“Kaja!”

Kaja stepped back, bracing herself, as Saara rushed towards her with open arms. Within moments, both girls were in a heap on the ground. It had been over two months since the companions had last seen Saara and, while the pure, childhood joy she had in the memory crystals was gone, she had still come a long way from the traumatized girl they pulled from the burning ruins of her home. She had put on weight and her voluminous curls were newly styled into two puffs behind her slightly pointed ears.

Jo’s gaze softened as Kaja and Saara shared excited whispers with one another. Dimitri kept them moving northward through Aurelia at a brisk pace so it had surprised Jo when he agreed to stop in Barsicum. When Kaja asked if she could see Saara, Jo had expected Dimitri to refuse, citing time constraints, or at the very least hesitate and think it over. But Dimitri immediately acquiesced without any resistance or follow up questions, stating simply that Saara was a ward of the Ordo Draconis and that Grandmistress Anya would be pleased to hear that they checked in on her.

“Saara wants to show me the market,” Kaja said. “Can we go?”

“I don’t know, Kaja.” Jo shook her head. “I don’t think we have time for that.” The girls’ faces fell in unison.

“Don’t hurry off on my account,” Dimitri inserted. “I was just about to attend to some urgent business.”

“Urgent business?”

“Yes, what do you say we all meet back here tonight?”

Jo regarded him with suspicion. This “urgent business”, whatever it was, must have been the true reason he agreed to stop in Barsicum so readily. “If you insist,” she said.

“I do insist.” Dimitri flashed a rakish smile, then headed back down the road towards the inner city. Jo rolled her eyes.

“Good riddance,” Leif mumbled.

“So we can go to the market?” Kaja asked hopefully.

Jo paused. She didn’t like the idea of Kaja going out by herself—not when Irkallu operatives could be anywhere looking for her. Even something as simple as her cloak snagging on a fence post could expose her horns and have disastrous consequences. “Why don’t I go with you?” she suggested.

“Oh, let the girls have some fun,” Leif interjected, giving Jo’s arm a good-natured bump. “And in the meantime, we can have some grown-up fun.” He mimed drinking a phantom beverage. “Maybe even get Amale and that sour elf in on it too.”

“I can hear you, I’m right here,” Sakrattars grumbled.

Jo’s jaw tightened. “No, it could be dangerous.”

Leif tugged her down, standing on his tiptoes so he could whisper into her ear. “Any more dangerous than what they’ve already been through? Come on, let them be normal children for just one day.”

Memories of everything that had happened in the past few months flooded Jo’s mind. It was a miracle either of them could smile at all after the suffering they had endured.

“Alright,” Jo said with a sigh. “You can go. But we meet back here at sundown. Do you hear me?”

It was unclear whether they had heard her or not, as the pair had already taken off excitedly. Saara ushered Kaja into the house, loudly brainstorming ideas on what they should wear. The corner of Jo’s lips turned up despite her reservations.

“They’ll be okay,” Leif said reassuringly. “They’re good kids.”

Jo folded her arms, fighting the growing urge to change her mind and call Kaja back. “It’s not them I’m worried about,” she said.

*

*

Saara rummaged through a cedar chest, pulling clothes out for careful inspection and then discarding them unceremoniously onto the floor. The room was already a disaster of metal scrap, opened books, scattered notes, and even the leftovers of an earlier meal (brown stew by the looks of the remnants hardened onto the ceramic bowl). With the clothes piling up, Kaja found it more and more difficult to find a safe place to stand. Saara pulled out a short-sleeved linen tunic, dyed a pale green and cinched at the waist with a brown sash embroidered with delicate golden accents. She held it up to Kaja, tilted her head, then wrinkled her nose and tossed it away.

