Octavia got her one free pass. Stratos didn’t press her, despite her late return. She’d been far less concerned about awakening her housemates, and she was extremely fortunate to avoid any issues there. Her heart was still pounding well into her dreams, following all the way into unconsciousness as adrenaline and dread trailed close behind. She could barely bring herself to turn her head towards Stradivaria’s case in the first place. Her best attempts to sleep saw her fighting to drift off for another two hours after her arrival. Her thoughts were simply too fast.

It took absolutely everything in her power not to let paranoia eat her whole. It was ironic, in a way, that she’d been gifted a whole new emotional hurdle in the wake of the terror she’d just shelved in Velrose. They’d traded places. It was true that she wasn't necessarily free of bells in her nightmares, and she knew she probably wouldn’t be any time soon. Still, the echo that took their place in her head was gentler, feminine, and damning in four words alone.

Do not trust Stratos.

It was closer to a curse than anything. In every action she took, she weighed her outward appearance towards him and the world at large. Her inability to confide in a single soul, not even Viola, was agonizing. It was a brutal side effect of opting to trust in Mixoly’s words, by which the isolation ate her alive. Keeping secrets was miserable, and it had never been a talent.

Octavia was hyperaware in all she did, struggling to stifle so much as the idea of Mixoly’s name in her head while not in her presence. She wondered how big of a problem it would cause to even utter her alias, on further thought. Every Muse that spoke to her made her heart race in the worst way. Every ounce of praise she received made her stomach twist into knots. They knew. All of them knew.

To keep Stradivaria on her back through it all, to don a false smile and wear an innocent mask, was Hell. She may as well have tied a rope around her neck every time she slipped her arms through the straps of his case. If Octavia could simply ask him outright about Mixoly’s trustworthiness, it would be over in an instant.

She weighed the Heartful Muses again and again on a scale that brought her no closer to an answer. She knew Stratos. She hardly knew Mixoly. It still didn’t explain so much that had occurred. Octavia wasn’t entirely convinced he couldn’t tell that something was off, and the thought haunted her excessively. Josiah had once told her she’d make a terrible actor. If she was going to figure out exactly what was going on, she was going to have to prove him wrong by the widest margin possible.

She did as Mixoly suggested. She faked it, carrying on to the best of her ability.

Octavia hadn’t quite figured out what to say to River yet, and she stashed her owed apologies to the side for the time being. She had told Mixoly that she would return tonight, and yet the Muse’s subsequent warning of a need for subtlety had fostered second thoughts. On further consideration, Mixoly had a point--if she were to venture out each and every night, it wouldn’t just be Stratos who would grow curious. She already had one set of prying eyes at her cottage that could pin her to the wall and drag out the truth, if he wanted to do so. She’d learned the hard way that there existed another Willful boy who could tear her to shreds and rip out the same--inescapable in every manner.

Again, her heart stung at the thought of hiding from those she loved. A tiny part of Octavia almost wanted to resent Mixoly for the sea she’d pulled the Ambassador down into. She opted to offset last night’s excursion with a schedule intended for false appearances. It was miserable to plan and harder still to execute.

The tolls were genuine, at least. She managed two. One Maestro consented. The other, too, had done as such. Still, the pang of regret that she caught in the latter’s eyes for a fraction of a second was destructive to her soul. Octavia couldn’t ignore it. It burned.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Force people to give up their Muses if they don’t want to.”

Octavia's distress was punctuated with a heavy groan, and she cared little about the way the grass was starting to sneak into her braids. “It…hurts,” she continued weakly.

Viola propped her elbow on one knee, resting her cheek in her palm casually. “There’s not really much of a choice. We’re gonna have to, eventually. We talked about this. They all need to go.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m ripping something important away from everyone when I do this. I mean, people’s entire lives have been changed by the Muses. People’s entire lives have been changed by becoming Maestros. Is it wrong of me to hesitate about just…erasing all of that in an instant for someone?”

