CHAPTER XXII

“Anyone in?” I asked, door creaking on its hinges as I stepped into the corridor. “Zentha sent me. They said you might have a spare room.”

The buzz of conversation died down in the living room and a pane, no older than twenty, poked his head out of the doorway. One of his horns was growing faster than the other, but I didn't get to see much more of him; he disappeared back into the room, as if by moving quickly enough, I wouldn't have time to have seen him in the first place.

The pane blurted out something about little friends, and a gruffer voice said, “You're kidding.” The floorboards creaked as the pane rose to their feet.

A much older pane turned the corner and stood with his hands on his hips, grinning down at me.

“Thought that was a small voice I was hearing,” he said, shaking his head so that his long braids fell over the backs of his shoulders. “Been hearing all kinds of rumours about an influx of little friends, lately. What can I do for you?”

“Zentha said you might have room for me... ?” I said, smiling as best I could manage, fiddling with the cuffs of the shirt Claire had leant me, collar far too stiff for my liking. “I'm going to be staying in Kyrindval for a while, and they said I'd be a good fit here.”

“Oh, yeah?” the pane said, resting his shoulder against the wall. “What are you planning on doing here?”

He asked because he was curious; he wasn't demanding I pay my own way.

“I thought I could help teach Mesomium and Canthian, for anyone interested,” I said.

“That so?” He tapped a claw against one of his fangs, and bellowed out, “Hafor! Get back out here. Our new housemate's gonna teach you that Mesomium you're always prattling on about.”

Hafor sheepishly dragged his feet behind him, took refuge behind the older pane, and managed a wave.

“I'm Rowan,” I said, holding out a hand to Hafor. “It's nice to meet you both.”

When Hafor only blinked at my hand, the older pane took it, saying, “Draeis! Good to meet ya. Hafor here will show you to the empty rooms. Had a few move on lately. One went off to Jorjang, actually. It'll be nice to have some life in the place again. All you need to know is that everyone has their own day to do the cleaning, we take breakfast and dinner together, and if you want cooked meat, you're gonna have to see to that yourself. No offence meant, of course. I just don't think you'd appreciate charcoal for dinner.”

Moving in to a cabin wasn't as big an event as I'd built it up to be, and I preferred it that way. Hafor shuffled down the corridor, showed me the unoccupied rooms at Draeis' behest, and I chose the smaller of the two, lest another pane show up. The room had all I needed in it – somewhere to sleep and somewhere to put the clothes I didn't yet have – but when Hafor left me with a mumbled goodbye, I was hesitant to take another step in.

I hadn't had much luck making myself at home of late.

I spent most of the morning getting to know the household. Draeis was a brewer and had spent years building an extensive cellar beneath the cabin, and while Hafor wanted to work around the sca-isjin, one day, he was currently apprenticing for a tanner several streets over. The third occupant was an energetic woman by the name of Maedir, who tended to sickly dragons when they sought out aid.

Claiming that he didn't like to presume, Draeis asked if I happened to know the other humans who'd been in Kyrindval lately, and I explained how I knew them as best as I could. Mentioning a brother earnt me puzzled looks, though they'd had the concept explained to them before, and Maedir chimed in that she'd spoken with Michael a few times in the past, and that he'd always had plenty to say for himself.

None of them were adverse to the notion of a second breakfast, and I even tried a chunk of raw meat, when Draeis goaded me into it. It wasn't the worst experience I'd ever had, but it felt far too slimy in my throat to consider repeating. I did my part, washed the plates with the aid of a step, and headed out into Kyrindval, hoping to find something in the shops that might fit me.

I stepped outside of the cabin and saw my brother heading in the opposite direction.

“Michael!” I called out.

“Ah! There you are,” he said, hurrying over to me. “Zentha said you'd be somewhere around here. Getting all settled in, are you? I hear you had quite the day, yesterday.”

“Does word really get around that quickly?”

“I spoke with Kouris this morning. Excellent to see her again,” he said, aimlessly taking the lead. “The pane don't care much for all this nonsense, honestly. They likely think we're being petty. Well, they're not far wrong, are they?”

I didn't think there was anything petty in trying to defend a city against invading forces, but it was too early to get into an argument with Michael. I had no chance of holding my own in a debate with him now that we'd spent years apart.

“Claire's in Kyrindval now. I don't know whether that's a good thing or not,” I said, “Have you seen her yet? She's back at her old place.”

Michael frowned, humming flatly.

