Kell pressed them forward even as the night grew late. The moonlight illuminated the road in trembling silver and the mud slopped under their horse hooves as surely it swallowed the stars’ reflections. Parousia lights had muted the starlight, and Alize had not realized how many stars had joined the others to shape new corners and bulges in the stable constellations.

When Kell finally agreed to set up camp, Alize dismounted her horse to prowl for kindling under the fir trees.

“We don’t need a fire,” Kell called into the darkness.

Alize shook the branches she held, splaying bits of dusty decay over her dress. “I’ll make you another poultice for your wounds. We’re far enough from the road to conceal a small fire.”

They ate a meal of dry bread and olives in silence while Alize roasted the herbs and hellebore root she had scavenged. She bound them in a small piece of fabric and held it out to Kell.

He regarded her for a moment before his fingers moved to his shirt buttons.

Alize blinked in surprise. She had seen Kell’s chest once before, the night in Julfa when Davram had admonished her for not allowing them privacy. “What of your modesty?”

Kell shrugged. “If I have to suffer, I’d rather not have to administer it myself.”

His shirt fell open as he lay down on his cot. Alize settled beside him, clutching the warm poultice. Three long gashes crisscrossed over Kell’s smooth skin.

“You know the man who did this?”

“I know all the men who did this, giving the orders, binding my arms, holding the rod. Not all relished the task.”

Alize placed the poultice on the deepest cut and Kell hissed. To distract him, Alize gestured to the scars she had observed in Julfa in the autumn. The pale pocket marks traced from his stomach towards his left thigh. “You survived the Scab Plague?”

“I did. My parents did not.”

Alize bit back her surprise. Kell had never mentioned that his parents were dead. And she had never asked. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

Alize searched his face for any further meaning. She said gently, “It must be difficult to listen to all these parents seeking their children. I didn’t realize you were an orphan.”

“I’m a Sargon,” Kell grunted. He grimaced as Alize shifted the poultice.

Alize frowned. “What does that have to do it?”

“Everything - the princes fear the idle and unfettered. They learned long ago that little boys without families risked becoming men without purpose. So the tradition started long ago – orphans of war, boys on the street, they were all given swords and armor and the title of warrior. Sargon.”

Alize swallowed. “Then all the Sargons are orphans.”

“It’s a dubious honor. Especially when one herald summons a soldier to war, and the next comes to take his poor fatherless boys. War, it seems, has an insatiable appetite. And the princes keep feeding it.”

Not just the princes, Alize amended silently. To Kell she revealed a lesser unease, “The Hrumi know none of this.”

“I’m not surprised. Saves you from having to humanize us.”

Alize paused before responding, “So much tragedy.”

Kell sighed, “And we can’t all have Davram’s glamorous stories of heritage and redemption. My parents died for nothing beyond the vagaries of fate. Sometimes I envy Davram that his parents left him a wrong to right. It feels like it gives their suffering meaning.”

“But is such a burden for him.” Alize traced the poultice across the wound and Kell hissed again. His fingers grasped the air and then found Alize’s skirt, bunching the loose fabric.

Alize found herself gulping a shallow breath with Kell, though hers was a different kind of struggle.

Slowly Kell unclenched his fingers. “It should be,” he murmured, “and it takes bravery not to look away. Davram believes that the world could be better than this. I know he would make a great prince.”

“But you have a purpose Kell. You have set yourself to redeem the Hrumi.”

“Is that what you think?” Kell chuckled through his pain. “No, I arrived to Parousia as a youth angry with the world and with barely a thought for anyone’s suffering but my own. I didn’t have to become a Sargon – I had relatives still alive. But I qualified and I sought that fate simply because I wanted to fight.”

“You didn’t come to help the Hrumi?”

“You give me far too much credit. It was Davram who encouraged me to address the treatment of captured Hrumi, once he heard about my grandmother. He convinced me that I was the only Sargon capable to even try.”

“But why did he care?”

“There’s a legend – I can’t recall the details now, but it made a huge impression on Davram. If I remember correctly, it was the women who saved him who told him.”

“Saved him?”

“After the Deku captured his sister from the sea, his parents resolved that Davram would escape by land. To do this, they elicited help from two women. They smuggled him under the noses of the furious Deku. When they left him in Parousia, they told him that he could always find protection with the Hrumi.”