“Octavia, they were normal people at some point, too,” Viola reminded. “They weren’t always Maestros. They’ll be able to go back to that, one day. It might take some getting used to, yes, but they can return to a normal life. That’s a gift.”

She shook her head, a strenuous effort that saw blades of grass brushing against her cheeks on either side. “What if some of them don’t want a normal life? What if this is their ‘normal’?”

Viola shrugged. “It’s…like grieving, I’d assume. You’d lose a part of yourself, but it’s something you’ll come back from, eventually. It’ll just take time. Remember, they know why you’re here. They know what the Ambassador is supposed to do, and the ones that don’t will come to understand.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Octavia murmured. “It still hurts people.”

Viola cast her eyes down to the Heartful girl, splayed out on the ground as she was. “Is this about something in particular?”

Octavia sighed. “Kinda.”

“What’s up?”

She was almost hesitant to say. “I mean, I’m starting to see it on people’s faces when I guide their Muses, and there’s…people I’m worried about crushing in the future when the time comes.”

“Like who?” Viola prompted.

“River,” Octavia said sadly. “From what Francisco told me, being a Maestro is his entire life. He puts everything he has into it, and he makes the most of it every day. They said he’s worked really, really hard to get where he is. I’m afraid to take all of that effort and happiness away from him when that’s the one thing he loves.”

Viola tilted her head. “I thought you were mad at him.”

Again, she groaned, hitting her head against the soft earth several times in irritation. “I still am, a little bit. I hate that he doesn’t value his life more. I know if I guide his Muse, he wouldn’t be able to use his gift anymore, and that would keep him safe. Still, I think it would…break him.”

Viola thought for a moment in silence. “Then talk to him about it now, before it gets to that point. Maybe you can change his mind.”

“None of them can change his mind, Viola, and all of them have tried!” Octavia whined in exasperation. “He’s so stubborn! I feel like such a bad person knowing I’m gonna have to take away what’s most precious to him!”

“Doesn’t he have people that are important to him, too, though?”

Octavia squeezed her eyes shut in the midst of her frustration. “I mean, he does, but I don’t think that’s gonna be enough to satisfy him. I can’t even blame people for ending up like this. They’re like soulmates. I’m taking away people’s soulmates!”

Viola sighed. “River is one person. I’m not trying to dismiss what he’s been through, or what he’s still going through, but this isn’t the case for everyone. Not everybody will--”

“Do you know what happens to Madrigal when they go?”

Her words were sharper than she'd intended, just as bitter on her tongue as they were in her head. They burned on the way out. Viola winced.

“I-I…she’ll understand. She’s…strong.”

“Lyra is everything to her. Lyra is her entire life.”

“Octavia, she knows what we’re doing,” Viola argued. “She’s been helping with everything. Why would she be doing all of this with us if she wasn’t prepared for whatever waited at the end? It’s because she loves Lyra that she’d help her go home. I’m sure that--”

“Do you know what happens to Renato when they go?”

Viola outright cringed. The borderline glare Octavia had fixed her with wasn’t helping, and Octavia was well aware of that. When the Soulful Maestra fell silent, she relented.

“Yeah, that one keeps me up at night,” Octavia muttered. “He doesn’t have to say it out loud. I know he thinks about it.”

“He…knows it’s temporary,” Viola squeaked out, averting her eyes uncomfortably. “He knows it wasn’t supposed to last forever. He’ll get through it. I…know he will.”

“Even you,” Octavia pressed. “Silver Brevada was your grandmother’s. You both shared him, and he’s part of both of your lives. Does that not make you upset?”

She hesitated. “We have so many other different kinds of bonds. Silver Brevada isn’t the only thing that ties us together. There’s a lot of memories there, yes, but there are plenty more that don’t involve him.”

Octavia bit her lip. If she really wanted to, she could mentally run through the impact of every Muse on every Maestro--of the ones she’d met, at least. There wasn't a single one for whom a Harmonial Instrument didn't play a key role in life, even of those who’d tried to ensure otherwise. For the vast majority, it was for the better. She could hear one thousand times over of the benefits for the Muses, granted. It didn’t do a thing for the Maestros left behind.