“Well, you see...”

“Did something happen?” I asked when he trailed off.

He shrugged and I jumped in front of him, blocking the path. A shrug from Michael never indicated that he didn't have the words, or that he didn't care; it meant he was avoiding giving an answer.

“You didn't see her after Isin, Rowan. She was angry. Hell, of course she was angry. She was hurt, and far worse than you can image. She couldn't get up for months. She handled it all as well as anyone could be expected to. That is to say...” He paused, sighing. “We did not part on the best of terms. A lot of her anger was misguided, and a lot of it was not. Surely you know about the drinking; she would go from blaming herself for Felheim's actions to blaming me for not being a good enough brother to you a dozen times a day.

“Which, in her defence, may have had some grain of truth to it.”

That said, he stepped around me and carried on walking.

I set off after him a few seconds later, and dropped my gaze once I was by his side. How easy it had been to imagine that Claire had been like this since Isin fell; that she hadn't yet started to get better, and this was the very worst of it.

“You could've been worse,” I grumbled. “Remember when you found me putting that dead lamb back together? You could've panicked, could've told the entire village that I was a necromancer, but you only cared because you thought it was impressive. Like something out of a story, you said.”

Laughing under his breath, he said, “That was, what—seven, eight years ago? I'm surprised you remember.”

“Of course I do! You were the first person who knew I was a necromancer. I'd only been working as a healer for a few years, but if I'd had to keep it to myself for much longer, I don't think I would've been able to take it. And it kind of made me feel like it'd be okay if other people figured it out, too.”

My hands were slick with blood when he'd found me and the lamb's coat was stained the same colour. He'd taken refuge behind a crumbled wall when he'd encountered a wolf on the way back from the village late one evening, and after I'd chased it away and fixed the lamb, he'd knelt next to me and used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from my fingers.

“And look how that turned out,” Michael said blithely, tugging on the collar of my shirt. “This doesn't suit you at all, for what it's worth.”

He took me to one the busier streets in Kyrindval, home to a dozen shops, as well as a library. I spent a tedious half an hour staring at book spines covered in squiggles that meant nothing to me, and once Michael was finished attending to his business, he didn't have so much as a single book to show for it. We headed to the tailors, after that. Pane clothes were vastly different to anything humans wore: bulkier, thicker, and far better made than anything I'd owned throughout the first twenty-three years of my life.

Had a Canthian set sights on anything a pane wore they would've fainted on the spot.

Two walls of the tailors were dedicated to showcasing spools of fabric in every colour, arranged by hue, stretching from the floor to the ceilings. Pane tended to use leather and fur for most of their clothing, but after a few minutes spent chatting with my brother, the seamster agreed to put together some more human-looking shirts for me. I held my arms out and he used a stick with hundreds of tiny black lines scored along one side to measure me, but insisted on only using the colour Zentha had assigned me.

The pane worked quickly and precisely and we left within an hour, two new shirts folded over one of my arms.

“Can you help me with something?” I asked.

“Something else, you mean?” He grinned, not missing a beat. “What is it?”

I kept my eyes on the ground as I went, hopping between giant flagstones, made dizzy by the enormity of the world around me. The longer I was in Kyrindval, the deeper I went into the tribe, the smaller I seemed to become.

“I'm going to start teaching Mesomium and Canthian, for any of the pane who want to learn,” I explained. “Zentha said I should leave a note on one of the noticeboards.”

“What—you want to teach, Rowan?” he asked, incredulous. “No offence intended, of course. You speak it well enough, but what about grammar! What about different kinds of adjectives and irregular verbs and prepositions and writing?”

I stopped on the spot, raising my brow.

“I'm not going to use any of those words, which I think already makes me a better teacher than you,” I said, frowning. He could've been speaking Agadian, for all I'd understood. “Are you going to help me or not?”

He mulled it over, rubbing at his chin as though holding me back would be a service to Kyrindval, but ultimately couldn't pass up the chance to be helpful, if it involved a quill and parchment.

We gathered supplies from his cabin, and I sat opposite him at the dining table, swinging my legs back and forth as he wrote out four copies of what I assumed were the same notice. Screwing the lid back on his inkwell, he lifted each piece of parchment, ensuring the words no longer shone in the sunlight.

“There we are. I trust you'll be able to post them yourself. There ought to be nails by all of the noticeboards,” he said, clicking his tongue when I gathered the pieces of parchment up and bent one of the corners.

