’d been the entire night. The night market merchants had shuttered their stalls, and people not ready to lay down their heads were very ready to enjoy a pipe and a strong libation.

Eugene grimaced as he tried to split the crowd with his shoulder to get to the bar, but at every angle, someone was pressing in on him. He caught Zahir motioning to him to come away from the crush, and he was only too glad to abandon his position. 

“Do you wanna leave?” Zahir asked, practically shouting to be heard.

Eugene felt a little heat at the tips of his ears. When he hesitated, Zahir laughed sheepishly. “I’m not trying to be forward. If you’ve got your heart set on fighting the mob for a drink here, we can stay.”

Eugene looked back at the mass of people shouting and gamboling like a whirlpool around the bar, and without missing a beat nodded back at Zahir.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

Zahir offered his hand amid the flurry of bodies, and Eugene took it. 

-

Eugene didn’t understand how he’d ended up here. 

He should’ve stayed at the Traveler’s Mirage, drinking his edgeless wine and puttering around the bar waiting for the hour to pass. He would’ve checked for warning signs twinkling from adjacent rooftops and then eventually reconvened with the others in some dingy inn. It was the boring cover work that kept them all safe and accounted for on jobs like this. Someone had to do it, and this time it had fallen to him instead of Yuri or Luvenia.

Instead, he’d taken the hand of a stranger in a crowded tavern and let himself be led away into the cool night air. Zahir guided him up some questionably crafted stairs and over a few makeshift bridges, traversing above the alleyways until they ended up at the doorway of a small but well-appointed room over a row of shops.

Zahir pushed aside a heavy, woolen curtain and went about lighting a few oil lamps stashed atop dozens of boxes and old, upturned pottery. He saw Eugene eyeing the clutter.

“This is overflow storage for the merchant whose shop we’re standing on top of. He lets me rent it for almost nothing since there’s barely room to move,” he chuckled, shuffling through the mess.

“It’s… cozy,” Eugene said. His own decorating sensibilities were sparse and utilitarian, so the cramped quarters prickled his desire for order and space, but this was not his home to judge.

Lords , he’d gone home with this man. Eugene had had a tryst here or there, but it had been a while, and he was usually more in control of where things went (nowhere - always nowhere). It took more than a scant few compliments and the promise of wine to get him into bed. He must’ve been desperate or stupid to be this careless.

Maybe both.

“I don’t have much in the way of drink here, but what I do have is pretty damn good,” Zahir called out as he dug through a crate in the corner. A cloud of dust floated up like a specter hanging expectantly in the air as he finally pulled out a filthy looking jug. It was wrapped in thick twine, and the neck and cork were coated in a vibrant, orange wax seal.

He motioned toward a small bed set lengthwise against the wall; it was buried under so many cushions and blankets that it was easy to miss. When Eugene hesitated, Zahir laughed. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he smiled sheepishly. “There isn’t much in the way of seating here. I don’t entertain much.”

Eugene set his satchel onto the floor and shrugged off his cloak. Even with the piles of mismatched pillows and fringed throws, the bed was low enough to the ground that easing down onto it was awkward for someone as tall as him. It was more like a bench pretending to be a bed.

He tried to settle back against the wall so his knees didn’t bunch up, and as he fidgeted with his limbs, he looked up and saw there was a wide hole overhead.

“Did you know a sizeable chunk of your ceiling is missing?”

Zahir fiddled with a small blade, cutting away the rubbery seal on the jug of spirits. “Oh yeah! I usually tack some cloth or something over it in case the merchants come through. They’d patch it if they knew.”

“I mean, it is their storeroom.”

“Yeah but it’s my view,” Zahir said as he yanked the cork free. He sniffed the jug’s spout and grinned. “Ooh that’s nice.”

Eugene peered up through the makeshift skylight. A patch of deep indigo peeked back, and within it were dozens of stars clustered together, winking like sparkling gem dust.

“Given how little it rains, I guess the risk of damage is pretty minimal,” Eugene said, still looking skyward.

“Spoken like a true merchandiser,” Zahir replied, offering a glass to Eugene. He pushed aside a wad of blankets to make room beside the alchemist, joining in the stargazing.

“Do you know much about astronomy?” Eugene asked, his eyes transfixed on the twinkling heavens.

“I know a few of the stories,” Zahir said. “I know the big ox Hadhayosh is never in the same sky as Shala the fighter. I know Chepri is supposed to look like a beetle, but I can’t see it. I just know the constellation is full of red stars.”

“The legends have always been more intriguing than the science half. I’ll give you that,” Eugene smiled. Alchemists didn’t need to know much about astral matters, but he couldn’t help thinking of the giant telescope on the mountain outside the Myrkosi city where he grew up. 

One bitterly cold night, his father and mother had taken him to the observatory, and at the end of that frigid trek, he’d beheld things he could barely believe; sparkling clouds of dust far beyond his reach, twisting through the black cosmos like a dancer’s gossamer sash. An icy chip of dazzling stone trailed by a long, fuzzy tail. Deep winding wrinkles in the faces of their very own pale moons.

“Yeah, the tales are a big deal where I’m from,” Zahir said before taking a sip from his glass. He winced a little and then smiled. “Very good stuff that.”

“I thought you were Shurani,” Eugene replied, averting his eyes from the stars for a moment to look at Zahir. The moonlight cutting into the room illuminated his impressive cheekbones. Eugene quickly turned his attention back to the ceiling.

“Oh I’m Shurani through and through, just not from the capitol. My tribe’s way out east. If you think the sky here is impressive, you should see it away from the city.”

“That sounds nice,” Eugene said, finally taking a sip from his cup. It was thicker than he’d expected, syrupy like a liqueur but with a brilliant floral note at the head. It tasted like something he couldn’t place, maybe a sweet gin. He wanted to ask Zahir about it, but he saw that his companion looked troubled.

“It’s one of the only nice things left out there,” Zahir sighed.

He watched Zahir take another swig, and it was then he noticed the intricate tattoos on the back of his right hand. They climbed up his wrist and into his sleeve, all inked vines adorned with little buds and thorns. 

He saw Eugene examining them and gave a small smile. “To remind me of home. Thorns and all, they cling on and try to make a living out in the desert.” 

“They’re beautiful,” Eugene replied. “It must be hard to be away from your people during times like this. I admire how the tribes persist no matter how harsh the world becomes.”

When he looked up from the tattoos, Zahir’s gaze was trained on Eugene’s.

“We can be very persistent,” he said in a low voice. He shifted toward the alchemist, and Eugene floundered, nearly dropping his cup.

 The floral scent wafted up to him. He thought of the sunlit greenhouse at the Royal Institute. Of Mavra delivering rare flowers from across the continent she’d collected for him. Reading through her field notes on botany. Her handwriting describing each petal and stem.

“I-I’m sorry,” Eugene whispered as Zahir leaned in. “I shouldn’t…” He trailed off. 

What was he doing?

The rush left his chest feeling tight. He turned away, eager to escape the awkward snare he’d caught himself in. 

“What’s wrong?” Zahir asked in a concerned voice. “Did I say something?”

“It’s nothing. I just- It’s late. I need to go.” 

Eugene tried to catch his breath and make any half-reasonable excuse to leave. He reached for his satchel on the floor and began to stand-

The room spun and he pitched forward, catching himself on a stack of crates. He leaned hard into them, trying to pivot back to face Zahir, but they toppled over, shattering several giant vases and sending shards of broken pottery skittering across the floor.

He heard Zahir approaching, but his pace was slow and deliberate.

“I’m sorry to see you go so soon, Eugene. I thought we were hitting it off.”

The alchemist’s blood ran cold at the sound of his real name.

A trap.

He opened his mouth to swear, but the curse died on his tongue. His throat burned and his lungs felt like they could burst. His esophagus was swelling shut, and soon he wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.

Poison. In the drink. Plant-based. Sweet smell. Inflamed airways. Fast-acting.

His mind raced, trying to piece together these fragmented thoughts before he suffocated in this dirty attic.

His satchel. If he could get to his kit, he could dose himself with a basic antidote.

He began pulling his body across the floor toward his piled belongings, but Zahir stepped into his path.

“You’re pretty clever, so I bet you’ve got something in here that could help you out of your little predicament, don’t you?” he said before promptly driving his heel into the bag. Something crunched.

Shit .

“W-why?” Eugene rasped. He tried to look up at Zahir, his vision swimming.

“For such an educated man, you’re a real idiot.” He stooped down to get a better look at the prone alchemist. “First you try to keep aid from our people, and then you and your spymaster come all the way from Vranova thinking you can punish us for taking what’s ours? I think you should’ve expected a little resistance,” he said with a smirk before standing to deliver a swift, merciless kick into Eugene’s ribs. 

White-hot pain seared through his torso, so intense he nearly retched. He curled into a ball, still desperate to get to his bag in case the antidotes hadn’t been shattered. He shakily reached an arm toward it, but Zahir planted his foot firmly on Eugene’s wrist, pinning him to the spot. 

“No, no. I’m afraid it ends here, my friend. That thorny root is gonna kill you in a minute or so,” he said nonchalantly. “And your friends aren’t coming to save you either. If I had to guess, they’re dead by now.”

An anguished cry rattled in Eugene’s chest. Zahir laughed.

“Oh, you’re riled up about that one, huh? That make you mad?” He drew back and landed another sharp blow in Eugene’s side. “How’s it feel to be powerless? To have something you care about stolen away just. Like. That.” Each word was punctuated with a devastating kick.

Dead ?

No. Mavra couldn’t be dead. No matter how many times she ventured into that inky black, she always came back. 

The coppery taste of blood was at the back of Eugene’s throat, and a dark vignette was beginning to circle everything. The edge of his vision blurred black. His body slackened into a limp fetal position, and Zahir gave him one last shove with his foot, sending him flat onto his back.

Eugene felt his palm brush over something jagged in the nearby debris. He closed his hand weakly around it.