As if sensing Kaja’s question before she could ask it, Saara explained, “if we’re going into the town square, we have to look our best. That’s what my grandma says, at least. You’re pretty small though.” She paused, considering a bolt of pale blue cloth. “Maybe you can just swap out that cloak for a nice accessory.” There wasn’t any judgment in Saara’s voice, but calling the worm-eaten square of wool that Kaja wore a ‘cloak’ was a generous statement. Kaja tugged the edge of the hood down her forehead and shifted her weight. Jo had told her to conceal her identity from everyone except for the people they were working with at the Ordo Draconis. The risk of the Irkallu being able to find her by following rumors of a horned girl with snow white hair was too great.

“I like the cloak,” Kaja said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. It was the blanket that Jo had wrapped her in after finding her half-dead in the woods—a reminder of the kindness and love she was shown by a complete stranger after the horror of wandering the wilderness alone, wondering why she was the one who lived and how long it would be until she too was gone. Kaja peeked at Saara from under the rim of her hood. That terrible memory of being scared, of being hunted, of surviving was one that was familiar to both of them. Perhaps, even though Kaja had never told Saara her story, Saara could sense that they were the same somehow. Maybe, if it was Saara, it would be okay.

“Alright,” Saara conceded, “if you really want to. What if I tied your hair in some ribbon? I think that would look really good on you. My grandma showed me how to make pretty bows the other day.” Seeing the conflicted look on Kaja’s face, Saara retracted the offer. “It’s okay, you don’t have to,” she said quickly. “Just wait for me while I change.” As she turned away, she felt a gentle hand close around her wrist.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Kaja said. Faded memories from another life wafted through her mind, of hands splitting her hair into long braids, of girlish giggles and loud gossip. The girl in her memory smiled brightly and called Kaja’s name in a familiar, comforting voice that Kaja had thought she’d forgotten. She bit her lip, bit back the memories until they vanished back into the shadows of her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“What are you sorry for?” Saara said with a small, light-hearted laugh. “If anything, I should be sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s not that,” Kaja said. She swallowed, her eyes on the floor between them. She wanted a friend her age so badly, a friend she could share everything with and be herself around. But would she get into trouble? Worse—would she be putting Saara into danger? “Can you keep a secret?” she asked softly.

Saara blinked, her dark brown eyes darting this way and that as a myriad of possibilities shot rapidly through her mind. “Yes,” she replied earnestly, her back straightening. She could tell that whatever it was was very important to Kaja and she wanted to be fully present for her.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

Kaja took a deep breath. “I’m not human.”

Saara waited for an elaboration but Kaja wasn’t forthcoming with one. “Is that it?” she said, relieved that it wasn’t anything so serious as Kaja was making it out to be. “Neither am I, you know that.” Her eyes went wide with delight. “Oh wait, are you half-elf too?”

Kaja shook her head, bunching her dress up in her hands as she worked through the last of her hesitations. Holding her eyes tightly closed, she grabbed the edges of her hood and pulled it down slowly, revealing her horns. She could hear Saara gasp. Would she think she was a monster? Was this the wrong choice after all?

But when Saara spoke, it was still in the tender voice of her friend. “Who are you?” she asked in wonder. Kaja reopened her eyes to see Saara examining her horns in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. There wasn’t a single hint of fear in her expression.

“I’m a zmaj,” Kaja said timidly.

“Zmaj,” Saara repeated the foreign word. “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of your people before.”

“We don’t usually live among. . . outsiders.”

“Where are you from? Why did you come to the Empire?” When she saw Kaja’s face, Saara immediately regretted asking. She understood what it was like, having a part of yourself that was too painful to revisit. She herself hadn’t spoken a single word about her weeks alone in the mountain estate—of her parents, of their deaths, of burying them, of living in fear of the demon who slew them coming back to finish the job. Sometimes she remembered. A scene of cleaning her father’s blood from the carpet would flash into her mind unbidden, shooting like lightning down her spine and paralyzing her lungs. But she never talked about it, as if speaking it would bring it back into reality instead of locked behind the doors of time. Although her grandparents showed her compassion they never asked about those moments, for which Saara was grateful.

“I can’t show people who I am,” Kaja said, pulling her hood back up over her head. “So you have to keep it a secret, okay?”

