Fractured Magic: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fractured Magic is a fantasy webserial about political and personal accountability, ghosts both figurative and literal, and a pair of estranged friends who act like they’ve gone through the world’s messiest divorce.

Maebhe stepped out of Lyryma Forest and sank to her knees. The open air, the familiar slopes of her home valley, and the silhouette of Orean glittering in the distance overwhelmed her. She ran her fingers through the grass, dewy and damp, and felt the cold soak through the cloak she’d borrowed from Roman.

Íde crouched beside her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her smile was amused, but Maebhe could see the relief in it. “Are you all right?”

Maebhe grunted and flopped the rest of the way onto the ground. Kieran sat on her other side, Íde joining after a moment’s hesitation. Finally, they’d made it home.

The group sat at the top of a large hill, the strange, magical realm of Lyryma simply a wall of trees behind them, now. Out here, there was no dangerous foliage, no strange songs or red dragons. Ahead of them stretched Creae Valley, the air open and the grassy fields spotted with patches of golden flowers. Maebhe could just make out the tree-covered hills of Rossmor Forest in the distance. She loved Rossmor. The trees were such a respectable size.

To their left sat Orean, built between two mountains and walled in with the valley’s famous silver brick. From this distance, they made Orean shine. Illyon sat at the other end of the valley, smaller than Orean and not nearly as sparkling.

“Why are we stopping?” Leileas asked. She lurked in the forest’s shadows and wrinkled her nose at the thought of leaving it. “We’re so close.”

“Leileas, just enjoy having a break from that damned forest,” Drys said.

“I like this damned forest. We don’t have to see any of that.” Leileas waved distastefully at the smoke rising from Illyon’s chimneys.

“And we don’t have to deal with dragons that are supposed to be extinct,” Maebhe countered.

“Neither do we, normally. There is something wrong, and the problem is not only with Lyryma.”

Maebhe couldn’t disagree.

“Enough of this gloomy talk,” Kieran said, standing. “Let’s keep moving. The sooner we warn Orean, the more time King Riordan will have to prepare for Unity’s arrival.”

Pushing to her feet as well, Maebhe ran to Leileas and jumped, clambering up the frìth’s side to perch herself on Leileas’ shoulder. Leileas let out an amused snort and, together, the group started down the hill.

Soon, even Leileas had to crane her neck to look up at Orean’s walls. A line of officers waited for them at the edge of the city, having seen the massive frìth coming down the hill. Their uniforms and caps were all identical, only one of them set apart by a gold cape. Kieran had the same cape sitting in his closet.

“Kieran, is that you?” the gold-caped individual called when they were close enough. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the suns and squinted at the group, his round face almost entirely covered in dark, swirling birthmarks. “And Íde, too! We weren’t expecting you back until winter! Where’s Maebhe?”

Maebhe waved from her perch on Leileas’ shoulder. “Hello, Captain Song!”

The orinian captain looked up, his eyes widening. “Maebhe! Who…who do you have with you?”

“This is Leileas, and that’s Drys. They’re friends of ours,” Kieran said. “Song, we need to see King Riordan immediately. It’s important.”

“You know these people?” Leileas asked Kieran, bending and examining Captain Song with open curiosity, her large, shaggy flat face only a few feet from his. Maebhe took the chance to jump down.

“We work together,” Kieran explained.

“Your name is Song?” Leileas asked approvingly. “Kieran is correct, Song. We need to see your king.”

Captain Song nodded weakly, trying not to lean away from Leileas’ scrutiny. He beckoned one of his officers over. “Tell his Majesty to expect us.”

The officer nodded and, with a fearful look at Leileas, dashed off, then Song and his procession led them through the city gates. Once inside, Maebhe finally shook the weight from everything she’d seen and done on this journey off her shoulders. Back in these familiar streets, Unity could not hurt her. Gallonten was so very far away.

In terms of design, Orean was an unusual city in that it was more like a city built around another city. There was the old city and the new: the old city was walled off, separated by deep canals. It had stood since the Great War, probably longer, and was where the king and his court conducted their business. Only authorized personnel were allowed to enter, and that was partially for the public’s own good—it was full of crumbling old buildings that had survived millennia only to be eroded by them—and partially to protect the king’s privacy. It also kept people away from the dark castle at the city’s center.

