“Here you are,” the server said, setting their plates down with a flourish of her wrist. Ember’s mouth watered as she looked at the trout, which had been grilled whole and laid over slices of lemon. As she slit it open with her knife, a fragrant aroma wafted over the group. She scooted a bone aside, bringing a forkful of fish to her lips. Flavor blossomed in her mouth, delicious and airy.

“I’m a little concerned at how eagerly you’re eating that,” Naz said drily, eyeing her sideways. Ember stopped mid-chew, recalling that her friend was a pisces.

“Erm-”

“I’m joking,” Naz laughed, leaning over to steal a bite. “Although I am relieved that they don’t serve loach here.”

Ember crossed her arms, shooting Naz a look. The amount of food-related humor had increased substantially since the incident with Charlie, which she feared would only further alienate her from him. Still, though, he seemed happy enough as he picked at his plate of berries and grilled insects, engaging in a quiet conversation with Carn.

“It’s nice to have a quiet dinner,” Morgan said, her new red cloak spread across her torso like a blanket. She glanced at Sebastian, who nodded. “We had a busy day. Both of us had been saving our stipends for this.”

Ember raised her glass of cider in wholehearted agreement. The treehouse restaurant was in a beautiful location, suspended high in the trees. They were seated on the outdoor platform, which was enclosed by a balustrade and warmed by torches on tall stakes. Their table was situated above the network of pathways, offering a bird’s eye view of Linnaeans in their winter clothing as they navigated the city.

“We did some shopping as well,” Naz said, holding up their bags.

“Ember did? Really?” Morgan asked, leaning forward. “Show me!”

Ember took her bag, lifting each item out carefully. The first was a set of artisan bath soaps, which were made from beeswax and had been lauded by the vendor as many times better than the university’s provisions. They had been poured in the shape of tiny honeycombs and smelled sugary, a fact that amused Morgan. “What a pleasing little trinket,” she said, turning it over. “I wonder how it was made?”

After a moment of discussion, Ember lifted out the next item, a whetstone and cleaning rag for her fang knife. Sebastian was particularly interested, reminding her to submerge it in oil before use and to work on the entire blade at once. “He’s something of a weapon enthusiast,” Morgan explained, looking at him appreciatively.

Ember was especially careful with the last item, the crowning jewel of the collection. She unfolded the parcel, revealing a stack of golden fabric that unfurled into a full-length outfit. It was a piece designed especially for the upcoming ball, a jumpsuit-gown hybrid that allowed for a wide range of motion.

“Wow,” Morgan breathed, running the fabric through her hands, and even Charlie paused his conversation with Carn. Unlike the formal clothing in Ciradyl, it was soft and flowed easily, shimmering thanks to the flecks of gold sewn into its upper layer. “This is stunning. It must have cost you.”

“Ember’s stipend is larger than ours,” Naz reminded her.

“Still, it made a dent,” Ember admitted. “But it was worth it.” She leaned back, recalling how the dressmaker had shone with pride as she showed off her work, a craft she had brought from one of the northern city-states. In fact, most of the festival’s goods had been crafted with such care and skill. The Linnaean people may be hard, but they are equally as passionate.

As dusk became night, the friends fell into deep conversation. Many of the stories of the first semester were retold: the wolf’s bloodlust, Hickory’s various challenges, the tournaments, the battle with the margay, and countless others. Each development warranted gasps from the listeners, who hung off of the storyteller’s every word. It wasn’t until the server announced the restaurant’s closing that they finally parted, promising to meet again for the events of the second day.

***

Ember leaned forward, trying to catch a better view of the arena far below. The hippodrome was packed for the second event of the day, a game in which two teams were trying to gain control of a spherical, leather-wrapped sheep’s bladder. Stadium vendors climbed up and down the tall aisles, supplying the cinnamon-roasted nuts and grain alcohol whose scent permeated the air. Most prominent was the chatter of thousands of Linnaeans, a sound that pushed at Ember from all sides.

One of the players headbutted the ball, sending it ricocheting into the other team’s goal. The crowd erupted into groans and roars, drowning out the announcer’s voice. “Nice!” Jisu exclaimed, clenching her fist in victory.

“I thought you could only use your feet,” Ember said.

“Feet, elbows, knees, heads… just not hands,” Naz supplied. At the same time, one of the players punched another in the stomach, stealing the ball. “Unless it’s to hit someone, apparently.”

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“That was illegal,” Jisu pointed out as the referee scurried across the field, attempting to issue a penalty.

“Does it have to be so violent?” Naz asked, looking sideways at Jisu, who had a characteristically bloodthirsty look in her eyes. Ember silently agreed—in fact, a javelin from the previous competition still stuck out unseemingly from the lowest wall, where it had narrowly avoided impaling a spectator.

“It’s entertaining,” Jisu argued. “Besides, the players enjoy it.”

