Alize dressed at dawn. Beside her, Sosje’s even breathing and untroubled slumber seemed so far removed from Alize’s thudding heart and shaking hands. As she walked between the tents, sisters nodded to her while their hands moved in their tasks, or their voices continued in low conversation. In the camp, the Hrumi had learned to cultivate the silence until it blossomed, still delicate, but intense as daylight.

When prompted, Greer emerged from the Hrumi tent with a smooth face and steady eyes. She carried herself with a straight posture, her chin upraised and her hips grounding her. Though her greeting to Alize was curt, Alize saw her readiness, her determination preparing her for the task ahead. A single night of uncertainty in a Hrumi tent had softened the rest of the world’s grasp on her fears.

After she and Greer reviewed their plan a final time with Benay, Alize excused herself for one final visit to the falconer’s tent.

Sosje sat with a tiny kestrel, his head cocked to the side to allow her to nestle her fingertips in the downy feathers at his neck. He held still as Sosje scratched him delicately and chirped when she withdrew to regard Alize with expectancy.

“Be gentle with him,” Sosje gestured to the kestrel falcon. “Keep him hidden only when necessary because it is not his preference. You know what to feed him.”

“I do know, Sosje,” Alize smiled. Though Alize had never shown any aptitude for falcon training, she had spent some summers with Sosje and her mentor. Alize had focused on learning to identify the Hrumi birds, but now she realized the diversion had served other purposes. Sosje knew her better than almost anyone. After all Celillie’s disaprovals, Alize had begun to believe she might not deserve the friendship, but Sosje gave it freely. The more Alize recognized it, the more she valued it.

But now Sosje’s gentle smile faltered as she examined her fingers. Years of falcon training had left deep scars marring her skin. “Before you go, I want to talk to you about something. You said, when we spoke last, that I know nothing of love. You’re wrong Alize.”

Alize blinked, surprised at Sosje’s earnest tone. Her heart sank to realize that her rebuff had offended her friend. “I’m sorry, Sosje, it’s not my place-”

“Listen.” Sosje looked up, her eyes sharp. “You’re wrong, and it matters. I don’t want you to misunderstand Hesna’s intentions for you.”

Alize blinked. “Hesna?”

“Yes. Listen. I know the others mock me, for my scars.”

Alize paused. “They’re fools. Even Celillie said you’re the best falconer we’ve had in-”

“They don’t mock me for my work, Alize. And it’s not the suffering either – the Hrumi would never scoff at the pain of a sister. They mock me for my justification.”

Alize hesitated. “You mean because you call it love.”

“It is love, Alize. I love my birds.”

Shifting in her seat, Alize shook her head. “Then you would have me believe that love is sacrifice?”

“You see scars, Alize,” Sosje held up her hand, and the kestrel stood to attention, watching her every move, “but why do you presume sacrifice?”

“I know your birds hurt you.”

“What of your scars, Alize? When a Sargon’s blade caught your arm in the forest, was that a sacrifice?”

Alize furrowed her brows. The word sacrifice seemed wrong, for she had not surrendered anything, or lost anything. The scar was a scar, and she was the same. “It was the result of a risk I took.”

“A risk you accepted.”

“Yes, I suppose. But I don’t see what this has to do with…” Alize stammered the word, “love.”

Sosje sighed. “Love is exactly accepted risk. But I’ve discovered that some of its marks, its costs, are easier to display than others. Our sisters see your scar as evidence of the risk you accepted in pursuit of the life that we all live and protect. Your scar,” Sosje gestured, “is understood by everyone around you. They see it as love, and, rather selfishly, love for themselves.”

“Then love is selfish?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Sosje paused. “But I think there’s a reason that they applaud your scar and scorn mine. Our sisters don’t understand the meaning behind my scars. They are the results of trying to learn more than my mentor could teach me. I accepted the risk, and frankly, I reaped the rewards. It was not a sacrifice, but because they don’t understand that love, they think they can judge my scars as pointless and pitiful.”