Alize gaped. “With the Hrumi?”

“Apparently.”

“Then,” Alize stuttered, “Davram believes that Hrumi protect children!”

“Well, it could just be a story. And I confess that in the autumn I advised him not to mention it to you. I suspect you wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Alize grumbled and shifted the poultice. Even she had to admit the Hrumi would have little business assisting a prince.

“But, there is something,” Kell said slowly, “that I didn’t know. Something maybe you can make sense of.”

Alize lifted her gaze to his.

Kell continued, “After you left, when the Deku began soultrussing the Hrumi – or trying to – nine different Sargons found me to press me to object to Icar. Each one admitted that he had been rescued by the Hrumi, as children, after Kogaloks destroyed their villages in the Ginmae province.”

Alize watched Kell in confusion, “They were Sargons?”

“The Sargon training was established to provide for orphan boys, so it’s no surprise that’s where a rescued child would end up.”

“A rescued child?” Alize repeated. She could not believe those words had just emerged from Kell’s mouth.

“Yes. So, apparently, the Hrumi do rescue children. I never had any proof until now. So I owe you an apology, for those nine cases.”

“The Hrumi, we save-” Alize hesitated. Little boys? That was not part of her story. She left that sentence unfinished. “And then they train to become Sargons – to hunt us!”

“We pursue Hrumi,” Kell said duly, “only when the villagers bring us reports.”

“But surely, Kell, you’ve noticed how few families have come to reclaim their children. Where are the parents of the hundreds of other girls?” Alize shifted the poultice again, drawing it slowly down the shortest lash.

“But the reports,” Kell winced with the pain, “we keep careful records.”

“Then you have the ability to reassess them. Perhaps it’s your turn to think outside your own convictions. Why are you so keen to deny those girls are rescues?”

“Well, even if they are, it is still problematic that the Hrumi act alone in deciding to take the girls.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Alize sighed. “Honestly, since the Kogaloks appeared, the children’s camp has been overrun with orphans. The Kogaloks are emptying entire villages.” It was a relief to finally be able to talk to Kell about the east. She had seen the truth in Hrumi stories there herself. Under the shadow of the Deku protection. Alize shook her head of the thoughts of her clan’s tacit alliance. “Your stories of kidnapped children don’t make sense – we can’t have taken so many from other regions in addition to those we saved from the Kogaloks.”

“Alize, you act like we would invent the stories. Why? No one relishes watching those women die in jail.”

“Then why doesn’t Icar release us?”

“The Hrumi killed his father!”

“They deny that.”

“That hardly matters if he believes it.”

“Who is acting alone as judge now?”

Kell scrunched his eyes shut. “Then perhaps you understand why I cannot support Icar to be ruling prince. And Nader’s just as bad.”

Alize sighed as she traced her fingertips over Kell’s wounds to examine them, reminding herself yet again that Kell was not her enemy. His chest heaved beneath her touch. “You know the princes?”

“I grew up in Parousia after my tenth birthday. Icar and Nadar liked to show off their power. I think every Sargon has taken a beating from at least one of them.”

“And so we go to Tamer.” Alize cast her gaze west where the road would carry them the next day. “But is he any better?”

“I’ll let you judge for yourself.”

Alize frowned and probed the poultice. It had almost completely cooled, but she pressed it gently to the shallow lash on Kell’s face.

He met her eyes as her fingers skimmed his cheek. Beneath the muddled brown was an intensity that made Alize’s stomach churn.

“We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” she whispered.

But Kell caught her hand as she withdrew it. He pried the cold poultice from her grip. His skin felt hot in comparison. “Stay a moment longer.”

Alize bit her lip. “I have already violated too many customs today.”

“Then what’s one more?” Kell drew Alize’s hand towards him, pressing his lips against her knuckles.

Alize haltingly tugged her hand free. She buried it in the folds of her skirt so he would not see her shaking. “I fear, Kell,” she murmured “you are attempting to affect me.”

“Very much on purpose,” Kell’s dark eyes consumed her reflection, leaving her staring into a beautiful void of possibilities.

Alize blinked first. “But I shall have to disappoint you.”