“You’d be losing a part of Priscilla, right?”

Octavia’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

Viola’s eyes were as soft as her voice. “Stradivaria is…what led you here. He’s the tie between you and Priscilla, and he loved--loves--both of you.”

She wanted to say it.

“Without him, we never would’ve met. And if Priscilla had him, then I’m sure he’s been in your life for a long time.”

She really, really wanted to say it.

“What you two have together is…amazing. I know you don't really notice it from your side, but everyone can see how much you love him. When you fight together, you’re both perfect. There's...not many Maestros who are that close to their partner. I’m almost jealous, honestly,” Viola half-joked.

She so, so, so desperately needed to say it. It was impossible to hide.

“If you’re having a hard time dealing with him leaving, you can talk to me about it. I’m always here. I hope you don’t think I’m trying to dismiss anyone’s pain, because I’m not. I know it’ll hurt, and I…know it’ll probably hurt you, too. I know he’s special. You’re both special.”

The only thing that kept every last word buried deep in Octavia’s soul instead of erupting from her throat was a tactical glance to her left. His case rested peacefully in the plush grass, not so far from that of Silver Brevada’s. It was just barely enough to stem the roaring wave of truths that threatened to burst from her lips any second. It was Viola. It was just Viola. It was specifically Viola. Surely Mixoly would understand.

“I-I…appreciate it,” Octavia stammered, her voice nearly inaudible.

Honestly, it was a sentiment that might’ve brought tears to her eyes up until precisely yesterday. Stradivaria had, indeed, bound Priscilla and herself together across the boundary of life and death. Octavia should’ve been thankful--and she still was, mostly. She hadn’t stopped to consider whether or not Stratos had been coercing Priscilla, as well, until this exact moment. Her blood boiled at the thought, even in passing. Shelving it was miserable. Viola’s smile was her one compensation prize.

When the Soulful Maestra rested her hand delicately atop Octavia’s outstretched fingers, it was enough to impede her racing thoughts. “Let’s just take these one at a time. Keep doing what you’re doing, and just know that time heals everything. Maybe start thinking about all the fun things you want to do once all of this is over. We have lives beyond Maestro stuff waiting for us, too. Look forward to that. I know I do.”

Octavia didn’t have to fight as hard to find a smile of her own as she thought she would. “I…do. I do look forward to it.”

With Viola beaming down on her brighter than the sunshine that kissed her face, she was happy. The warm touch that blessed her fingers made her heart sing. Still, it was nearly impossible to keep her eyes from flickering to the left far more often than she would’ve liked. So long as Stratos was involved, if Mixoly was to be believed, Octavia’s future was anything but clear.

Do not trust Stratos.

It really was starting to become an echo. It was still better than the bells.

----------------------------------------

For how long it had taken her to summon the strength to knock on his door, Octavia was absolutely no closer to formulating a solid apology in the slightest. Playing it by ear was a terrible idea. She opted to do it anyway.

By the third knock, she was growing impatient. Octavia entertained the idea that he outright wasn’t present, and yet she couldn’t think of any other logical place he would be. She added inquiries.

“River?” she called timidly through the door. “It’s Octavia. Are you there?”

Nothing. She tried once more, sprinkling in her pleas. “Can we talk for a bit?”

Initially, her fifth attempt had been fruitless. When the wood suddenly gave way, her knuckles left to tap against open air, she flinched. He’d missed the part that included her name, apparently. The distress that tainted otherwise peaceful seafoam was upsetting, knowing she’d been the one to put it there. The moment he caught sight of her face, he tensed. It wasn’t subtle.

“Octavia?” River asked weakly, his voice strained.

She struggled to maintain eye contact, given how deeply uncomfortable he appeared to be. “Hi,” she tried. “I, uh…are you busy?”

He shook his head, never pulling his gaze away from hers. “Not at all.”

