Fenrin woke up on the floor and after that he got used to his own room. Although free of Lyra's kicking, he had trouble sleeping without the warmth of a campfire or another body nearby.

The twins' days became routine. They had lessons with Jylee, Fenrin frustrated he now was behind Lyra, and Bryn taught them more about fighting. He had given Lyra an approving look when she proved she remembered every move he'd taught her during the brief time he'd been there last year.

She had flushed with pleasure before returning to the stony face she always tried to wear around Bryn.

On their birthday, he gave them small bows and they began training with those, a small target range set up at the edge of the garden where stray arrows would land harmlessly on the shore of the river or its icy surface.

Soon it was too cold to practice and the twins unspent energy had them literally climbing the walls. Fenrin showed Lyra the climbing tricks he'd used in the riggings and now no tapestry or column was safe until the twins had reached the top.

Fenrin slipped right back into his relationship with his mother, but Lyra's interaction with her father was tense. On one hand, she wanted to please him, to convince him to take her with him. On the other, she bitterly hated him for shattering her life last year.

Each day that passed, pushing them closer and closer to spring, filled Lyra with anxiety. As the days grew warmer, she grew colder. She took to shutting herself in her room, reading her books or slipping into the wall to spy on Ulris and her parents.

One day as she sat in the wall, she heard her father and mother enter the study.

"Four days. I'll leave in four days, the ice should be clear by then."

"Back to the ocean, my lord?"

Bryn sighed. "Yes, the war bounty is too good to leave."

It grew quiet and Lyra wondered if they'd left when Bryn's voice returned. It had a quieter tone, one she had never heard before.

"Woman, come with me."

Lyra didn't hear an answer, but she knew what it would be. Rage filled her even as tears spilled hot, leaving trails in the dust on her cheeks. She shuffled out of range of the office going as far as the passage would let her into a corner surrounded by stone. There she sat and cried.

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Fenrin was the first to notice she was gone. He had found a snake curled in the cellar, just a simple garter snake but one long and fattened by eating the cellar mice. When he didn't find her in her room or in the kitchen, he searched the whole estate, disturbing a few servants with his prize.

Finally, he put the snake in a box by his window and returned to Lyra's room. With the customary check for adults, he opened the armoire and pried it open.

"Lyra?" he called. Fenrin thought he heard a sniffle but there was no answer. He crawled into the space, realizing he'd never been in alone. He shuffled to where he knew the offices were but his reaching hands did not find his sister.

Lyra, not wanting to be found, slipped out while he was searching. She hid in the cellar until dinner, where she showed up as if nothing was wrong. Fenrin, at seeing her, started, almost blurting out his worries. But with a better look at his sister, he swallowed the concern.

Lyra had her stony face, she ignored him and ate her food quietly. Fenrin glanced at his parents hoping they would notice, but they didn't.

Fenrin tried to get Lyra to talk to him over the next few days, but she only gave him short, cold answers. Finally he cornered her, pulling her into his room and shutting the door.

"What is going on, Ly?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, but when she saw his concerned look, searching for answers, she sighed. "He's leaving tomorrow."

Fenrin shuffled. "Oh." There was an awkward pause. "Maybe he'll—"

"He won't and you know it!" she snapped, cutting him off. Her heart pounded and ached. They both knew Bryn had no intention of taking his daughter.

Lyra stepped forward and took Fenrin's hands. She stared at him intensely. "If I asked you to stay and you had a choice. Would you?"

Fenrin didn't answer. The lie forming on his tongue but melting under her hard look. He felt something fragile about to break. When she released his hands, it shattered.

"Just go then."

"Ly..."

"Just go!" she screamed, flinging his door open and slamming it shut behind her, leaving Fenrin alone and drowning in selfish desire and regret.

The next day, Fenrin learned Lyra was right. His father told him to get his boots and coat and he obeyed. He shouldered his pack mechanically, not looking at his sister. He awaited the order to leave when he heard his mother's voice.

"I'm ready."

He looked up, shocked. His mother wore a warm dress, a blue cape on her shoulders. She had a small pack and her eyes sparkled. His shock betrayed him and he met his sister's gaze.

She'd known. His surprise was not echoed in her face. She didn't cry or beg. She just watched, her eyes partly narrowed and her hands clenched. Before Fenrin could process it, the moment passed. The moment Bryn could have called for his daughter. Instead...

"Let's go."

They turned to leave, Dyla going last, kissing her daughter's forehead, who flinched under her grasp. Fenrin couldn't hear the words she whispered, but it didn't change Lyra's blank expression.

His mother shuffled him along, leaving Lyra alone.