“I hope your friends put up more of a fight when we jumped ‘em. I didn’t think it’d be this easy, but the boss was right. You underestimated us,” Zahir spat, squatting down beside him. The soft curiosity in his eyes was gone, replaced by knife-sharp malice. “It’s a mistake that’ll cost you every-“

Eugene swung with the last of his strength, planting the dagger-like pottery shard deep in the side of Zahir’s neck. For a moment, he gaped in shock. Then he reached for Eugene’s wrist, tugging on it gently and mouthing a soft, “ Don’t- “ before the alchemist pulled it free, severing the artery and sending a hot spray of blood over both of them.

It was over in seconds. Zahir’s body slumped sideways, and after an eerie moment filled the sound of weak gurgling, Eugene began dragging himself through the pooling blood. 

His pack. He had to reach that satchel. 

He pulled his battered body up the leg of the bed, propping himself up enough to rifle through his crushed kit. Every second his eyelids grew heavier, and it was harder to focus on what was destroyed and what was salvageable.

In desperation, he upended the bag, sending several syringes worth of shattered battle glass and one intact dose of breathing antitoxin tumbling into his lap.

His hand shook as he uncapped the needle and jabbed it into his leg as hard as he could manage.

One second. Two. Three. Each an eternity on their own.

He gasped and sputtered as his lungs finally took in a full breath of air. He gulped and coughed, relishing each raw, ragged inhale.

The relief of living was quickly replaced by a deep, scorching pain in his ribs. A few were fractured no doubt, and bruises were already beginning to bloom over a significant swath of his body.

Mavra. He needed to find her.

He scoured his kit for a sachet of quicksalt. One sniff of the powdered adrenaline booster and he’d be able to push through the pain until he could get medical attention. He wouldn’t let a cracked rib keep him from reaching the others to warn them. To make sure they’d escaped unharmed. To make sure she was safe.

“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. The quicksalt vials had been splintered with the rest. He’d have to make the journey to the waterfront unaided.

He staggered to his feet, winding his cloak about his shoulders and limping toward the door. 

He had to step over Zahir’s body to leave; the dead man’s glazed eyes were languidly fixed on the hole in the ceiling, but they could no longer see the heavens beyond. His final expression was soft and frightened. 

How had it come to this?

Eugene cast his uneasy gaze up at the stars once more before turning and stumbling into the night.

Chapter Text

Zahir’s apartment wasn’t far from where Eugene was supposed to regroup with Mavra and the others, but his judgment was still diminished from the poison. It took ages to climb down the stairs leading into the street when every step throbbed through his ribs. 

He leaned against buildings, slowly trudging toward the smell of the sea. The little map in his head was twisting and turning; he could see the squiggly lines representing the bay water waving to and fro. 

They weren’t dead . Eugene didn’t care how clever Zahir said his cohorts were. Mavra would be waiting inside some rundown inn, and she’d chastise him for returning so late. He could picture her devilish smile so easily. He saw it much clearer than any of his actual surroundings. Those were getting darker by the minute.

Brine. The scent was everywhere now. He had to be close. It drowned out all his other faculties. He tried to move forward, but the ground shifted beneath him like a ship deck in a storm. His eyes rolled in his head as he pitched forward-

“...gene!...over here..happened?....ser?”

Someone’s voice bobbed on the air, growing quieter and then louder and then petering out.

He’d fallen into somebody, their wiry frame propping him up as they spoke to another disembodied voice.

“Lords, he’s a lot of dead weight,” he heard them grunt as they shifted him onto their shoulders.

Eugene tried to object, but it felt nice to let his toes glide over the street after trudging for so long. Each step was lighter than the last. Traveling up the dingy inn stairs slung between two people was like floating up into a dark tunnel. He should have worried about what would happen when he reached the end of that tunnel, but the fog in his mind grew thicker and thicker. He longed to rest.

A complicated series of taps and knocks. The sound of a door creaking open. A flurry of movement as someone else rushed forward to ease him away from his previous carriers, laying him down on some kind of cot. 

“Lords, what happened?” A voice brimming with urgency and concern. Mavra’s voice. She leaned over him, hands frantically searching for wounds. “Eugene, tell me where-”

He shakily took her hand as it passed over his chest and managed a small smile.

“The blood… It’s not mine,” he said softly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped and gently squeezed his hand in return. He closed his eyes and heard her issuing orders.

“Yuri, watch the door. Luvenia, get my kit. Riza, bring some water.”

She was still holding his hand when he lost consciousness.

Stars still hung in the sky when Eugene came to, but they were dimming. He was propped up in a very unforgiving bed, his bloody cloak and shirt replaced by fresh bandages and salves. A small wick flickered in a shallow oil lamp nearby. It threw out barely enough light to manifest shadows, but he could still make out someone sitting on the floor by his feet.

Mavra. She was chewing her thumbnail and watching the door. Riza sat cross-legged just beside the entrance, hand resting casually on his dagger hilt. He was the first to notice that Eugene was awake.

“Look who’s up,” he called quietly to her, motioning toward the groggy alchemist.

He started to sit forward, but pain spread through his ribs, and his whole body tensed. Mavra steadied him as he sucked air in through his teeth. He reached for his spectacles with a shaky hand. He realized then that they were cracked and flecked with crimson.

“We managed to get some rockroot paste in you for the pain. How do you feel?” she asked.

He bit his lip and shifted forward slowly, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Like I was poisoned and beaten half to death a few hours ago.”

Mavra’s eyes widened.

“They ambushed you too?”

It felt like someone was squeezing Eugene’s heart. So someone had gone after them after all.

“In a way,” he mumbled. Mavra knit her brow.

“What the hell happened? You weren’t at the tavern when Yuri went back, so where were you attacked?”

“I was…” Eugene sheepishly rubbed his neck. “I was... mingling, and I left with someone. It was stupid-”

“You’re damn right it was,” she snapped. “What were you thinking?” 

“Mavra, don’t be harsh,” Riza said, walking up behind her. “We asked him to watch our backs until we were out of sight, and then-”

“Blend in. I know,” Mavra glowered at Eugene, not breaking eye contact. “Yuri and Luvenia saw something suspicious near the rendezvous point, so we diverted straight to the inn. I sent Yuri back for you. When they couldn’t find you, I thought they’d gotten to you first. I thought you were…” She broke the stare, turning her eyes to the stubby flame.

Eugene leaned into her field of vision. “I’m sorry for making you worry,” he said softly. She begrudgingly looked his way. “My judgment was poor. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, I’ll see to that. You aren’t leaving my sight for the rest of this assignment,” she shot back. He knew it was meant to be a reprimand, so he held back a relieved grin.

Riza poured water from a small pitcher and handed the cup to Eugene. 

“Punishment fits the crime, hm?” 

Eugene smiled in spite of himself and gingerly took a sip while Mavra scowled at both of them.

“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously, Riza.”

He chuckled back, her words gliding right off his back.

“Just because someone wants us dead, I can’t be cheerful?”

Mavra rolled her eyes and glanced at the door. 

Eugene took another slow sip. The water felt good on his aching throat, but it was almost too intense. He’d need more painkillers and a heaping huff of quicksalt to get anything done at this rate.

“I’m still stumped on why they want us dead. This seems much more intense than some drug heist that got out of hand,” Riza said. Eugene grimaced, thinking about the venom in Zahir’s voice.

Riza sat on a tattered wooden chair along the wall. “What happened exactly? Did they attack you after you left the Mirage? What happened to the person you were with?” he asked.

“The man I left with is the one who poisoned me,” Eugene replied. “He put something in my drink when I was distracted, something that made my throat and lungs seize up. And he knew all about the rendezvous. Told me you were likely already dead.”

“Did he say anything else? Anything to indicate who he’s working with?”

Eugene closed his eyes. The toxin had robbed his memory of sharp details, obscuring Zahir’s words in a smoky haze. They danced in and out of his grasp like a minnow in a net. 

You try to keep aid from our people… Thinking you can punish us for wanting what’s ours?

“He mentioned something about… Something about taking back aid for his people,” Eugene said quietly. The words wobbled vaguely through his brain, but the shocked look in Zahir’s eyes rose up suddenly and clearly. The anger behind each kick echoed in his side.

“Aid for his people? Isn’t the aquafleur ash going to be distributed to all the Shurani regions? We provided plenty. There’s no reason to withhold it from anyone,” Mavra said.

“The tribal federation and its proponents will tell you that everyone is treated equally, but whether by poor representation or outright negligence, there are still areas that fall through the cracks,” Riza replied. “Especially the small, remote tribes.”

There was a pause and then they all exchanged looks.

“The Thorns of Acacia?” Eugene said.

Riza shook his head, looking more disappointed than disbelieving.

“It doesn’t make sense. If they stole the first shipment, then why come after the replacement? They would have more than enough,” he queried. “My agents have never gotten the impression that they’d actively harm the other tribes; their qualm is with the throne and the tribal council, not the common people. Stealing and withholding the ash would leave thousands of people at risk.” 

“I don’t know,” Eugene responded with a grimace. It was a legitimate point. So many pieces were laid before him, but something crucial was missing at the center. “Everything else points to them. He was from a tribe in the Far East, he used thorny root to poison me-“

“Thorny root isn’t easy to come by,” Mavra chimed in. “It only thrives in extremely arid conditions, growing from-”

“Desert acacia trees,” Eugene finished the thought. “It has to be them.”

“We need to inform Lady Nabila. If they’re willing to kill a foreign agent, then breaking into the university and stealing the ash again isn’t out of the realm of possibility,” Mavra said, rising up and crossing to the door. “Yuri and Luvenia are in a room nearby. They’ll deliver this information while we formulate a plan.”

Riza and Eugene nodded in unison.

“We’ve been outmaneuvered until now. Maybe they do have a contact on the inside like Riza posited,” Eugene said.

“If that’s the case, we won't be able to depend on my usual sources. No roundabout shadow network. We need to engage directly,” Riza replied with a sly smile. “It’s time to draw them into the open.”

Chapter Text

The true scope of the city became apparent the farther they rode away from it. The desert stretched for miles in front of them, but behind them, the capital was a shifting, sparkling jewel on the coast. Dozens of windmills stretched into the sky, spinning like joyful children’s toys, and the ochre flags of the city twisted to and fro in the breeze.