“Can…we talk for a little while?” Octavia asked once more, fidgeting somewhat.

River nodded, opening the door wider. He gestured for her entry with startling calm. “Of course.”

Octavia was, in truth, surprised he wasn’t aggravated with her in return. She’d half-expected some sort of irritation on his part, especially for how he’d absorbed so much of her frustration. Instead, he was quiet and clearly unsettled. As to the latter, she had a strong feeling that she was the catalyst. It might’ve made the atmosphere less awkward if he’d been angry, frankly.

“Would you…like me to make you anything?” River asked softly.

And now he was catering to her. Octavia felt guiltier by the minute. “I-I’m alright, but thank you.”

He wouldn’t look at her. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’m…more than happy to make you anything you’d like.”

This was awful.

“Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Octavia blurted out at last. “In Velrose. Over Mina. The thing with the…you know. I wanted to apologize. I know you were just trying to help.”

At the sound of her apology, improvised as it was, River at least gave an honest effort to meet her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize. I can understand why you were angry. I didn’t mean to upset you again.”

Octavia shook her head. “I don’t care about that. I just want you to be safe. The idea of that much of your life disappearing in an instant was…horrifying. It still is. I can’t wrap my head around it, even now. I really want you to care about yourself. I want you to love your life.”

He tensed ever further. “I do care about--”

“I don’t believe you,” she admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. I…really don’t believe you.”

River’s face fell, his eyes pooling with hurt. “Why would you say that?”

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Octavia fell silent. There was no improvising whatever was to follow an accusation so harsh, and she struggled to choose her words carefully. “You’re…an incredible Maestro. You do so much for Tacell, and for all the people who live here. You’ve done so much for me, and you took all of my friends in with open arms. You’re a wonderful person. Still, you’ve already used up so much of your lifespan, and you’re…not even fazed. You work so hard, and you’ve done so much to get to this point in your life. Aren’t you afraid you won’t get to enjoy the life you spent so much time making?”

The shimmer in his eyes was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking. “I’m not afraid. It’s…part of what I want. Everything I do, I do because it’s…”

He trailed off. Octavia didn’t let up. “If you keep this up, you’re gonna die young.”

“I know,” River said quietly.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

Octavia bit her lip. She was starting to understand the dilemma Francisco had been talking about. There was an urge to press as to River's lie, by which his true expenditure still eluded her. It wasn’t the time, and he didn’t deserve her panic right now. “What is your…goal in life, exactly?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have any dreams, or aspirations? What are you trying to get out of life?” she asked.

River’s voice was as gentle as it was timid. “I want to help.”

“With…what?” Octavia asked.

“Everything,” he answered. “There’s a reason I was born Spirited. I’m sure of it. There’s a reason I became a Maestro, and I’m sure of that, too. I was meant to do this. This is my purpose, and I can feel it in my heart. I’m meant to…use what I was blessed with to do everything I can for the world.”

“But is that really what you want?” Octavia pressed.

“Nothing could make me happier,” he argued softly. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Octavia fought the waver in her voice. She refused to yell at him again, especially when he was like this. “What are you going to do when you’re not a Maestro anymore? What are you even going to have left? You shouldn’t…build your entire life around this.”

“Why not?”

Not yelling wasn’t working. “Because you’re not going to be a Maestro forever, River! Rondelio has to return to Above eventually! You know that! You need to have something to live for after that!”

She hated that the way his eyes glistened so vehemently was as lovely as it was. For what she’d come here to do, Octavia was doing the exact opposite, and somewhat more severely than last time. She wondered if Francisco would be grateful to her for calling out River’s poisonous aspirations or angry with her for pushing their leader nearly to the point of tears. To be scolded on his life choices by the Ambassador surely wasn’t enjoyable. Octavia was torn between feeling horrible and justified.

River was silent for long enough that she genuinely feared she might’ve gone too far. When he did speak at last, it was almost inaudible.

“Have you ever felt like what you do isn’t enough, Ambassador?”

Octavia's eyes widened. “What?”