“Thank you,” I said, glancing down at the meticulously neat script. “What did you put?”

“Don't say you don't trust me, Rowan,” he said, rocking on the back two legs of his giant chair. “... tuition in Mesomium and Canthian available from a native Mesomium speaker. If interested, speak to Rowan Northwood at the fire pit any day this week, around eight o'clock, is the gist of it. And in parentheses: look for the smallest little friend within the tribe.”

Michael was far too pleased with himself over that last remark, and I didn't give him the satisfaction of rolling my eyes. Folding the parchment in half and slipping it in my pocket, I got as far as the door before saying, “Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm taller than Kidira.”

Michael opened his mouth as if to refute the point, but soon realised there was none to be made.

“I always manage to forget that she's short,” he said. “Do you want me to change it? I'd hate to be indirectly responsible for troubling Kidira.”

“It's fine,” I said, “I'm meeting Claire soon.”

I succeeded in posting three of the notices. The board was far too high up for me to nail it to any part of it but the very bottom, and I hoped it wouldn't become lost beneath a sea of parchment scraps that were undoubtedly more interesting than anything I had to offer.

I kept the last piece of parchment folded in my pocket, and decided to track down a fourth noticeboard after I'd seen Claire. We were meeting with Akela and Kidira to discuss our next move. I'd expected them to make plans without me, but Claire hadn't even asked if I wanted to come along. My being there was a given. She'd simply told me where to head.

I dropped my new shirts off in my room, didn't take the time to change, and followed the map Claire had drawn for me that morning. We'd been lucky to have the great lodge to ourselves yesterday and couldn't expect to claim it two days in a row; Claire had assured me there was a study room in one of the libraries we could make use of.

I didn't understand why Kyrindval needed more than one library until I got there. This library was a world away from the severe building Michael had taken me to that morning. It was made from stone, surrounded by beds of tulips brighter than any I'd ever seen before, and inside, the books were as much for decoration as the paintings of mountain and coastal landscapes lining the room. There weren't any rows of bookshelves; rather, they ran along the walls, creating a wide, open space.

Cushions bigger than I was were strewn across the floor, and pane lounged against them, reading or napping with a book folded open against their chest, their head in someone's lap. Three doors led off the larger one, and I would've asked the pane who weren't too immersed in their books if they'd seen any other humans pass through, if not for the way Akela snuck up behind me.

“Northwood!” she said far too loudly for our current surroundings. “Northwood, my friend, a very good day to you! An excellent day to you! You are most certainly deserving it, yes?”

“Hello...?” I said, convinced I'd missed something. When she only grinned toothily, I said, “Are Claire and Kidira already here?”

“Yes, yes, they are through this way,” Akela said, hands on my shoulders as she guided me between piles of pane to the door on the left. “They are talking about something dreary, I am not doubting this. It is a good thing I am having you for company, yes?”

The room was set aside for writing, more so than reading; there was a table in the centre, surrounded by an assortment of armchairs, and the scrolls in the room were all blank. Inkwells, quills and candles were placed atop a cabinet in the corner, and a wide, high-up window let in sunlight. Claire and Kidira were waiting for us, one more patiently than the other, sat opposite one another at the table.

I pulled out a chair between them, inching it towards Claire.

“Did everything go well?” she asked.

“I have somewhere to stay, and Michael helped me with the notices,” I said, keeping it brief as Kidira drummed her fingers on the edge of the table.

“Now,” Kidira said, bringing her hands together. “What is our next step? Do we retake Orinhal, or consider it lost to us indefinitely?”

Kidira wasn't wasting any time. If she was susceptible to a fraction of the cheer Akela was, she buried it deep, kept it hidden beneath her blunt words.

“There are plenty of good people still there. Atthis, Ash, Galal. They will fight for Orinhal from within, but may be relying on our intervention,” Claire said. “Over the past two years, the resistance has done little more than defend itself and liberate a handful of cities. I sent soldiers through the gap in the wall hoping to send a message to Felheim, but we have never launched an offensive. It may be time to consider other options.”

That was what Akela had been hoping for.

“Excellent! It is about time that we are truly fighting back. We are finding where they are weakest and hitting them there, yes?”

The three of them spoke of strategy, which was more a process of eliminating bad ideas than anything else. I'd been pleased when Claire invited me along without a second thought, but I had nothing to offer up. I didn't recognise the names of any of the cities Rylan's soldiers had captured, any of the bases he had built, and didn't know which parts of the terrain would offer us an advantage.