The new city was the Orean that had grown around the old. It was the city that made up Maebhe’s whole world. Because of the hilly landscape, its streets were convoluted. To reach the palace, they’d have to walk up and down hills, around bends and through neighborhoods. It was a shame Leileas couldn’t fit in a carriage, because Maebhe’s feet were killing her.

They were paraded through the new city’s streets, orinians everywhere stopping what they were doing to point and stare at the frìth and the faerie. When they passed a group of children playing in the street, the children peered up at Leileas with wide eyes and open mouths, and Leileas paused to peer back. “They’re so small,” she said to Maebhe, in the same voice Maebhe used when she held a kitten.

The other unusual thing about Orean was the way it had expanded. Rather than build further and further down the mountain, Orean had built upward. Modern buildings stacked on top of old ones until Orean became a hodge-podge of architectural styles and towering structures. It was colorful, too, so much more than Gallonten. It was colorful not just in the red and blue rooftops of the new city, but in flags, signs, lanterns. Even the clothes lines stretching from house to house were vibrant, with banners and silk ribbons hanging off them. Leileas had to duck whenever they encountered the latter.

When they reached the old city’s walls, they encountered more guards. Maebhe thought their parade would stop there, but instead, Captain Song led them through the gates and over the canals, then down the quiet, paved paths to King Riordan’s palace. Maebhe peered excitedly around as they walked, looking at everything she could find except for the castle that loomed behind the squat palace. All of Orean liked to pretend that place didn’t exist. It was a sinister old thing, char-blackened and ancient. Its eastern wing had been torn away, leaving its innards exposed. Maebhe guessed it had been centuries, at least, since any glass sat in the windows, and now ivy climbed freely up and through them into the shadow and darkness.

Captain Song didn’t so much as glance at it, leading the group inside the palace and down long, echoing hallways lined with statues. Surprisingly, the ceilings were high enough for Leileas, who only had to duck in the twisting stairways. When they reached the king’s chambers, the captain had them wait outside while he went in.

Maebhe surreptitiously wiped her palms on her trousers. She’d never met King Riordan before; he mostly kept to his palace and the old city, to his wives and his parties and his wine. She’d never done anything this important before. It all hit her all at once, here in the grand halls of the king’s palace. Their whole trip back was for this. It was to get here.

When Captain Song returned, she wordlessly followed her companions up to the king’s chambers. They were given a double-door entrance, palace guards on either side watching them pass before shutting the doors solidly behind them. Maebhe’s ears flattened to her head. They found themselves in a round room, with tall windows circling them all around. Some of them were propped open, making soft blue curtains billow in from the east. From here, Maebhe could see Tellaos’ castle even better. She was so distracted by it that she almost missed the king himself.

King Riordan was settled in an armchair far from those eastern windows, far from that blackened castle. The modern furniture seemed out of place in the otherwise ancient palace, but the man himself did not. He was an older man with silver-streaked hair and weathered skin that was highlighted by light birthmarks. He stood when they entered, folding his delicate hands in front of him and inclining his head in greeting.

Kieran bowed and Maebhe and Íde quickly followed. Maebhe’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“Rise,” King Riordan said in a voice younger than his appearance suggested. It didn't match the lines around his eyes or the tired slump of his shoulders. “It’s been many years since one of the frìth has visited us here,” he said to Leileas, who had managed to worm her way through the door. “You are welcome, of course, but what brings you out of your forest? I hope nothing is wrong.”

Leileas pressed a fist to her chest and bowed. “Your subjects’ story brings me here, Your Majesty.”

King Riordan looked at Kieran, Íde, and Maebhe with a raised eyebrow, his stare making Maebhe want to inch behind her brother. He beckoned Kieran forward. “I know you. You’re a captain of my guard, are you not?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What is this story, then?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Are you aware that the alfar King Nochdvor is missing, sire?”

Riordan’s thin lips pressed together. “I am.”

“You know?” Maebhe asked before she could stop herself, tone accusatory. Kieran shot her a horrified look, but Riordan only glanced between the twins with mild curiosity. “Your sister?” he guessed.

Before Kieran could answer, Maebhe dropped into another hasty bow. “Maebhe Cairn, Your Highness. Kieran, Íde, and I just returned from a holiday in Gallonten, where your people are being rounded up and thrown in prisons.”