Kell answered her with a sad smile. Each breath he took filled his chest, stretching his skin over his ribs and the flesh protection his lungs. Alize marveled at the process of a second heart beating so close to her own. “So eager to scorn love,” he murmured.

Alize swallowed. Love? She was not prepared to discuss love with Kell.

Instead she stammered, “Love only serves to make you reckless.”

Kell blinked in surprise. “Where,” he murmured as he brought his palm to graze Alize’s cheek, “in all your travels did you learn a truth like that?”

Warmth flushed through Alize. Is this love? It felt terrifying, to want to surrender herself so completely to someone else, to place her heart in his hand and wait to see what he would do with it.

But watching Kell, with his gaze even and his lips slightly parted, Alize felt certain she already knew what he would do with her heart. She could remember the thrill of his body against hers in the autumn, and how for a moment, she had felt safe. She had felt indestructible.

But reality flushed through her like cold water. Some lines could not be crossed. She could not sacrifice her identity, her very sense of self and everything she had ever worked towards for a fleeting emotion. To do so would be the ultimate act of selfishness, self-indulgence and shortsightedness.

And still Kell watched her.

“Stop it!” Alize gasped. The silence mocked her as she staggered to her feet. Her hair caught on a low branch and she scowled, ducking and pulling it with her. Leaves fluttered softly to her feet.

While Kell sat up on his elbows, Alize fled his attention like liars flee truth.

It was not long before he appeared next to her at the dead fire. He buttoned his shirt while Alize inhaled, hoping to dispel the unrelenting heat in her body. She deeply resented that she could not control it.

“Alize.”

“There’s another poultice, still warm in the water,” she said quickly.

Kell sighed. “Thanks.”

“Do you need me-?”

“I don’t. I can take it from here. Get some sleep.”

Kell departed and Alize stood alone, wrapped in the night’s silent desolation. But she remained excruciatingly aware that her solitude was her choice.

She and Kell reached the steppes by midmorning. Whenever given the choice, she had always chosen the forest over the steppes. Now, Alize reflected on how losing her magic had freed her, in a perverse way. Now everywhere was equally silent, and she understood that the desert’s loneliness had always been partially her own construction, to justify the choices she had already made.

She watched Kell guide his horse through the landscape. He slumped his shoulders and shut his eyes against the sands the winds tossed into his face. He spoke little throughout the day, leaving Alize to fill in the silence with her own guesses of his ruminations. His rare glances looked right through her, his eyes bereft of the amusement Alize found so endearing. He had grown weary of her, then. She had disappointed him one too many times.

It doesn’t matter what he thinks of me, she told herself. I do not need him to see myself.

But nonetheless she probed what he saw. Hrumi. Her hidden Deku identity rankled her further, and she wondered if Kell could sense her own self-loathing. Alize ached for the pride she cultivated as a child, as a Hrumi clan member. But it eluded her. Too many words had been spoken against the clans, and when she had tried to fight back, the truth had burned her.

Her world would never again be so neatly contained as before she met Kell. Does he realize that? Does it matter?

For despite all her toils and even her victories, Kell, perhaps more than anyone, knew which fights she had lost. That explained his terse sentences. Alize felt her skin crawl, and in her mind Kell’s low voice admonished her for her weaknesses. Alize wrapped her arms around her torso as the wind roared in her ears, reminding her how very small she was on this barren landscape.

She paused next to his horse when they dismounted for midday. A sword swung from Kell’s saddle, even though Alize had observed that he wore his own sword on his belt.

“I thought you might want to try sparing again,” Kell intoned from behind Alize, startling her.

“I would,” Alize blurted, “I would like to try again.”

Kell frowned, keeping his gaze level on Alize’s throat. It tempted her to touch her own skin, to hold his attention. “All right.” he responded duly. He untied the sword and tossed it to Alize.

Alize caught the hilt with sure fingers. If anything remained true, it was her affinity for a blade. She shifted the sword in her hands, internally measuring how to use her force to drive it to her purposes. She glanced at Kell but he held his blade listlessly.

Her first strike wavered in the air, and Kell used minimal effort to deflect it. His ease stood as clear on his face as the welt from the whip. Alize struck again, learning for her first mistake and easing herself back into the movements from Davram’s lessons.