Denizens of the outskirts preened rows and rows of crops on either side of the road leading out of town, ducking between the spindly wheels of irrigation equipment to check on the vegetation’s slow progress. Eugene had been to Shuran in the summer before. The fields should’ve been a startling plot of emerald green on the cusp of the dunes, the toil of Shurani ingenuity and perseverance in this arid clime. Instead, there were only scrubby bursts of sickly chartreuse and some low, brittle stalks of purple leaves. The color of lingering bruises.

Eugene had dosed himself with enough quicksalt and rockroot that his vision almost sparkled. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve taken half as much, but he couldn’t afford to be slowed down by niggling injuries today. The fractured rib still tingled in his side, an irritating phantom pain on the border of drug-induced numbness. He’d feel it all and some interest later, but for now, it was only deja vu of agony.

            He rode with a small retinue of soldiers and palace alchemists ahead of Lady Nabila’s carriage. She’d been reluctant to accept the plan they’d laid out the day before, only accepting on the condition that she be allowed to accompany them.

“It’s extremely reckless. I don’t like it at all,” she’d said when they gathered in her counsel chambers to debrief. A ruffled-looking Adid waited beside her, mouth puckered into a scowl. Mavra and Eugene stood stoically before her, ready to counter. 

“I appreciate your frankness,” Mavra replied, “But this is the quickest course of action if we want to uncover the identity of the guilty party.”

“You expect me to let you take the ash and begin dispersing it without allowing me knowledge of where you’re taking it?”

“We’ll tell you where it’s going, but we could be lying about it,” Eugene explained. “Someone within the palace is working with the Thorns of Acacia. Feeding them information for a purpose we don’t fully understand yet. If they show up at the correct location tomorrow, we’ll have a better idea of who the leak is.”

“I’ll say it again; this is a stupendously stupid plan,” Adid spewed. “I’ll acquiesce that that thorny bunch of gangsters could very well be responsible, but no one in the palace stands to gain anything working with them.” Eugene barely suppressed a snarl.

Lady Nabila rubbed her temples. She sat behind a massive gilded desk in her airy receiving room, stacks of reports piled haplessly from corner to corner. Despite the bright daylight saturating her office, her countenance was dark and gloomy.

“To think someone in our ranks is aiding them,” she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I know it is disappointing, but there isn’t time for disillusionment. We can find them, but we need your blessing,” Mavra said. Lady Nabila waited before finally standing and leaning toward them.

“Lie to me today if you must, but I must go with you when you deliver the ash tomorrow. Blindfold me if it’ll make you feel better. I don’t care-”

“Lady Nabila!” Baron Adid gasped. “You can’t seriously be considering-”

“This has gone on long enough. I’ve seen the city suffer for months. I want to be there when it’s finally made right. I owe it to our people to see it through,” she replied curtly.

“On that we are agreed,”  Eugene said. “Even if we fail to secure the intel we need to capture them tomorrow, nothing will stop the water from being treated. You have our word.”

The alchemist and the spymaster bowed before exiting the room, leaving a furiously red Adid and a contemplative Nabila in their wake.

The remainder of the day had been a rush of misinformation. Yuri and Luvenia peppered times and places within earshot of the kitchens. Mavra delivered covert missives to a few professors within the university. Eugene whispered loudly to a few lords touring the clinic. Riza’s agents delivered a rumor or two to the captain of the guard and a gaggle of knights.

Dozens of troops were split into different details and sent with fake cargo to decoy destinations along the delta. Theirs was the only true payload. Mavra rode in the carriage with a blindfolded Lady Nabila as they’d agreed. Eugene wasn’t sure who she could’ve signaled to at the last minute, but Mavra was weighed down by precaution at every turn.

“She hasn’t done anything to make us doubt her,” he’d said as they loaded the wagon.

“She hasn’t don’t anything to completely disprove her involvement either,” Mavra had whispered, climbing into the unadorned carriage with one swift upward movement.

A lonesome Yuri had been left at the palace grounds to be their eyes and ears if anything happened while the rest of them were away. Riza brought up the rear of the detail with Luvenia, both dressed in palace guard regalia to blend in with the rest of the detail. No one would be sneaking up on them today. Eugene kept his eyes forward, and with the quicksalt spiking his adrenaline, he stared so intently at everything in sight that his vision began to feel fuzzy. 

Where were they?

A great water wheel loomed to the left of their path, rising up between them and the shoreline of the widening river. The delta fan was joining into one massive flow; they were close to the drop point. The wheel towered at least two stories tall, and from the apex, a sluice of water fed countless irrigation lines reaching far into the striped crop rows. Just a little further.

The sun peeled away the horizon, shimmering lines of heat lifting up the layers of distant dunes. Sweat stung the scrapes and contusions on Eugene’s skin, and his backside was melting into his mount’s saddle. He worried it was a mirage when the bridge finally crawled into view, and then he had to remind himself that he shouldn’t be so eager to cross paths with the lot that tried to kill him barely a day previous.

The paranoid air made it hard to appreciate that they were solving a problem that had left thousands sick and hungry. Behind the labor of heaving sack after sack of sand-like ash over the side of the bridge was the reality that a harvest could be salvaged. Civilians downstream could drink without the subtle burn of corrosion leaving sores in their gut. 

The broad bridge spanned the whole river width, so every few feet, an ash sack was slung over and anchored into the water beneath. The cloth was fine enough to let the water filter through but keep the ash in one place. They’d need to be replaced after a month, but Vranova was happy to supply until the leaching algae bloom upriver subsided. A simple solution made difficult by the absence of aquafleur within Shuran’s flora. 

And the thieves they’d yet to catch.

There were no accomplished shouts or bellows of excitement at completing the long-sought task. The soldiers loitered in clumps and the alchemy students huddled together, taking notes on ratios and water current speeds. Just a little longer, and the plan would be finished.

High above, a low whistle sounded. At first they were eclipsed by the sun, but one by one, a dozen hawks materialized from the scorching glare of midday. One from each decoy troop. Their creamy white feathers were dappled with dark brown, but their overall pale color made it easy to spot the telltale bands tied to their scaly legs. 

Blue ribbon. None of the troops had encountered anything unusual. 

The tension lingered as Mavra ducked into the carriage to report to Nabila that the thing was done.

“And no interference from outside,” Eugene heard Nabila say. The noblewoman wasn’t proud, but her voice carried the cadence of a parent who’d given a spoiled child one too many chances. “Tomorrow the rest of the ash will be shipped to other regions affected by the bloom. I won’t delay that. You may need to consider your investigation concluded, I’m afraid.”

“Understood, my lady,” Mavra replied before closing the carriage door and climbing beside the coach. An unbothered white hawk sat atop the driver’s shoulder, unneeded and unbothered as it preened its wings. 

Eugene mounted his camel and rode up beside her as their company began their journey back to the city.  

“I was certain they’d show up,” she said without looking at him, her expression stormy.

“It was very likely. This was one of their last chances to interfere before it’s all taken out of the city.” 

“I thought the desperation would lure them out if anything. They obviously want it badly enough. They tried to kill you for it, for serpent’s sake.”

“Oh, I remember,” he smirked grimly. Her eyes were trained on the road ahead, so she didn’t see when Riza and Luvenia passed by on foot to serve with the forward guard. Riza saw Eugene speaking with Mavra and gave him a roguish wink. Eugene rolled his eyes and looked back at the spymaster. “We’ll think of something when we reconvene at the palace. Let’s not let our guard down in the meantime. They’re desperate -- not foolish. They almost outmaneuvered us before.”

Mavra nodded, still not meeting his gaze. Whatever sentiment was simmering below the surface, she wasn’t ready to unveil it. He hesitated a moment longer and then said, “It’ll turn out. We’ll find them.”

She finally looked at him and tipped her chin in affirmation. He smiled and pulled gently on the reigns of his mount, slowing down and taking up the rear with a few other alchemists. With the wagon’s cargo emptied, the carriage animals’ pace was much faster. Before he knew it, they were at the water wheel again.

As he listened to the slosh of water and the creak of well-worn wood fill the air above, little hairs on Eugene’s neck prickled. He looked up, shielding his eyes as the white rays of sun bled over the spokes of the wheel. Despite the consistent turning, it all felt very still. The camels’ footfalls, usually silent on the pathway, seemed to ring out.

Where were the workers from before?

Swift movement from the far side of the wheel.

Eugene inhaled sharply.

“Wait! Hold--!” 

Three dark objects, each no larger than an apple, dropped from the apex of the wheel before Eugene could cry out to the forward guard. The ground between the front troops and the carriage erupted in a plume of acrid yellow sparks and thick black smoke. Eugene hastily pulled his cowl up over his nose, his eyes already burning from the caustic bomb fumes. 

The wind peeled back curtains of soot, revealing the empty wagon and mangled carriage laying on its side. His heart sank, and he couldn’t tell if the miserable bellow came from him or one of the many injured soldiers.

“Mavra!” He galloped to the carriage and dismounted while the camel was still trotting, barely avoiding being dragged away as he untangled his feet from the saddle. The dazed and bleeding coach looked up blearily from the wreckage, but Mavra was nowhere in sight.

He tried in vain to wrench open the deeply dented carriage door; Lady Nabila was still inside. Maybe Mavra was too. Chaos momentarily smothered his reasoning -- bitter smoke stung his eyes and his ears rang with the clamor of swords around him. Grunting beasts were still lashed to the front of the carriage, making it shimmy and jump beneath his palms as he struggled against the crumpled door.

A hand clamped onto his shoulder and he whirled to face Riza. One sleeve of his white and gold uniform was shredded, and a light trickle of blood ran from his shoulder, but other than his headwrap being a bit askew, he was mostly unharmed.

“Look alive,” Riza said, turning his attention back to the whirlwind of cinders surrounding their party. Figures slowly emerged from the disarray, and as Eugene frantically took in their situation, a few more assailants dropped deftly off the wheel spokes as they dipped into the river.