He paused. “Are there…days when you feel like you haven’t done enough for your role? You have a tremendous task, and it’s clear to anyone who sees it that you pour your heart and soul into what you do. Still, do you ever feel like it isn’t enough? Like there’s…more that you could do?”

Octavia’s fingers curled around the fabric of her dress skirt uncomfortably. She didn’t particularly want to entertain the thought. “I-I mean, honestly, yes. There’s days when I wish it would go by faster, but there’s a lot of Muses, and I know it takes time. I know I’m doing what I can, and I know I’ll get through them all, little by little. I try to be okay with that.”

River threw his dangerously-shimmering gaze at the carpet. “It’s…incredibly disheartening to know that there’s things I should be able to do, but can’t. There’s no satisfaction in what’s already been done.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked quietly. “What is it you’re not able to do?”

His sigh was practically inaudible as well, tiny and faint. “I’ve always liked to imagine that a Maestro doesn’t need an Apex to be strong. That’s what I’d really, truly like to believe, so maybe it’s wrong of me to covet. Still, to stand beside them day after day after day, knowing what they can offer the world with their strength, it’s…difficult. It’s painful. I adore my partner, Octavia, and I always will. It doesn’t change how much it hurts.”

“But you don’t need an Apex to be strong,” Octavia reassured. “I don’t have an Apex, and I like to imagine I’m strong. There’s lots of powerful Maestros out there without Apexes. It won’t even matter once they all go back to Above, River.”

“The Apex of Spirit is different.”

Octavia blinked. “What do you…mean?”

River crossed his arms, vulnerable in a way Octavia didn’t especially enjoy. “I don’t know what the Apex of Spirit would do to my gift, but I’m sure it would be enough to help me do even more in life. That’s the…other part that burns. I can’t ignore that.”

Ever so slowly, at the worst possible time, Rondelio’s prior plea for Lyra’s secrecy was starting to click. Octavia’s heart sank. “The Muses aren’t supposed to be here. None of this was ever supposed to be here, including all of our gifts and our instruments. You shouldn’t have been able to do everything you’ve already done so far. You weren’t always a Maestro. You had a life before this, and you’ll have a life afterwards. You can’t tell me that this is all you want, because you…had to have wanted things out of life before you met Renegadria. Go back to those. Bring them forward!”

He shook his head sadly. “I haven’t…imagined a life after this. I didn’t have any real ambitions before Rondelio and I became partners. I followed wherever the wind pushed me. I was aimless. Nothing was predictable.”

“Did you like it that way?”

“I don’t know.”

Octavia took a deep breath. “Then we’ll find something for you to look forward to. If we can’t find anything, we’ll just make something ourselves.”

River eyed her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe being unpredictable isn’t a…bad thing,” she clarified gently. “That’s how you met Renegadria. If you give life a chance, there’s so many other amazing things that could happen in the future. Not knowing what waits for you next is kind of scary, but it’s exciting, too. We can face that together. We can find you something worth living for, even if we don’t know what it is right now.”

River was quiet for a moment. “You don’t need to do that for me.”

“I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

She really did enjoy the shine that came with seafoam. At this point, she wondered if he’d ever catch on to exactly how often she stared. Of her fixation, at least, Octavia hoped he’d stay ignorant. River didn’t smile. It might've been wishful thinking, but she could’ve sworn she heard otherwise in his voice.

“I don’t…deserve that.”

“You do.”

When Octavia couldn’t find a smile on his lips, she offered her own instead. He only tilted his head thoughtfully.

“What do you plan to do with your life when your task is finished, then?” River asked.

It was a loaded question. Octavia hadn’t fully formulated an answer at this point, and she admitted as much with pride. “I’m not sure yet. I just know I’ve made a lot of friendships that are gonna last for the rest of my life, and I’m really excited to spend more time with everyone. There’s a lot that I want to do with them. I’m really, really looking forward to that. As to whatever else happens, I’ll deal with it when I have to. I’m happy just knowing there’s something waiting for me.”