Riordan stared at her, looked her slowly up and down. Also at odds with his appearance, his eyes were bright. “Explain yourself, Ms. Cairn.”

It was Kieran who answered, taking a step back in front of his sister. “Shortly after the Nochdvors arrived in Gallonten, we were ambushed in our hotel by Gallontean Police. Maebhe escaped, but Íde and I were taken to Unity Island, where we were questioned by Unity officials. They thought we were spies.”

From there, Kieran went on to explain their questioning, escape, and the journey through Lyryma. When he reached the end of the story, Íde fumbled in her bag for the newspaper they’d brought with them from Gallonten, one of many that blamed Orean for Nochdvor’s disappearance. She offered it up to the king alongside Roman’s letter. King Riordan took the papers with him to one of the windows, his back to the group while he read. Over his shoulder, the whole valley was visible. Maebhe wondered if Riordan had been here, looking out at Illyon, the day the alfar king had been kidnapped.

“It was Egil who rescued us. The frìth confirmed it. He’s alive, and that letter is from him,” Kieran said. “It explains everything he knows about Unity’s plan.”

Riordan scoffed and tossed the newspaper aside, onto a side table. “They can turn our city upside down, if they like, but they won’t find their blasted king,” he spat. He turned to them, inclined his head in a deeper bow than before. “It was good of you to bring me this information. I’ll see that you’re all duly compensated.”

Relief flooded through Maebhe even as a part of her insisted it couldn’t possibly be so simple. Was she really free of this burden? Was it done? “What will you do about this?” she asked.

“Maebhe,” Kieran hissed, but the king held up a hand to silence him. He approached, slowly, and took Maebhe’s hand. He smoothed it over reassuringly and said, “Ms. Cairn, I can’t imagine how stressful this last week has been for you. You may rest easy, now, knowing that I will handle it. Do not concern yourself with the details.”

Reluctantly dropping her hand, he turned to Drys and Leileas next. “Will you be staying in Orean?”

“Yes,” Drys said immediately, practically scowling at the king. Bemused, Maebhe wondered what Riordan had done to offend them.

Leileas shook her head. “My message has been delivered and I must return to Home.” Her expression darkened, then, her thick brows furrowing. “There are matters I must report to my people.”

Riordan nodded. “I thank you for coming. You are welcome again in Orean anytime.”

Leileas repeated her salute from earlier. “And know that if you need Home’s assistance at any time, you need only ask.”

Outside the palace, Leileas said her goodbyes. She crouched so that she was eye level with the orinians and said in her low, gentle voice, “It was an honor to meet you all. I’ll miss you, little ones. Please come visit us in Home whenever you like.”

Maebhe threw her arms around the frìth’s neck. “We’ll miss you too, Leileas. Be careful going back through that forest alone, please.”

Leileas pulled back and did her strange, grimacing smile, and that was the end of it. She was led back to the city gates by Captain Song, and Drys didn’t join her.

“Drys, that’s your debt repaid, isn’t it?” Maebhe said to them. “Why aren’t you going back to Home?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Mae-vuh? My debt to Egil is repaid, but I think you owe me a debt of your own,” Drys said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and starting back toward the new city. Maebhe laughed, leaned into their side, and then pushed them gently away—it wasn’t a rejection, not outright. Drys brightened, seeming to realize as much. “Really, I’d just like to explore Orean,” they said. They looked around, their eyes catching on the old black castle.

“You’re not exploring there. In fact, none of you are coming to the old city again,” Kieran said sternly, following their gaze.

“What! Why am I being included in this?” Maebhe exclaimed while, at the same time, Drys asked, “Why not?”

“Because it’s not allowed. And because you get in trouble wherever you go,” Kieran said, giving Maebhe a pointed look. “Drys, you’re welcome to stay with us, but don’t expect us to be gracious hosts. I think I’m going to sleep for the next week.”

Kieran, Íde, and Drys began walking away, following the path Leileas had departed in, but Maebhe hesitated and looked back at the darkened castle.

“Maebhe?” Kieran called. “Are you coming or not?”

Maebhe tore her eyes away. They dropped to the palace, and out of curiosity, Maebhe looked for King Riordan’s tower. Just as she found it, blue curtains were drawn hastily shut. “I’m coming.”