“Nabila’s in the carriage. Maybe Mavra-”

“Understood. Cover me,” Riza replied, jumping onto the destroyed cabin in a flash. He released the shafts trapping the camels so that the carriage stopped bucking. They dashed away into the bedlam, reins dragging in the dirt. “My lady, if you can hear me, lean away from the door!” He drove his curved dagger into the mangled door crease, prying it open with one great heave. Eugene was relieved to hear the noblewoman groan as she was hoisted out of the cabin.

“I’m afraid we’ve run into a little obstacle,” Riza said teasingly to her. She squinted into his face, recognition washing over her slowly.

“Riza?” she questioned in a daze, absentmindedly touching the abrasions across her cheek and chin. “But you were dismissed.”

“Afraid I just couldn’t stay away, my lady,” Riza quipped. She leaned weakly into him, but other than having her mind mildly jarred by the explosion, she was in one piece. There was little time to celebrate as one of the masked figures cut through the smoke toward Eugene. He narrowly unsheathed his short sword in time to deflect the blade slicing down on him. 

Something caustic in the bombs made his eyes water. He could barely keep up with his opponent; at this rate it wouldn’t be long before an enemy’s sword slipped between his cracked ribs. 

Eugene ducked away from one particularly vicious swipe and managed to plow his shoulder up into the other fighter’s solar plexus. He heard them wretch from the pain just as he lifted his foot and kicked them squarely in the chest with as much force as he could muster. They flew back, and when they didn’t climb up from where they landed, Eugene tried to survey the scene as he turned back to Riza and Nabila. Even they were so shrouded by curtains of sand and ash that he could barely make them out. His heart jumped as two shadows lurched toward him -- he rolled out of the way as a pair of panicked camels galloped through the commotion, nearly trampling him. The damn smoke was so thick!

“Dammit, I can’t tell how many-” Eugene started to shout, but a voice cut through the air.

“Move!”

Mavra! He sprinted to his best approximation of where her voice came from, and none too soon. The moment her figure emerged atop the railing of the empty cargo wagon, her hand snapped down toward the ground. A gale shard flew from her grasp and erupted on contact with the dirt, sending spirals of wind spinning violently out and away from the central point where it landed. The gusts continued to swirl and scream until the bitter haze from the bombs lifted up into the sky, revealing several Shurani royal soldiers, some incapacitated, and a dozen windswept brigands swathed in nondescript beige garb.

Eugene broke into a huge grin at the sight of the spymaster. Her bottom lip was split and her bloodied knuckles looked like they’d been dragged through the rubble, but she was standing tall with a sharpened scowl beside Riza, Nabila and Luvenia in the empty wagon bed. Mavra reached down, grabbing his forearm as he leveraged himself up beside them. There were precious few moments before the circle of enemies closed in.

“I thought you were-”

“Not yet,” she smiled wickedly, drawing a fresh drop of blood on her lip from the effort. “I was thrown clear. Didn’t take too much damage. And Luvenia managed to grab the hawk and get a message out. If we’re lucky it’ll reach the palace soon.”

“I don’t think we can afford to wait for reinforcements,” Eugene replied, listening to the squabble and scrape of soldiers fighting nearby without taking his eyes off the encroaching bandits.

“We’ll make do,” she said back. She drew two daggers, one from either thigh, and readied herself for the onslaught. The unnatural windstorm had carved a makeshift circle around them, daring their attackers to close in. Eugene could hear every muscle in Mavra’s body tighten as she prepared to leap forward-

Then the assailant closest to them suddenly stopped, the fighters at their side halting as well. They didn’t pause out of fear or caution; they looked to the person between them for direction. Their tan face was obscured by a thick cloth wound around their mouth and neck. It was plain to see from the body language between them - this was the leader. 

Their bladed staff flashed as they tilted it in the party’s direction, and the remaining skirmishes ground to a halt when they called out over the din.

“Where is the ash? We know you were transporting it.” It was a voice harsh and clear like jagged glass.

“Luckily we already deployed it or you would’ve destroyed it with your clumsy bombs,” Mavra rejoined.

“A slight miscalculation.” They paused. “Where’s the rest? This can’t have been all you had.”

Eugene put a hand on Mavra’s shoulder before she could answer; he had an idea.

“We didn’t have adequate supply to replace the ash you stole. The second shipment was only enough to avail the capital. There won’t be more for months.”

“Liar!” they yelled back. “We didn’t steal anything!”

Lady Nabila leaned forward, squinting at them and clinging onto Riza a little tighter.

“Amari?” she choked out. 

The seconds stretched taut between this person and Lady Nabila until they grabbed at the cowl covering the lower half of their face and tore it away, revealing the stern face of a young woman. The scowl clouding her brilliant green eyes was softened by a smattering of girlish freckles, but the glittering blade she brandished undid any air of youthful charm. A long thick braid of oil-black hair whipped in the wind behind her as she stepped aggressively toward them.

“Oh Amari,” Lady Nabila said, her voice cracking, “there was no need for this. The council-”

Amari’s staff sliced through the air, cutting off the noblewoman’s pleas.

“Lady Nabila, I never wished for bloodshed, but we cannot continue to wait for aid that will never come. Now tell me -- where is the rest of the ash?”

“You seem quite sure that there’s more to be had,” Mavra called out, looking sidelong at Eugene before stepping off the wagon and prowling toward the assailants. “But you’re mistaken. There was enough for Iskanda. No more.”

Mavra fed into Eugene’s approach. An aggrieved enemy is dangerous, but they can also be careless.

Amari was careening. Her face was dark with hate, her brows knit together so hard that her forehead creased straight down the middle.

“We never should’ve trusted any of you,” she growled. “Your barons care only for the capital!” She lunged for Mavra, but the spymaster deftly dodged the blade. Amari dropped to the ground and pivoted her staff to catch behind Mavra’s knees, but she sprang over the swipe with both daggers pointed down at Amari like twin fangs. Amari braced her staff against the blows but fell flat on her back from the force of it, barely managing to redirect the power of the strike to throw Mavra into a roll behind her. Mavra skidded through the sand, righting herself and scrambling to her feet. They circled one another in a torturously slow loop, creating a menacing halo in the dirt. Free of her cowl and cloak, Eugene saw that Amari’s arms were dark with tattoos like Zahir’s-- they twined all the way from her wrists to her lean, muscular shoulders and neck.

“You threw your lot in with the wrong noble,” Mavra snarked. She motioned to the soldiers fighting back at the base of the wheel. The tide was turning— many of the Thorns were bound or flagging under the prowess of the palace guard. Soon they’d all be disarmed and bound. “Will they come to your aid if you’re captured?”

“Eugene,” Riza hissed, as if speaking in a raised voice would distract the dueling parties. “What exactly is the plan here? I hate to second-guess, but how is pissing her off with lies helping our situation?”

“Rile her up enough and there’s still a chance their source might be revealed,” Eugene replied without taking his eyes off Mavra. “They’re outnumbered and outmatched. The more desperate, the more likely a slip.”

A flash of yellow fur galloped by. He inhaled sharply as something dashed from his peripheral toward the spymaster-- one of the carriage camels still loping haplessly through the mayhem. It cut a line between the duelers, and as it passed in front of Amari, she grasped a dangling reign and swung her leg over the animal’s back. Mavra dove back as Amari used her new vantage point to slash with her bladed staff.

“That baron has betrayed us for the last time. He’s cost us too much already,” Amari glowered atop her mount. 

That baron?

Before Mavra could advance, the Shurani woman fished something from her waistband and flung it down at the ground between them-- 

“Look away!” Mavra shouted to the troops. 

SZZZT — a brilliant white light sizzled up through the air, leaping like a flare lashing off the sun. Eugene tried to shield his eyes with the crook of his elbow too late. A shadow of Amari’s figure floated in his vision, a negative shadow momentarily burned into his whited-out sight.

Panic rose in his throat. He couldn’t see. He was helpless.

He held his sword in front of him defensively, unsure of where the next attack would come from, but Mavra’s voice reached him before any foe did.

“Eugene,” she said, closing her palm around his sword hand so he didn’t lunge. “She escaped. She’s riding for the city. We need to follow.”

“I didn’t cover my damn eyes in time— I can’t see a thing.”

“Lean your head back--” She pushed back the battle spectacles lashed to his face and held his eyes open, bracing her hand gently on his cheek as she hovered a teardrop bottle above each pupil. He knew from the momentary flash of bioluminescent green and faint smell of cave damp that it was Aysel’s Mercy. The glare would fade in a few minutes.

“We still have two mounts,” she said and then directed her voice away for a moment. “Luvenia, look after Nabila until reinforcements arrive. Riza, take the other mount and come with us.” She leaned back toward Eugene and squeezed his wrist. “You’ll ride with me. I told you I’m not letting you out of my sight till this assignment is over.”

She led him down from the wagon and placed his hands against the dusty fur of a camel. Her form blurred and shifted as she pulled herself up into the saddle, and her watery silhouette reached down to his forearm, hauling him up into the space behind her. The seat wasn’t built for two people, and with his eyesight still muddy, he found himself sheepishly holding her waist to keep them both balanced. Her back was terribly warm against his torso, and he prayed to the depths that she couldn’t feel his heart hammering in his chest.

He heard another camel rider lope up beside them, the animal grunting and shaking against its bridle. The face was unfocused and blurry, but Eugene recognized Riza’s voice.

“You heard what she said. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Riza asked Mavra. Eugene saw her head bob in agreement.

“She’s going after Adid,” she replied curtly. A forceful tap of her stirrups against the camel’s ribs set them cantering back toward Iskanda with Riza in tow.

Chapter Text

They intercepted reinforcements on the path, hurriedly asking if they’d seen a young woman pass them heading toward the city, but the main road was clear of anything suspicious; she must have diverted from the thoroughfare to avoid detection. The palace guard continued onward to the water wheel hoping to detain any remaining Thorns; many had fled in the confusion of Amari’s light bomb.