River only stared. “Even though you haven’t known them for long? That’s enough motivation?”

Octavia beamed. “It’d be nice to spend time with you, too.”

River smiled gently. It was wonderful.

“And you know what? You have a lot of people who love you, even if you don’t know it. I’m sure all of them would want to stay by your side after this is all over. It’d be kinda hard for all of us to spend time together at once, but I’m sure we could make it work. We might have to make reservations every time we go out to eat, though,” she joked.

And it was soft and muted, but River laughed, too. It was as pure and crystalline as ever. It was perhaps even more wonderful than his smile. She’d missed it immensely.

“That sounds…fun,” he admitted. “I don’t think I’d mind, if you’d have me.”

Octavia clung to the last vestiges of his laugh for as long as was possible. She strongly entertained the idea of trying to get him to do it again. “You never have to ask.”

“What…kinds of things would you want to do together, then?” River inquired with the same smile.

She hadn’t intended to stay as long as she did, the afternoon giving way to the blossoming night with so little notice. Even as the sunshine bid her farewell through the curtains, Octavia never lost interest. It was definitely hours. He showered her with hospitality, and she returned his warm meals and steaming tea with her hopes and desires.

He’d surely enjoy Coda. He’d get along well with Harper. He’d adore every inch of Silver Ridge, and she’d torment him with the woodworker’s blood that ran through her veins. Octavia cherished every last facet of River's laugh, and she fought for the same chimes to grace her ears again and again and again. She was successful each and every time. It was much better than any apology she could ever have hoped to assemble manually.

----------------------------------------

With the rising moon came a choice she still struggled to make even now, despite her self-inflicted compromise. Up until last night, there were no physical obstacles to her midnight meetings with Mixoly. It was perhaps for the best that her encounter with Francisco served as a sobering reminder, as horrific and jarring as it was controlled. Truly, it could’ve ended far worse. Going back was easier than getting there, at least in terms of the simple “walking” excuse.

Still, of the four Ensemble members she risked running into on any given night, Octavia was more than aware that not a single one wouldn’t begin to raise an eyebrow at her behaviors eventually. One of them already had. Another had previously seen her venture into that exact cottage and tangle with that exact Maestro. Mixoly had spent so much time highlighting the apparent risk that Stratos posed that Octavia still couldn’t figure out how concerned she should be about the others.

That didn’t stifle the itch to go back. Provided she was exceedingly careful, she could make it to Theo’s cottage unseen and pace her time with Mixoly far more cautiously. She’d more or less mastered the art of slipping in and out of her own abode unnoticed, although whether or not luck played a part still remained to be seen. At this very moment, she knew Theo was waiting for her preemptively, should the mere chance occur that she would appear on his doorstep. She hoped he at least slept well during the day.

For how far Mixoly had called to her when Octavia had first heard her voice, she entertained the idea that the Muse could perhaps hear her in return. She almost tried of her own accord, and yet the idea of Stratos accidentally capturing her floating words instead was terrifying. There was no experimenting, at least right now.

And the longer she gazed at the ceiling, the more agitated she became. She couldn’t bear to look at his case. The room was borderline suffocating, and the fear that he could read every thought in her head washed over her again and again. For all the threads of the spider web that she didn’t know, there was a renewed dread that came with ignorance. It hadn’t bothered her before. Perhaps this was how Josiah had felt.

Octavia fought the urge to groan in exasperation, lest Stratos press her on her audible distress. Silence, hopefully, was enough to keep up appearances, and she prayed her presence safe in bed would offer him something or another to be satisfied with. It didn’t change the fact that she would eventually have to leave him again. That would surely breed concern.

She had an idea. It was a strange gamble, one-sided as the risk was. The odds of him identifying anything more out of the ordinary than her simple action would be close to zero--or so she hoped. It was a solid way of faking it, to be fair.

What are you doing?

