From the moment General Vigore’s fist pounding on the door of Richard’s bedchambers had woken them, Richard had been one stray breath from ignition. The General’s razor-winged magic had been fully bristled and ready to eviscerate as she stormed in and kicked a sheet-clad Belle out, demanding a “meeting” with the Crown Prince.

“Meeting” seemed like a name that fit too loose. From the change in Richard’s magic since he’d emerged from his bedchambers, Belle would guess Tongue Lashing might fit more snug.

He wouldn’t tell her what had earned him such a lashing, and as much as she wanted to know, she wasn’t eager to press him on the topic.

So, while their things were packed and loaded onto the carriages that would carry them to the train station, Belle did what she did best and listened.

It took a dozen overheard conversations for Belle to piece together that the explosion that had rocked the whole of Broken Earth, the whole of Mt. Mares last night had indeed been born of Richard’s magic, and that it had something to do with a single rebel who didn’t know when to die.

She was certainly dead now. Apparently they were still cleaning her off the sands.

But before Richard blew her into a thousand bloody pieces, she’d managed to make a mockery of Order, and more importantly, the Earthbreakers. In front of what seemed like all of Broken Earth.

Not only that, but he’d killed a handful of civilians in the blast, and would have killed all the nobles in the box, including Lona’s own child, had Jac not caught the stone roof as it caved in on them, and held it up long enough for everyone to drag themselves, bruised and concussed, to safety.

Lona was not happy, and Belle couldn’t imagine the queen would be much happier.

Belle would name it a miracle that they all made it to the train station without any deaths.

~*~*~

Z looked as confident and collected as she always did, tossing Belle a wink as she boarded the train, but Belle could see the fissure deep within her ever-changing magic—and the fear that peeked through it.

On the other hand, Jac’s magic, a close comfort at Belle’s back now that she had resumed her role as Belle’s bodyguard, seemed more steady, more sure than it had in weeks. And it burned bright with anger. Belle wanted nothing more than to finally get the chance to really talk to her friend—more than the casual conversation they had been able to make in passing over the past several weeks—but she expected that Richard, in his foul mood, would demand her attention for the whole train ride, and she was ready to spend the whole day Entertaining.

But it was a day of surprises. As they boarded, Richard stormed off to draft what would no doubt be a tantrum of a letter to Aran about his “meeting” with General Vigore. That alone could take hours depending on how many times he ended up breaking his writing utensils or ripping up his papers. He shut himself in his own train car, and Belle and Jac were able to grab a compartment to themselves one car down.

The moment Belle slid the door closed behind her, she felt Jac’s strong arms pull her into a vice-like hug, and she was swallowed by liquid sunshine. The golden blaze of Jac’s magic, burning brighter with that anger at its center, was enough to melt the tension from Belle’s body—it was enough to melt her very bones, and knowing the whole of her weight was nothing to Jac, Belle let her legs turn to jelly, let her head flop onto Jac’s shoulder like a deflated bounceball.

It was the first time in weeks they’d been alone together, and it was only now, as Belle transformed into little more than pudding that she realized how empty that had left her. How much she’d needed this, the touch of another person who she trusted wholly.

Jac stood there in steady silence while inside Belle, lock upon lock clicked open and all her wounded parts, her broken edges, her big, big feelings spilled loose.

Hot embarrassment was first to make itself known, kissing up her neck and cheeks until they were red before she could even figure out why she was embarrassed. It took a moment of listening—and suddenly, Belle remembered.

Just last night, much the same way she’d just collapsed onto Jac, she had fallen onto Daivad. She couldn’t believe how open, how reckless with her own body that had been—the memory made her belly flip, and Shame rode cold on Embarrassment’s heels. She shouldn’t have done that. She’d been so vulnerable, and there were only two people on Mother Dark’s wide, wild earth that Belle could let herself be that vulnerable with anymore. Neither of them were Daivad. So many times she’d let herself, her real self free, and it had earned her bruises all over her. Inside her.

How many beatings, to finally beat the lesson home? said Shame, a cold, dark, hunched figure in her mind’s eye, growing larger with every word it spat in her face. How many more monsters need to spill their lives at our feet? That’s what happened last time you bared your soul to him. Clarix is dead because you wouldn’t listen to me!

