After the last breath of sunset, Nox leads me back to the mourning streets, which empty out when the town bell chimes.
“So the dead can return, unseen and undisturbed,” he explains. “The tavern is too busy to risk exposing you having a vision. Nobody will see us here. They don’t come after dark.”
It’s not comforting.
I don’t want to see myself die alongside Nox, while we huddle together in a ghost street, even though I know it must be done.
Nox approaches a black door with the least names scribbled on it.
Micah and Irenya stand by the door opposite, their hoods drawn up, ready to keep watch as they stand by the balloon bag. Any passing guards would think them straggling mourners and a simple sob, or loud cry of grief from them, will alert us to the Last Army’s presence.
The door Nox chose creaks as we enter.
Inside is an empty room, mottled in gray with all the life seemingly carved from it. There are a few basic pieces of furniture: a chalky-white sofa and a cracked wood table cobwebbed at the legs, but aside from that, our footsteps echo in the emptiness.
Nox holds out a hand for mine. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says.
“I’m never ready for this.”
Nox pauses and I see a note of regret soften his usually sharpened features.
I know that he’s right and we need to be prepared. The king and my mother will do whatever it takes to stop him from surviving until the Red Moon.
Even without the sword, Nox poses a risk to the king’s immortality. If he survives until the Red Moon, it could destroy the bargain and the power the king holds. It could mean that these mourning streets no longer need to exist, without the king stealing souls and trapping death in a hunt.
Saving Nox could save the Six Isles from a tyranny I’d resigned myself to my whole life. It could help get justice for Asden.
Still, Nox doesn’t understand what he’s asking of me and I can’t tell him.
How do I trust him enough with the knowledge that our deaths are linked and that with every vision I have to see myself die alongside him?
I slip the glove from my left hand, keeping the snake’s crest hidden in my right. The moment I feel the breeze from the cracked window wash over my skin, I let out a breath of relief.
My hand twitches in anticipation of what’s to come.
The desire for touch almost overrules my fear and I would be hungry for it, if not for the prospect of death in the back of my mind.
Nox steps toward me, and my breath catches with his closeness.
The notion of skin on skin creates a yearning inside me.
I’m overcome with the urge to do something I’ve been forbidden to do my entire life: to feel. To touch and know the warmth of someone else instead of the cold constant of nothing.
I want to do what others do so easily, without thinking or taking the time to bask in it.
“Ready?” Nox asks again.
He holds out his hand again, fingertips close enough to graze mine.
I glide my palm slowly across his, bringing my fingers to clasp around his wrist. He does the same to me, thumb pressing firmly against my pulse.
My chest tightens and the immense rush of relief rolls through me, as though I’ve satisfied a deep and unyielding craving.
By the time death comes, my heart is already pounding.
The first thing I see is the flash of a pirate’s ship, shaped like a dragon, hissing out onto the sea.
Swords clash, sparking like fires as they catch each other in the night. Then Nox is on the floor with a soldier looming over him. I scream his name, but it’s too late.
Lightning bursts from the sky as he is pitched overboard.
I hear my feet thump against the deck as I run toward him.
Then suddenly I’m thrust overboard too, discarded to the cold depths of the Endless Sea.
Its black waters choke me, pushing into my throat and filling my lungs. I try to kick back up, but something is holding me down, pushing me beneath the surface until I can’t struggle anymore.
A flash of green flicks across the water’s edge as I splutter my last breath.
My mother.
I gasp and stumble back from Nox in the present, breaking the connection between us. I’m brought instantly to my knees, heaving up the dredges of the Endless Sea that aren’t there.
I’m gagging on the memory of water in my throat.
“What is it?” Nox asks, kneeling down beside me.
He reaches out for me, but I skitter back, like a scared animal.
I don’t want to see it again.
Souls, I couldn’t bear it.
“Selestra, what happened?” Nox asks, voice growing urgent as I clutch at my throat.
It feels like I’m drowning right here in this hollow of a house.
“Let me help you,” he says. And then, so soft I almost don’t hear, “Please.”
I look up at him and try to steady my breath. The concern in his face catches me off guard.
Nox’s brows knit tightly together. “What did you see?”