_____

“Come along, Ofelia,” Isobel said, holding the sleepy five-year-old’s hand as they walked along. The rain had stopped, but a terrible fog had replaced it. The air was damp, heavy, and Gallonten was quiet. They passed only a few others on the streets.

“You really don’t have to come all this way, Boop,” Gareth said.

“We’re seeing you out of the city,” Isobel said. “It’s the least we can do. Who knows when we’ll see you next.”

Roman and Leandros, walking ahead of them, kept quiet. When they finally stopped so Gareth could say his goodbyes to Isobel and Ofelia, they kept their distance. Things were awkward and uncomfortable between them, still; they’d spoken as little as possible since they’d gone to meet Theodosia Fairfax two days before, and since the bitter confrontation that had followed.

Roman watched Gareth. He and Isobel were always so gentle with each other, so tender. Watching them made him hurt in a way that felt both confusing and warm. He stiffened in surprise when Isobel came over and hugged him goodbye, whispering in his ear, “Promise you’ll keep him safe.”

“I promise,” Roman whispered back before they broke apart. When they did, he noticed tears gathering in Isobel’s eyes. She wiped them quickly, turning to Ofelia and holding out her hand.

“Come along, Fe. It’s time for us to go home; we’ll see your father again soon.”

Roman, Gareth, and Leandros watched them disappear into the city smog. When they were fully out of sight, Leandros sighed and smoothed out his coat. He really did wear mourning blacks, like Gareth had said. Roman was just having trouble believing it was really for him. “Are you all right, Mr. Ranulf?” Leandros asked.

“Hm?” Gareth said, finally tearing his eyes from the place his wife and daughter had vanished. “Oh, yes. Quite. As right as I can be.”

Leandros nodded, then gave Gareth’s arm an awkward pat. “The others are waiting. We should be off.”

“Wait!” a distant voice called. “Wait for me!”

A young woman in a crisp dress emerged from the fog, running toward them and waving her straw hat excitedly. She wasn’t exactly dressed for the journey, but Thea Fairfax struck Roman as someone who would dress however she wanted, regardless of the occasion. She was out of breath by the time she caught up to them, but that didn’t dim her bright grin. “I passed Mrs. Ranulf and Ofelia on my way, and Isobel said that if I hurried, I might catch up with you. I’m glad I did; I hate showing up to things alone.”

Leandros offered her a small smile. “So do I. Now please, let’s go before anyone else delays us.”

Far outside the city, Unity’s security team, half a dozen horses, and three loaded wagons waited. There were no Unity or Alfheimr symbols on any of their belongings, nothing to give away the official nature of their mission. They looked like any other group of merchants or travelers preparing for a journey, even the Unity workers helping them load their supplies dressed in plain, unassuming clothes.

Eresh saw them first, waving with his clipboard and jogging over, looking tired but as excited as Thea. “Good morning! Ms. Corscia and I have been here for hours already. It didn’t quite feel real even as of yesterday, but it certainly does now, don’t you think? You’ve packed everything you need, all of you? You haven’t forgotten anything?” He looked over the group, counting heads. “All of your bags arrived ahead of you, so you needn’t worry about that.”

“Is this everyone?” Thea asked Roman in a loud whisper.

“Oh! I forgot you haven’t met anyone yet.” Eresh spun to try to locate the rest of the team. He and Thea had met the day before, when Leandros brought her and Roman to the island for paperwork. Eresh had been cold and jealous of Thea for about an hour, and then he’d gotten over it, finally finding in her someone who matched his energy. He pointed. “There’s Ivor Linde, Aaror Thomason, and Eftychia O’Neill, of the security team. Trinity Smith, our negotiator, and Cathwright, a skilled barrister. Ms. Corscia is also around here somewhere. It’s a lot of names, I’m sure, but we’ll all grow much closer on the journey.”

“Gods, I hope not,” Roman murmured. When Eresh and Leandros turned away to discuss business, he asked Thea, “What do you see when you look at them all?”

“Nothing suspicious yet,” Thea said. “Ms. Smith and Cathwright are reserved, but it’s just nerves.”

“And Mr. Ochoa?”

“Him, I’m not sure about. There’s something flickering under the surface. His motives aren’t what they seem; he’s driven by some sort of duty. He means no harm, at least.”

“A duty to Unity?” Gareth asked.

“Maybe,” Thea said, though she didn’t sound sure. “Oh!”

