The days became horizons, the unreachable ends of a single straight road, sometimes broken by zigzagged rivers underneath the arching sky. When the sun was not blazing, it rested behind clouds that assumed its light in a halo, throbbing slightly with its imprisoned brilliance. The road steered the travelers over eroding sandy hills and plunged them back into the endlessness of the steppes. Alize scanned the landscape for trees, but the land that circled them was flat, tired and the same color as the dust that permanently coated Josoun’s legs.

Alize was not accustomed to riding in the company of other people. There were stops as Onder readjusted his saddle, or when Kell’s horse caught a beetle in its ear. On the first day, Davram apologized to Alize that they had no food to eat, but were willing to take more rests if she needed it. Alize had frowned. She knew the plants and roots to seek. But she could not imagine offering food to Sargons anymore than she could imagine gathering food without offering it.

Ride on, she had answered. The Sargons had managed to buy something in a settlement that evening.

Alize could not resist scrutinizing her companions. Kell and Davram wore the clothes of the governments, and though she knew that Kell’s sword bore the same emblem as Davram’s, she would never have guessed him to be a Sargon if Davram had not told her. Without their masks, she had to keep reminding herself what they were.

They did not help her in the task. They gave Alize space on the road, keeping their horses either far ahead or ambling behind her and Josoun. Though she had mentally rescinded her prohibition against Davram speaking to her, he hardly ever addressed her until she initiated the conversation. That was rare enough, over dinner, or regarding the night watch, but Kell spoke even less. Alize caught snippets of his voice chattering away to Davram only when they were far ahead. The steppes amplified his silence whenever he approached Alize. She had not changed his bandage since the first morning, and he had not asked her to. All was as it should be, yet something felt unsaid.

One the third day, five riders joined them, uninvited, as the sun floated upwards. They were not the first band to keep course with them, but they stayed into the afternoon. Davram had warned that as they neared the more central and secure cities of the Parousia steppes, other travelers would become less reticent. Alize found herself wistful for the diffidence of the border regions.

Kell and Davram did their best to distract their new companions as they rode in tandem, but the strangers kept whispering to themselves and staring at Alize with smug smiles. She still wore Davram’s clothes and she suspected that emboldened their attentions.

“Tell me,” one of them chuckled, “how a lad comes to look so lovely.”

Alize disregarded them while she scratched her wrist. Ahead of her, Davram and Kell exchanged a cautious glance.

The man’s companions slowed as he directed his horse in front of Josoun, forcing Alize to veer to the side. His gaze swept over her in appraisal and he grinned with white teeth. “Or what causes a girl to go in disguised?”

Without flinching, Alize tilted her head and silently dared him to taunt her further.

“Enough,” Davram spoke, “Leave the lady be.”

“There are five of us,” the man rejoined, “and three of you, if you even count the old man.”

“You didn’t count me,” Alize interjected. She flit her fingers and thought of her dagger hilt.

Ignoring Alize’s posturing, Davram said, “She is under our protection, and we want no argument.”

The speaker turned to regard the Sargons. Unable to see his face, Alize scanned her two companions for cues. They yielded nothing, but momentarily the speaker stood down. He gestured for his fellow riders to continue forward with him.

Alize held her tongue until the riders were out of range. “Under your protection?”

“It’s a matter of honor, Alize,” said Kell.

“Mine or yours?” she asked hotly.

“Well, both.” Kell responded, “And, frankly, his too. He knew that. He was just curious.” Kell spoke without any defensiveness, catching Alize off guard. Yet again. It irked her that he kept upending her expectations.

“Harmless really.” Davram added.

“Harmless how? And he didn’t even count me as a person!” Alive fumed, “As if -”

“He counted in terms of other people.” said Kell.

Alize turned to regard Kell. “We both just heard the same insult and you’re twisting it to make it more acceptable!”

“Whereas you hear only the words that offend you-”

“I heard what he said! He should fear me – the Hrumi are ready to win every fight!”