Saara watched the twisted horns disappear beneath the fabric of Kaja’s cloak. The memory of their first meeting came to mind, how Kaja had breathed frost across the burning staircase. It was almost like a—

“Are you a dragon?”

Kaja opened her mouth, ready to answer ‘no’, but the word caught in her throat and her brow furrowed. Saara could see now that Kaja’s pupils were oddly shaped, like slits instead of circles, and her features were elongated in an elegant, almost serpentine way, and not the lanky way young adolescents like them usually were. Saara wondered how she hadn’t noticed these things before.

“I don’t know,” Kaja finally said.

Saara couldn’t help but laugh. “What kind of answer is that?” she exclaimed, giving Kaja a playful nudge.

Kaja didn’t understand what was so funny. “Sometimes I am, sometimes I’m not.”

“That’s even weirder!”

“Is it?” Kaja hesitated a moment then asked quietly, “so you’re not afraid of me?”

Saara laughed again and shook her head. “Of course not. I knew you were special, Kaja. I could feel it.” She threw her arms over Kaja’s shoulders and wrapped a pale blue scarf around her neck, tying it off into a fashionable bow. “There, I put it on over your cloak so no worries, yeah?” Then she grabbed the outfit she had picked out for herself and turned back to Kaja with a grin. “Wait for me?”

Running her finger tips over the delicate scarf reverently, Kaja nodded and Saara disappeared behind the partition. A few moments later, she emerged wearing a yellow and pink belted tunic with an orange shawl draped across her shoulders.

“You look cute,” Kaja said with a smile.

Saara tensed, then turned away quickly and pretended to fuss with some fabric she had discarded earlier. “Well, uh, we should go then,” she said, trying to ignore the warmth on her cheeks.

Downstairs, they spotted Sakrattars reclining back in an armchair by the hearth with a book in hand. Apparently the others had failed in cajoling him to join their “adult fun” day.

“Can we have some copper for the market, gram gram?” Saara asked.

Sakrattars, closing the book around a finger to mark his place, pulled Kaja aside as Saara retrieved the coin from her grandmother. “Remember that you have to pay for things with money. You can’t just take whatever you want,” he whispered.

Kaja nodded obediently.

“Do you really understand?”

“Come on, Kaja! Let’s go!” Saara called from halfway out the door. Kaja chased after her, leaving Sakrattars’ question unanswered.

“You get in trouble and Jo’s going to find some way to blame it on me!” he cried as the door slammed.

“Children at that age have a hard time listening,” Saara’s grandmother said wistfully in elvish. She placed a mug of tea on the table for Sakrattars and stepped back. “I’m sure you can remember what it was like.”

“I wasn’t like that,” Sakrattars said dryly.

The old elf laughed. “Your mother might say differently.”

Sakrattars didn’t want to be rude but he reflected privately that his mother barely acknowledged his existence and probably had no idea what he was like as a child. Being one of five, and the fourth of four sons in a prominent family, had that effect. Rather than say as much, he sipped the tea. The taste of floral lavender and earthy chamomile coated his tongue. “It’s good, thank you,” he said simply, then he went back to his book.

Outside, the girls had barely taken three steps when a shrill voice caught their attention.

“Saara!”

Kaja looked up to a young human boy with sunkissed skin and messy, dark blond hair hanging halfway out the window of a neighboring home.

“Where are you going? Can I come too?” Without waiting for a response, he disappeared, only to reappear outside moments later, a bright smile spanning his face.

“Osric. . .” Saara put her hands on her hips. “This is a girl’s day, you can’t come.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What makes it a girl’s day?”

“We’re both girls, that’s what, and you’re not.”

Osric glanced between Saara and Kaja. He blinked a couple times, then his eyes got wide. “Is this Kaja?” he cried out excitedly.

“Shh!” Saara hushed, looking around nervously.

