Halfway to shore, Ava Lucila Rykus nudged Ruan’s shoulder, and pointed up at the sky as a prismatic shimmer flashed above their skiff. She held her breath as two slender creatures emerged from low-hanging clouds. Feathers of many vibrant shades caught the light of the evening sun and the creatures twirled through the air.

“Feathered serpents!” Ruan whispered.

“I’ve only ever heard tales.” Ava marveled as the graceful creatures rode currents of wind. Thin membranes expanded from their sides like tiny sails. A fin of feathers on their spine guided their path in perfect synchronicity, as though the creatures were performing an ancient choreography across the heavens.

The feathered serpents dove toward their ship, and even the rowers stopped to watch as the pair plunged into the bay, submerging for a second, maybe two, before shooting out from the water. Feathers plumed, catching a firm breeze that rushed from the depths of the fjord, and they soared back into the sky.

“Marvelous!” General Campos shouted. “A mating dance.”

The serpents writhed in tandem, catching an upward draft that sent them spiraling up and up, until they disappeared into another cloud.

The consul general pointed to the cliff back the way they’d come. “They’ve a roost back there, I’d guarantee it.”

“Surely, they don’t mate this late in the year?” Ava’s father asked.

Ruan was blushing again, and Ava held back a smile.

“Ah,” said Campos. “The ways of the great creatures of the north are curious, indeed. Feathered serpent eggs gestate for the entire winter. The creatures hibernate for much of the year, and the warm season is desperately short, so they must perform their duties most… vigorously before the snow and ice sets in to ensure fertilization. Of course, this is nothing like the gestation of a dragon egg, eh?”

Her father mused on this quietly. Ava could tell her father did not particularly care for the general, but he was honor-bound to hide it as best he could. His outburst over the armor was an uncharacteristic lapse, though perhaps it had been intentional. For all her father’s faults, he did few things carelessly.

“I think it’s brilliant,” said Ava, eyes still on the clouds. “All must adapt to survive, right?”

“Take what is and mold it how we may,” said Campos proudly. “Spoken like one on the Fjuriin Path, if ever I’ve heard it.”

Ava raised a brow as her father glanced her way.

“Spoken like a teacher’s pet, more like,” Ruan murmured so only she could hear.

“Adapt and survive, comrade,” she said, shooting him a wink.

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turned with a smirk, and Ava nudged him in the ribs.

Ruan didn’t seem to mind.

Ava wondered whether the boy had ever suspected why she’d initially befriended him. Whether he cared.

Ruan was a brilliant boy who just needed a little guidance in the social dynamics of the academy. While Ava needed access beyond her station. Never could she have gained an audience with the consul general during his guest lecture term last year without a connection like Ruan, that was damn certain. Just a second-blood girl from the Old Empire, Ava could never have afforded to be timid or unsure, the way Ruan was when they arrived at Dawncrest.

It felt strange to be this far from the academy. In the past year, Ava had come of age and faced trials that would prepare her for all that would come on her path.

Ruan had grown much the past year, she had to give him that. He took in the village and spoke with the other students with confidence, shoulders back, head high.

And Ava… she was on the Isle of Faltara, the best-kept secret in the world, with one of the emperor’s closest advisors. Gods, I even bowed before the emperor himself!

Campos’s personal guards maneuvered their longboat to the Faltari docks and tethered it to unload. The guards disembarked first. Ruan offered her his hand to help her from the boat. Her right leg ached as she rose. She’d remained far too stationary on that damn ship.

A pair of fur-cloaked natives greeted Campos at the end of the docks, then ushered them to follow, pointing to a log-formed building at the edge of the teeming square outside the walled village.

“Every visitor will be checked for illicit materials,” Campos announced to the group.

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“Gods, are we entering the palace pyramids?” asked Lady Thenius haughtily.

“It is standard procedure for this particular festival, and all will honor it, or return to the ship, if you’d rather.”

Thenius rolled her eyes, adjusting the casual cream-colored gown. Far plainer, Ava was sure, than anything she was used to wearing.

It amused Ava, for all that Attican nobles valued temperance, how easily flustered they could be, if they believed their honor had been maligned.

“I think Thenius needs a good frisk down,” Ava muttered, and Ruan chuckled beside her.

Her father brushed her shoulder from behind, and she paused near the end of the dock, letting Ruan and his warrior mother walk on ahead.

Lady Captain Pelasius also looked uncomfortable in her plain-woven dress, though this was more from her build than anything. Thenius struck Ava as a woman who didn’t know what to do when not wearing fine silks and being ferried around on a litter. Urla, on the other hand, looked like she ought to wear armor at all times—tall, broad-shouldered, strong. Ruan’s mother surveyed the village as though a threat might emerge at any instant, hand hovering near the sash at her waist, where a blade would normally be worn.