Thinking out loud, I said, “What was the plan before? Before... before we lost Isin?”

“Irrelevant,” Kidira said, “Whatever plan we may or may not have formed would've involved an entire Kingdom's worth of resources, along with an army. Of which, you may have noticed, we no longer have either.”

My chair legs scraped on the floor as I turned towards her, not about to be dismissed without getting an answer first.

“But you didn't want a war. You weren't going to march entire armies into Felheim, were you? I know King Jonas' death sort of got in the way of planning, but there must've been something you were going to do.” I pleaded my case, but was met with stony silence from Kidira. I turned back around, imploring Claire and Akela to listen. “Claire—remember when we were going to run away from Isin? Nothing was getting done, and you felt we were running out of time. We were going to go to Thule, weren't we? You said there was someone who could help us get into the castle.”

Only now did Kidira say something.

“You were going to run away, Claire?” she asked, sounding more amused than I'd ever heard her. “You didn't tell me that.”

“It was a complicated time,” Claire said, then fixed her eye on me, mind glossing over all the reasons why it wouldn't work. Shaking her head, she said, “That was a long time ago, Rowan. The castle will be more guarded than ever, and I do not even know if she resides within Thule still. And if she does, there is no reason why she would help me; no doubt the entirety of the Kingdom knows of the treacherous Knight who stands against Prince Rylan and all the good he wishes to do.

“And how would we get into Thule? Soldiers patrol every inch of the wall, and even the borders that run between the mountains are guarded.”

I was halfway through a shrug when the answer came to me.

“I have dragon. We could go through the Bloodless Lands to get around the mountains,” I said.

Akela cleared her throat to cover a laugh.

“Might we have some serious suggestions,” Kidira said, sighing.

“It was a serious suggestion,” I said, unwilling to let her dismiss me so easily. “I can go to the Bloodless Lands. You were fine there, with your blindfold. If we took Oak, we could get close to Thule in no time, and we wouldn't have to worry about more stray dragons.”

“Very well,” Kidira reluctantly allowed, rubbing her right temple with two fingers. “Say this ridiculous plan of yours works. Say we get into Thule. What then? We take our chances and have Claire write to her contact, declaring our intentions, and hope that they help us force our way inside? And what next? Claire talks to her father and sweeps all this trouble under the rug?”

Holding my hands up, I slumped back into my seat.

“I don't hear anyone else coming up with any plans,” I muttered, well aware that she'd treat a suggestion from anyone other than me with some degree of civility.

“There might be some merit to it,” Claire said. “I fail to see how we can rectify the issue without going directly to the root of the problem; there is no use in flailing at branches. There are too few of us to spread ourselves effectively. If Rowan can get us into Thule I cannot promise that King Garland will want to listen to me, but it is better than biding our time here.”

“If he is not wanting to listen, he is always being made to listen,” Akela added helpfully.

Kidira clicked her tongue, unable to believe that she was really going through with this.

“And who is this person to you, Claire?” Kidira asked. “Are you certain we can trust them?”

“If she has not been poisoned against me, I've no doubt she will keep our intentions to herself, at the very least,” Claire said. “We were engaged, many years ago.”

I'd offered up a plan more solid than I'd first realised, yet Kidira wouldn't be happy unless someone handed Felheim over to us. Hands on the table, she got to her feet, and left the room without a word. Her presence lingered. Akela, Claire and I remained silent, sharing glances for mere fractions of seconds before finding some scratch upon the tabletop to occupy ourselves with.

Kidira returned with an armful of books, some the size of her torso, making a mountain of them atop the table. She left again, this time bringing a set of three steps used by pane to reach the higher shelves, and stood atop them to properly pore over the books.

They were all full of maps, some of individual regions in Felheim and others of Asar as a whole, though the maps showing Agados were always strangely devoid of detail. Kidira turned the books away from her, sliding them across the table so Akela and Claire could see them, and said, “Well, Claire. Where do we cross into Thule, after our little trek through the Bloodless Lands?”

For an hour, Claire, Kidira and Akela studied maps, trying to make sense of the mountain range, while Akela jotted down the names of the busiest towns and roads in the surrounding area; anything Claire could recall from the top of her head. Kidira frowned at every suggestion, intent on assigning failure to it, until Claire came up with something better.

“To me, it is seeming that if we are not rushing, if we are planning this properly, then there is a chance. I am thinking we could be reaching Thule, and the Felheimish, they are not realising until it is too late,” Akela said, once the seventh route to Thule Claire had proposed hadn't been immediately dismissed by Kidira.