“Kaja! Kaja! I’m Osric, Saara’s friend”—Saara rolled her eyes but Osric didn’t seem to notice or care—“She told me so much about you! Can you really use magic—”

“Osric!” Saara quickly clapped one hand over the boy’s mouth and clamped the other around his arm. She dragged him into a nearby alleyway, out of sight of the pedestrians on the main road who had begun to stare. Kaja dutifully followed.

Osric slapped away Saara’s hands, his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “What was that for?” he complained.

“It’s a se-cret,” Saara emphasized, “you can’t just blabber that out in front of everyone.”

“Oh, sorry,” he lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in close. “So can you use magic?” Saara groaned.

Kaja wasn’t supposed to use magic in front of people unless absolutely necessary—it was just another way she could potentially attract the wrong type of attention. But surely just a verbal confirmation couldn’t do any harm, right? “Yes,” she said.

“Wow! That’s so cool!” Osric exclaimed, then remembered that it was supposed to be a secret and got quiet again. “Can you freeze something? Here,”—he searched around the piles of scattered litter in the alley and picked up a half-eaten peach—“can you freeze this? Pleeease?”

“I’m really not supposed to,” she replied reluctantly.

“Aww,” Osric whined.

Saara slapped the peach out of his hand. “Stop bothering her,” she scolded, “or I’ll tell your mom.” The threat seemed to work. Osric became quiet and sullen, trudging behind the girls as they made their way to the marketplace. “And stop following us!” Saara cried back. But if he was going to be denied the sight of Kaja’s magic, he was not going to be left out of girl’s day. Eventually Saara accepted that she could either spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get him to go away or just let him tag along.

At the market, coaxed by the smell of grilled onions and spiced apples, Osric’s bubbly enthusiasm rapidly returned, all thoughts of magic forgotten. Barsicum was transitioning into the harvest season and food stands burst with fresh ingredients. Kaja marveled as women bought up braids of garlic, bundles of dried mountain flowers, and baskets of potatoes for their winter cellars, and men busied themselves carrying crate after crate of grapes to the town center. The grapes would be crushed up for winemaking during the festival of Nargosia—the holiday at the end of the harvest season honoring Nargo, the Imperial god of farming and labor. Nearby stands hawked bottles of wine, made from the grapes of last year’s celebration, to eager crowds looking to purchase some merriment. It was customary to buy a bottle for oneself and a bottle for Nargo, to be poured upon tilled earth as a thank you for a successful growing season.

The children bought candied citrus peels, juicy apricots, and hot spiced cider with the money Saara’s grandmother had given her, and settled down to enjoy their haul. Kaja held the tin of cider politely, hoping it would cool down to a drinkable temperature. As she waited, she swung her legs contentedly over the pony wall and watched Saara and Osric argue over the last grapefruit rind.

Then she felt it.

Eyes.

On them.

On her.

Kaja whipped her head around and scanned the crowds: a mother holding an infant in one arm and a sack of purchases in the other, groups of children running through the streets waving sticks like swords, the deep baritone of the wine seller peddling his wares. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“What’s wrong?” Saara asked uneasily.

Kaja turned back to her friends. “Nothing,” she mumbled. “It was nothing.”

Osric seized the opportunity to steal the contested grapefruit peel and shove it into his mouth.

Saara didn’t notice.

*

*

“He’s gonna drown, I’m sure of it,” Saara said, looking doubtfully at the water basin where Osric’s head had been submerged for the last minute or so. Kaja watched silently, but kept a keen eye out for bubbles. Once those bubbles stopped, she resolved to yank him out of there.

With a great splash Osric lifted his head, soaking blond hair smeared over his face. Nothing diminished his big grin though, not even the apple he held clenched in his teeth.

He said something that sounded vaguely like “got it!” and spat the apple out into Kaja’s waiting hands.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “that was ‘cool’.” Osric’s ears turned light pink as he basked in his glory. Untouched, the attendant hurried them out of the way—there was a big line behind them and they had already taken up more than enough of her time.

“You dummy, you got water on me,” Saara said, gesturing to the dark spots on her dress. Just then, another appeared. And another. They looked up at the sky.