Detail and color slowly returned to Eugene’s sight as the three of them rode hard to the capital, and by the time they reached the south city gate, his vision had completely recovered save for the dullest ache behind his eyes.

“Baron Adid speaks for the region the Thorns hail from,” Riza shouted as they galloped through the streets toward the noble housing outside the palace. People grumbled and cursed at them as they cut through narrow alleyways, jumping the camels over more than one low cart. “Either he’s her contact or she’s going to kill him for failing to get her people the ash.”

“Or both,” Mavra called back as she yanked back on her mount’s reins, grinding to a halt at the entrance of Adid’s estate. The guards looked appropriately alarmed by their frenzied approach, but other than that, nothing else was immediately amiss. 

“Where’s the baron?” Riza asked the guard closest to him.

“H-he was in his study last we saw him, ser, ” she replied in a flustered burst, looking from her fellow guard back to the dirty, disheveled trio.

“Close off the estate. No one else is to come through,” Mavra said. “Direct us to his study.”

“Beg your pardon, but who-”

“Someone is presently trying to kill Lord Adid,” Eugene cut in. “If you would like to prevent that, lead us to him and don’t let anyone else in until we tell you otherwise.”

Both guards shifted uncomfortably but acquiesced, barking orders at some servants in the small stone-cobbled yard before ushering Mavra and company inside the main foyer of the building.

It was modest for a Shurani nobleman’s quarters, much older and less grand than any other section of the palace grounds Eugene had seen. Instead of plush curtains and brilliantly mosaiced walls, there were a few scant family portraits lining the open stone stairway leading to Adid’s study on the second floor. There wasn’t much time to scrutinize the unexceptional housing before the guards signaled that they were about to arrive at their destination. Mavra put her hand up in a sharp, silencing gesture, and then motioned for them to go back down the passage they’d come from. Puzzled though they were, Mavra’s stare was commanding and knife-sharp; they obeyed.

Mavra and Riza flanked one side of the door while Eugene stood opposite. With her ear cupped to the wall, Mavra signed to the alchemist, Three people. Facing the door but not close.

Danger? Struggling? Eugene signed back across the doorway. She listened again and shook her head.

With the head start she’d had, Amari should’ve beaten them to her target. Was she one of the three in the room? Scaling an outer wall without alerting the guards seemed well within her ability.

Eugene’s pulse thrummed in his temple. He felt the ghostly throb of his broken rib as he took a deep breath. He palmed a smoke bomb on his belt and waited for Mavra to give the signal. 

With one forceful nod, all three turned and burst into Adid’s office, practically splintering the double doors from their hinges and sending the startled baron and his two servants into a pile of terrified yelps.

Lord Adid jumped up from his desk, whatever parchment he’d been looking over clenched in one white-knuckled fist.

“What in-- Are you serious? What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to frighten me to death?” he snapped. The two phantom-faced servants untangled themselves from one another, shakily gathering papers and blotting at an inkwell that’d upended all over the desk.

“Apologies Lord Adid but we believe-“

“And you’ve brought Riza. Just splendid,” Adid scoffed bitterly. “What kind of circus have you brought into my home?”

“I know common sense doesn’t come easily to you, Baron,” Riza replied with a shallow smile, “but you need to hold your tongue and listen.”

“How dare you-“

Broken glass sprayed across the floor as Amari and two Thorns kicked through a window and rolled to a stop directly in front of the baron. More ink splattered as the servants shrieked and ran for the door; the intruders didn’t attempt to stop them.

Amari rose to her feet, her bladed staff already poised at the junction of Adid’s neck and jawline. His breath came in hoarse, staccato bursts, and his wide eyes jumped back and forth from the weapon to Amari’s face. Her gaze was unwavering and predatory. And calm. So, so calm. 

A moment of silence passed as the two factions sized each other up before Adid choked out, “D-don’t just stand there! She’s going to kill me!”

“Not just yet, but soon,” she replied coolly while the two Thorns trained their weapons on Mavra and company. Unless guards showed up shortly, keeping Lord Adid among the living would be no easy task.

“Palace guards will be upon us in moments,” Eugene said. “If you don’t surrender now, you’ve little chance of escaping with your life.” 

Her smile was bitter as she inched the blade closer to Adid’s throat.

“I’d happily give up my life if it means exposing this sack of shit. When it comes to treachery, he’s quite the overachiever.”

Riza inched forward. “I know Adid let your tribe down, but killing him won’t fix his shortcomings as a baron,” he said.

Amari’s eyes snapped around to glare at Riza.

“You don’t have any idea the devastation he’s brought on my people! You only care that he’s a traitor to the crown, but my vengeance is for the tribe!” she growled.

Mavra’s eyes flickered to Adid.

“He’s the source,” she said. “He gave them intel to steal the ash for themselves.”

“Shut your mouth!” Amari snarled. “We never wanted it all for ourselves. We only wanted enough to survive, and we knew the council would forget about us like they always do.”

“Then why did you steal the shipment meant for the entire city?” Eugene asked.

“How many times do I have to tell you? We didn’t steal anything !” Her face flushed angrily. “This priggish shit-heel baron was supposed to help us take a little off the shipment, but the council hoarded it all away before we ever got the chance.”

Adid paled.

“This is nonsense! Don’t tell me you’re going to fall for the lies of some backwater thug-”

Amari’s blade sliced up Adid’s cheek, leaving a brilliant scarlet gash in its wake. She pushed him hard against the far wall, and he crumpled to the floor with a pathetic moan. Eugene held his breath.

They’d gotten their answers just as she was going to kill him.

“Speak ill of my home again and they’ll be the last words you ever utter,” she hissed. He clutched pitifully at his bleeding face; the sight sparked something fearsome in Amari as she prepared to strike again--

A glint of silver flickered across the room, and the slim throwing knife Yuri had loosed as they breached the broken window buried itself in Amari’s shoulder. She cried out, dropping her staff in shock and grasping at her wound.

A flurry of activity erupted through the study all at once. 

Yuri stepped down into the room from their perched position on the shattered window frame, handily disarming one Thorn as he lunged toward them. 

Amari slid the dagger out of her shoulder with a grimace -- it looked to be a clean wound if not painful -- and staggered back toward the wall. 

Eugene and Mavra tangled with the remaining Thorn, but she quickly found the alchemist’s blade to her throat, so she let her weapon clatter to the floor and raised her hands in surrender.

Adid pulled himself up on the back of his desk chair, his left hand slippery with blood. The whites of his eyes were stark against the new crimson splatter on his vestments and cheek. He shrank away from the fighting toward the door, walking backward straight into Riza. Adid’s back arched, his entire body a spasm of anxiety, but when he saw it was Riza and not one of the intruders, he clung to the Shurani spy like he was a piece of sturdy flotsam in a storm. 

“Oh God, don’t let her kill me. She’s completely unhinged!”

Riza steadied Adid by the elbows, showing no discomfort as the nobleman’s fingers dug desperately into his biceps. Before Riza could respond to the baron’s pleas, Adid looked back over his shoulder at Amari advancing on the two of them. “Hurry, please! Stop her!”

Riza maneuvered Adid behind him and held out his sword. Amari’s gait was uneven. Her left arm hung limply at her side; the bladed staff was clutched shakily in her right hand. A duel between them would be over quickly, but Riza’s pulse quickened when he saw the vitriol in Amari’s eyes. 

“You really want him dead,” Riza said.

“Blood for blood. If the council won’t help us, someone must pay,” she replied. Her breath was ragged, but Riza could tell she was winding up all of her energy for a final strike--

Instead, she stiffened as a silver blade rested against her neck.

“He’ll answer for his crimes, but you will as well,” Mavra said quietly. She’d slipped behind Amari like a chilling breeze, and as Amari surveyed the room, seeing her companions bested and Adid shielded from harm, she let out an anguished cry and knew it was over.

The bustle of armor filled the room as several of the baron’s guards finally filed in. An air of defeat settled over Amari and the two Thorns as they were hastily bound by the wrists and sat against the wall. Two guards approached Adid, fussing over his lacerated face, but he batted them away like an embarrassed child.

Mavra and Eugene exchanged looks. An uncomfortable truth passed between them.

There was one more matter at hand.

“Lord Adid.” Mavra’s voice was hard and flat; the baron flinched as if he’d been struck.

“Ser Mavra, can we debrief later? I’m quite shaken and just want them out of my sight,” he replied, pressing a frilly handkerchief to his freely bleeding face.

Mavra’s hand alighted to the pommel of her shortsword. Eugene, Riza, and Yuri stood behind her, conspicuously blocking the exit. 

“Lord Adid,” she said again, “we cannot ignore Amari’s claims. You need to come with us for questioning.” 

The baron narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t honestly believe the word of some outer desert cutthroat, do you?”

Mavra’s grip on her weapon tightened, and a low murmur ran through the guards.

“You can come with us willingly or we will escort you in chains. The choice is yours.”

Adid laid his bloodied kerchief on the desk and a terrible smile spread over his lips.

“You’re making a mistake,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Guards,” Mavra said curtly. “I must ask you to escort the baron to holding for interrogation. He’s been accused of stealing from the crown and conspiring with enemy factions.”

A stony silence followed. It wasn’t bashful or confused. It was a quiet brimming with defiance. Mavra’s mouth twitched and Eugene knew something was dangerously amiss. Not a single guard moved toward the baron.

Adid gave a small clap of glee. “The idea that my own retainers would arrest me on orders from some foreign riff-raff is truly rich.”

Mavra drew her sword and all at once, every guard did the same.

“What a loyal bunch,” Riza said.

 Adid laughed. “When your noble line comes out of some dune no one cares about, it pays to compensate your staff very, very well,” he said.  

“Well this got out of hand rather quickly,” Eugene mumbled under his breath, eyeing the guards as they began slowly closing in on them.