I swallow down the dryness caught in my throat. “I saw you drown.”
My voice sounds far away and cracked.
“In three days’ time, you get thrown from a pirate ship shaped like some kind of a dragon.”
“A dragon,” Nox repeats. A look of familiarity descends upon him, but I’m too terrified to pay much mind to it. “Are you sure?”
I nod.
You drown. I drown. We drown.
“I think—” I stumble on the words, trying to make sense of the vision. “I think my mother was there. She held you under.”
I bite my lip.
She held me under, pushing me into the cold and watching as I gasped for life. How can the blood oath be so strong that she would be able to shove aside any love she once had for me like this?
“They know we’re here in Armonía, then,” Nox says, considering this. “Or at least they will soon enough.”
“What do we do?”
“We make sure Irenya has everything she needs to fix the balloon in the next three days,” he says simply. “And then we run.”
It’ll be tight. Irenya is the most skilled seamstress I know, but making sure she can complete such a task in so little time is going to be difficult. And until she does, we’re sitting ducks waiting to be found.
“Cut my hair,” I say to Nox.
He raises his eyebrows. “Now?”
I nod briskly. “You said I was too recognizable and if we’re going to have to stay in Armonía, then we need to make sure I look just like every other person playing dress-up. The king and my mother can’t discover us sooner.”
I set my jaw, determined.
“Are you sure?”
He sounds uncertain, but he’s already drawing his blade.
“I’m no castle stylist.”
“And here I was thinking you were unmatched with a blade,” I say, quirking a brow.
Nox grins and twirls his blade. “As you wish, princess.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as he gathers my hair into his hands. There’s a moment of hesitation in him that I can sense, even though this was his idea to begin with.
The seconds dangle between us and the longer they drag on, the more aware I am of the sound of Nox’s breathing and the syrupy scent of rum that lingers on him.
It’s intoxicating.
His blade slashes.
My hair falls to the floor.
I open my eyes in a blink to see a bundle of it at my feet. Quickly, I reach up a hand and feel the ends of my hair swooping just beside my chin.
I feel lighter. Like a weight has gone not just from my body, but my soul too.
“How do I look?”
Nox stares at me for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Is it that bad?” I ask, worried by his silence.
I reach up to fiddle with the ends again. They must look so ragged.
“No,” Nox says, sounding caught off guard. He clears his throat. “You just look … like you, I guess.”
“Did I look like someone else before?”
Nox only shrugs and then hands me his blade, so I can see my reflection. The sword is dirty and smeared, but I’m able to catch a glimpse of myself somewhere in it. When I do, the first thing I think is he’s right.
I do look like me. Not my mother or the king’s pristine trophy.
The cut is rough and uneven, but Irenya can fix that later with some fabric scissors. Despite it all, I can’t help but grin.
My hair was always kept just how the king liked it. How my mother and all my ancestors before her wore it. It made me look exactly like a Somniatis witch was supposed to, showing the world I was the person they expected me to be.
Now it’s gone, I can be something else.
A person of my own, not hidden by their shadows.
We search for the fabric shop that the barkeep in the tavern told us was the best—and only—in town. The streets are alight as we cross them, the new day’s sun reflecting from the mosaic floors, and the sound of soft music coming from a single violinist set up in the middle of the square.
People dance when they pass him, throwing Chrim into his hat and then spinning each other around in circles.
It doesn’t take us long to find Marigold.
As we approach, I see the name in bright gold letters, like rays of sunlight. The shop itself is covered in white glitter that looks like rain falling from the sky-blue walls.
The bell sings behind us as we enter, filling the room with a symphony of birdsong.
I’m still struck by how Armonía is so different from Vasiliádes. It may not actually be magic, but it feels like it in a way the castle never did, despite being home to witches.
Is this what Thavma felt like before the king conquered it and killed anyone else with magic? Did their doors sing and their walls glitter and their people dance on sunlit streets?
I take a moment to admire the fabrics and gowns that line the walls of Marigold, each as bright and breathtaking as the next.
They don’t quite compare to Irenya’s in design, but in color they’re a wonder. Irenya had to keep her creations dark, dressing me only in the king’s color, so that I could play the part of his trophy well. But these dresses are alight in pinks and oranges, like the inside of a hearth. They are grass green and summer yellow, and some an unimaginable mix of rainbow that glides from the hangers.