“It’s starting to rain,” Osric cried. “Let’s go!”

The children turned down a winding alley, taking shelter under the tarps of colorful cloth strung up between the buildings. Washerwomen were hurriedly shoving laundry into baskets before the rain could undo all the work of the drying lines.

“Follow me! I know the way back home from here,” Osric boasted, still riding high from his apple-bobbing exploits, as he charged ahead. Kaja wavered for the briefest of moments, an unexplainable apprehension forming in her gut as she stared down the darkening alley. However, Saara and Osric were almost out of sight so she shoved down her apprehension and pursued them.

“I was hoping we could stay out longer,” Saara complained between breaths. “Stupid rain ruins everything, doesn’t it?”

Kaja opened her mouth but her reply was cut short by an arm shooting out of the shadows of a deserted backroad. Reverting to pure instinct, Kaja jumped out of reach just in time and collided with a pile of wooden crates. A young elf, small and slender, lunged towards her, pinning her to a crate before she could recover. Her apple, only one bite taken from it, fell from her hand and splashed into the mud.

“Kaja!” Saara screamed.

Kaja snarled and twisted to no avail, the elf’s fingers wrapped tightly around her throat. Getting more and more desperate for air, she clawed the assailant’s arms but they were protected by hard leather armor. Sakrattars’ voice echoed in her mind, a remnant from a conversation they had long ago.

And if you get into trouble. . .

Kaja opened her eyes, a fierce defiance alight on her face, and the elf loosened her grip for just a moment. That second of doubt was all Kaja needed. She channeled her arcane power into her hands and swiped at the elf’s exposed neck. A burst of frost rimed over on the elf’s breast plate as she dodged the blow.

The elf, shock and confusion plain on her angular features, reached for the sword on her hip but Kaja grabbed her wrist, encasing her sword hand in hoarfrost. Crying out in pain, she caught Kaja by the scarf with her remaining good hand and slammed her down onto the street. Kaja gasped as the wind knocked out of her and the elf pressed a sharp knee into her chest. Kaja struggled, squirming on the ground, her feet slipping in mud and rain water and who knew what else. She heard the now-muddy scarf ripping in the elf’s hands, and felt a pang of guilt and regret amid her fear.

“Let her go!” Saara cried, rushing forcefully into the elf.

She repelled Saara’s attack easily but the motion forced her knee off Kaja’s sternum, allowing Kaja to take a choking breath. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Kaja slid up, folded her legs under the elf, and kicked with all her might. Catching the blow in her stomach, the elf was launched back into the wall and crumpled on the road.

Just then, heavy footsteps sounded on the cobblestones behind them. “Azriel!” It was a man’s voice, rough and husky.

With a flutter of her cloak, Kaja leapt back and raised her hands, a frigid crackle of arcane energy swirling around her. But just as she was about to strike at this new threat, she froze.

“That’s right, don’t you dare,” the man said, his arm tightening around Osric’s neck. Osric whimpered as a knife’s point nicked the bottom of his jaw and a tiny speck of blood bubbled to the surface. “No magic or this one dies.”

Kaja stared silently at the man and, for a few heart-stopping moments, Saara was afraid that she might not back down. But then the magic dissipated and the air in the alley quickly warmed. Saara’s skin went clammy, the seasonal humidity of Aurelia’s rainy season weighing on her hair and lungs. It was as if the very fabric of reality was closing in, threatening to suffocate her.

Behind them, the elf called Azriel rose to her feet, head in hand.

“So the girl didn’t manage to kill you,” the man said blandly.

“Takes more than that, Bishram,” Azriel said, an edge in her voice. “No one told us she could do that. Benjamin ought to pay us double.”

“He’s going to give me triple,” the man, Bishram, scowled. “You’re all going to come with us,” he continued, gesturing with his chin at Kaja and Saara. When neither of them moved, he grunted in anger. “Now!” he snarled.