The blade made a satisfying clang as Kell blocked it and his eyes finally flashed to hers. “Better,” he murmured.

Alize kept her face neutral though his praise felt like a spring thaw. With deliberate strokes she applied her most common moves with a dagger. Some worked, with others did not, but the effort elevated her heart beat, warding off the chill clinging to her bones.

Kell grunted several times as Alize experimented. She felt the exact moment he began to exert force back at her. She concentrated on the edge of his blade.

Kell blocked her jabs, once, twice, and a third time before he shifted to the offensive. Alize took several steps backwards under his assault, but found her footing once more. She halted her retreat and began pressing forward again.

“Now more,” Kell demanded.

Alize swooped her sword forward, intending to jostle Kell’s balance but he stayed steady and grounded.

“Not good enough. Come on Alize.”

Alize gritted her teeth and twisted the sword as she would a dagger. But it was too large and Kell took the opening to knock it from her hands. Alize straightened her body slowly and regarded the discarded blade.

Pathetic, her thoughts taunted her. They spoke with Celile’s voice. It made Alize feel like a child again, waiting for Hesna to return despite Hesna’s grievous misjudgement. She had been a fool. Celile and had sense her weakness, had cultivated it, and had used it against Alize for years. Her failures had served Celile’s purposes, and to face them again felt like a failure to Hesna as well.

But she could not bear for Kell to condemn her failure too.

“Swords are the weapons of brutes,” she announced, “What a waste of time.”

Kell paused for a beat, disappointment flickering across his face. Then resignation replaced it. “You know, you’re really miserable sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Alize sneered.

Kell approached Alize and opened his arms. Her pride rebelled but her pounding heart surged into her throat.

Until Kell clasped his sword hilt and tugged it from her grasp. “Yes,” he muttered, “only sometimes.”

Alize spluttered her reply, “I don’t care what a Sargon thinks of me!”

“Of course,” Kell retorted. “Give me some credit Alize, I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

His words ripped through Alize, leaving her reeling. Her hand flew to the scar beneath her collar, but she drew it away quickly, fearful of drawing Kell’s curiosity to this deeper shame. “A well placed strategic advantage?” she droned coldly.

“Don’t pretend you see me any differently.”

“You are a fool to expect more from a Hrumi.” Deku, cursed Deku. She felt her anger spiraling.

“By your words, a fool and a brute! Careful, I might start blushing!” Kell shook his head and faced the forest as he sheathed his sword.

Alize choked on her breath. Kell stood too close to knowing her, knowing everything she wanted so desperately to hide. She could not bear that. It risked so much. Too much. Alize wielded her words like a weapon; this one she would not fumble. “You’re a flood on the heels of a fire. It’s not the favor you think.”

“Thank you! Mock me for all the things I work for!”

“You’re not my salvation Kell.” Alize spat.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Kell whipped back to Alize, “Didn’t we learn that in the Temple? I cannot begin to control what happens to you, or Onder. And I lost Davram just as quickly, and I certainly couldn’t protect the Hrumi from the Deku!” Kell drew a breath and spoke his words bitterly. “You don’t need to tell me I’m helpless because I’ve already figured it out, all by myself.”

Kell’s words stopped Alize’s thoughts like a dam dropped in a river, causing the current to swirl and collect in a wholly new pattern. She forced herself to replay his words in her mind, this time to listen for meaning. Alize blinked as it registered. He was answering the question she had never thought to ask.

What had Kell lost the night of the Temple Battle? Onder to death and Davram to his demons. Prince Jorin, the only ruler who had conceded to let Kell try to talk to the Hrumi.

And me. Me and whatever we had for that moment in the tent.

Alize buckled under the new weight of Kell’s words. The remorse punctured her heart, and realization dawned slowly. Though Kell had not lost his people, in many ways he stood as exposed and alone as Alize felt.

And she bore part of that responsibility.

She turned towards him, grasping at something she could say, but she could not form the words on her tongue any more than she could hold starlight.

Kell threw his hands down disjointedly and scowled. He walked away without so much as casting another glance at Alize.

She stood very still as the remorse bled through her limbs. By the time her muscles unclenched, Kell had loaded his horse and already started down the road. Alize hastened to catch up with him, but for the rest of the day he diligently kept several paces ahead of her.