“And what then? What if we are successful in overthrowing the King and Queen in their own castle? We barely held onto one city, let alone an entire country. Look at us,” Kidira said, shaking her head. “We have but the three of us, a pane far too eager to fight, and a necromancer unwilling to lift a finger.”

“What?” I blurted out.

I couldn't say what drove me to anger the fastest: what she was implying, or the fact that she'd brazenly failed to include me in the us she spoke of.

“You know the answer to that,” she said, eyes fixed on one of the maps. “You would sooner ensure things were easy for yourself than fight; you would sooner throw away one of your many lives than take a moment to think about what you are doing.”

“Kidira,” Claire said sharply, but I didn't need her to defend me.

I rose to my feet, and the scraping of chair legs wasn't enough to get Kidira to turn my way.

“You think that was easy?” I asked. “I was... I was—”

“You were what?” she asked, feigning interest when the words wouldn't come to me. "Unwilling to fight? Uninterested in surviving? Selfish, ultimately?"

She still wasn't looking at me, still wasn't using my name.

Stepping closer, I grabbed the shoulder of her shirt.

Teeth grit together, she said, “Do you not remember what happened the last time you put your hands on—”

“Go on,” I hissed. “Go on. Hit me again.”

It seemed Kidira had no interest in doing such a thing when I made the initial offer. I saw Akela rise to her feet from the corner of my eye, not knowing who to pull away from who, and Kidira was finally looking at me. Her eyes locked onto mine as she took a single step down, not knocking my hand away, and there it was. The last chance I'd get to spit out the fire that twisted in my chest every time her gaze slipped through me, as though I was no more worth acknowledging than the wind.

“Is there something you wish to say?”

“It's not easy. My powers, my necromancy, might come to me naturally, but none of this is easy, Kidira. I could kill you with a thought. I could kill anyone, if I only wanted them dead. What if I get angry and it slips from my mind? From the moment people found out I was, I've had to deal with being shunned for crimes I didn't commit. I ran away in the night with a stranger because it was better than spending every day certain a mob was coming for me, ready to gut me to purify whatever rot they thought I'd caused. I've moved through lands where suspecting me of being a necromancer would be enough to burn the flesh from my bones over and over, and I've been used.

“And the thing is, I don't have to let people treat me like this. I could do all the things they fear and more, but I don't want to use this power to hurt people. I want to use it to help them, and yet I've...” I took a deep breath, pulling Kidira an inch closer before letting go of her shoulder. “If I am what you think, if I am afraid, you can thank your daughter.”

“Northwood,” Akela said, slamming a fist on the table.

Kidira held out her hand, silencing her, and said, “... explain yourself.”

“Ask Akela. Ask Claire. Hell, ask Kouris. You must've seen my scars when you pulled me off that rock. Where do you think they came from? Who do you think would be that obsessed with torturing a necromancer?” I asked, willing my heart to slow for a moment more, so that my own words weren't drowned out. “I guess that's what happens when you raise someone and tell them that necromancers are a thing to be burnt, not real people.”

Kidira's fingers curled towards her palm and she didn't hit me.

No longer aware of anyone's presence but her own, Kidira placed her hands on the edge of the table, and rested all her weight on it. Akela and Claire looked at one another, neither one daring to say a word, and the ashes of what I'd said dried out my mouth and caught in my throat.

My right hand trembled and my fingers slipped from my wrist when I tried to grasp it.

I'd prepared myself for more hard words from Kidira, for her to have no trouble expressing her contempt, but the anger that seeped from her was more melancholic than forceful; she hadn't even called me a liar.

Akela moved towards her, about to place a hand on her shoulder, but Kidira drew back in a way that she hadn't deigned to around me.

Claire was looking at me, she had to be, but I couldn't turn towards her. Couldn't focus on Kidira, anymore. The wrong thoughts were flooding my mind again, dimming my vision, blood under my nails. Chains. Chains around my wrists, grinding against steel. Wrapping around me, tighter and tighter, nausea rising within me, wanting to push out everything, to force out the heart Katja hadn't slid her blades into.

The door slammed behind me, and I tore my way between pane, pushing open doors that ought to have been too heavy for me, bursting into the street, into the sunlight. The world spun but it wasn't enough to clear my vision, not completely, and the only way to anchor myself to Bosma was by finding a shade-covered gap between two cabins and sitting with my arms around my knees, rocking, breathless.