A lump rose in Alize’s throat. She had known Sosje for years, both before and after the scars. She was not a sister who interrupted in gatherings, who laughed with her chin in the air. She was always more reserved. If Alize had seen her in only those circumstances, she might have misjudged her sister as insecure or timid. But from their summers together, before Hesna died, Alize had witnessed Sosje developing her skills as a falconer, far beyond what any other Hrumi had accomplished before her. She could call back lost birds in the depths of night, using signs that no one else understood. It seemed cruel and ungrateful for the Hrumi to mock her for her scars. “Sosje, I’m sorry. That’s not fair.”

“Thank you. I don’t think so either, but there was a time that their judgment made me falter in my purpose. I had to make a choice. You see, Alize, I love my birds. These are old scars, the result of mistakes that I have learned from. My birds and I now understand each other. They never bite me anymore. That is our love, that we have learned what is necessary to help the other give freely, without danger or fear. But our Hrumi sisters,” Sosje sighed, “they don’t care to learn more, they don’t care to understand. So I made a choice to love without vanity. It’s not for them to decide if I am right in my love. I decide.”

Blinking, Alize grasped Sosje’s hand. “I think that’s very brave.”

Sosje smiled a crooked smile. “Me too. And thinking about it this way made me see Hesna a little differently.”

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Alize frowned. “What does this have to do with Hesna?”

“You compared your Deku keeper to Hesna, as if one’s role as jailer was equal to Hesna’s crime of silence. I have to object. I truly believe that Hesna loved you. But she always loved you within Celillie’s confines, and that was her mistake. I don’t think you’re wrong for holding it against her, but it doesn’t mean she didn’t love you.”

Sosje’s words seemed to ripple the air and the muted light in the tent.

“For all the things Hesna did not tell you Alize, you must believe that it was love that sent her into the arena against Celillie, knowing the risks. In the end, she tried to be your cloudfire the only way she knew how-”

“There’s no such thing as cloudfire,” Alize retorted in annoyance. It nothing more than a Hrumi legend of an undefeatable defense.

“She died trying to do right by you. That’s a true sacrifice, born of love.”

Alize clenched her jaw, “If she loved me, she should have found a way to stay. Or at least to leave me a hint of her intentions. The only path I’ve found leads to the Deku citadel.”

“Until you don the white robe, you are not Deku,” Sosje said softly.

“The heritage runs in my blood, Sosje, and the hunger too, ever since the Temple.”

“The blood has been there your whole life, yet it did not define you. Besides, we all know that Hrumi bonds are tighter than family because they are our choices, not our fate.”

Alize shook her head. “That’s a stupid saying.”

“Don’t ignore the power of your own choice, Alize.” Sosje reminded her gently, “And you cannot say you do not know love. I see Hesna in the way you hold yourself, in your determination. I see you fighting to protect our sisters, and I think you know more of love than you care to recognize. For my part, I am honored to do the same for you.”

Alize closed her eyes and inhaled the musty air of the tent. It hurt to think of Hesna. More than anything, Alize kept picturing the moment in the arena, a moment she had not witnessed, when Hesna must have realized that Celillie’s strike was fatal. That she would not accomplish what she had planned, that it would not be accomplished.

Alize still lived in the darkness that Hesna had left behind, and Hesna would have forseen that as she bled out in the arena. If Hesna had loved Alize, that moment must have wrought far more agony than Celillie’s death strike. If I loved her, I would have forgiven her long ago.

Alize felt sick.

Sosje interrupted her thoughts. “And the Deku, Alize, they have no claim to you.”

“I wish,” Alize spoke softly, but it did not quite conceal the quaver in her voice. “I wish I had your confidence.”

“I gift it to you. Take it. Use it. Know that I doubted you once, but never again,” Sosje’s smile lit up her face. “With that knowledge, I send you forth, my sister.”

“I do have a few things to do today,” Alize croaked.

“That’s true. You’re going to save all our sisters and protect the innocent inhabitants of Parousia. Always setting reasonable goals.”

Alize laughed and wiped her eyes. “Fine, now you’ve embarrassed me.”

“Excellent,’ Sosje reached into a sac, drawing out a small root, its skin bright red even in its dried form, “And here is my signal. When Icar is dead, feed it to the kestral so he knows to return to me. And I will bring the clan to you.”

Alize hesitated, and leaned forward to hug her sister. Sosje smelled of pine sap and wood smoke. She hugged Alize back with equal strength.