I’d love nothing more than to try one on and see myself in color for once. If we get out of this, I hope Polemistés has equally wonderful fabrics so Irenya can weave wonders as bright as these.
“Good morning!”
A woman in a pink velvet suit that cuts in a deep V across her chest steps out from the back of the shop.
“So nice to have customers this early on a summer’s day,” she says. Her smile is bright, stretching her flower-pink lips. “My name is Edlyn Marigold. How can I help you?”
“We’re looking for some fabric,” Nox says.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be looking for much else,” Edlyn says with a cheerful wink.
“It’s a special kind of fabric,” Irenya tells her. “It has to be completely fire-resistant, strong enough to help carry heavy loads without the risk of tearing, but also very lightweight.”
“How specific! May I ask what it’s for? That could help me recommend something.”
“I’m afraid that’ll have to remain a mystery,” Nox says.
Edlyn doesn’t seem to mind. She brings her finger to her chin and sucks in a breath. “I do like a challenge. And a mystery. Very well then!”
She swivels on her matching velvet shoes and then disappears abruptly into the back of the shop. Moments later, she returns holding up a roll of material the color of a buttercup.
“Norcad,” she announces. “Entirely lightweight, yet untearable and able to withstand great force. Plus, it could withstand the heat of a dragon, if one should ever exist.”
“You’re sure?” Nox asks.
“About the dragons?”
“About everything.”
“I never lie about fabrics, young man,” Edlyn says, very seriously. “If you want something indestructible but weightless, then you’ll get no better.”
“It won’t be as inconspicuous as Leo’s original design,” I say, remembering how the balloon reflected the night sky so well, keeping us invisible during the dark, at least.
“I don’t believe in being inconspicuous,” Edlyn tells us.
“We’ll take it.” Nox holds out a handful of silver Chrim. “How much?”
“Oh, dear boy,” Edlyn says regrettably. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t nearly cover it. Material such as this would cost at least ten gold coins for a hundred yards.”
“We’d need twice that to cover the patches,” Irenya says.
Nox’s face contorts into a grimace. “We don’t have that much,” he says. “We’d pay you more if we could, but if you’d be willing to make a deal, then—”
“I’m afraid not.” Edlyn pulls back the fabric abruptly.
Disappointment slicks over Nox’s features.
I’m not used to seeing him without a plan, or at least the bravado of faking one, and it leaves me unsettled.
At least one of us has to have some certainty in this quest.
“How much would this fetch us?” I ask, holding out my arm to show the bracelet the king long ago gifted me.
Edlyn gawks at the mere sight of it. “Souls,” she says. “Is that pure gold?”
“With a ruby eye.”
Edlyn’s eyes grow wide and I see her fingers twitch as she tries to restrain from reaching out to touch it.
Such a gem is rare and it’s exactly why the king gifted it to me.
A rare stone for a rare creature. A prize for his prize.
“Wherever did you get such a thing?” Edlyn asks.
“It’s a family heirloom.”
“If it’s sentimental, I’d be reluctant to trade for it. Are you sure you want to part with such a thing?”
I can’t help but hesitate.
I’ve worn this every day of my life for as long as I can remember. The fact that it was a gift from the king has made it feel like a chain often enough, but the knowing that it once belonged to my great-great-grandmother has always made me feel connected to our family’s magic.
To part with it feels a little bit like parting with a piece of myself. With a piece of my mother too. It is the last piece of her I took with me when I left the castle.
“Would it take care of the fabric?” I say, unclipping it from my wrist and holding it out to Edlyn.
She takes it with a series of enthusiastic nods. “Yes, yes, of course!” she exclaims. “More than so! You could have the fabric and the pick of any outfits from the store. At least a dozen!”
“I’m not sure we need a dozen,” I tell her with a smile. I touch the bare spot on my wrist. It feels cold. “A change of clothes would be nice though.”
I look around at her shop, once again taking in the array of color and silks.
“Do you have anything less extravagant?” Nox asks, following my eye.
“Let me guess,” Edlyn says in a laugh. “Black?”