When Ruan and his mother reached the shack, Ava’s father turned to her, eyes narrowing.

“Be careful around them,” Rykus said.

“I wouldn’t be here, if not for Ruan,” she murmured. “I know what I’m doing. I saw you getting on just fine with the lady captain.”

“Just be careful. Few are more petulant than love-struck youths. What can be given can be taken away. And that would ruin all we’ve worked for all your life.”

Ava glowered up at her father. “You think I don’t know that?”

Rykus’s face seized. “All of us must sacrifice for the sake of this family.”

“I got us here, didn’t I? Trust me.”

Rykus smiled and patted her cheek, his fingers lingered under her chin, and he looked deep into her eyes. “You’ve done well, darling. But don’t let it go to your head.”

Ava nodded and followed the others before her father could say anything more.

***

Men and women were sent through different examination stations within the Faltari shack, where they were undressed to their smallclothes and checked for weapons and other unwelcome items. The Faltari women were gentle with Ava, letting her support herself with her cane the entire time, and being especially courteous with the leathern brace that extended from knee to hip on her right leg.

The entire process amused her. It was all so much more modest than in Attica. The Valgish ancestry that was said to run in Faltari blood, Ava supposed.

The thick dress she’d been instructed to wear covered her shoulders entirely, which, considering the cold, she’d thought was just practical. But something about the way the Faltari women handled the inspection was so sterile.

Perhaps it was not modesty at all, but something about her foreign-ness. The women barely met her gaze, which was very much not Fjuriin.

Ava found it fascinating. There was so much to learn about the world.

When they emerged from the checkpoint, a pair of fair-haired Faltari men approached, one young as she, one about her father’s age.

Campos immediately drew his hands together and bowed, an extraordinary act of respect from someone of his station. Quickly, the rest of the Attican entourage followed suit, though Ava noted the disgust in Lady Thenius’s expression.

The two Faltari men, father and son it appeared, were the epitome of barbarians at a glance. Long hair reached their shoulders, braided with colorful feathers—serpent feathers, Ava guessed with excitement—and tiny bones. Their cloaks were formed crudely from the hides of multiple beasts. More crude than the guards who’d greeted them, and yet, Campos paid only these two the honor of an Attican Dragon Lord.

“It is good to see you, my friend,” Campos said to the elder Faltari man, holding his gaze only briefly.

Campos motioned to the others. “May I present Joren, Shaman of Faltara, and this must be your son, yes? The second born?”

The shaman nodded, and Ava wondered what was act and what was truth in this entire performative interaction.

“Yes,” said Joren, “this is Malik, also Shaman of Faltara.”

Campos bowed to the boy as well. “Ah, you’ve come of age, then,” said Campos. “Congratulations on your Ascension!”

The young shaman dipped his head in respect, but said nothing. Ava watched the boy carefully. Malik’s eyes were bright like her own, hair a light brown and crudely cut. Dark rings of cosmetic were painted around his eyes, just like his father’s, and dark streaks of the same paint traced the side of his face. His jawline was narrow and chiseled. Without the paint, she suspected he was handsome, not in a Fjuriin way, but perhaps more like her own Valucian heritage.

His father was tall and scrawny, but the young shaman was shorter and well-built. A young man who might have given some of the Dawncrest boys a run for their money in the academy athletic games. A glance at his muscular forearms suggested he probably handled a spear well too. Malik took in each of the foreigners, one by one, and when his gaze met Ava’s, he paused, examining her carefully.

She felt something curious in her mind, which she couldn’t explain. As though her thoughts had been searched somehow, and suddenly, she blushed, though she couldn’t explain why.

Malik’s gaze passed on.

“You brought a larger retinue this year,” the elder shaman said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“The Festival of the Fading Sun is an experience unlike any other,” Campos said. “There are more ships in your harbor than I’ve seen before as well. It was a year of good harvests. Attica is no different.”

Joren nodded evenly. “Yes, well, trade is good, but this is a sacred land, and we do not wish it to be disturbed beyond what is required.”

Ava detected hidden messages in their words, though she could not say what they were.

“We come in peace, as always,” Campos said. “You know as well as I, how much we prize the sanctity of this place in Attica.”

Joren nodded, but the younger shaman hitched slightly. Ava doubted anyone caught it, but she had been trained to notice the subtlest shifts in human expression, like the brief tensing of a jaw or shoulders.

The younger shaman was angry about something.

“We should speak further in private,” said Joren.

Campos nodded. “Of course. I’ll meet up with the rest of you during the spirit ceremony tonight. Lady Captain, I would be honored if you would serve as my guard.”

A couple of the parents grumbled at this, but Ava’s attention remained fixed on the young shaman.

Malik caught her watching him, and she glanced away, and hurried after the others to explore the markets.