“You’re certainly ready to start every-”

“When you two are done!” Davram called over them, earning both their glares. “I have something to cheer up Alize. I believe this demonstrated that your disguise,” Davram gestured to Alize’s clothing, “has proven insufficient.” He directed his companions to dismount their horses.

“How does that cheer me up?”

“Just wait, you’ll laugh. You need something more conventional.”

“Unless you have a lady’s dress with you,” Alize lilted with a fulsome tone, “we’re still stuck.”

“So glad you asked-”

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“I didn’t,” Alize’s voice dropped.

“- because I purchased one in Mizre for this very occasion.”

It took a moment for Davram’s meaning to register.

“You want me to look like some suppliant girl?!”

“I somehow doubt we’ll have much luck with that,” Kell said. He shifted to peer into Davram’s bag.

Davram grumbled, “Is that what you think of non-Hrumi women?”

“Do you know why we call them ‘willows’ Davram?”

“I didn’t know you call them-

“Because they slouch and toss in the wind being useless.”

“That seems unkind,” Kell muttered.

Though Alize pretended not to hear him, she felt her face growing hot. “And I refuse to dishonor my heritage in such-”

“It’s a piece of fabric, Alize,” Kell interrupted, his voice louder now but somehow just as calm. “We aren’t what we wear. Otherwise Davram and I would be your Sargon nightmares.”

Alize flashed her eyes over him. So he knew how she felt about them. Or rather, how she wanted to feel.

She wrestled with her confusion and lost. “I don’t need your armor to know what you are!”

“Then,” Kell nodded, “wearing a dress won’t change you either – really, I didn’t expect a Hrumi to be so vain.”

Davram practically caught Alize mid-air as she lunged for Kell. “Don’t let him tease you,” the older Sargon said in her ear as he set her on her feet again.

Alize kept her fists clenched. Her mind reeled at Kell’s words, but she compensated for her pride by casting little curses towards him. May the fleas of a thousand horses infest your foul armpits. May your nose grow sideways and your comrades tempted to correct it. May you always piss into the wind.

For his part, Kell looked appropriately abashed under Alize’s silent wrath.

“Give me the confounded thing,” she demanded.

Davram held out a green and brown bundle like a peace offering to a vengeful deity. It had all the elegance of a tangled bed sheet and the massive amount of fabric obfuscated any method for assembling it into clothing.

When Alize raised her eyebrows, Davram responded by shuffling it around. This time when he presented it, the fabric formed the distinct shape of a dress.

Alize grasped it in a tight fist. It smelled like Mizre, dusty and dank. Like men, and soldiers, and Sargons who thought it was amusing to suggest she assume the mantle a cruel society. As she turned from the Sargons she held the dress away from her like carrion to demonstrate her displeasure. But in truth, her exasperation was directed equally towards the situation and her own response.

She was absolutely not vain.

The men pointedly turned their backs to her, but Alize still walked behind Josoun where she shrugged out of her Hrumi clothing. After pulling the dress over her head, she smoothed the skirt with her palms. The heavy brown material resembled the clothes of the provinces’ women, the exact opposite of her customary Hrumi clothing. Instead of loose chiton and fitted leggins, the top constricted Alize’s chest while the bottom pooled on the ground as though she had no legs at all. She felt like a willow, drooping and unable to hold herself upright for all the dress’ rustling.

I am sturdy as a sycamore, imposing as yellow ash, hardy as juniper. Alize disliked the way the dress exposed her collar bone, so she tied her cape around her torso, further resenting that she would inevitably sweat on it later. Tough as hawthorne, she amended silently. I know what I am.

With her cape secured Alize puffed out her cheeks one last time and then shook her head in surrender to the circumstances. But what would Celillie think of me now?

The men did not seem to notice her glower when she reemerged.

Davram regarded her in amazement, “It fits! I never would have guessed a Hrumi could be so well disguised as a lady.”

Alize clutched her stomach and feigned vomiting.

Kell spoke, “A lady might be stretching it. But you’re certainly no boy.”