“I know you’d just be insulted if I offered a bribe to overlook this unfortunate debacle. You three are obviously too dedicated and noble to stoop to such things,” Adid said. He sighed theatrically and looked to the bound Thorns; their faces had transformed from sullen despondence to desperate fury. “I wanted to tell you about the drop today, Amari, I really did, but after your friend Zahir’s little stunt, you all were just too much of a liability. Who knew he’d be so desperate when I barely suggested that these pesky Vranovans were closing in on the Thorns’s scheme? It was very unprofessional of him to go rogue and try to kill a foreign agent. Especially when these buffoons were essentially clueless about your actual involvement. Pity what happened to him, eh Lord Alchemist?”

 Eugene grimaced and looked to the floor, pushing down the vision of Zahir’s sad, vacant eyes gazing up at the stars. 

Amari lunged against her restraints, eyes bulging with a wave of new, bewildered anger. She grit her teeth so hard that Eugene expected blood to ooze through her teeth. He waited for her hateful gaze to find him, but her vision was drilled into Adid like barbed arrows.

“You lied to him! Zahir would’ve done anything to save our people and you used him-”

“Now, now,” Adid cooed, walking languidly past Eugene and company toward the captured Thorns. “Some sacrifices can’t be avoided. Painful though it may be, sometimes the best versions of ourselves are only possible after shedding the detritus holding us back.” His placid grin was sickening.

“We’re people, dammit! You can’t just pretend we don’t exist!” Amari cried out, her voice cracking. 

Adid paused and peered down at her with a shriveling look. His composure evaporated.

“If I could will you out of existence, I would. My every waking hour is consumed by thoughts of you and your people. I’ve spent my entire adult life in federation meetings, managing resources and having pointless philosophical debates with other nobles about some dusty tribe that my fool of a father plainly loved more than his own legacy--his own son! He was so focused on trying to preserve your fruitless, dried-up lot that he let our estate crumble in the background. He gave everything to Acacia and died with nothing to show for it. All I inherited was the burden of service to a people doomed to fail.

“Your tribe is a miserable trap, an ugly tangle of roots in a barren wasteland. I will not live my life mired in the affairs of a nation that should’ve given up or died off generations ago. The sooner you’re purged from this earth, the sooner I will be free,” he glowered. Everyone else in the room seemed to be smothered in noiseless astonishment.

After a few moments, he inhaled deeply and pushed back the errant strands of dark hair that’d fallen across his face during his tirade. With his mask of haughty calmness back in place, he stood up and walked back to the guards clustering around Eugene and the others. 

 “Your insistence on investigating this matter has put me in a difficult position. We still have a few options, although I’m afraid they’re all a bit messy.” He looked from the agents in the center of the room to the Thorns detained against the wall. “Best make it look like Riza was working with the Thorns and the poor Vranovans got caught in the crossfire when his treachery was revealed.” He motioned to his retinue with a smirk. The message was clear.

Kill them.

Chapter Text

The first guard to lunge at Mavra took a blade through the forearm. His scream turned into a wet gurgle when her dagger found purchase in his throat.

What followed was a bloody mess.

Undeterred by the unceremonious dispatching of their colleague, the remaining guards began to swarm with weapons drawn. Eugene leapt back, ducking from the grip of one assailant while dodging the grasp of another. It was so crowded that shooting his wrist-mounted crossbow was just as likely to injure Mavra or Riza as it was to land in an enemy. They needed space.

Weaving and evading as best he could away from the main clump, Eugene slipped a hand into the bandolier bag at his hip. When two guards pounced toward him, he crushed the capsule in his palm and blew it directly into their faces before dipping away at the last moment.

The fear vapor took only a moment to anchor in their eyes and nostrils. Eugene saw the telltale dilation of their pupils, huge inky pools of terror overtaking their irises. The pulverized hallucinogenic spores quickly took root in their minds, and after that there was no telling what horrors materialized within their vision. 

One whispered something indiscernible while stumbling backward toward the broken window sill. She was still mumbling with wide eyes transfixed on something invisible when she lost her balance and toppled out the shattered window.

The other began clawing at his own arms, screeching and dropping his blade as he stumbled and tripped over the bound Thorns against the wall. He scrambled away into a corner, kicking and yelling inconsolably while tearing off his gauntlets. 

Amari wasted no time-- she clambered for the dropped sword and split the ropes restraining her and the other Thorns. Before Eugene could intervene, she slipped into the chaotic fray.

“Behind you!” Riza shouted to the alchemist. A blade nearly clipped Eugene’s ear as he dipped to the ground, giving Riza the perfect opportunity to thrust his dagger into the chest of the offending guard.

“Thank you.”

“Can’t have you getting stabbed on my watch. Mavra’d have my head,” Riza quipped before squaring off with the next goon. Eugene rolled his eyes and for a moment wished that he had been run through so he didn’t have to deal with Riza’s overfamiliar ribbing.

Back to back with Riza, he scanned the room, leveling his crossbow at any foe he could get a clean shot on. Where was Amari? Where was Adid? As guards were felled, the frenzied cloud of movement in the room began to slow, making it easier to pick individuals out of the bedlam. 

Was that a flash of the baron’s embroidered sashes cowering behind the hulking, overturned desk?

He brushed his elbow back against Riza’s arm. “I’m going for Adid. Be careful.”

Riza nodded and Eugene broke their formation, making a dash for the leftover wreck that’d been the baron’s desk--

Until he saw Mavra with her neck caught in the elbow crook of a guard tall enough to leverage her legs off the floor as she kicked and flailed in his grasp. Eugene cut toward her, flexing against a cord in his palm to drop a fresh bolt into his crossbow. Her eyes locked with Eugene’s, but her thrashing made a clean shot impossible.

Then a flicker of metal as she untucked a dagger from her belt and plunged it into the gap between the guard’s groin and thigh plating. He doubled over, collapsing like a wet paper lantern, but she didn’t relent. Mavra twisted the dagger handle, and the guard finally released her, his body melting into a pool of agony as his leg gave way beneath him. Eugene’s aim lingered on him a moment, but the guard’s shocked, moon-pale skin and noiseless scream showed he was no longer a threat.

“I was ready to assist, but it seems you had it under control,” Eugene said.

“I appreciate the moral support,” Mavra replied, wiping her bloodied dagger against her thigh. 

“Have you seen--” Eugene started, but he stopped short when he saw Amari launch over the splintered remains of furniture and pull Adid up by his golden cowl. The way she effortlessly wrenched him from the ground, the baron may as well have been a mongrel pup being lifted by so much neck scruff. 

“S-stop!” Lord Adid stammered. Whether he was addressing his cabal or pleading with Amari was unclear, but the fighting quelled at the sound of his warbling command.

Amari held fast to the baron, but the strength of her grip was fueled by adrenaline only. Blood ran freely from the wound in her shoulder, slicking red the tattooed petals and thorns inked on her neck and arms. Mavra and Eugene started forward, but the cool sheen of metal at Adid’s jugular gave them pause. Amari leveled the guard’s stolen sword at the baron’s throat. 

“You’ve seen fit to destroy everything I love,” Amari growled, the blade’s edge biting ever so slightly into skin. Adid whimpered. “And since there’s nothing you love so much as yourself, the only revenge left to me is your life.”

“Amari.”

Riza’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was solid. It had the comfort and weight of a polished stone in your hand, something cool and grounded to connect you to the earth. “Listen to me. If you kill him-”

“There’s no if -- He dies by my hand,” she hissed.

Riza took two slow steps forward.

“We need him alive. He doesn’t deserve your mercy, Amari, but our best chance of absolving the Thorns' involvement is a confession to the federation. Without that certainty, the blame may yet fall to you and your people. You know how flawed the system is.” Riza paused. “Killing him won’t end your suffering.”

“Leaving this bastard alive guarantees nothing,” Amari said, holding so tight to Adid that he struggled for breath. “He’ll never admit to anything.”

“He’ll reveal every secret he’s kept in his entire life,” Mavra cut in. “I’ll see to that,” she said with frightening relish.

Amari’s hand trembled; She’s going to kill him with a slip of the wrist at this rate , Eugene thought. Exhaustion was taking root in every part of her. Her eyes, once a hardened, icy jade, now looked as soft and weary as an underwatered sprout when she glanced back at them.

“I… I hate him so much,” she said, a splinter of anguish in her voice. “How am I supposed to live with what’s happened?”

The sword still teetered to and fro, dancing toward Adid’s collarbone. Riza, earning every bit of his reputation as a rogue, had deftly made his way to Amari’s side before the blooding could begin. He laid his palm on the back of her sword hand. She shivered with fatigue -- or was it forlornness overtaking her-- but his touch set her still, and she turned to face him with shocked eyes, as if he’d appeared from the ether.

“I don’t know yet, but I’d like to help you find a way,” he said quietly. His words strummed against a string pulled tight in her heart, and the tension went out of her. With his hand still settled over her knuckles, Riza nodded over his shoulder at his cohorts, signaling Mavra and the others to approach.

As Riza drew the blade away from Adid’s throat, the baron slumped to his knees; Yuri grabbed his wrists and Mavra bound them with vicious tightness. It was unnecessary. The light of mortality had shone on him, and now the cocky assurance he’d brandished so flagrantly at them minutes before had withered to nothing.

“Yuri, go fetch the real palace guard,” Mavra said, casting a glance at the felled henchpeople splayed about the office; at present they were all dead or indisposed. The immediate threat was thwarted, but that was no reason to take chances. “The closer to Nabila’s circle the better.”

The sun set and rose again.

Eugene woke up late the next morning in the palace accommodations Nabila had originally arranged for them. He hadn’t been too proud to reconsider her offer of a soft bed and warm food after the hostilities lulled enough for him to fully appreciate his fractured rib and odd assortment of bruises and contusions.

He’d barely pulled himself out of the pit of pillows and embroidered quilts they called a bed -- the entire suite dripped with brightly colored tassels and gems and gold -- when he imagined a knock at his door. It was almost the suggestion of a tap, the kind of sound that catches you on the edge of drifting to sleep.

He slipped on the overelaborate robe that’d been draped over the footboard (as a man of aggressively neutral taste, everything here appeared gaudy) and made his way to the door.

When he opened it, Mavra stood on the other side of the threshold.

“You missed morning meal.”