A slouched, languid alfar stopped in front of Roman. “So you’re Hallisey,” he said. He wore heavy leather, two pistols at his hips, and an eye patch over one eye. The two other members of the security team flanked him: Eftychia O’Neill on his right, draped in bright fabrics, and a broad, scowling man with a bow and quiver on his left. “You might not remember, but we met at the Ranulfs’ place, the other day.”

“I remember,” Roman said. He smiled at Ivor, then at Eftychia and Aaror in turn. Thea tugged urgently on his sleeve, her eyes wide in warning. “That was right before you let me in to see your Magistrate without even checking if I carried a weapon. I’m sure that went well for you, after the fact.”

Ivor’s expression darkened. He sneered not just at Roman, but at Thea beside him. “You don’t seem so scary, old man. Let’s go toe-to-toe, you and I, and maybe I’ll teach you a thing or two about picking fights you can’t win. You can even bring your little dormouse—she looks like she could throw a better punch than y—”

“Ivor,” said a cold voice. Thea jumped in surprise, finding a woman beside her where there had been none moments before. Evelyne Corscia didn’t look her way, her eyes locked on Roman like he’d attack if she even dared to blink. “What did I say about talking to him?”

“You’re not in charge of me, Evelyne,” Ivor replied.

“I am, at least for this journey,” she said, her voice as gentle as a whisper. Eresh and Leandros had paused their conversation, as had Trin and Cathwright. The whole team watched this exchange. As soon as Evelyne realized this, she finally tore her eyes from Roman and turned Leandros. “We’re ready for final inventory checks, Captain. Eresh.”

“Yes, of course,” Eresh said quickly. “The captain and I were just wrapping up.”

Evelyne nodded. “Eftychia, Aaror, go secure the last of the luggage,” she said crossing her arms. As she did, the movement highlighted old battle scars that criss-crossed her bare arms. When Ivor tried to pass her, she held one of them out to bar his way. “You—apologize to the girl.”

Ivor looked like he’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”

“She’s the captain’s assistant. She’s not a part of this, and you will not involve her in it.”

“Evie,” Eftychia said with a pout, “I’m sure Ivor didn’t mean anything by it. Dormouse is actually a very cute—”

Evelyne raised an eyebrow, the simple expression making Chia bite her lip mid-sentence.

“My apologies, Ms. Fairfax,” Ivor said, sweeping into an exaggerated bow. “Big day, you know. Lots to worry about. I didn’t mean to take that out on you.”

“You’re forgiven,” Thea said, half-hidden behind Roman. With that, and with another glare at both Roman and Evelyne, Ivor swept away, Aaror at his side and Eftychia skipping after him.

“Tell me if he bothers you again,” Evelyne told Thea. “Or give him a fright yourself. It’s not difficult. I’m sure you’ve got it in you.”

“Oh! Yes. Wow. Thank you. That was…” Thea stammered, then trailed off with a cough. Behind her freckles, her cheeks were bright red. Finally, she managed, “Inspirational. You’re very kind.”

Evelyne blinked, surprised, then smiled. It softened the harsh planes of her face, almost overshadowing the hawklike set of her gaze. Beside Thea, Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you for intervening, Ms. Corscia,” Leandros said.

“It wasn’t for you,” Evelyne said, cold once more. She looked from Roman to Leandros. “I hope you’re ready for what’s ahead, Captain. Eresh, inventory. Come.”

Eresh  and Gareth left with her, leaving Leandros, Roman, and Thea alone. “You should have told me you had a history with Ms. Corscia,” Leandros hissed.

“You don’t—,” Roman started, his eyes wide. He schooled his expression quickly and shrugged. “It’s nothing of note. Not more than I have with any other Enforcer.”

Leandros narrowed his eyes at Roman, then turned to Thea. “Ms. Fairfax, can you tell when people are lying?”

“I’m not lying!” Roman said.

“I sometimes can, I sometimes can’t. It depends on why they’re lying. But if Roman’s lying, I can’t tell,” Thea said, staring over at where Eresh and the security team were working.

Leandros sighed. “Fine. And the security team?”

“They do want to hurt someone,” Thea said, turning her attention back to Leandros. Her gaze slid, then, over to Roman. “For now, Your Highness, it’s not you.”