The winter was faltering, and in its weakness, the spring began drawing concessions. Small blades of grass sprung in the muck and soft blue petals of the first flowers punctured the newly thawed ground. All winter the plants waited for warmth, to flourish in the spring and summer, their new growth feverish with green. Through the world’s darkness and cold, they nourished the life inside them by keeping summer alive in their memories, understanding the gift it was.

But winter was a gift too. It brought cold rain to cleanse the fields and the snow that froze the mountaintops would feed the rivers past even the summer solstice, months after the rains had ceased. The warmth and the cold, the living and waiting, created a balance that kept everything in motion. Both summer and winter protected the life of the forest, working completely differently for the same goal.

Alize and Greer rode alone from the camp under a seam in the sky made by the clouds. Both Hrumi and princess faced danger in Parousia, but for entirely different reasons. Now Alize felt those reasons divided them. Their conversation proceeded more haltingly than the previous day, as each interrupted the other with false starts. Finally they both surrendered to the silence, helpless.

Alize fell into her own thoughts. She thought of Sosje’s words, of Hesna’s love, of Celillie’s malice. She thought of Iedaja, tormented by Viken, but not exactly innocent herself. She thought of Kell, Davram and Onder, and the space they had made for her when she had been utterly alone. And she thought of the trees, the voices she had lost. Must everything, everything, be so raw with pain and regret? It would take a lifetime to accept that loss.

“Why did they keep calling me a ‘willow’?” Greek asked as they emerged from the forest on to the government road.

“Oh,” Alize stammered, “it’s what we call non-Hrumi women. It’s a bit derogatory, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I love willow trees,” Greer said. “Their branches always return to their positions when the wind has stilled.”

Alize considered that. A willow tree, like any other tree, provided precious functions to the environment. There was no shame in being a like a willow.

And again Alize thought of the trees. It hurt.

“I used to hear the trees,” she blurted.

“Hear the trees?” Greer responded.

Alize faltered. “It was a narrow magic, uncommon.”

“What happened to it?”

“I lost it,” Alize looked upwards where the bare branches shook with the gales. “It’s so quiet now.”

Greer pressed her lips together in thought, drumming her fingers across her thumbnail. It played a toneless scale, but an unbroken rhythm. “Sometimes the things we lose leave a negative imprint on us, a picture we don’t see at first. Sometimes our losses frame what we can become.”

Alize peered at Greer, guessing at her once again. Such a strange companion to have. “You have lost your station, but you may yet gain it back.”

“We are killing my uncle, Alize, my father’s brother. And we will have to kill my uncle Nadar too. No one will survive this with clean hands, and no matter how long I live, I will still bear that blood.”

“They would do the same to your father.”

“I know. But because it is necessary does not mean it is right. It is a great cruelty that someone who wants to stop the killings must kill to do it. Is this what life is, a relentless erosion of the things we believe, forcing us over and over to redefine ourselves? We navigate, we negotiate, and we stand on the ruins of who we thought we were. We wear masks we do not even feel until they crumble to reveal strangers underneath.”

“Doing evil does not make you evil.” Alize said, startled to hear Benay’s words about Arouah coming from her own mouth.

“Yes, but if I can justify it, can’t Icar? I fear, for all my brave ambitions, that I am no better than he is. How could I ever be certain?” Greer blinked while she exhaled with the rustling leaves.

Alize fell silent. That simple question haunted her – how do I know I’m any better? She told herself she would never soultruss a Ginmae, but what if other Deku had once professed the same disgust? Had any Deku ever truly evaded that heritage? Was it possible?

But for all her uncertainty, Alize couldn’t bear to hear Greer voice it too. Not while she had the power to reassure her. “Icar allows the Deku to kill my sisters. I may not know you very well, but I don’t believe you would permit such an atrocity. Killing him will save them.”

Greer tried to smile, but it faded away like the wave collapsing on the shore. “I hope so. But forgive me if I do not relish the task.”

“It is not yours to perform,” Indeed, when Alize had proposed their plan, Prince Tamer had tried to dissuade Greer from returning to Parousia at all. But she insisted that she would oversee the mission even if she could not partake.

The muscles in Greer’s neck tightened. “That only means I’m spreading the guilt. And I abhor that too. If Kelesh and Davram fail, that will be more blood on my hands.”