As the two bickered, Ember turned around on the stone bleacher, looking over the top of the hippodrome. In the surrounding forest, many Linnaeans were picnicking around small fires, and she combed through them to see if she could catch a glimpse of her other friends. The couples had again gone off by themselves, though they had all agreed to meet for the night’s performances. Ember and Naz had stumbled upon Jisu that morning, who had inexplicably been devouring a whole chicken alone at a breakfast restaurant.

Ember turned back, occupying herself by counting the rows of hippodrome seats. While the first day had been mostly centered around the markets, the second was about the athletes and performers, which required her to brave the massive audiences. By her best estimate, the stadium itself had a capacity of approximately twenty thousand. Nearly every seat was filled, and there were thousands more Mendelians in the vicinity watching the smaller competitions or visiting the markets.

“Naz,” she asked, ignoring as Jisu shushed her, “what’s Mendel’s population?”

The pisces tilted her head. “About thirty-five thousand live within the city walls, and another ten thousand elsewhere in the Old Forest.”

Ember took a moment to think. It was a greater number than she would have suspected, though dwarfed many times over by even the smallest of the thirteen city-states. It was a worrisome comparison, one which brought the Blackwater Caves to mind, where Igor had told her about Corax’s defense strategy.

“I know you’re studying human relations,” she said to the pisces, struggling to make herself heard over the surrounding noise. “Do you believe that the humans will wage war against us?”

Naz frowned. “That’s a hard question. The treaty has held for a century. It’s shaky, yes, but not in imminent danger of collapsing; honestly, I’d like to think that it’s just as likely to strengthen as it is to fail. Linnaeans may be mistreated on the mainland, but at least they are delivered here with their lives.”

“Hmm,” Ember said, resting her face on her chin. Does that mean all of Corax’s initiatives are just a precaution? Though curious, she didn’t want to sour the mood with further discussion, instead deciding to occupy herself by practicing her infrared vision on the players below. The cold weather made their thermal footprints easier to discern, which in Ember’s opinion, was its only benefit. Since speaking with Marcus, she had managed to lengthen the time she could use the skill as well as its clarity, though she still struggled to maintain it long enough to analyze the color patterns.

“Don’t tell me you’re training again,” Jisu said into Ember’s ear, startling her. Indignantly, she swung into a one-armed push-up position, earning a few bewildered looks from the nearby spectators. “Not without me. I forbid it!”

“You two are insane,” Naz sighed, covering her face in embarrassment.

Sandwiched between them, Ember tilted her head back and laughed, a sound that carried over the walls of the hippodrome and was lost amid the branches.

***

The performer stretched out her arms, her full-length red coat flaring behind her. The extravagant outfit was made more absurd by her bright orange fur, a feature that identified her as a primate. Her assistant tossed her three large rings, which she displayed to the audience one by one.

At her cue, a band of three struck up a vibrant folk song. The clarinet wove the melody around the guitar and tambourine, rising and falling in a charming cadence. It was a genre that Ember had begun to associate with Mendel; she had heard nothing of its kind in Ciradyl, where music’s primary purpose was to worship the Divine Goddess or praise the royal family.

The assistant ushered back the spectators, clearing a circle. The performer took her place in the center, beginning to juggle the rings effortlessly.

“I could do that,” Carn joked, attempting to imitate her movements. Ember smiled slightly, grateful that the three friends had been able to meet up alone. Though she was fond of the others—even Charlie, though it would be more accurate to say that she was happy for Carn—hanging out with just the fox and Naz was reminiscent of her first explorative months in Mendel.

“Come on, come on!” the performer encouraged, and a couple of Mendelians joined her in dancing to the music. A Linnaean mother stepped into the circle with her small child perched on her shoulders and executed a spin. The child threw his hands up with joy, laughing gleefully. Even Ember moved a little to the music, recalling the dance she had learned on the day of the Division One final.

After a few minutes, the assistant instructed the crowd to back up. The band started a new song, this one with a more urgent melody. The performer’s routine increased in difficulty, with her sending the rings flying above her head and catching them in strange positions: behind her back, under her leg, and with her toes.

“What do you think?” she asked, waiting for the crowd to cheer. “Too easy?”

Feigning a grave look, she caught the rings and offered them to her assistant. The woman uncapped a vial, dousing them in yellow liquid. Then, she struck a match and held it to the metal, igniting a blaze that bathed the rings in orange fire.

The crowd gasped as the performer resumed her juggling, this time more quickly. She threw the rings high into the air, executing flips and somersaults beneath them. They spun over her limbs, the tendrils of flame kissing her skin but never stopping long enough to burn. She leaped and twisted, engulfed by endless exclamations of wonder, and a circle of frost melted around her.

Ember watched, hypnotized, as the rings flew over each other, suffusing the sky in flame. She could sense Carn and Naz on either side of her, similarly enraptured, and their presence put her mind at ease. She inhaled deeply, her chest swelling with the music. For only a moment, she was feather-light, and there was no anxiety, only bliss.