“As if you were confused.”

“You were dressed as a boy.”

Davram reached forward and tugged Alize’s cap from her head so her braids fell down her shoulders. “Now, if you wanted to unbraid your hair-” he began.

“No one is touching my hair!” Alize cried. She grasped the cap from Davram and crushed it back over her head. “And if I have to ride side-saddle, I promise everyone will suffer for the duration of this trip.”

“It’s a riding dress,” Davram said. He had retreated a few steps from Alize.

“Then you’ve got some sense.”

“Oh, praise from a Hrumi.” Kell said from Davram’s other side. He directed his horse towards Alize as she mounted Josoun. His eyes danced and Alize was in no mood to encourage whatever was amusing him. “Rarer than roses in snow.”

“Snow would kill them,” Alize said tersely.

“Snow melts. Maybe we’re not all terrible after all?”

“I’m not so naïve, Kell.”

“Look, you’re not vain, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s not about that!” Alize flushed. She did not want him to apologize. She did not want him to believe she cared what he thought about her. “I just want my magic back so I can go home!” And where, where in the world, would she find that? Alize buried the question, hoping it would wither. Still, she could sense it pulsing still, animated, biding its time.

Beside her, Kell shook his head. “I can’t really believe you think we’re so bad. Don’t tell me I frighten you?” He smiled at her and Alize could not help noticing the warmth in his eyes.

In response, Alize fumbled for some semblance of righteousness, but instead found only resentment. She envied him that easiness, and she did not know how to cope with that realization.

“I am not afraid of you,” she scoffed, “But make no mistake, me traveling with you, this isn’t what safety looks like. He,” Alize indicated Onder, “is the first man I ever met who wasn’t trying to capture or kill me.”

“You mean the Hrumi never interact with men?”

“We fight them. That’s all.”

“Ah,” Kell coughed, “Right.” Perhaps he too harbored memories of battlefields like the one Alize still visited in her nightmares, with limbs astrew and the choking stench of death.

“But outside of that dynamic,” Kell continued, “the Hrumi don’t have any non-Hrumi allies, anywhere?”

The laugh Alize forced from her throat carried enough strength to push a boulder uphill. “Certainly not. We take only what we need from our environment.”

“I hear men can provide valuable,” Kell hesitated, “amenities.” His cheeks immediately turned pink, and he coughed self-consciously.

Alize dropped her jaw. The Hrumi whispered of the embraces of men, of their grotesque couplings with the willow women. Such a thing was a burden to women everywhere, not an amenity. But Alize would not expect a Sargon to notice the difference. “Don’t flatter yourselves.”

“But what about Hrumi children?” Kell pressed. “Where do they come from?”

Alize’s thoughts darted eastwards, to the Kogalok raids in the fallen Ginmae province. To the armies of the Soulless stumbling from the villages as the new orphans cried after them. She drew her cape around her. “We have our hands full with all the children we rescue – the children your princes fail to defend.”

Kell did not let Alize’s accusation distract him. “Then the Hrumi have no reason to ever associate with non-Hrumi?” His voice had softened in his questions, contrasting with Alize’s strident tone.

It irritated her that he had the gall, after everything his government had done, to ask her to explain this to him.

She used her answers like punches. “Of course not! It’s not worth the risk!”

But Kell had further questions still. “Do Hrumi ever leave the clans?”

Alize bit her lip, wishing his words away. He broached a painful subject. But she would bait an eagle before she revealed that to him.

“Very rarely.” She omitted that others were forced out against their will. Her chest deflated, no longer relishing her verbal attack. Despite all her defenses, Kell had still managed to strike a raw nerve.

“What happens to them?” Kell, however, appeared inexhaustible. He held eye contact longer than anyone Alize had known, save for Hesna.

“How should we know?” Alize grumbled. “No one cares anymore.” She urged Josoun to pull ahead of the Sargon. She wished for the trees’ company. They could have helped distract her from her simmering thoughts.