When Claire tracked me down, close to an hour later, I hadn't calmed down enough to be able to look up at her.

“I know,” I grumbled into my knees. “I shouldn't have said that. It was... cruel, I should've broken it to her gently. I know.”

“You shouldn't have been put in the position where you felt you had to tell her that,” Claire said, ignoring any difficulty and sitting by my side. “Either Akela or I ought to have told her before this.”

“I don't get it,” I mumbled. “Akela's one of the nicest people I've ever met. One of the nicest people in the world. She saved me, you know. From Katja. If she hadn't turned up... I don't know. And then there's Kidira, and Akela looks at her like she's the sun. It doesn't make any sense.”

“Kidira isn't an awful person, Rowan. She has done more for the people of the territories these past two years than you can imagine. She is simply...” Claire paused and I spared a glance her way, seeing her frown. “Being awful to you. Now that I've said it out loud, I don't believe I ought to have made the distinction. I have spoken to her about this before, and I shall speak to her again.”

I drew my knees closer to my chest, head turned away from her.

“I'd rather have her trying to execute me. At least then I wouldn't have to sit in a room with her treating me like that. Like I'm too stupid to tell that she hates me,” I said, sighing. “... but I really shouldn't have said that. I don't want to say things like that to anyone, not even Kidira. I must've known it was going to hurt her, right? I don't want to keep getting so angry, Claire.”

“It's understandable,” Claire said, tentatively placing a hand between my shoulder blades.

“So? I don't want to act like that makes it okay,” I said, chin propped back up on my arms. “I should go apologise to her.”

“If you wish to speak to her, you ought to wait. Akela is currently doing what she can to explain the situation,” Claire said. “I would give it a few days, if I were you.”

The sun was starting to set, sky turning a dusty red between the mountains. There might've been pane looking for me around the fire pit in a matter of hours, but the thought of getting to my feet was daunting enough without then having to interact with strangers. Michael was probably right, anyway.

“We now have a plan, if nothing else,” Claire said in an effort to cheer me up.

“Someone else would've figured out go to Thule.”

“Perhaps. But you're the only one with a dragon to offer up.”

I laughed sharply through my nose, and Claire took that to mean it was safe to put an arm around me. I leant against her side and swore I'd suggest getting to our feet, any moment now. This was hardly the place for it: the ground was dry and chalky, and it belatedly occurred to me that a pane could look out their window by chance and see two humans huddled together on the ground.

Hopefully, they'd assume it was just another human thing they couldn't understand.

No matter how Kidira had tried to dissect the plan, the path to Thule was the only clear future I could see. I slipped an arm around Claire's waist, and said, “What about Alexander? Won't he helps us?”

“... I cannot say. I have not heard word of him, these past two years. I want to have faith in him, to say that he will, but I would've had faith in Rylan, as well.”

I paused, considering our options.

“What's her name?”

“Hm?” Claire caught my meaning a split-second after making the noise. “Ah. Eden. Eden Hawthorn.”

I nodded into her neck.

“What is she like?”

“She's wonderful,” Claire said distantly. “If I could only speak with her, if I could only get her to understand, I know she would do whatever she could for us.”

A change of tune: a few hours ago, Claire had been convinced it was hopeless.

I pulled back, catching her eye and smiling softly. I said no more on the matter and got to my feet, holding out both hands to help her up. I took the gathering pain away as she rose with a grunt, and crouched back down to retrieve her cane.

“We should go see Sen,” I said, taking Claire's hand. “Not just for food, I mean. Where's she staying?”

“A cabin down the street from mine,” Claire said, leading the way.

Many of the businesses we passed were getting ready to shut for the day, lanterns blown out in the backs of shops, doors closed but never locked as the pane made their way home, or to the taverns. Pane moved out of our way as we headed down the centre of the street, smiling but never staring, and I decided that I'd go to the fire pit tonight, even if my notices had remained unread all day.

“Kouris... ?” Claire said, brow furrowed.

I followed her gaze, watching a flash of orange tumble and tear through the street, weaving through groups of pane who didn't recognise her in the least.

I let go of Claire's hand and ran to meet Kouris.

Skidding to a halt, she held out a length of rolled parchment between her claws, and spoke up before Claire had the chance to unravel it.

“Looks like that brother of yours is wanting to sit down and talk about things. No pressure, of course,” Kouris said, “Unless we want the Felheimish army marching on Kyrindval.”