Octavia didn’t grace him with an answer--at least, nonverbally--until she was well outside, embracing the crisp chill of the autumn night on her skin. She hadn’t gotten to use the balcony much, although it had long been on her agenda to do otherwise. The brilliant moon still showered her in silky light she could only hope to compete with, and with its glow came the beauty of Tacell in full.

If nothing else, in the midst of her paranoia, she could at least appreciate the serenity of nature crowned by the evening. In any other circumstance, she would perhaps add to its majesty. Right now, she was walking a fine line Stratos likely didn’t know existed. Octavia wondered, briefly, if whoever was circling the radius of Tacell tonight would be privy to her deceptive song. She regretted the attention it might draw to herself in advance.

It had been awhile. Once, it had been for bonding, and she’d sought to grow as close to his heart as possible. Now, he was poisonous, and every motion was wary. Quietly and cautiously, she raised the violin to her shoulder. She played.

Octavia was as soft with her song as was possible, although that still didn’t matter much. Where she’d typically showered him with questions and deep conversation, she swallowed every last word that could possibly bubble up from her throat. Those, too, were dangerous, lest something slip out that shouldn’t. She was silent, eyes opened wide for once as she wove an aimless melody with no radiance to show for it. The moon served her well enough, and his warmth in her veins was the last thing she wanted to feel right now.

Did you…wish to speak with me?

She tensed. It was difficult not to let it show. “What makes you say that?”

If memory serves, such is your typical intent when we are together in this way.

Octavia chose her words carefully. “I just wanted to be with you. I’m happy with that.”

Is there…something on your mind?

Her heart was racing much faster than it should’ve been. She played louder. “Not really. Like I said, I just wanted to spend some time together.”

It has been awhile.

“Yeah.”

Whether that was a jab at her recent neglect or a genuine comment as to how long ago they’d last played in peace, she was unsure. Octavia offered her attention to nothing in particular, opting temporarily for the moon above. She didn’t give Stratos anything else to work with. He didn’t need it.

I…enjoy this, in truth.

It was a sentiment he’d never uttered aloud before. It was unsettling. It was perhaps more unsettling that he was initiating the conversation himself, filling in where she strived to leave gaps. “Enjoy what?”

Simply the act of being at your side, he clarified. To indulge in your company in times of peace is as much a comfort to myself as I could wish it to be for you.

Liar.

“I’m glad,” Octavia murmured, empty words that she wondered if he would dissect. This was new for him. Maybe he was desperate. Maybe she was reading far, far too much into this. It wasn’t too late for honesty.

I know you…do not wish to talk about your feelings, or that which you have seen, he said. I will not again remind you that I am here, for I know that you are aware. I do ask, though, how do your companions fare?

She nearly halted her song. “What?”

Allow me to rephrase. Do you…find happiness in their company?

Octavia wasn’t sure where this was going. She didn’t like where this was going, possibly, knowing what she knew about him. Her safety was irrelevant. If he, or any of his kind, laid one finger upon those she loved, she’d snap the violin in half over her knee this very second. Her stomach twisted into knots, as always, and the effort of keeping up appearances grew ever more agonizing. “I mean, of course I’m happy around them. I love being with them. And as to your earlier question, all of them are doing fine.”

You have surrounded yourself with people who care for you deeply. The lengths to which they would go for your needs are admirable, Stratos spoke softly.

She was well aware of that much. To herself, it was a sentiment that warmed her from head to toe and made her heart flutter. From him, it felt loaded in a way she couldn’t explain. She didn’t like it one bit. “Yeah,” Octavia replied.

And it is clear to see that you care for them just as such. I am certain that they feel your love.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he was simply struggling to converse. It was a far more welcome thought than whatever else was floating by. She knew she had the opportunity to overdo it, to falsify the depths of her love and pretend to shower him with her adoration. She could claim the balcony as her stage, and she could act her heart out as she drowned him in falsehoods of blissful peace.