Frantically trying to think of a way out of the situation that didn’t involve Osric ending up dead, Saara turned toward Kaja and her thoughts immediately scattered. There had been a nearly imperceptible shift in Kaja’s demeanor. Indeed, it didn’t seem that Bishram, Azriel, or Osric had even noticed it. But Saara saw it. Her mind raced back to the conversation they had had earlier that day.

You’re not afraid of me?

Saara thought it was an absolutely absurd thing to ask. How could she ever be afraid of Kaja? Timid, gentle Kaja who had risked her life to save Saara’s own without even knowing who she was. But now, enveloped in the dimming light, Saara knew the real reason Kaja had asked that question. There was only one way to describe the sharpened glint in Kaja’s cat-like eyes—

Dangerous.

Bishram sucked in a sharp breath, preparing to admonish the girls, when suddenly a large shadow loomed behind him. The shadow struck and Bishram crumpled to the ground. Osric squeaked in surprise and rushed away to Saara’s and Kaja’s sides before he dared to look back to see what had freed him.

“What the—!” Still dazed and in pain from her fight with Kaja, Azriel reached clumsily for her sword but her frostbitten fingers wouldn’t close around the hilt. Identifying the chance presented to them, Kaja pressed her palm flat on Azriel’s chest and let loose a burst of icy magic. Azriel sailed back into the stack of crates, sending garbage flying all over the alley, then lay still.

Spinning back to face the newcomer, Kaja studied the tall, muscular silhouette. For a brief moment she thought that maybe Jo had followed them and felt a rush of relief, but when the figure emerged from the shadows, her blood ran cold.

An orc stepped out into view, studying the children with hard, yellow eyes. A spark of fearful recognition flashed across Kaja’s face, fueled by a memory from outside Castrum Ustarius all those weeks ago—a memory of an orc who had left with a band of hired mercenaries with the express purpose of tracking Kaja down. . .

“Irkallu,” Kaja whispered, her eyes narrowing. She stood protectively between the orc and Saara and Osric, who were now clinging to each other for comfort.

“My, if looks could kill,” the orc said, her tone amused but her expression joyless. “Go on now, get out of here.”

Kaja blinked, unsure if it was some kind of trap or if she was reading the situation incorrectly. Saara and Osric didn’t move, clearly waiting for a signal from Kaja.

“I said go!” The orc lurched forward, kicking up mud like she was trying to scare off a stray dog. Kaja flinched and took a step back, her arm still outstretched to shield her friends.

“Kaja,” Osric whined softly, “let’s just go.” Kaja nodded.

The children crept around the orc, pressed against the wall to get as far away from her as possible. Kaja kept herself between the groups as they moved, but the orc didn’t try to stop them. Instead, she knelt down beside Bishram and flipped him over.

“You don’t want to be here when he wakes up, do you?” the orc asked gruffly.

After one last suspicious look, Kaja turned and followed the others down the alley. The children ran home in silence, each half expecting a new threat to launch itself at them from the dark. Though nothing did, that didn’t prevent them from flinching at every noise and avoiding every stranger in their path until they were in more familiar neighborhoods once more.

“Stop,” Kaja said suddenly once her friends’ homes were in sight. Osric jumped, as if something else were about to grab him. “I’m sorry,” she said solemnly.

“For what?” Saara asked.

“That this happened to you.”

Saara and Osric exchanged glances.

“What do you mean? You saved us,” Osric said. “You were so cool! And I got to see you use magic!”

Kaja shook her head. “They were after me and you almost got hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.” Osric grinned, showing a gap in his teeth where a baby tooth had recently fallen out.

“It’s not your fault, Kaja,” Saara said soothingly.

Kaja reached up and pulled the scarf from around her neck. She offered the torn, dirty thing back. “I ruined it,” she said, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Saara sighed and pushed Kaja’s hand that held the scarf away. “It doesn’t matter. We’re all okay. You’re okay. I was worried about you.” Now her eyes felt watery too. “We’re your friends, Kaja,” she said. Osric nodded and it took all Kaja had to keep herself from crying.