Shame became a hulking mass before her, over her, planting arms as thick as tree trunks to either side of Belle and crouching over her so the ends of Shame’s stringy, filthy hair tickled Belle’s face. Shame’s ice-cold, soured breath chilled Belle’s blood.

He’s an Earthbreaker, and you handed your body over to him. Just like you hand yourself over to Richard, again and again. He could have done anything! He could have—

Belle squeezed Jac, heart pounding, and Jac’s strong arms squeezed back. It steadied her.

Shame encircled her from all sides, closing in, ready to swallow her whole. And Belle knew from experience that this beast would keep growing, her gut becoming a seemingly bottomless ocean of self-loathing, of disgust. If Belle fell beneath the surface, she could be sinking forever and never reach the bottom.

He could have—!

But there was another thing she knew from experience. Another thing she knew about this beast. With Jac as her tether, Belle dove in. Headfirst.

It washed over her like ice water, and back in the train compartment, Belle began to shiver, but she didn’t retreat. Belle reached out—and it didn’t take long to find the real beast within this dark mass. Shame always felt bigger than she really was. Belle’s hand closed around a limb.

No! the beast shrieked, jerking back. Don’t look at me!

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Softly, Belle said, “It’s okay,” and Jac made a small noise and hugged her closer still.

These words are for your protection! The beast’s scream was amplified by the shame all around them and it sliced Belle’s ears to ribbons. So you will never look like me again!

I know. It’s okay. I’ve got something for you.

Like the beast had been waiting to be asked, she offered up her limb once more, and Belle pulled her free.

The beast fell to the ground with a wet slap. A naked, broken girl, curled over herself in a desperate attempt to hide the bruises, the blood, the shame of her own bare body. Belle produced a cloak immediately and swept it around the trembling beast, covering her. She clung to it like a lifeline. Belle knelt beside the beast and drew her up into her arms.

Much like Belle had melted against Jac, the beast now melted against Belle. Her frame shuddered with an exhausted sigh. And Belle whispered, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Jac said, and slowly retracted her arms, like she was unsure if Belle could stay standing without them.

As Belle blinked herself back to reality, she saw that Jac’s magic seemed to have gone on just as much of a journey as she had. She too had taken the time in her friend’s arms to sift through all the emotions she didn’t trust herself to touch with anyone else. The anger Belle had read in Jac’s sunshine magic had shifted—still angry, but less aimless. Under control. And little ribbons of light in all colors that had been wadded up Jac’s chest had untangled themselves a bit.

Finally, Belle straightened and looked her beautiful friend in her beautiful face. “Name it,” she said. “Name everything. And I’ll do the same.”

~*~*~

So, the two women settled into their compartment. It wasn’t the usual luxury passenger train the Earthbreakers preferred, but a simple thing all in worn wood paneling and not-especially-comfortable seats and only one glowstone lantern clattering against the wall with every sway of the train. For the first several miles of their journey, they would have to settle for a view of the hefty metal bars that lined the tracks, set there to keep nightbeasts from causing a derailment, but further from the city, where nightbeasts were fewer, the bars would fall away and allow for an unbroken view of the mountain range and the green, rolling hills at its feet.

Belle untied her sandals and tucked her feet up under her on one of the benches in their compartment while Jac set Puissance against a wall and flopped onto her back resting her head in Belle’s lap. And as Belle toyed with Jac’s short, tight curls, they each poured out their stories. Belle kept her magic fanned out wide so she would notice should anyone else wander near enough to overhear them, and more than once she had to hold up a hand to stop Jac or else freeze in her own mid-sentence until the interloper had passed by.

Jac told Belle all about the rebel woman whose name they never learned, how Jac’s heart had broken when the rebel had shorn her own hair despite the fact that Jac couldn’t fathom why she’d done it. She mused on what it might have symbolized, and Belle watched how those multicolored ribbons of light in Jac’s magic swirled and caught on each other. Belle named the ribbons as they flashed past—fear and hope and grief and shame. And Jac told Belle how the rebel had looked Richard right in the eye and shamed him in front of thousands, and shamed him again with each beast she slew, first with a dulled sword, and then when that was lost in the belly of a beast, with a horn she’d snapped off its head.