Eugene clutched his robe shut a little tighter. “I… So I did. I must’ve been a little heavy-handed with the dreamer’s grass in my tea last night. I’ll be sure to make apologies to Lady Nabila before we leave.”

Mavra nodded but made no move to go.

“Was there anything else you needed?” Eugene asked. 

“No.” 

Eugene glanced furtively into the hallway. He wasn’t going to shut the door on her standing there.

“You can come in if you’d like.” 

She stepped inside without a word.

He closed the door behind her and crossed the room back toward a tall changing screen. It was painted with a scene of a huge white bird tucked into the peak of a jagged mountain, swirling yellow sand and clouds blossoming around the base. 

“I’ve lost so much of the day already,” he said, stepping behind the partition. He could just make out Mavra’s silhouette on the other side. Her profile barely broke through the brushstrokes. “Here I was sleeping, and you probably had all the intel you needed out of Adid before breakfast.”

“I did. He confessed to everything.”

Eugene stopped midway through tugging on his tunic. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Fear of death does wonders for cowards like him. I didn’t have to lift a finger against him,” she sighed. A rustling sound like she was crossing her arms. “He’d rather live a life in chains. Exile is more than he deserves, but the Shurani king may consider it. Once beheading was off the table, he gave us the locations of the crates his people swiped. He was smart enough not to hide them on his own estate at least.”

Eugene buttoned his collar.

“All that before breakfast.”

“I was a little late, to be fair.”

He smiled.

Another lull. The sound of servants talking drifted in from the hallway, peaking softly and then fading again as they continued on their way. 

Eugene fidgeted with the sash at his waist before finally saying, “I was going to visit Amari in the infirmary. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

He could hear the grimace in Mavra’s voice.

“I think it's better that she and I don’t cross paths again just yet. It wasn’t very long ago that I had a dagger at her throat.”

“A fair point.”

“What business do you have with her?” she asked. Her voice was closer now, practically against the screen.

Eugene frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I wanted… I wanted to offer condolences for what happened to her colleague. To Zahir.”

A long silence. At least it felt long. Maybe it was only a few seconds.

“Is that wise?” She was still close to the partition.

“I don’t know if it’s wise, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And the way she reacted when Adid spoke about him, I think he was important to her.”

He waited for a response, and at first, Mavra said nothing. Wanting to break the silence, Eugene opened his mouth to speak, but she finally spoke.

“If it were me, and you had been killed, there is nothing anyone could say to me that would bring me peace.”

Eugene realized he was holding his breath. He balled his hand into a fist and then released it again.

It was the most significant and personal thing she’d ever said to him, strange and undercutting as it was. 

He had to say something back.

What should he say? Should he tell her how it’d felt like his spirit was being wrenched heartily from his body when he saw her carriage explode by the water wheel? Or that the notion she might be in mortal danger kept him slogging through pre-dawn streets of Shuran even as the agony of Zahir’s poison sank its fangs into his lungs?

Whatever he said, it couldn’t be through this painted partition. Snapping out of his fog, he adjusted his vest and stepped from behind the changing screen just in time to see the door closing softly, leaving him alone in this large, empty room.

Chapter Text

The palace infirmary was much smaller than the clinic Eugene had assisted in days before. Lords, was it only days? Even though it was a place of medicine, it still managed to be decked out in all the expected Shurani finery 一 polished tile floors in extravagant patterns, ceilings painted with luscious white clouds and azure skies.

Eugene turned away from one incredibly life-like mural just in time to avoid crashing bodily into Lady Nabila as she emerged from a hallway.

“Lord Alchemist!” she exclaimed warmly.

“Your ladyship,” he said, giving a shallow bow.

“How are your injuries faring? Are you here to see the palace physician?” she asked. A few scrapes and cuts purpled her own high cheekbones, leaving the skin around her left eye a little swollen and shiny.

“I’m well enough, if only a little sore,” he said.

“We missed you at breakfast. I was worried you’d fared worse than you let on.”

“Nothing a little extra rest can’t remedy. I apologize if my absence gave you cause to fret,” he replied sheepishly. “I was actually hoping to speak with Amari.” Nabila raised her eyebrows. “If she’s being allowed visitors, that is,” he added.

The noblewoman looked at him for a moment with her hands clasped in front of her. “She’s under guard, but she is permitted visitors. I’m actually on my way to speak with her as well. I don’t know what matter you have to discuss with her, but you’re welcome to accompany me.”

Eugene nodded and took Nabila’s arm when she offered it to him. They walked in silence as the noblewoman gently led him to where Amari was being held under watch.

“Have any of her compatriots been found?” he asked en route.

Nabila shook her head. “When she was brought in yesterday, she said she’d told them to flee during the skirmish with Adid. ‘If punishment is to be meted out, I’ll be the one to take it. Not my people,’ she said.” She sighed. “I can’t decide if her altruism is admirable or fool-hearty.”

“I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive,” Eugene replied with a small smile.

Two soldiers stood with lances crossed in front of the door. They snapped their spines absolutely straight at the sight of Lady Nabila, pulling their weapons away to permit entry. Nabila paused and took a deep breath. Eugene remembered the way her voice had wavered yesterday as she called out to Amari. This might be official business, but it was plain that Nabila cared a great deal for this young woman.

Eugene put his hand over hers where it rested in the crook of his elbow. He didn’t meet her eye, but he felt her sidelong glance.

When they entered the room, they were both surprised to see that Amari already had a visitor.

“Riza?” 

The Shurani agent looked up at Eugene from his chair in the corner. What was he doing here?

“Glad to see you up and about. Here to see our special guest?”

Never knowing what to do with Riza’s friendly informality, Eugene let Lady Nabila do the talking.

“Master Riza,” she said with playfully feigned shock. “Imagine my surprise seeing you on palace grounds when I know your privileges have not been reinstated.”

He grinned back. “And yet here I am. It’s almost like palace security isn’t quite up to snuff without me around.”

“We’ll have to do something about that,” Nabila replied with a coy smile before turning to the person she’d expected to greet.

Amari looked small reclining on her medical cot. She’d taken more damage in the fighting than Eugene realized. The usual Shurani splendor did its best to aggrandize a sick room, but she stood out against the silky pillows in her pale, bandaged state.

Lady Nabila pulled a chair to Amari’s bedside. When Amari shifted toward her, there was a clinking, metallic sound; a small shackle fettered the young woman’s wrist to the bed. The noblewoman’s face fell at the sight.

“How did it come to this, child?” she said.

Amari’s body was weak and lethargic, but her eyes glowed like hot coals. 

“We had no other option. I had to do something.”

“The federation was working as hard as it could. Eventually 一”

“We were dying,” Amari said in a hoarse, tired voice. “You can’t leave people in a desperate position for that long and not expect them to work outside a system that ignores them.”

Nabila’s hands balled a little tighter in her lap. “What Adid was monstrous. I’m ashamed that I didn’t see through his machinations sooner.”

“His shortcomings as a baron were so believable, Lady Nabila,” Riza offered. “That’s what made it so easy to believe it was systemic failure instead of a malicious oversight.”

‘It was both.” Amari’s spirited gaze wavered. “Something must change. No matter what becomes of me, the federation must be made to see its own flaws. The needs of the far-flung are drowned in the wind before they ever reach the capital, my Lady.” She reached weakly for Nabila’s hand; the older woman took it with the utmost tenderness. “If we can’t represent our own, if nobles only hear the voices of those they can benefit from, this will keep happening. People will lose their culture, their livelihood, their… their precious friends.” 

Amari’s eyes fluttered to Eugene where he stood by the door. His heart hammered. “You were there yesterday.” He nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Eugene. I’m the Court Alchemist of Vranova.” His hands were clasped behind his back, and his grip was so tight he could feel his pulse in his fingertips. “I… I’m the one who killed Zahir. I’m sorry.”

She paused; a fatigued sigh escaped her as Riza rose to offer her a small glass of water. She waved him away gently. In the end, she averted her gaze from Eugene as she spoke.

“Zahir was a good man. He loved our home and would’ve done anything to protect it.” A tear gathered in the corner of Amari’s lashes. “One of the cruelest things Adid did was create a situation where only one of you could leave with your life. I know it might be foolish, but I hope you won’t judge him solely on his last act. He was… he was much more than that.”

Eugene blinked away a vision of Zahir as he’d last beheld him.

“I wish he’d come into my life another way. I would’ve liked to know him.”

Amari smiled into her lap. It was the saddest, most bittersweet thing he'd ever seen. “Just one more thing Adid took from us.”

Riza unclenched his jaw and turned to Nabila. “There’s no way the Thorns can be held up to the same punishment as Adid. Without his corruption-“

“Some kind of action must be taken,” Nabila cut him off. His frown deepened as she stood up. “Flawed though it may be, our federation has laws. We cannot simply overlook what’s happened as if it was petty mischief.”

“I told you - any repercussions should fall on me alone,” Amari interjected. “They never would’ve tried to take the ash if I hadn’t believed Adid’s lies.”

“You’d so easily take all of the blame?” Nabila asked.

“I took that responsibility when the Thorns chose me to lead them,” Amari replied instantly. “All who are trusted to lead should be ready for that burden.”

Lady Nabila closed her eyes. The emotional outpouring from before had leveled off, leaving her face with the taut but serene expression Eugene had become accustomed to.

“That same burden lead Adid to abuse what little power he had,” Nabila finally said. “Some might say that leading is punishment in itself.”

Amari’s lip twitched into a joyless smirk. “Then they’ve never been powerless.”

Nabila’s smile returned, catching Eugene by surprise. 

“I suppose time will tell how you choose to see it,” Nabila said. Amari raised an eyebrow and looked from Nabila to Riza. He shrugged at her and also turned to Nabila.

“What does that mean?” he asked while Amari tried to sit up straighter on her cot.

“His majesty was perplexed by the situation. Adid will be dealt with; that is certain. But he didn’t know quite what to do with you, given the circumstances for your actions,” Nabila said, walking toward the door. “Since the former baron made it apparent that the job is thankless and punishing, I suggested that his Highness appoint you to the position.”