“Here, let’s all take the Oath right now,” Saara said. She placed her hand in front of her, two fingers outstretched. Osric put two of his fingers in so that the tips of their pointers were touching. Kaja paused as the other two looked expectantly at her. Not knowing what else to do, she mimicked them, her two fingers completing the three-pointed star.

“The three of us vow upon this star that we’ll always be friends,” Saara and Osric said in unison, chanting the hallowed words that had been passed down child to child for generations. “That friends protect each other, that friends keep each other’s secrets, that friends can rely on each other no matter what.”

“Even if a scarf gets ruined,” Osric added. Kaja smiled, her small laugh tinged with sadness.

“Yeah, sure,” Saara said impatiently. “So I, Saara—”

“—I, Osric—” He elbowed Kaja playfully, urging her on.

“—and I, Kaja,” she said at last.

“—take this oath of friendship!” Saara and Osric finished as Kaja scrambled to echo their words. Osric giggled and dashed off.

“Girl’s day is fun!” he laughed, spinning under the rainfall. “A little scary, but mostly fun!”

“Come on.” Saara offered her hand and Kaja took it shyly. Following their rambunctious friend, the pair walked home together.

*

*

It was almost completely dark and the rain had stopped when Dimitri returned to Saara’s home and found the rest of the companions in the garden. Sakrattars was unsuccessfully coaxing Bartholomew to perform some sort of trick and trying to ignore Leif’s acid commentary. Amale sat nearby, peacefully enjoying the flowers and scanning the early stars. Jo stood off to the side, her arms crossed, and watched as Kaja, Saara, and Osric chased glow beetles and ember moths through the garden beds. Dimitri joined her.

“The urgent Ordo business ran late, huh?” Jo said without looking down.

“Well I was just getting to the good part,” Dimitri replied, pulling a small book from inside his jacket.

Jo did a double take, then shook her head. “You mean to tell me you disappeared for the whole day to read?”

“Yes,” he said, not offering another word of explanation.

Their gazes settled on the children. Osric roared then flung himself into a mess of grasses, kicking up a cloud of glow beetles. Saara and Kaja laughed in delight, running around and gently scooping at the air to catch the beetles in their hands.

Jo grinned slightly, her amber eyes taking on a glint of mischief. “You think perhaps there’s another piece of ‘urgent business’ you should handle tomorrow?”

Dimitri smiled back. “Hmm. . .” He rubbed his stubble as he deliberated. “As a matter of fact, I think there might be.”

*

*

Bishram held a wet cloth against the back of his head, looking glumly at the half-full mug of ale that sat before him. Azriel’s hand was red and raw where the white-haired girl’s magic had touched her. Only the orc was unhurt, though judging by the scowl smeared across her tusked face, she was in no better mood than the others.

“You’re a traitor, Aroga,” Bishram said, barely glancing at her.

“A traitor to what? Benjamin’s gang?” Aroga countered crisply. “I owe him nothing. First he tosses that Astinos kid down a hole to die, and now they have us trying to capture children?”

“That’s the job. You knew that when you signed up,” Bishram said.

“And you seem to be enjoying it, you sick bastard.”

Bishram broke his scowl long enough for a sadistic sneer, before sipping his ale, hoping the liquor would dull the throbbing pain in his head. “You’re getting in the way of my pay day. If I wasn’t in such a sorry state, I’d kill you myself.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Azriel stayed silent as her companions bickered. Aroga glanced at her and was met with a conflicted expression.

“Well,” Aroga said, as if she and Azriel had already exchanged opinions on the matter, “I’m out.” By her tone, she didn’t just mean she was leaving the tavern.

“You can’t just leave,” Bishram warned. “Those fanatical weirdos won’t allow it.”

“I don’t care what they will or won’t allow,” Aroga said, heading to the door.

“And what if the Irkallu come for you?” Azriel asked softly, making Aroga stop in her tracks.

“Let them come,” she said, without turning around. Rain pelted her the moment she yanked open the door. She stared up at the storm clouds, noting the breaks on the horizon. “Let her come. . .” she murmured.