Nox must see the way my nose wrinkles at the thought, because he says, “Maybe just nothing that glows in the dark.”
Edlyn laughs again. “I’m sure I can find you something.”
She heads back into the far stretches of the shop to dig out the more muted outfits she doesn’t keep on display.
Once she’s gone, Nox turns to me.
I reach up to tuck my hair behind my ears. It still feels strange to have it so short, no barrier between me and the world to hide behind.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Nox says, gesturing to my wrist.
“I am the one who spent most of your money on bread and cakes,” I say with a quick smile.
Nox’s jaw quirks slightly. “Your appetite has robbed me blind,” he admits.
“Here we are!” Edlyn says. She heaps a colorful array of dresses and shirts onto the counter in front of us. “One of these must be more endearing to you than your current attire.”
I look down at my black shirt and matching black boots and pants with a grimace. Between that and Irenya’s unassuming brown skirt, we do look a little somber.
“Thank you,” I say gratefully.
Irenya’s fingers are already dancing between the fabrics, exploring all the colors she has never been allowed to work with before.
“This one!” she says, holding up a bright orange sweater.
I recoil a little.
“Not for you,” she says, sensing my hesitation. “I meant for me.”
She puts it down and then holds up a long burgundy dress, embroidered with rose petals.
“This one is for you,” she announces.
Though the dress is beautiful, I can’t help but laugh. “I don’t think a ballgown is the right outfit for our plans,” I remind her.
“Oh, you can pick something else out for travel,” Irenya says dismissively. “Please, Selestra, the only time I’ve ever seen color on you is when you’re painting. You simply must try this on.”
I sigh, taking the dress from her with a shake of my head. She has been as robbed of variety as I have, forced to mute her creations in the king’s colors.
“I’ll be quick,” I say to Nox.
“I’m glad to know that a ballgown means more to you than my life,” he retorts, though there is a glint of humor in his eyes.
“Irenya’s new orange sweater means more to me than your life,” I say, twisting on my heel to head into the back room.
It doesn’t take long for me to slip the dress Irenya chose over my head, letting it fall down my waist and swing to a rest at my ankles.
It’s beautiful. Nothing as intricate as Irenya’s designs, but the rose petals catch the light, just so, almost making it look like they’re dancing with my movements.
And the color. Actual color against my skin, the same red as the cherries that sat on top of the cakes Irenya and I used to sneak.
Even with my green hair swinging by my chin, I no longer look like a witch, bound to the king. I look almost normal. How I imagine any other girl who walks these streets might look when they attend a ball or a celebration.
“Come out, then!” Irenya says. “I’m going to die of curiosity.”
I step cautiously from the back room and Irenya squeals in delight when she sees me.
“You look like a strawberry!” she says.
I blink. “That is not a compliment.”
“Strawberries are delicious.”
“I’m going to get changed now,” I say pointedly.
But Irenya pulls me farther into the room, circling me like a vulture as she examines the dress.
“How do you get the tulle to fall like that?” she asks Edlyn.
I sigh as the two of them begin talking fabrics, and turn my attention to Nox. He’s staring at me, lips pressed together, and a flicker of uncertainty passes across his face.
“Don’t tell me I’ve rendered you speechless,” I tease.
“Hardly,” he says. The frown smooths out and he gives me a knowing smile. “I’m just trying to think of the right words.”
“Let me guess, I look like me again,” I say to him, mocking his words from after we’d cut my hair. “Really, soldier, you must work on your compliments.”
Nox runs a hand through his dark hair. It falls back over his eyes disobediently. “You look like a princess is all,” he finally says.
I huff out a breath, irritated at the nickname.
“I told you, I’m not—”
“I know,” Nox says firmly. He clears his throat, skin flushed. “But you look like one.”
The earnestness in his voice catches me off guard and for once I can’t find a retort. Suddenly, I feel far too warm in this dress. Nox’s stare intensifies and my breath turns newly ragged with every moment our eyes are fixed to each other.
“I’m going to go get changed,” I finally say, shocked by the quiet in my voice.
Nox only nods and then turns quickly away, finally breaking his stare from mine. I swallow and head into the back room, but his words linger, following me.
You look like a princess.
I can’t help but smile.