Each and every time Octavia steadied an “I love you” on her lips to offer up as a tribute, it fizzled and died the moment she thought of Priscilla’s deception. Not knowing with certainty whether or not Stratos was truly as manipulative as Mixoly claimed was worse than being sure. If she were positive without a shadow of a doubt in her wake, maybe her paranoia would ease.

If Octavia were as brave as could be, and if she walked that fine line so carefully that she achieved perfect balance, she could perhaps press him instead. It would need to be excruciatingly subtle. She would need to hold a gun to her head and squeeze the trigger with every word. Feigned innocence would only get her so far.

Are there any Muses you don’t get along with?

He would ask why she wanted to know.

Do you remember when I met Rani?

He would ask why she remembered.

What would you say makes the perfect Ambassador?

It was much too direct.

“I do have a question, actually.”

Yes? Stratos responded, slightly more enthusiastic than was warranted--especially for him.

Octavia hesitated. She ran over every word in her head one more time. It was innocent enough, and relevant in a way that she could cover carefully. “Valkyria was the last Apex we hadn’t found. That was all of them. He’s the first Apex to go back to Above, too, I think. I’ve been…wondering. I know River and the others said that the Apex of Heart is your Lord of All. How am I gonna find him?”

It came out perfectly. It was a start.

And, by comparison, Stratos didn’t hesitate. When the time comes, he will call for you. You need not worry. In that way, I suppose you could consider his location known.

Her eyes widened somewhat. It wasn’t quite the answer she’d been expecting. “He’ll…call for me?”

From this realm, our Lord awaits his own return with patience and grace. He is benevolent, and his ascent will follow in the wake of the ninety-five who precede him. It is in this way that he may watch over their guidance with care, for each and all. There exists a place to which the Ambassador alone claims the right of passage. When the time is right, he will lead you there. You will know.

Octavia blinked. “I…I have to guide him last, then?”

Yes.

“And I still have to perform the witnessing?”

Yes.

“Has he…already paid his toll?”

Stratos paused. Yes.

Octavia fought for a full, deep breath. This conversation was vaguely drifting in a different direction than she’d anticipated. She tried to play as steadily as possible, willing her ceaseless song not to waver. “I forgot his name.”

That was a lie. Stratos didn’t call her on it. Lord Ramulus.

She embellished it for good measure. “Oh, yeah. Rani. I remember you telling me now.”

He was silent this time. There was a pattern blooming, and it was incredibly frustrating. When she wanted him to talk, he wouldn’t. When she didn’t, he would. Once more, the roles were reversed. Where she’d hoped she could rely on him speaking of his own accord, Octavia would again be forced to pull the trigger. “Do you think I…made a good first impression on him?”

I do.

She forced a false chuckle. “I mean, he’s your Lord of All. I…hope I’m living up to his standards. I do worry a little about what he thinks of me as the Ambassador. I know I’m not perfect.”

Again, Stratos took her inquiry without argument. You are a fine Ambassador. I assure you that I am not the only one who would believe so. The sentiment is collective.

It was vague, and not quite the response she wanted. Pushing any harder would likely land her in the cycle of praise she dreaded yet again. She’d already established the degree to which that was unwanted, anyway. Octavia sighed.

“As long as I have you, that’s what matters,” she lied as she played.

As I would say the same.

Until she was confident in Mixoly’s accusations, it would be exceedingly difficult to catch Stratos in the middle of a lie. Even if she laid out traps in the form of yet more innocent questions and statements, she knew him to be sharp. If Octavia was going to pin him down for certain with subtlety, it would take more than what she already had. Theo was still awake. Mixoly was still waiting. Here she was, by comparison, with the one soul she was told not to trust in her arms. It was for a good cause--or at least she told herself.

Octavia rolled her eyes inwardly. Never once had he questioned her motive. There was little deceit to be expected from a heart of light like her own, she supposed. It was a weapon she needed to cling to for as long as possible, even if serrating her love felt sacrilegious. If this was what it took to keep him from asking questions she couldn’t answer, she’d have to bear with it. She hoped Mixoly didn’t mind taking turns, Heartful as she was. Octavia doubted it.