She told Belle of the moment Richard had lost his temper, how the blast had knocked in half the stone ceiling, and Jac had held it up and given them time to escape.

Belle looked down at her friend’s perfect face and murmured, “Mother Dark, those actions give you a thousand names. Powerful, Fierce, Incredible, Heroic—”

Though Jac’s magic blushed and swirled at the words, more pleased than she wanted to admit, she said, “If Ishe wasn’t sitting beside me, I’d have let the stone crush them all. A dozen fewer noble fucks to plague Lushale.”

A smile lit Belle’s eyes. “Even Z?”

“If my actions name me Powerful, Z’s actions name her Coward. Just before the blast, I glanced her way and found only an empty chair. Didn’t bother to gift anyone else a warning before she tucked tail, though.”

Belle frowned thoughtfully. “You’d think she’d have known the safest place to be in a blast was your side.”

A tiny wrinkle appeared between Jac’s pale, perfect brows, and her golden eyes stared up at nothing. Sick, twisty shame not too unlike that which Belle had just faced within herself squirmed through Jac’s magic. “My magic has been less than reliable lately. She knew that.”

Belle was careful to keep the surprise off her face. It wasn’t like Jac to admit to her own perceived limitations. She usually refused to even look at them, and she certainly didn’t voice them. Pride in her friend swelled in Belle’s chest.

Before Belle could decide on a response, Jac said, “Maybe Z was right, maybe if she’d tried to calm Richard it only would have widened the blast, but part of me wonders… I think she enjoys it too much. Watching people, finding their soft places and pushing until they squirm.”

“I’d name her Mischievous, not Sadistic.”

“Sadistic,” Jac murmured to herself. “That’s the word that’s been living just south of the tip of my tongue.”

“She wouldn’t wager the lives of hundreds just for the chance to see Richard’s soft places pushed.”

“Not even if he was a day away from shuttling her off to Toll?”

“No, not even.”

Jac’s eyes opened and locked onto Belle’s face. “You only see her good side, Nyxabella. It’s the only side she shows you.”

Belle’s belly turned over, and she questioned herself. Questioned her own judgment. She was close to Z, and while she’d never made herself truly vulnerable to Z, not like with Mama B or Jac, she had certainly been vulnerable with her before. She had trusted Z with herself, her body, her true thoughts on Richard and Aran.

The beast, still wrapped in her cloak, wakened. Whimpered. Belle pulled her close and reminded her that they were safe now.

“I … I just know that the Z I know wouldn’t do that. And what she said, there in the box, I’d agree. A word from anyone, no matter how sweet the shit, would only have been fuel on the fire.”

Jac sighed and let her eyes drift closed. “You do read people better than me. A million times so.”

“Are you alright? After all that?”

One golden-blonde brow quirked. “You think a stone ceiling could bruise me?”

“No,” Belle smiled, “but the rebel—her words and her death—might. It’s harder to punch feelings than ceilings.”

Jac sucked her teeth. “True shit. How much better my life would be elsewise.”

After that, it was Belle’s turn to tell a tale—discuss the way Kitten had been growing, the conversations she’d had with Daivad, and his showing up at the graveyard last night. She even, after a moment of hesitation, told Jac about crying on his chest and feeling so ashamed of herself today for doing so. And then, she recounted the reason it was Richard escorting Z to Toll.

As the sun sank and the train clattered and the women talked, the Nothing snuck up on Belle. Nothing is quieter than Nothing, and when Belle looked around, her eyes skipped right over it. They must have, because at golden hour when she finally noticed it, it had grown shockingly close. It was still miles away, on the other side of an entire mountain, but the size of it…

“Belle?”

How long she’d been staring, slack-jawed and frozen, Belle didn’t know. Jac sat up beside her and looked around, trying to see what Belle saw.

“It’s…” she started, but she had no idea how to finish the thought. How did one describe Nothing?

It wasn’t darkness. It wasn’t death. It wasn’t… It just wasn’t.

And they were barreling toward it.