Leandros drew in a sharp breath. To Roman, fervent and emphatic, he said, “Be careful.” And with that, he was also gone, rejoining Eresh and Evelyne. As soon as he was out of earshot, Thea asked, “So what’s the story?”

“Story?” Roman asked.

“You were definitely lying.”

Roman winced. “Thank you for not telling him.”

“I can see that you’re trying to protect Ms. Corscia,” Thea said. “I don’t know form what or why, but that’s the only reason I didn’t tell.”

Roman nodded, avoiding Thea eyes. “I’ll tell you the story later.”

“Liar,” Thea said, smiling.

At that, Roman smiled back. “Only sometimes.”

Within the hour, Unity’s team finally left Gallonten behind, the road unwinding from Unity’s capital leading them on toward Lyryma Forest and, beyond that, Illyon.

_____

A whistle blew, followed by the crashing of metal and a release of steam as Dinara strolled down the train platform, suitcase in hand. She was always loathe to leave Gallonten, and no amount of heartbreak felt here could change that.

“Hurry up, Di, or we’ll leave you behind!” Gemma called out an open window, the whistle blowing again and cutting off anything more she had to say.

Dinara scanned the train for an open car. As she hurried toward it, though, she nearly collided with someone, catching their shoulder with her own.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Dinara said hurriedly. At the sight of the woman’s face, she gasped. The upper half of it was hidden beneath a veiled hat, but Dinara saw enough of her to know she was orinian. She had the birthmarks, though there was something wrong with them—they were like open wounds, an almost-liquid orange glow swirling in the gaps. Horror froze her in place, and she could only stare.

The woman turning to leave, though, spurred her into action. “Wait!” she called. She caught the woman by the wrist; even through her gloves, she could feel how cold the woman was. It seeped through the thin leather and crept up her arm. “Are you coming or going, ma’am?”

The woman only tipped her head down to hide more of her face.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone,” Dinara whispered. She understood why the woman wouldn’t want anyone seeing her; people would already view her as suspect just for who she was. Such sinister-looking scars would make it worse. But she seemed to have been heading toward the station exit, and if she made it into the city proper, Dinara wouldn’t be able to help her. “You shouldn’t go to Gallonten. It’s not safe for orinians right now.”

“Why not?” the woman asked, tasting the word as it rolled off her tongue. Her accent was unusual; it certainly wasn’t like Maebhe, Kieran, and Íde’s had been. It sounded stiffer, older.

“Haven’t you heard? The King of Alfheimr is missing. Unity is launching an investigation into Orean. There might be a war.”

The woman took an alarmed step back, raising her head enough for Dinara to see wide, glowing eyes. “Why warn me?”

“You mean because I’m sapien?” Dinara asked. “That shouldn’t matter. I don’t want you to get hurt if I can help it.”

The woman frowned at Dinara, a delicate furrow appearing between her brows. She looked like she had another question, but the screech of the train whistle and the low creak of wheels grinding into motion made Dinara jump. “I’m sorry; I have to go!” she called. Pressing her hat to her head so it wouldn’t fly off, she ran and jumped onto the nearest train car even as the massive locomotive began to roll out of the station. She landed on the narrow stairs, her heavy skirts whipping around her, and turned just in time to see the strange woman—still watching her—disappear from view as they left the station behind.

Dinara shook herself and continued into the cabin, smiling when she saw she’d chosen the car the costume crates had all been stuffed into. She recognized the markings on one as containing the Players’ masks and tried not to think of the last time she’d rummaged through that crate.

“So much for a quiet trip,” a voice said, making Dinara jump.

“Tabia! You startled me,” Dinara said. The older actress was nestled between two crates, a book in her hands. “I promise not to bother you too much.”

As they left Gallonten behind, Dinara returned to the narrow stairs between cars. Months earlier, when the Webhon Players had wound their way south, the world had been green. Now, while the long grasses still swayed, the trees recognized the approach of autumn. The leaves had changed in preparation, like wildfire in color and scope.

It reflected how Dinara felt inside: changing, readying herself for something new. Holding onto the door’s handle, Dinara leaned out of the car as far as she dared. She laughed when the wind hit her, blowing her curls all around and tugging at her skirts. It was cold, but far colder where she was going—north to Adondai, the capital of the Sheman province.

There, the whole world awaited Dinara, if she could only gather the courage to chase it.

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