Amari, Riza, and Eugene’s eyes all widened in unison.

Amari stammered, “M-my lady, you… you would make me-”

“The Baroness of Acacia. As recompense for your involvement in these unfortunate events, you would be burdened with the dreadful job of directly representing your people in the Tribal Federation.” An increasingly coy smile deepened the fine lines around Lady Nabila’s eyes.

“But I’m the farthest thing from a noble. I don’t have a drop of Heroic blood in my veins,” Amari replied in a daze. “The other barons would never have me.”

Riza’d reached out to steady her; she was visibly swaying from disbelief. Riza was smiling so wide that Eugene thought he’d sprout a third dimple.

“It’s not up to them. This is the King’s chosen course. It’s experimental, but something must change,” Lady Nabila said with a look of gentle acknowledgement. She opened the door to leave, turning back to Amari a final time. “You’ll need time to recover from your wounds, so rest for now. There will be time for your appointment, my dear. Be well.” She crossed over the threshold into the hallway, the short train of her official robes rustling along the floor as she briskly walked past the guards. 

Eugene remained, unsure of what to do. His eyes jumped from the exit to Amari to Riza and back to the exit. “I… I’m sure that’s a lot to take in at once. I’ll take my leave. Excuse me,” he sputtered and made a quick escape.

He’d reached the closest major intersection of corridors when he heard Riza jogging up behind him.

“Hey,” he huffed, catching his breath. “Where was that speed during the fight yesterday? You on the Myrkosi sprinting team?” Eugene frowned at him. “What was that about? Did you know Lady Nabila was going to have her appointed as a baroness?”

“I ran into her moments before visiting Amari. If I’d had any idea she was going to offer something like that, I’d have let Nabila deliver that news alone,” he replied. “I doubt Amari would want a stranger like me around for an announcement that important.”

“I don’t know. I think she’ll be glad she had a chance to speak with you,” Riza said. His voice dropped a bit. “It may give her some peace about Zahir eventually.”

Eugene cast his eyes at the floor. “You two have been talking, I see.”

Riza grinned sheepishly. “I don’t trust the palace guard just yet. Until all of Adid’s flunkies are flushed out, I want to make sure she’s looked after.”

The shadow of a smile passed over the alchemist’s lips. “I’ve no doubt she’ll be safe with you watching her back.”

The two walked a little further down the hallway. 

“What’ll you do now?” Riza asked.

“Mavra and I will make an official report to Lady Nabila this afternoon, and then? If the trade advisors are satisfied that there are no more loose ends, we’ll return to Vranova in a few days. With the missing ash shipment recovered, we’ve no more business in Shuran.”

They arrived at the entrance of an airy foyer. The large doors were open to a quiet courtyard peppered with statues and gleaming sculptures. Riza glanced furtively back toward the infirmary.

“What about you?” Eugene queried. “No doubt you’ll be reinstated after uncovering something like this.”

Riza shrugged. “I don’t doubt it. But…”

“But?”

“Even if they offer, I don’t know if I’ll go back.”

Eugene raised his brows, sun glinting off his spectacles. “But your spywork is second to none. Why not return?”

“Being a really good spy means exposing yourself to some of the nastiest, most selfish types this world can offer,” Riza said. “I’ve intentionally kept to the shadows and watched the weakest get weaker but not done anything about it because my job was to gather intel and report to those in power. But Amari.” Riza smiled. “Listening to her yesterday made me realize that I don’t want to be a tool for people with everything. That maybe it’d be nice to work with someone who doesn’t need convincing that the country’s in dire need of change.”

He chuckled and waved his hand like he was scattering his own verbal meditation. “I don’t know. Her tribe’s far east. Maybe I can be a tribal liaison or something. I’m not worried. I’ve never had trouble finding trouble,” he laughed.

They stood in the foyer for a moment longer, an easy peace finally settling between them. Riza raised a hand in parting; he didn’t want to leave Amari alone too much longer. Eugene nodded. 

“And Eugene,” Riza called back. “About what I said at the tavern-”

“Riza, please. We were having such a nice moment.”

Riza laughed. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy she has you in her corner, that’s all. It’s important to have someone watching your back.”

Eugene let his pursed expression morph into the tiniest smile of acceptance.

“Take care, Riza.”

Riza waved and disappeared back down the hallway while Eugene walked the opposite way out of the vestibule.

The courtyard off of the entryway was secluded 一 a pleasant place for patients to step out and take in the warm, arid air away from the bustle of palace traffic. Tall, spiny palm trees clustered together to offer shade to the shorter sago palms squatted along the paths. Dozens of statues dotted the grounds 一 most of them mythical beasts and depictions of the country’s folk heroes, all modeled in cream stone and painted with brilliant jewel tones.

When he spotted Mavra standing beside a sculpture, he almost mistook her for one. She was leaning against a pedestal and quietly worrying at her thumbnail. Her hand dropped to her side moments after he saw her; he should’ve known he could never hope to approach without notice.

A welcome breeze blew her unpinned hair lazily across her forehead and cheeks. At a glance, you could even miss the bruises and cuts scattered across her face, but they were there; a reminder of dangers past. Her visible injuries contrasted with her polished clothing. With the spywork done, she was wrapped in a more typical Shurani noble outfit 一 deep purple sashes woven from iridescent threads and a well-trimmed vest sewn with dozens of dark, metallic beads.

“Taking in some of the local art, then?” Eugene said as she turned to face him. When he saw her grim expression, he panicked. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Mavra gave him a quizzical look in return. “What? No. Everything’s fine.”

“You just looked so… So grave. I thought-”

“I’m sorry I left so abruptly earlier,” she said. 

“Oh,” Eugene replied, caught off guard. 

“I forgot I had… I had a meeting and I needed to leave. Quickly.”

“There are a lot of meetings to be had after an affair like this. No apologies needed,” he said. He put a hand out to the nearest statue, absently studying the worn engraving on the pedestal. “Do you have any meetings right now?”

“No.”

“I’d like to go to the docks.”

“The docks?”

“Yes. I’d like to go to the docks and look at the water for a while.” He looked up from the pedestal. “If you’ve no other commitments, would you like to come with me?”

Her somber countenance lifted and his nervous heart softened.

“I’d like that.”

On the fringe of the busy port, a footbridge led out to a few spindly fishing piers. Each one stretched precariously out over the shimmering water, marked by tall poles and vibrant banners so boats wouldn’t skim over them at high tide. At present though, the waves still crested a few meters well below the landings. 

 Some craggy boulders jutted from the sea; one was close enough that the more boisterous waves sent a salty spray up at Eugene and Mavra’s legs as they dangled from the edge of the jetty. Their unbuttoned slippers lay in a pile beside them, and their stockings were pushed up over their bare calves.

Eugene inhaled deep. The sharp smell of fish mixed with the green note of seaweed. It smelled so good.

“For being in a city so close to the ocean, we’ve spent barely any time by the water,” he said, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back.

“Strange how these assignments don’t leave much time for leisure,” Mavra teased. “Almost like it’s a job and not a holiday.”

Eugene let his gaze fall to her. “Tomorrow morning seems quite… expedient. Are we really expected to leave so soon?”

She sighed, kicking her foot into an oncoming ocean spritz. 

“I think the official stance is that our investigation incited a little more excitement than they would’ve liked.”

“I see. Thanks for the ash but we could’ve done without the property damage and political shake-up,” Eugene concluded, tilting his face skyward again. “Understandable.”

“One more night to enjoy the accommodations before it’s hammocks and bedrolls for a week,” Mavra replied, leaning back and also turning her eyes to the clouds. They were heaped in a giant, soft mass along the horizon, but the higher they went, they began to feather upward until they blended into the brilliant blue sky. 

“I would’ve liked to go fishing,” Eugene finally said.

Mavra raised an eyebrow. “Fishing?”

“Yes, fishing.”

“Can you not fish in Vranovagrad?”

He smiled and leaned forward. “There isn’t really time between tutoring the princess and overseeing the Alchemy Institute. And besides, it’s not the same.” He looked at another pier; an older man was corralling a trio of children, all of them holding fishing poles and squabbling over a bait bucket. “Vranova’s streams and rivers are beautiful, but it doesn’t compare to casting into the sea. The way the water seems endless. You feel small, but in a soothing way.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever fished,” Mavra replied.

“I’m probably a little rusty myself,” Eugene chuckled. “We should go fishing someday.”

As soon as he said it, he felt foolish. She wouldn’t be blinded by the nostalgia of threading little scaly shrimp onto a hook as a child. They were both professionals in their fields, constantly fending off a mountain of tasks from the monarchy, the nobility, the dignitaries 一 Why in the world was he going on and on about fishing of all things?

“We aren’t expected back in Vranovagrad for a few weeks,” she said after a beat. Eugene gave her a questioning look. “They anticipated it’d take longer to resolve.”

“What are you suggesting?” 

“We could take a short detour before we return, and it wouldn’t upset anyone’s itinerary.”

A grin spread across the alchemist’s face. “Like a holiday.”

Mavra smiled back. “Where would you go?”

He pondered for a moment before his eyes lit up. “A day or so east up the coast, there are some rare tide pools I’ve been dying to study in person. The beach makeup is completely different than anything we see on Vranova’s shores. And there’s a little village with a cozy research compound,” he said before cutting off his imminent ranting on coastal biomes and their alchemical significance. “If we go, of course. That’s just an idea.”

“Could we fish there?” she asked unexpectedly. She was looking down into the water.

Eugene’s smile returned. “I’ve no doubt we could find a spot.”

“Just a few days to ourselves,” she said with a quiet assuredness, like giving herself permission to take a breath. “I think that’d be fine.”

“I agree,” Eugene replied, letting his eyes alight on her profile for an extra moment before turning to look at the waves, ceaselessly cresting and foaming as they gathered at the shoreline. Each one traveled so far but took only seconds to break over the sand. 

He took a perfectly contented breath, filled with hope for the days that might come but still holding fast to this memory and holding it close to his heart.